EXCEPTional

Ch. 9 (Chance)

*Chance*

I looked online, reading the gossip headlines. To my surprise, the latest still read, "Olson's Mystery Vacation: Where Did He Go?" Which meant the media hadn't thought to look at the small town of Brimwell, and Brimwell hadn't breathed a word about my reappearance yet.  

For whatever reason, Brimwell was impeccable at keeping secrets. They had kept my existence a secret until I left for college. They managed to hold my fame within its borders, with barely any leaks. So now that I had returned, they would probably be able to keep it a secret for a while. I was thankful—I needed this break from the media.

Not that I minded the media. I ate up the attention and I worked hard to keep my reputation spotless. Sure, there was the slight scandal about my embarrassing drunkenness at a wild party, but that sort of blemish I could deal with.

      I just needed this break to breathe, to leave my hair as it was after rolling out of bed without worrying who'd see. I wanted to eat cereal, and watch TV while sitting upside down. I wanted to be a lazier version of myself, not quite so popular. That got draining after a while.

      Stretching, I groaned and tussled my hair, which was messy already from sleep. I turned off my laptop and stood up. I didn't even bother with a shirt—I just trotted downstairs bare-chested and meandered about the kitchen.

      I whistled as I made scrambled eggs, in a strangely good mood. I slid the eggs onto a plate, shook some salt and pepper onto the meal, and grabbed a fork before sitting at the kitchen island.

      It was an odd yet wonderful feeling when I awoke to find myself at my parents' place. I was in my bed, looking up at my bedroom ceiling. I could glance out the window at my neighborhood. It was like waking up in a comfortable moment of my past.

      My eyes trailed about the kitchen, looking at the dust that had collected. My parents hadn't been home in months: going on tours in Europe, taking cruises. They did have a service do the cleaning once a month, so I had to assume I'd shown up before they had.

      My parents had had a sudden loss of income when my father was demoted. It was such a cut of salary that they had to enroll me in public high school—a decision no one would ever regret. However, my family loved luxury. So when I came into a lot of money (and I mean, a lot), my parents lunged at the opportunity. I gave them enough money, in slow, smaller increments, to build up their retirement fund to the point they could retire. But being the parents of a world famous model has its perks, too, so they also came into fortune. Which they now spent on ski trips in the Alpines and spa visits in foreign lands.

      Unfortunately, because I had established myself so successfully and my parents vacationed so fervently, we grew apart. What once was a close-knit family became near strangers. We spoke only on major holidays, like Christmas. And even then, conversation felt too practiced, as though we were reading scripts.

      I got up, leaving the dishes in the sink, and moved to the coffee machine. I waited for my coffee to brew, thinking about how my dad would make some for my mom when she got off the graveyard shift at work and couldn't get to bed right away. When it finished, I leaned against the kitchen island, sipping the hot liquid.

      My eyes fell to the table, and then they scanned the chairs. My gaze froze when I saw one: clearly wobbly, as one leg was much shorter, and large cracks were on the backing and on the seat. My lips pursed in thought. Either we got rid of the chair, which was easiest, or we repaired it.