"Um..." Alex started, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly. "Luke... when exactly did you learn how to do that? I mean... I've never seen you study a day in your life."
Hearing this, warning bells went off in my head. My brain instantly kicked into overdrive, processing scenarios at a microsecond speed.
I needed to cook. I needed to whip up an excuse that was somehow believable, yet just unbelievable enough that she wouldn't be able to completely verify it. I couldn't use the classic "I was secretly studying in the dark" routine because, let's be honest, anyone who knew Luke Dunphy knew he wouldn't voluntarily open a book unless there was a comic strip inside it.
Hmm, what should I tell her? I decided to test the waters with a bit of Webnovel-style humor. I leaned against the nearest locker, crossing my arms, and gave her a mysterious, profound look.
"Oh, it's quite simple, really," I said smoothly. "I just gained a sudden enlightenment last night. The secrets of the universe, and by extension, advanced algebra, simply revealed themselves to me in a dream."
Alex stared at me deadpan. She didn't even blink. Then, she let out a loud, highly unamused snort.
"Right. Enlightenment," she deadpanned, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits. She stepped closer, poking her index finger hard into my chest. "You better tell me the truth, Luke, or else..."
I chuckled, genuinely amused by my little sister trying to intimidate me. "Oh? Or else what? What are you going to do, Alex?"
Her face suddenly reddened, and her voice shot up an octave in high-pitched determination. "Or else I will stick to you twenty-four hours a day! The whole day! The whole week! I will monitor you thoroughly to see what kind of weird experimental smart-drug you accidentally swallowed, or if you've been abducted and replaced by an alien clone!"
My right eye gave a violent twitch.
Ahhh... crap. A chill ran down my spine. Having this genius, highly observant middle-schooler tailing me 24/7 was an absolute nightmare scenario. I had my own secret 'plans' to execute! I needed to manipulate Phil into buying PC parts, I needed to establish my lazy kingdom in my room, and I needed uninterrupted gaming hours. I couldn't have her hovering over my shoulder with a magnifying glass!
"Okay, okay, relax," I said, putting my hands up in surrender. "I just remembered. My bad."
I coughed into my fist, clearing my throat to buy an extra second, and then launched into my prepared lie. "Look, I've just been... browsing online. Checking out some 'edu' stuff on YouTube when I get bored. I clicked on some quadratic math videos, and honestly, the guys on there just teach it really well. It made sense."
I shrugged, making it sound like the most casual thing in the world. "I was able to understand it easily. I've also been watching videos on other advanced topics, so don't have a heart attack if you see me solving other weird equations. It's just internet trivia."
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and waved it slightly as 'proof'. Phil and Claire had provided all three of us kids with cell phones, mostly for emergency calls and keeping track of us.
Alex didn't look convinced. She stared at the phone, then slowly reached up and pinched the bridge of her glasses, her analytical brain going to work.
"Nice try," she said, her voice dropping into a detective's drawl. "But you don't have a personal computer or a laptop in your room yet. And the phones we use are on strict, heavily monitored plans controlled by Mom."
She began pacing slightly, ticking points off on her fingers. "Haley uses her phone a lot because she's older and complains until Mom gives up. But you and I? We have, like, an hour or less of actual screen time usage per day before Mom starts asking questions. Plus, nobody watches complex mathematical tutorials on a tiny, low-resolution mobile screen. A laptop is preferred for that kind of studying. So..." She stopped and pointed right at my nose. "Tell me, what are you actually hiding?"
Damn, she's sharp, I thought, genuinely impressed. The logic of the Modern Family household was airtight. Claire Dunphy's helicopter parenting was legendary, and Alex knew exactly how to weaponize that fact against my excuse.
Instead of arguing, I just gave her a relaxed, lazy shrug. I put my phone back in my pocket and stretched my neck.
"I told you all I have," I replied calmly, keeping my heart rate perfectly steady. "If you can't believe it, then I guess you can think whatever you want. Believe I'm an alien. Believe I'm a mutant. Makes no difference to me."
Alex stared hard into my eyes, searching for a lie, but I gave her absolutely nothing. My face was a mask of relaxed boredom.
After a tense few seconds, she bit her lower lip. She visibly made a decision in her head, giving a slow, firm nod to herself.
"Okay. Sure, then," she said, her voice completely returning to normal, though her eyes still held a glint of intense curiosity. "Let's go see the sports clubs you can join."
She spun around and took the lead, guiding the way down the wide corridor. I followed a step behind, my hands in my pockets, wondering what exactly was brewing in her massive brain.
We navigated through the school until the distinct smell of floor wax and old sweat hit our noses. We had reached the gymnasium.
It was a massive, high-ceilinged building with a shiny hardwood floor and folded-up bleachers. Since it was right after school, there weren't too many students lingering around, but a few were gathered near the bulletin boards and the main club inquiry desk just outside the locker rooms.
We walked up to the desk, where a bored-looking senior student was chewing gum and flipping through a magazine.
"Excuse me," Alex said, her polite 'good student' voice turning on instantly. "We're here to inquire about the fall athletic programs. Specifically, the availability and schedules for football and swimming."
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Ah, guys.... 20 extra chapters released finally. u can go to my....
Also, pls give a review... i know u are following this fic and atleast u can do this to support this poor author🥹🥹