Given that Sheldon obviously hadn't informed his parents, especially his very religious and prone-to-worry mother, after getting Sheldon's house number, I called the Cooper household from the comic book store phone.

"Hello?" After the phone rang a few times, Missy answered, intrigued but cheerfully.

"Hey Missy," I greeted the girl.

"Oh, PJ!" Missy cheerfully exclaimed upon recognizing my voice. "You know, my friend Linda and I often talk on the phone like this, you and I should do it more often. The other day, I heard from my friend Linda that-" Without pausing to breathe, the cheerful girl started chattering away.

"Are your parents or Meemaw there? I need to talk to them about Sheldon," I quickly interrupted her lively chat.

"Oh, did you know Sheldon is missing? Apparently, he escaped from the shrink. Don't tell anyone I know he went to the shrink; we're supposed to say he went to the barber, and we need to tell him he has a great haircut. But now, Mom is freaking out in the living room; we're all waiting for the police. This is going to be a great story for school!" Missy joyfully and even faster than a little girl's lungs should allow, seemingly forgetting my question.

"Missy, who are you talking to, young lady?" Mrs. Cooper suddenly asked, obviously concerned.

"It's PJ," Missy nonchalantly replied to her mother.

"Give me that." From the other side of the phone, I could hear the device changing hands, followed by what seemed to be murmurs of an annoyed little girl.

"Hello PJ," trying to calm her obviously nervous voice, "now is not a very good time. Sheldon is missing, and I'd like to keep the line open for anything. But I'll tell Georgie that you called."

"No, I didn't call to talk to Georgie, Mrs. Cooper. In fact, I'm with Sheldon right now. He's fine; you don't need to worry," I quickly clarified the misunderstanding.

"Oh!" In an immediate mix of joy and relief, the woman exclaimed, "You found him! PJ found Sheldon!" she shouted again to the people in her house.

"Well, actually, Sheldon found us. Gabe and I were at the comic book store, and he suddenly showed up."

"That boy is in so much trouble!" The woman immediately changed her mood, angrily declaring, "I can't believe he did that." She continued, still upset, "we even called the police. Oh my god, the police!" Apparently suddenly remembering, she exclaimed, "I have to call and let them know. PJ, are you sure you can bring him? We can come get him. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you." She quickly said, probably trying to end the conversation to call the police again.

"Yes, don't worry, Mrs. Cooper. I was already prepared to go back home anyway. Coming a bit earlier is no problem at all," I quickly reassured her.

"Oh PJ, thank you so much." Gratefully, the woman said goodbye before hanging up the call.

"So, how's everything?" Unbeknownst to him, Sheldon was waiting behind me, apparently calmly, possibly not understanding the trouble he had gotten into.

"Well, you're in trouble, buddy." I preferred not to lie, obviously making the boy worry. "But come on, you won't know anything until you get home, and I promised your mother I'd bring you back safe and sound." Motioning to my brother to stand up, I moved the now scared boy aside.

"Aw, so soon. I barely read these comics." Sadly, the boy pointed to a stack of comics next to him, way more than I would have thought.

"Tell you what, pick three comics, and if you do it quickly, I'll buy them for you." Playfully pushing his head slightly, I told the excited little boy who quickly stood up. "Really?" he asked incredulously. "Tick tock," without answering his theatrical question, I theatrically raised my hand where my watch was, pretending to count the time.

My trick obviously worked, making the boy quickly move to one of the shelves to pick three comics.

"So Tam, do you need a ride home?" Remembering the other present kid, I asked.

"Ride?" Surprised, the Vietnamese boy asked.

"Yeah, in my car." I explained, pointing outside the comic book store.

"You got a car?" Amazed, the boy asked again as he stood up, nodding amusedly after I answered with a simple nod, "you'll be the first freshman to have a car. PJ Duncan, my friend, your coolness grows every day, and so will your popularity." Much more formal than any teenager should be, Tam affirmed.

Before Tam could continue with his, at least what seemed like, praises, Gabe suddenly appeared, "I got them!" Excitedly, Gabe exclaimed with three comics in his hands.

"Okay, let's go pay for these." Taking the comics from my brother's hands, I approached the store manager. "I'm gonna pay for these three," I indicated to the manager as I took out my wallet.

After paying a surprisingly cheerful store manager, I led a still worried Sheldon outside the store, followed by Gabe and Tam, who apparently took the opportunity to also leave on their way home.

While guiding Sheldon, lightly pushing him by the shoulders, we reached a few steps in front of my car before Sheldon abruptly stopped, "your car looks dangerous." Reluctant to continue walking, "I'm definitely not getting in." The boy seriously affirmed.

"That's the coolest car I've ever seen in my life." Guiding a bicycle, Tam surprised exclaimed.

"Thanks, Bud." I thanked the Vietnamese boy, still trying to get Sheldon to move forward.

