(AN: First I want to say thank you to those who have taken the time to read my story.
I will be releasing 10 chapters today and then 10 again next week to make up for the week of Christmas and New Years I will be preoccupied.
Ok thanks again more at the end but for now lets get to it. second of 10)
Age 13
The classroom was half-empty, the kind of day when even genius felt drowsy.
Dr. Sturgis had assigned "independent study," which mostly meant everyone worked quietly while he sorted papers at his desk. The afternoon light spilled through the windows, turning the chalk dust gold.
Sheldon sat two rows ahead, muttering to himself about quantum superposition.
Paige sat by the window, staring out at nothing. Her notebook was open but blank.
I'd noticed that pattern since January, same seat, same silence, same exhaustion hiding behind good posture.
Outside, the trees were just starting to bloom, early for Texas. Spring always felt like new beginnings. But this one smelled more like endings.
When the clock hit two-thirty, Dr. Sturgis clapped his hands.
"Excellent work today, everyone! Enjoy your spring break, and please, do something unquantifiable for once."
Sheldon raised his hand immediately. "Define unquantifiable."
Dr. Sturgis grinned. "Exactly."
The room laughed softly. Paige didn't.
When class let out, I caught up with her before she could leave.
"You've been quiet lately," I said.
She gave a small shrug. "I'm fine."
"Fine's just the polite version of tired."
That got a ghost of a smile. "You always notice too much."
"It's a side effect."
I paused. "You've been getting letters from UT Austin, right?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. They keep offering early admission. My parents already sent the forms."
"And?"
"And I haven't filled them out."
I leaned against the wall beside her. "You should."
She frowned. "You sound like my parents."
"No," I said. "They want you to go because it sounds impressive. I think you should go because it might make you happy again."
Paige looked at me then, really looked, the kind of stare that checks whether someone actually means what they're saying.
"I don't even know what I'd study anymore," she said softly. "I used to love physics, but now it just feels like pressure."
"Then switch fields," I said. "Try Applied Mathematics. It's cleaner. Fewer arguments about Schrödinger's cat."
She laughed under her breath. "And that's what you're doing?"
"Yeah," I said. "Applied Math first. Computer Science after. It's all pattern and logic, no noise, no spotlight."
Her eyes softened a little. "You really think they'd take me?"
"They'd be lucky to have you," I said. "Besides, it's Austin. Bigger city, more freedom. You could breathe there."
For a long moment she didn't say anything, just toyed with the edge of her notebook.
Then, finally: "You'll be there?"
"I'll be there."
She nodded once, a decision without ceremony. "Okay. Applied Math. UT Austin."
The bell rang, and outside the hall, Sheldon's voice carried as he cornered Dr. Sturgis into another debate about quantum relativity.
Paige exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for weeks.
"Guess we just made a plan," she said.
"Guess we did."
As we walked toward the exit, the sunlight hit the floor in perfect squares. Patterns again.
And for the first time in months, Paige looked forward instead of down.
The decision had already been made months ago.
Forms were signed, calls made, letters exchanged.
By spring, everyone in the Cooper house had come to terms with the fact that Stephen Eli Cooper, age thirteen, was officially heading to the University of Texas at Austin.
What they hadn't gotten used to was what that meant.
The morning sun poured through the kitchen window, lighting up the small stack of mail on the table, scholarship confirmation, dorm information, course schedule. It looked strange sitting next to Dad's coffee mug and Missy's cereal bowl.
Mom stood at the counter, rereading one of the university letters for the fifth time. "They really expect you to live on your own, that young?"
"I'll be in the honors dorms," I said. "Supervised housing, two roommates, full meal plan."
Dad chuckled. "Sounds like a prison with textbooks."
"It's education with air conditioning," I replied.
That earned a laugh from Meemaw, who had dropped by for breakfast, though everyone knew she'd been over more often lately just to spend time with me before the move.
"Well, look at you," she said, ruffling my hair. "My little Einstein's movin' up in the world."
Mom smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm proud of him. I just wish the world would slow down long enough for me to catch my breath."
Sheldon looked up from his notebook at the other end of the table. "The world doesn't slow down, Mother. It expands. That's literally how physics works."
Dad gave him a look. "Read the room, Shelly."
Sheldon blinked. "I'm in it."
Missy grinned, spoon halfway to her mouth. "So, if Stephen's movin' out, that means Sheldon can take his place in Georgie's room, and I finally get my own room, right?"
Georgie nearly choked on his toast. "No way! I ain't sharin' with the human calculator."
Dad sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ain't nobody movin' anywhere till he's actually out the door."
Sheldon looked up, perfectly serious. "Statistically, cohabitation increases sibling conflict by forty-seven percent. I decline."
Missy smirked. "Guess that means I win."
Mom just muttered, "Lord, give me strength," and poured another cup of coffee.
Mom turned back to me, softening. "Are you really ready for this, honey?"
I nodded. "We've gone over everything. Classes start in August. Paige will be there too. We'll keep in touch every weekend."
Mary exhaled slowly, her voice wobbling just a bit. "I know, but it's different now that it's real. When you first said you wanted to go, it just sounded like one of your ideas. Now it's"
"happening," I finished.
