(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. fourth of 10)
Age 13
The first full morning felt quieter than I expected.
Sun came in through the blinds in narrow steps, dust drifting in the light like slow snow. The hallway outside my door hummed with the sounds of a building deciding whether to wake up, one shower running, a door latch clicking, someone laughing too loud and then remembering walls exist.
No family voices. No lists. Just me, the schedule folded on my desk, and a campus I hadn't memorized yet.
I brushed my teeth, made my bed because no one would make it for me, and checked my watch. Orientation breakfast in twenty. I could have stayed in, but the room already felt smaller when I stood still.
Out in the hall, the floor smelled faintly of coffee and detergent. A flyer about Welcome Week sagged on a pushpin. Ben, the RA from yesterday, leaned against the railing near the stairwell, hair still damp, a stack of maps under his arm.
"Morning, Cooper," he said. "Didn't peg you for an early bird. The rest of this floor is clinically asleep."
"Old habit."
He offered a map I didn't need. I took it anyway.
"They're still talking about you and your friend," he added, with a half grin like he was testing the joke. "The scholarship pair."
"She's younger," I said. "If anyone asks."
Ben laughed. "Right, the twelve-year-old mathematician. Thought that was a myth."
"She's real."
"Well, glad you're both here. You'll shake this place up."
I didn't have a good reply to that, so I nodded and kept moving.
The stairwell echoed my footsteps. On the first floor, a fan pushed warm air in circles. I crossed the lobby and caught a glimpse of the courtyard, two students throwing a Frisbee too close to a No Frisbee sign, sprinklers ticking at the edge of the grass, the sky a hard, bright blue that didn't apologize for the heat.
The dining hall smelled like toast and oranges from a machine. I grabbed a tray and the pancakes Ben had recommended. Syrup did its job. Around me, new students pretended to be confident, laughing too loud at nothing. I ate quickly, folded the map into my pocket, because pockets are for pretending, and headed out.
Orientation Hall
By mid-morning, the auditorium buzzed like a beehive. Hundreds of freshmen, bright shirts, name tags curling at the corners. The air-conditioning groaned in protest.
Paige was already seated halfway down, her notebook open but empty, pencil spinning between her fingers. She looked up as I slid into the seat beside her.
"Early as usual," she said.
"Ben warned me about the eggs."
"Smart man."
The Dean stepped to the podium, tapping the mic. "Welcome, new Longhorns!" he began, voice full of practiced enthusiasm.
Paige leaned closer. "Do we clap now or after the cliché?"
"Let's test his pacing first."
The Dean spoke about opportunity, community, and excellence through commitment. He mentioned our remarkable scholarship students, eyes sweeping the crowd like he could spot us on sight. Paige slouched lower.
A senior orientation leader turned around in his seat, looking us over. "You two from that gifted high-school program?"
"Research scholarship," Paige said evenly. "We're sort of a pilot study."
"Seriously? You're like twelve."
She smiled. "Exactly."
He blinked, looked at me, then back at her. "So he's older?"
"Barely," I said.
The guy whistled softly. "Man, I thought I was smart for skipping English Comp."
Paige whispered, "Should I tell him I finished it twice?"
"Mercy," I said.
The speech droned on about campus spirit. When the Dean quoted a statistic incorrectly, average GPA rounded too high, I whispered the correction under my breath. Paige nudged me, half smile forming.
"You're impossible."
"Accurate."
She rolled her eyes but didn't hide her grin.
Applause followed. We clapped politely, no more, no less. Around us, students cheered like they'd been accepted into a secret society. Paige leaned back in her seat.
"So," she said, "we survived speech one. Only six more today."
"Optimist."
Exploring Campus
By late afternoon, the heat softened into gold. Cicadas buzzed from the oaks along the quad. Paige and I walked without destination, soda cups sweating in our hands.
"Hard to believe they're letting us loose here," she said. "Actual dorm keys. Meal cards. Schedules."