"That's a death trap." Reluctant, Sheldon said still avoiding moving forward.

"Sheldon, you know how I drive, remember?" I asked, trying to change the boy's mind. "I promise I'll stay below the speed limit at all times. Besides, the car has new seat belts, and you'll be in the back seat where statistically-" I was saying again, trying to convince the boy.

"It's the safest part of the car," the boy concluded on his own, seemingly debating internally whether to get in the car or not.

"Come on, I'm getting tired here," annoyed, Gabe exclaimed from the side of the car.

"Come on, I promise nothing will happen to you," I reassured the less reluctant boy. A few seconds after silent contemplation, Sheldon nodded.

After helping Sheldon by adjusting the passenger seat so he could get into the back, I let Gabe sit in the front passenger seat. "Well, see you at school, Tam," I bid farewell to the Vietnamese boy, who remained standing next to his bike. "Yeah, see you at school," Tam slowly said as he strangely looked between his bike and 'Debbie.'

"Okay, let's go. Gabe, your seatbelt," I ordered my brother as I started the car and pulled onto the main street.

"PJ, you're going too fast!" Sheldon, from the back seat of the car, said with concern, making both Gabe and me laugh slightly at the same time.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Yes, Sheldon, sorry," I calmly responded to the boy as I drove.

When we arrived on our street, after parking and letting the kids, especially Sheldon in the back seat, out, we could see Mrs. Cooper waiting on her front porch with crossed arms, annoyed, watching her younger son.

"Thanks for bringing him, PJ," after greeting the woman, Mrs. Cooper shouted gratefully from her porch.

"There's nothing to thank, Mrs. Cooper," I replied to the woman.

"Well, good luck, Sheldon." Giving a final push to the reluctant boy, I said.

"See you later, Gabe. I'm off to work," saying goodbye to my brother as well, I began walking towards the family's house where I would work tonight.

The walk was only a few minutes, so I wouldn't need 'Debbie' to get there. I had visited the house once before, so fortunately, it was quite easy for me to find.

The house was as I remembered from a few weeks ago. The front yard, unlike the other houses around it, was poorly maintained, and next to the large tree at the entrance of the property, there was a large pile of scattered leaves.

After knocking on the front door and waiting for a few seconds, it opened, revealing Mr. Wilkerson, again half-dressed, this time without pants but with a shirt on. "Hello, Mr. Wilkerson," I greeted the man, doing my best to maintain eye contact.

The man didn't seem to recognize me until, after a few seconds of seeing me with intrigue, he finally said, "Oh, PJ, I thought you'd come in five minutes later," he shouted worriedly, checking his watch. "It's late," without saying anything else, the man entered his house again, walking quickly.

Taking the man's actions as an invitation to enter, I did so, closing the door behind me. Turning back inside the house, I surprisingly found all four kids of the family staring at me with furrowed brows, all except the youngest, Dewey, if I remembered correctly, who simply had a calm look on his face with a small smile.

"So, let me see, if I remember correctly, Francis, Reese, Malcolm, and the little Dewey, how are you all?" I greeted each of the kids from the oldest to the youngest without receiving any response.

"We're late," breaking the awkward silence we had fallen into, Mrs. Wilkerson said, "now listen to me carefully. This is the first night that your father and I are going out in a long time. I don't want anything stupid, no fires, explosives, broken glass, silly ideas. You'll listen to PJ, and under no circumstances do I want a call tonight. You'll let your father and me have a quiet night." She quickly continued to warn her children without pausing to breathe.

"Whatever your mother said, I'm with her. It's better if you listen," returning to the living room, Mr. Wilkerson said seriously as he tried to tie his tie.

"Yes, because we really need a babysitter," ironically, Francis said, annoyed. "I'm twelve; I can't-" he was saying, but his mother interrupted, "No, you can't."

"Here you go, PJ, dinner is in the refrigerator. Bedtime is at nine, and only call if the house is on fire or if someone is in mortal danger. If you call the fire department, there's a chance they'll hang up, so you'll have to call again," with what I sincerely hoped was a bad joke, the woman said, handing me a paper with a phone number written on it.

Giving one last look at her children, Mrs. Wilkerson slowly and with a furrowed brow warned, "Don't do anything."

Without saying much more, the Wilkerson couple hurriedly left the house, leaving me again with the silent children.

"So, do you guys want to do something, have any pending tasks, any board games, anything?" Usually, one of those options worked to entertain the kids quickly, but seeing the apathetic reactions of three out of the four children in front of me, I wasn't entirely sure it would work this time.

The three older kids, still without saying anything, exchanged glances before, in a surprising coordination, denying, "We'd love to, but we already had planned what to do, right?" Francis, the oldest, suspiciously asked his brothers.

"Yes, that's true." Reese and Malcolm, again showing an incredible coordination, responded simultaneously.