She nodded.
Meemaw set her glass down. "Mare, he's gonna be fine. You raised him right, and he's got more sense than half the adults I know."
Dad grinned. "He'll do fine, long as he remembers to eat somethin' that's not caffeine and theory."
"I already have a meal plan," I said.
"See?" Meemaw said. "He's got it all figured out."
Mom smiled, even if her eyes glistened again. "Yeah. That's what scares me."
Sheldon spoke without looking up from his notes. "Statistically speaking, Stephen's probability of academic success at UT Austin is 99.7 percent. However, his probability of proper sleep is concerning."
I smirked. "You worry about your equations, Shelly. I'll worry about my sleep."
He nodded. "Acceptable parameters."
The room fell into an easy rhythm again, Dad reading the paper, Mom cleaning, Sheldon making notes, Missy humming to the radio. Ordinary sounds on an extraordinary morning.
But for the first time, I could feel the quiet hum of distance beginning to build between us, not bad, just inevitable.
Later that evening, I sat outside on the porch with Meemaw, the air heavy with the smell of honeysuckle and the sound of crickets.
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
"Not really," I said. "Just ready."
She nodded. "Good. 'Cause life doesn't wait for geniuses, sugar. It runs right alongside 'em. You just gotta remember to look up from the math sometimes and see where you're goin'."
I smiled faintly. "You sound like a teacher."
She grinned. "Nah. I'm just the lady who taught you how to fry chicken and keep your heart steady."
I looked out at the sunset, the last light hitting the old Cooper house just right.
In a few months, I'd be gone, but part of me knew this place would always be the constant variable I carried with me.
The gymnasium at Medford High had never seen so many cameras.
Half the town had come to witness what Principal Peterson called "a once-in-a-generation achievement," though technically, it was twice in one family.
Two Coopers were graduating high school.
One was an eleven-year-old with a superiority complex. The other was a thirteen-year-old who hid brilliance behind quiet eyes and a calm smile.
The banners drooped from the rafters, the folding chairs squeaked, and every pew of the bleachers shimmered with the kind of Texas heat that turned pride into sweat.
Mom sat front row, clutching her program like a rosary. Dad beside her in his best (and only) suit. Meemaw fanned herself with a church bulletin, muttering something about "miracles and migraines."
The names rolled by in alphabetical order, kids clapping, families cheering, the air thick with applause and camera flashes.
Then:
"Sheldon Lee Cooper!"
The room erupted, laughter, awe, disbelief.
Sheldon marched across the stage like a visiting professor who had just discovered public school by accident.
He shook the principal's hand mechanically, looked out at the crowd, and adjusted the mic.
"Thank you," he said. "For tolerating me."
The audience laughed. Mom teared up. Dad looked like he wanted to both hug and high-five him.
Then came the next announcement.
"Stephen Eli Cooper!"
The room paused, and then cheered again, louder this time, as if it finally understood what this family had pulled off.
I stood, smoothed my gown, and walked up the steps.
The principal smiled nervously as he handed me the diploma. "You've made Medford proud, son."
I shook his hand. "Thank you, sir. I'll try to keep it that way."
Flashes popped. For a second, I caught Mom's expression, pride, awe, and something deeper. A realization that two of her boys were already outgrowing the world around them.
When the ceremony ended, the crowd spilled into the courtyard, buzzing with conversation.
"Can you believe it?"
"Both of 'em!"
"Mary Cooper's gonna need a bigger fridge for all them diplomas."
Sheldon was surrounded by teachers, talking about East Texas Tech.
I was surrounded by silence, not loneliness, just space. The kind that comes before the next chapter.
Mom hugged me tight. "My sweet boy, thirteen years old and already on to college. I don't know whether to cry or brag."
"Do both," I said softly.
Dad clapped me on the back, grinning. "You earned this, son. You did it your way, quiet, steady, like your old man."
Meemaw raised her soda cup. "To the smartest Cooper in Texas."
Sheldon frowned. "Statistically, that's debatable."
She smirked. "And yet, I said what I said."
Laughter rolled through the group. Even Sheldon smiled, just a little.
As the sun began to set over the Medford field, the crowd thinned. Balloons drifted, tassels swayed, and the town started to fold back into itself.
That night, after everyone went to bed, I sat at my desk, diploma beside my notebook.
The paper felt lighter than I thought it would, like it wasn't the weight of an ending, but the start of something else.
I sat at my desk in my room and opened my journal for what might be one of the last times I write in it while sitting here.
I got a strange feeling of nostalgia, a quiet awareness that, for all the equations and constants I'd learned, nothing prepared me for change.
"The variable isn't what you solve, it's what makes life move.
And for once, I'm ready to move with it."
Thanks for reading, feel free to write a comment, leave a review, and Power Stones are always appreciated.
I have two other stories I am currently working on and I want to assure that it will not effect this story I have every thing planed out story wise.
The first story is called Naruto: Crimson Reaper
The story of a soul reincarnated into the naruto universe half Uzamaki half Chinoike
The second story has a work in progress name but it is a story a sould reincarnated as Cain (Bible) in the world of TVD/Originals.