"Feels conditional," I said. "Like we're borrowing adulthood."
She laughed quietly. "You sound like my mom."
"Then I take it back."
We passed the Tower, sunlight glinting off its windows. Groups of students posed for photos near the fountain. A guitarist sat on the steps playing a half-remembered Eagles song.
Paige kicked at a pebble. "You know, everyone keeps asking what it's like being a genius. Nobody asks what it's like being twelve and a genius."
"Painful for the neck."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
She looked at me. "Sometimes I feel like they don't see me. Just the number."
I nodded. "Same problem. Different magnitude."
A breeze carried the smell of grass and chlorine from the fountain. We stopped at the edge of the water, ripples turning gold.
"You ever miss Medford?" she asked.
"Sometimes," I said. "But mostly I miss having nothing to prove."
Paige smiled at that, not happy, just understanding. "We traded it for freedom."
"Freedom with curfews."
"I'm choosing to ignore those."
We sat on the low stone rim of the fountain. The water was cool against my palms. Around us, upperclassmen drifted by in small laughing groups. No one stared long enough to make it weird. For the first time, we didn't feel like anomalies, just younger versions of everyone else trying to start something.
Paige tapped her cup against mine like a toast. "To surviving day two."
"Statistically probable," I said.
She laughed, tossing her straw wrapper at me. It missed.
We stayed until the shadows stretched long and the Tower lights flickered on. When we finally stood, neither of us said goodbye, we just started walking separate directions, confident we'd meet again tomorrow without needing to plan it.
Evening in the Dorm
The dorm settled into its nighttime rhythm, doors closing, muffled music, a washing machine humming somewhere below. My room glowed under a single desk lamp. The rest stayed dark, corners still waiting to decide who lived here.
I stacked the books I'd unpacked yesterday, lined up pencils by length, then laughed softly at myself. Some habits were less about order and more about control.
A knock interrupted the quiet.
Paige stood in the doorway, hair a little messy from the evening wind, holding two cafeteria cookies in a napkin.
"Peace offering," she said. "They were giving them out to anyone who promised to come back tomorrow."
"I wasn't planning on a rebellion."
"Shame. I had slogans ready."
I stepped aside so she could lean against the doorframe. She glanced around the room, the tidy desk, the blank walls.
"Figures. You made it look like a crime scene for dust."
"I like knowing where things are."
She broke one cookie in half, handed me a piece.
"You think it'll stay this easy?"
"No." I took a bite. "But maybe predictable."
"Predictable's fine," she said. "For now."
We talked for a few minutes about the speeches, about how Ben the RA had already forgotten half the floor's names, about the girl who'd spilled orange juice on her syllabus and cried like it was permanent damage. The kind of small talk that normal people did without effort. It felt strange and good to realize we could, too.
When she finally pushed off the doorframe, she said, "See you at breakfast. Try the pancakes again."
"They're better with silence," I said.
"Everything is."
She smiled, small and genuine, then disappeared down the hall.
I closed the door and stood there a moment, listening to the muffled laughter from somewhere near the stairs. The building smelled faintly of popcorn this time, not detergent. Someone's stereo played too loud, a saxophone solo bending off-key, then fading as the door shut.
I turned off the lamp and crossed to the window. The campus below was alive, lights in dorm windows, shapes moving across the courtyard, the fountain glowing faintly in the distance where we'd sat earlier.
For the first time since leaving Medford, the silence didn't feel empty. It felt earned.
I wasn't a prodigy tonight. Not a study or an exception or a rumor. Just a kid with a scholarship, a quiet room, and someone else out there who understood exactly why none of this felt as impossible as everyone thought it should.
I leaned against the window frame and let the hum of the night settle in, the low rhythm of air conditioners, the occasional shout from the quad, the steady drone of Texas summer insects reminding me I was still on Earth.
Tomorrow there would be class tours, forms, faculty introductions. Eventually, exams and research labs and headlines. But tonight belonged to the ordinary.
And for once, ordinary was enough.
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.