"Okay, if you need anything, you can call me," I told the three older kids, "while you and I, buddy, can watch TV for a while." Taking Dewey like a little sack under my arm, I carried him to the nearby couch, taking the remote control to turn on the TV. With young kids like Dewey, it was much easier to keep them entertained; it only required finding a channel with cartoons and keeping it in view.

While watching over Dewey, sitting next to him watching cartoons on the TV, I noticed how the other kids constantly went back and forth from what I could guess was their room to the kitchen, carrying what I could only describe as materials.

"Are you guys okay?" I asked the next kid in the kitchen, Malcolm.

"Oh, yeah, we're just," he paused to think of the next word, "playing." After a few seconds, he continued before running off again with other things in his arms.

They were definitely planning something. If the warnings their mother had given were real and not just a bad joke to scare me.

"I'm going to check on your brothers, be right back," patting the boy's head, I headed towards where the other kids were running, not receiving any response from the little boy.

On my way to where the kids were heading, I suddenly heard a loud but short cry of pain from one of the rooms a few steps away from where I was standing. The scream quickly alerted me, making me quicken my pace. "What happened, are you all okay?" I immediately asked upon entering the room where the kids were.

Apparently, my rapid and sudden appearance had surprised the three kids standing in the middle of two large beds in their room. Quickly, the kids, like when we first met

today, lined up next to each other, strangely suspicious.

"Yes, we're fine," Francis quickly responded with a wide smile.

"I heard a scream; are you sure everyone is okay?" I asked again. Of the three kids, Reese, the most nervous one, knew they were hiding something because it was impossible for the boy to maintain eye contact. "Yes, I'm sure," trying to distract my attention from his brother, Francis spoke again.

The oldest of the siblings definitely had experience in lying, undoubtedly in his voice, maintaining eye contact, and not forgetting to give a calm smile. Working with kids in the last few weeks taught me that usually, kids didn't have great lying abilities; there was almost always something that gave them away.

Reese was definitely nervous, something that even Francis could notice. With a small and quick elbow jab, he got his brother to focus his gaze forward.

When I shifted my complete attention to the third kid, Malcolm, I discovered who possibly was the one who had screamed. With his hands behind his back while he seemed to hide something, his face was somewhat pale, and the boy was sweating enough for me to notice from where I was standing.

"Show me your hands, Malcolm, please," I asked the boy, causing all three children to open their eyes in surprise and concern.

With his mouth agape, seemingly unsure how to lie, Malcolm looked at his brothers for help. "No, show me your hands, come on," approaching the boy, I prevented him from seeking further assistance, lifting my hand, I urged him to give me his hands.

A moment later, after examining my palms, Malcolm lowered his head, surrendering his hands. Checking his palms, I found nothing until I turned his hand and discovered, "a staple?" I asked the boy, who avoided my gaze, much like his two older brothers. "Why do you have a staple stuck in your hand?" I asked again while inspecting the damage to the boy's hand.

"It was an accident," Francis quickly exclaimed nervously, supported by Reese with equally nervous nods.

"An accident, huh? Where's the stapler?" I calmly asked while thoroughly examining the wound.

"So where is it?" I asked again when I received no response.

It seemed that none of the three children would say anything, but Reese involuntarily occasionally sent glances toward one of the pillows on one of the beds. "So under this pillow," I said, following his gaze, lifting the pillow, revealing a mousetrap and the stapler.

Seeing the obvious attempt at a booby trap, with only the gaze I silently interrogated the children again, making them avoid my gaze, especially Malcolm, who seemed embarrassed. So, that's how it's going to be, huh?

Taking the trap along with the stapler, I smiled challengingly at the three children in front of me. "It's your choice. We can have a quiet fun day or you can try to make me leave whit your bobby traps," I said calmly, deactivating the mousetrap. "But that won't work your parents are paying me to be here until the night, and that's what I'm going to do," I continued, pulling the staples from the stapler. "Again, your decision, kids," I finished while fast pulling the staple from Malcolm's hand, causing him to exclaim in surprise. "There won't be a mark," I assured him.

---

Author Thoughts:

As always, I am not American, and Not a Doctor.

I split this chapter into two parts, and the next part will be published in the middle of the upcoming week.

I've received several comments regarding the severity of the punishment the MC receives. In my opinion, putting myself in the shoes of Bob and Amy in 1990, $3000 was a significant amount of money. Also, I understand that underage gambling is illegal in the United States. From my perspective, it's not an overly exaggerated punishment (even though he made money from it, no matter). My experience as a person being disciplined by a Latino mother tells me that a month and a week is a short time for doing something illegal and stupid.

I've also received recommendations to occasionally continue the story from the perspective of another character. Yes, it's something I want to try at some point. I've been thinking about how to do it without disrupting the flow of the story because I'm not sure if the current narrative style is the best for a change in perspective. What do you think?

Having said that,

I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thanks for reading! :D

PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, please.