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Georgie POV
I woke up on the couch, a blanket tangled around my legs and my neck twisted in a way that definitely wasn't good for long-term health.
The living room was quiet, except for the ticking of the wall clock and the faint aroma of something brewing—probably coffee. Morning sunlight spilled in through the curtains, soft and golden, painting the floorboards like a faded photograph.
For a moment, I didn't move. I just laid there, letting everything settle into place.
Last night.
The laughter.
The yelling.
The absurd arguments about cursed ships and who deserved to lead the crew.
Even Dad got way too into it—threatening mutiny if Sheldon kept trying to "mathematically solve" every magical trap. I had to cut the lore short by ten and send everyone home before someone actually passed out at the table.
But man... it was epic.
The kind of night that made you forget the real world existed.
I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes.
The house felt different this morning.
Quieter—but not empty.
Like the walls still remembered what had happened.
And honestly... so did I.
Veronica stayed over last night. She slept in my room.
Of course, I didn't follow her in. Not with the way Dad had looked at me—his eyes sharp and locked on me, not her.
Yeah. I got the message loud and clear.
I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. I turned and saw Mary standing by the stove, already making breakfast for everyone.
She must've heard me stir. She glanced back at me with a smile—sweet, but just awkward enough to say, "we'll talk about this later."
'That's... probably not a good sign,' I thought.
I yawned and walked over.
"Hoaaamm... Good morning, Mommy," I said with a sleepy smile.
She glanced at me, lips twitching.
"You see through me, don't you?"
I smirked.
"This is a beautiful morning. Let's talk about it after school, alright?"
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly.
Behind me, Missy wandered in like a zombie, eyes barely open.
"Good... morning..." she mumbled, walking on autopilot.
George Sr. came in next—unlike Missy, he looked fresh and ready to face the world.
But when his eyes met Mary's, he gave her a subtle, squinted look and immediately went for his coffee.
Yeah.
They definitely talked about me.
Sheldon and Veronica entered not long after, walking in like a breeze of fresh air. Especially Sheldon.
"Good morning!" he chirped, eyes locking on mine.
"Brother! When are we playing DnD again?!"
Veronica chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Someone really enjoyed our little adventure, huh?"
Missy raised a sleepy finger.
"Me too," she muttered.
I looked around the kitchen.
"Well, judging by Sheldon and Missy's enthusiasm... I'd say DnD night was a massive success."
I stood and let Veronica take my seat at the table.
"We'll set a new date," I said. "I'll message the others first, make sure everyone's free."
"I still don't know how to kill that crew," I muttered, half to myself.
That caught George Sr.'s attention.
Sheldon immediately jumped in, frustrated.
"Like I said! We still need a piece of Aztec gold!"
"I need coffee..." Missy mumbled, eyes closed.
"Here," I said, handing her mine.
Without even thinking, she took a sip—
BLERGGHH—
"IT'S BITTER!!!"
She spat it back into the sink, face twisted in horror.
I laughed out loud.
Yup.
Just another chaotic morning at the Cooper household.
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Georgie walked through the hallway with his usual confident stride. Sheldon clutched his suitcase tightly in one hand, as if letting go would unleash chaos. On Georgie's other side, Veronica clung gently to his arm, smiling as she noticed how heads turned around them.
Whispers floated in the air like static.
Fingers pointed. Hushed voices passed between lockers.
A group of students unfolded a copy of Rolling Stone, holding it up near a locker, and Georgie didn't even need to look—he knew what was on the cover.
He exhaled and kept walking.
Sheldon, clearly bothered, leaned closer and whispered, "Why is everyone pointing at me?"
Veronica chuckled under her breath.
"That's not for you, Sheldon. That's for your brother."
"Oh… okay then," Sheldon said, blinking. He accepted it, though the thought still unsettled him. He didn't want fame like this. He wanted recognition—but from the scientific community, not the gossip crowd.
So far, he hadn't done anything even remotely Nobel-worthy.
Georgie brushed his hair back and smiled at Veronica.
"I'll see you soon," he said, kissing her cheek.
"Okay," she replied warmly.
As she turned toward her class, something happened.
"Aachoo!"
The loud sneeze echoed through the hallway like a siren.
