Time flew by, and Monday arrived in a blink.
"Is Mike still in hibernation?" Meemaw (Connie) asked Paige, who was sitting obediently at the breakfast table, having just finished plating the sandwiches.
"No. Maybe his energy reserves are depleted from the last two days..." A hint of resentment flashed across Paige's cute little face.
Over the weekend, Mike had been occupied with his "field trip" alongside Katie and Lena, naturally neglecting the little genius.
Furthermore, with her intellect, Paige had calculated exactly what the three of them had been doing for forty-eight hours.
"Right..." Meemaw, being worldly-wise, had also deduced the nature of Mike's weekend activities. She shrugged. "Go wake him up for breakfast. I'm going to scan the morning paper for any interesting data."
Since the internet was still in its primitive stages, the newspaper remained the primary vector for information distribution. Every morning, the paperboy would faithfully deliver the news to every mailbox on the block.
As Meemaw returned from the front door with the rolled-up newspaper, Paige successfully roused Mike, sending him to the bathroom to freshen up.
"Mike, I feel obligated to remind you: you are young, but biological resources are finite. Moderation is key..." Meemaw lectured him as she unfurled the paper.
Speaking from experience, she knew that excessive physical exertion could lead to burnout, even for the young.
"Excuse me?" Mike, currently squeezing toothpaste onto his brush, wondered if he was experiencing auditory hallucinations.
But he quickly processed Meemaw's implication.
Realizing she had misinterpreted the data, Mike sighed helplessly. "My physiological status is optimal. I merely enjoy sleeping in."
Given that he lived with two females, Mike couldn't exactly explain his stamina in explicit detail.
In reality, with his enhanced constitution, he could run at full capacity 24/7 without fatigue. The only reason he slept late was his personal preference for waking up naturally—a luxury he refused to give up.
However, seeing the skeptical looks from both Meemaw and Paige, Mike decided he might need to adjust his sleep schedule to avoid further reputational damage.
Meemaw definitely misunderstood. She assumed Mike was just posturing. Boys and their egos—they never admit when they're running on empty.
Just as she was about to offer more unsolicited advice, her eyes locked onto the newspaper in her hands.
"Whoa! Mike! You're on the front page! And it's in color!" Meemaw exclaimed, completely forgetting her lecture.
Today's headline featured a massive, full-color photograph of Mike.
In the picture, Mike was decked out in his football gear, bathed in sunlight. He looked handsome, wild, and undeniably charismatic.
It was a shot taken right after the game.
"Is that so? Jack's processing speed is impressive..." Mike mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste foam.
He remembered the reporter mentioning a feature, but he hadn't expected such rapid execution or prominent placement.
"Texas: A Rising Football Star..." Paige curiously leaned over the paper and read the headline aloud.
Mike quickly finished brushing, rinsed, and joined Meemaw and Paige at the breakfast table to inspect the paper.
"The layout is aesthetically displeasing..." Mike critiqued, noting that his face took up more than half the page.
If it weren't for the caption below, Mike would have suspected the newspaper was just using his face to boost circulation numbers.
"This is from the game, right? It's a fantastic shot," Meemaw said, clearly captivated by the image. "Mike, when is your next game? I might actually come watch in person..."
"This Saturday morning. Although the location of the host stadium is currently a variable," Mike replied.
As far as he knew, the opponent for this week's invitational hadn't been finalized, so the venue was still TBD.
"Well, once the variables are fixed, let me know." Meemaw was clearly enticed by the photo.
Sunshine... sports... handsome young men...
The power of visual marketing was undeniable.
Just then, the phone rang.
"Who is calling at this hour..."
Mike picked up the receiver. "Identify yourself."
"It's me, Jack..." Jack's voice crackled with excitement on the other end. "Did you see today's paper? Our operation is a success..."
Operation? What operation? "Project Star Maker"?
Before Mike could voice his query, Jack continued rapidly, spilling words like beans. "You have no idea the logistical hurdles I jumped to get you the front page. Oh, and I have more good news. If the sales metrics for this issue are positive, we have a queue of front-page slots waiting for you. Just imagine—a sequential series of color headlines..."
Okay, it appeared the newspaper did indeed have a strategy to manufacture a celebrity.
And Jack, the primary operator, was currently babbling incoherently from the adrenaline of success.
It was understandable. If this "Star Maker" project succeeded, Jack would take the credit and likely secure a promotion.
"Hold on, Jack," Mike interrupted. "I need to know: do you intend to compensate me for image rights?"
"Uh..." Jack paused, stunned by the question. After a long silence, he asked, "Are you serious?"
We are discussing your impending fame, and you're asking about royalties?
Historically, news subjects didn't usually demand payment from the press.
"I am entirely serious," Mike replied.
A photo of that magnitude occupying the front page wasn't just news; it was commercial content.
Mike felt it was necessary to assert his intellectual property rights.
"Alright, your situation is... unique. I will escalate this to management. But don't set your expectations too high..." Since the money wouldn't come out of Jack's pocket, he didn't want to offend his golden goose.
Personally, Jack wouldn't mind seeing the corporate overlords bleed a little cash.
"Let's leave it at that for now. Contact me when you have data." Being in a rush, Mike hung up.
"Good for you, Mike. Make those capitalists bleed..." Meemaw, having overheard the negotiation, cheered him on. She loved a bit of chaos.
After all, the media giants weren't exactly hurting for cash.
"Alright, hurry up and eat. You two are going to be late," Meemaw checked the clock and urged them, specifically targeting Mike, the late riser.
"Okay, okay, I'm moving..." Feeling the pressure of Meemaw's gaze, Mike chugged his milk in one go, grabbed a sandwich, and stood up. "Paige, are you ready? We need to depart."
Paige, who had been ready for ages, grabbed her pink backpack and marched out the door ahead of him, clearly still a bit huffy.
Watching the big boy and the little girl rush off, Meemaw chuckled and shook her head.
---
Mike and Paige arrived at the school gate just as the bell rang.
"Could you not wake up earlier?" Paige, still holding a grudge, used their tardiness as ammunition.
"This is not my fault. The delay was caused entirely by the telecommunication interruption. Jack is the one responsible for this variance..." Mike deftly shifted the blame.
Of course, he neglected to mention that if Paige's short legs could move faster, they wouldn't be late regardless of the phone call.
"Fine. I forgive you." Paige wasn't truly angry; she just needed to vent. She dropped the subject.
The two of them walked into the campus as the bell faded.
Truthfully, for two geniuses, being late for class was a trivial concern. They had already mastered the high school curriculum through self-study ages ago.
Moments later, when Mike requested permission to enter the classroom, he noticed the atmosphere was anomalous. A significant number of students were staring at him intensely.
Football... Photo... Front Page...
From the whispers circulating the room, Mike quickly deduced the cause of the anomaly.
Clearly, this was the impact of the color front-page headline.