(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. Nineth of 10)
Age 13
The dorm smelled faintly of cardboard, cleaner, and the ghost of cafeteria food. Boxes stacked in corners like uneven towers, doors propped open by half-filled duffels, laughter echoing through the hallways as students called goodbyes down the stairwells. It was the end of the semester, and even the air felt relieved.
I stood near the lobby window with my bag zipped tight and my coat half-buttoned, watching the parking lot fill with parents and pickup trucks. The sky hung low and pale, the kind of winter sun that looked tired before noon.
Paige dropped her own bag beside mine with a sigh too big for her frame. "We officially survived college without combusting."
I glanced at her. "Speak for yourself. My patience ran out three theorems ago."
She laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You'd complain about oxygen if it didn't have an equation."
"I already have one."
"Of course you do."
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and Ben, our RA, stepped out, clipboard in hand and a Santa hat perched crooked on his head. "You two finally heading out? I was starting to think I'd be stuck with you all break."
Paige grinned. "We're irreplaceable, admit it."
"Sure," Ben said dryly, ticking our names off his list. "Irreplaceable and suspiciously quiet. Have a good Christmas, geniuses."
We waved him off and turned back to the window just as two cars pulled into the lot, one dark blue, one forest green.
"There they are," Paige said, spotting her mother first.
The Swansons climbed out, bundled against the chill, waving cheerfully. The Coopers' car parked right beside them, and within seconds both sets of parents were calling greetings across the lot. They'd met before, back at Meemaw's barbecue, and the familiarity came back easily now, the mothers chatting instantly, the fathers shaking hands with mutual pride.
Paige nudged me with her elbow. "Ready for family interrogation, round two?"
"I've prepared answers."
"Of course you have."
While the adults talked, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, gift-wrapped package, not much larger than a deck of cards. "Merry Christmas," she said, holding it out like a secret.
"You know giving gifts before Christmas is statistically unlucky."
"Then it's a good thing I don't believe in statistics. Open it."
Inside was a simple rubber keychain shaped like the symbol for pi, black and smooth, the kind of thing you'd find in the university bookstore.
"This is accurate," I said.
She rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to say thank you, not accurate."
"Thank you," I corrected, and handed her a small square wrapped in graph paper.
She peeled it open to find a pack of floppy-disk stickers, the colored kind she always lost in the lab.
"This is so nerdy," she said, smiling despite herself. "It's perfect."
"Statistically likely."
Her laugh drew our parents' attention, and the conversation shifted toward loading luggage and last hugs.
The diner we stopped at an hour down the highway smelled like coffee, frying oil, and Christmas decorations hung two weeks too early. Paper snowflakes fluttered every time the door opened.
All six of us crowded into a corner booth, menus sticking slightly to the table. The Swansons ordered pancakes. My parents went for sandwiches. I asked for toast and orange juice, which earned me identical looks from both mothers.
Paige kicked my foot under the table. "You can't live off cafeteria toast forever."
"I've been experimenting with ratios."
"Please tell me that's not a real sentence."
"Perfect browning requires balance between surface temperature and moisture loss."
Her dad laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. "You two make straight A's sound like a contact sport."
Mom smiled. "He tried to grade dinner last week."
"It needed improvement," I muttered.
Paige shook her head, grinning. "Hopeless."
The adults talked around us, travel plans, work schedules, promises of phone calls before next semester. The atmosphere was warm and easy, like everyone had agreed not to think too hard for once. Even I found myself relaxing, tracing patterns in the condensation on my glass instead of thinking about data or crime scenes.
When the checks came, both dads argued over who'd pay until the moms settled it. We all walked out into the cold together, the sun lowering toward a pale horizon. The parking lot smelled of pine and exhaust.
Paige's dad opened the backseat for her, and she turned toward me, coat pulled tight against the wind. "Guess that's it until January."
"January second," I corrected.
She smiled. "Don't count the days."
"I already did."
She rolled her eyes, then softened. "Try to actually rest, okay?"
"I'll attempt a simulation."
"That's not." She sighed, laughing. "You're impossible."
Her mother called, "Paige, honey, we need to go."