Both Georgie and Sheldon turned in sync.
A scrawny boy with messy sleeves stood near the lockers, eyes watery, nose red and running. He sniffled loudly, clearly trying to act like nothing happened.
Georgie froze.
"Oh, shit," he muttered.
Veronica paused. "What's wrong?"
Georgie didn't answer. His eyes were on Sheldon—who now stood perfectly still, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes wide.
"Sheldon?" Georgie asked carefully.
"No, no, no," Sheldon muttered, his voice rising. "I can't afford to die right now. That would be a great loss to the scientific community!"
Georgie stepped beside him.
"It's okay, buddy. Let's go to Dad's office, alright?"
He wrapped an arm around Sheldon's shoulder and steered him through the crowd—fast. Sheldon's little legs moved like they were outrunning the apocalypse.
Inside the front office, George Sr. was mid-bite on a donut, his mouth open wide in preparation for round two.
"Dad!"
Georgie's voice snapped his attention up. George Sr. quickly dropped the donut.
"What… What are you doing here?" he stammered, his eyes flicking suspiciously between his sons.
"It's flu season," Georgie said flatly.
"So?" George Sr. asked, genuinely confused.
Then he noticed Sheldon, who was now clutching his suitcase and his face, eyes darting around like airborne particles were hunting him.
"Oh. Right…"
George Sr. sighed. He was used to Sheldon's long history of odd illnesses and doomsday symptoms—always well-researched, often exaggerated.
"It's okay. It's just a flu, Sheldon."
But he didn't realize it was Georgie who dragged Sheldon in.
"It's not just a flu!" Sheldon snapped. "Do you even know how many people died during the 1918 pandemic? Between 20 to 50 million people! That's called The Spanish Flu!"
He stared at his father like he'd just insulted Newton's third law.
Georgie chuckled. Honestly, he only brought Sheldon here to mess with his dad.
He casually walked over to George's desk, picked up the donut his father had been holding earlier, and took a big bite.
"You could just give him a mask or something," he mumbled through the donut.
George Sr. stared at his half-eaten breakfast with a dead expression.
At that exact moment, the door burst open.
"Hey Georgie!"
Wayne stepped in, grinning wide.
"I saw the show, man! It was awesome! Goosebumps, I swear. You riding in on that horse? Like freakin' Clint Eastwood!"
He clapped Georgie on the back—hard—and Georgie instantly choked on his donut, coughing crumbs everywhere.
"Come on, man! I just wanted to eat it in peace!"
"Oh, sorry, sorry." Wayne raised both hands in surrender and turned to George Sr.
"What's going on with you?"
George Sr. growled under his breath.
"Nothing."
Then he reached into a drawer and tossed a surgical mask at Sheldon.
"Here."
Sheldon looking at it without touching it and inspected it like a crime scene.
"Is this mask medically standardized? Where did it come from? Did you wash your hands before touching this?!"
George Sr.'s eyes narrowed.
Georgie was now silently laughing into his sleeve.
But when George looked at him, Georgie snapped back to a poker face.
George Sr. threw the entire box of masks into Sheldon's arms.
"Here! Take all of them!"
Sheldon nodded solemnly and accepted the box.
Then paused.
"Do you have Purell? I just touched a box that probably contains viruses."
George Sr. pointed at the door.
"Just GO!"
Georgie grabbed Sheldon by the collar and dragged him out, still chewing the last bite of the donut.
Honestly? Mission accomplished.
Wayne raised an eyebrow. "Geez, what's up with you this morning? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"
George Sr. didn't answer. He just sighed and quietly tossed the crumpled napkin that once held his breakfast into the trash.
"That kid… he knows something's wrong today.
And he's right."
Wayne blinked.
"Uh-oh. What'd you do this time? Or wait—was it Mary?"
George Sr. glared at him, lips sealed.
Wayne leaned in with a grin.
"Come on, you can tell me. Best buds, remember?"
George Sr. just went back to his paperwork without a word.
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*3rd pov - At Church
The faint hum of the ceiling fan blended with the ticking of a modest clock on the wall. Pastor Jeff sat behind his desk, flipping through a youth ministry brochure—half-reading, half-daydreaming—when a soft knock interrupted the calm.
"Come in," he called, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
The door creaked open, and in stepped Mary Cooper. Her face was drawn tight with concern, and she clutched her purse against her chest like a lifeline. She looked like she had rehearsed this moment three times before finally mustering the courage to show up.
"Mary," Pastor Jeff greeted, his smile warm but tinged with curiosity. "Please, have a seat."
She sat down, spine stiff, hands folded in her lap only to quickly unravel and reweave themselves. Her gaze darted toward the floor, then to the ceiling, and finally to him.
"This might sound... strange," she said, voice thin. "But I need to ask you something. Again."
Pastor Jeff tilted his head, already sensing the familiar rhythm of a worried mother. "Is it Georgie?"
She nodded, letting out a breath that trembled halfway through. "It's not like last time. I swear. I'm not calling demons or devils or anything like that. I've learned my lesson."
He let out a soft chuckle, though it sounded more like a sigh. "I still remember Georgie throwing himself on the floor and shouting nonsense."
Pastor Jeff shivered slightly at the memory, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ugh. And the way he smiled at me when we shook hands after... like he'd won."
Mary groaned and buried her face briefly in her hands. "Please don't remind me. I still wake up cringing."
There was a long, loaded pause. The kind that carried the weight of shared humiliation.
"But this is different," she said at last, lowering her hands. Her voice softened to a near whisper. "Yesterday, I sat in on a game they were playing—Dungeons and Dragons. Georgie's running it. He's writing the story, guiding the world. And it's... Pastor, it's dark."
Jeff raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "How dark?"
She hesitated. There were pirates… who spoke like they were possessed by demons. Burning cities and people. And Georgie—he wasn't just telling the story. He was inside it. Like he was pulling it from somewhere deep, like he'd lived it."
Jeff's smile faded. He leaned back in his chair, hands folding together. "That's... intense."
Mary nodded, her voice trembling again. "I played with them. I tried to join, just to see what they were doing. And for a moment, I wasn't a mom—I was someone lost in a storm, trapped in that world with them. And I felt... afraid. Not because of monsters or magic. Because I could see my son in those words."
Jeff said nothing. He just listened.
"I know how it sounds…crazy," Mary continued. "And I don't want to overreact. Maybe I am overthinking it because I'm his mother. But... something's off. Not demonic or anything," she added quickly, holding up a hand. "Just... off."
He nodded slowly. "And you want me to come over. Talk to him."
"Yes," she said. "Just talk. No prayers. No holy water. No... drama. Just listen to him, if you can."
Jeff was quiet for a moment. Then he gave her a long, skeptical look. "You're sure this isn't another Georgie Cooper special? Because, Mary... I still haven't recovered from the last time he faked being possessed and screamed one of the devil name."
Mary winced. "I'm sure. He's not being playful. And that scares me more than any prank ever could."
Jeff rubbed his chin, thoughtful now. "Alright. I'll come by. But I swear, if he starts levitating or chanting again, I'm charging you extra."
That earned a soft laugh from her—just a small, human sound in the midst of the tension. "Fair enough."
He leaned forward, more serious now. "I'll keep it light. Let him lead. Maybe he's just processing something. Maybe this story is his way out."
Mary nodded slowly, her shoulders loosening just a bit. "Thank you, Pastor. I think… he just needs someone to see past the performance."
Pastor Jeff offered a gentle smile. "Oh yeah—and congratulations on raising a great performer," he added, shaking his head. "I didn't see it myself, but I heard about it. Maybe you can send me his songs later!."
Mary smiled with subtle pride, though guilt lingered in her eyes. The fact that she had come here… that she was still unsure… made her question whether she was really trusting her son.
Jeff caught the look and softened his tone. "Hey… it's alright, Mary. You're a mother. It's natural to worry. You're doing the right thing. I'll come by without the Bible, dressed like a friendly neighbor, not a preacher."
Mary's smile returned, wider this time. "That's good. Thank you, Pastor Jeff."
She stood. "I'm sorry for interrupting your afternoon."
Jeff rose with her, walking her to the door with a warm, reassuring expression. "You didn't interrupt anything, Mary. I'll see you soon."