Paige nodded, then stepped forward and gave me a quick, awkward hug, brief enough not to draw attention, real enough to mean something.
"See you soon," she said.
"Count on it."
Her father waved as they pulled away. I watched their car merge into the stream of highway traffic until it was just another color in the distance.
Mom touched my shoulder gently. "Ready to head home?"
I nodded, and we climbed into the car.
The road from Austin back to Medford stretched out in quiet ribbons of asphalt, lined with bare trees and sleepy gas stations dressed in tinsel. Mom hummed softly to a Christmas song on the radio while Dad told stories about old family holidays, burnt turkeys, half-strung lights, the year Georgie tried to deep-fry a frozen bird and nearly took the garage with it.
I listened, half there and half somewhere else, watching the towns fade by. The hum of the tires was almost hypnotic.
"You okay, honey?" Mom asked from the front seat.
I caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Just tired."
Dad chuckled. "That's a good sign. Means you worked hard."
I smiled faintly and leaned my head against the window. The glass was cold against my temple, but it felt steady. The highway lights came and went in a rhythm I didn't have to calculate.
For once, the numbers in my head stayed still.
We pulled into the driveway just after dark. The porch light glowed against the winter haze, and through the front window I could already see Missy darting across the living room and Sheldon holding up a piece of paper like a science exhibit.
Mom barely got the door open before Missy wrapped her arms around me. "You're finally home!"
Georgie leaned against the wall, smirking. "Look who thinks he's a big-shot college kid now."
"Just a student," I said. "You're still taller."
"For now," he said.
Dad laughed. "Get in here before your mother freezes."
Inside, it smelled like cinnamon candles and roast in the oven. Meemaw was parked on the couch with a mug in hand. "Well, if it isn't my little Einstein," she said. "You look taller. Or maybe just smugger."
"Both," Georgie said.
I dropped my bag by the stairs. "Hi, Meemaw."
She winked. "Welcome home, sugar."
Dinner felt like catching a conversation mid-sentence. Everyone talked over everyone else, Sheldon debating an episode of Professor Proton, Missy bragging about her kickball score, Georgie describing the latest car he was fixing up. The noise was chaos, warm and human.
Halfway through, Mom's tone shifted. "We heard about that awful fire in Austin," she said quietly. "That wasn't near your dorm, was it?"
I set my fork down. "No, ma'am. It was across town."
"Those poor families," she murmured.
Dad nodded solemnly, then cleared his throat. "Let's talk about something cheerier, huh? Christmas movies? Anyone vote for Die Hard this year?"
"Not a Christmas movie," Sheldon said immediately.
"Yes it is," Georgie argued.
Missy threw a roll at both of them.
The room erupted, and for a while, that was enough.
After dinner I helped clear the table. Mom noticed and smiled. "You've been living on your own too long."
"Technically, I have an RA on my floor," I said.
"Still counts." She ruffled my hair despite my quiet protest.
Christmas morning arrived with sunlight and the smell of pancakes. Georgie was the first one downstairs, Missy right behind him. Wrapping paper piled up fast. Laughter filled the room.
Dad handed me a small box with a grin. Inside was a silver wristwatch, simple, practical, clean.
"So you'll never lose track of time," he said. "Even when you're too smart for it."
Mom passed me her gift next, a book of logic puzzles. "Something fun that doesn't need grading."
"Thanks," I said, smiling for real.
Meemaw handed over a wrapped box last. Inside was a small, cast-iron pan. "For your fancy cookin', sugar. Thought you could use somethin' real."
I nodded, touched. "Perfect."
Dad leaned back, content. "How's it feel to be home again?"
I looked around, at the tree, the lights reflecting in the window, the sound of my siblings arguing over toys, the warmth of it all.
"Smaller," I said. "But quieter too."
Mom nodded knowingly. "Quiet's good for the soul."
That evening, I stood out on the porch, the air crisp and still. The ranch house behind me glowed warm, laughter leaking through the windows. Somewhere down the road, I could hear church bells faintly through the winter air.
I turned the pi keychain over in my pocket, feeling the smooth curve against my palm.
For the first time since Austin, silence didn't feel like something missing.
It felt like something earned.
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.