Though mom might be slightly upset with me for skipping, I believe she would understand if I told her I wasn't feeling well. I suppose that was the silver lining to having been hospitalized for most of my childhood; I could get out of school easily and without too many questions.

Yeah, I suppose I should probably explain that little tidbit, huh?.

Well, when I was two I was diagnosed with APL; Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia. I spent a long time in and out of the hospital as a toddler, and ended up bedridden for a while due to the side effects of the chemo, and the disease itself.

My parents were always hopeful that I would survive to adulthood, and didn't want me to feel left behind by my peers in the event that I did survive, so they began homeschooling me. Well, as evidenced by the fact that I'm still alive, it worked. But the experience made my parents a bit... Overprotective.

They wouldn't let me out of their sight for more than a few minutes out of fear that I would fall ill to another illness or the APL would come back with a vengeance in the middle of the night. They refused to let me attend public school even though I was feeling much better, and really wanted to go- If for no other reason than I was lonely.

I had no friends, no real family outside of my parents- well, I did have an uncle who came around occasionally, but he doesn't count. I just really wanted to meet people my age, to make friends, and do other things that most kids my age took for granted. But my parents wouldn't let me do that, they still feared for my safety, so I remained 'locked away' inside my room like some kind of Disney Princess.

Finally, after almost 7 years of being APL free, I finally managed to convince my parents to allow me to attend public school... I don't remember exactly what happened on my first day, but I do remember coming home and wondering if I'd made a mistake. But my parents wouldn't let me back out; I begged for this, pleaded for it, and my father put his foot down and said that I'd made a commitment and now I was stuck with it.

If I'd just kept my big mouth shut, I would have fewer problems now. But because I longed to be like everyone else, I had to hunt down the phone number for my school and call to let them know that I would not be coming in today. And let me tell you, do not ever take Google for granted, it's a damn lifesaver.

So I called the school and the phone was picked up on the second ring. I felt like I should recognize the voice on the other end of the line, but I didn't. But I cut myself some slack, it'd been five years since I last heard the principle's secretary's voice.

I explained that I wasn't feeling well, and even threw in a few fake coughs just to further sell my story. The secretary must have known my history, because she immediately became sympathetic and wished me a speedy recovery. I hung up after a few assurances that I would try to be in class tomorrow.

With that taken care of, I realized that I had nothing to do but wait around until my parents returned. My thoughts drifted towards my video games, but that thought was hit over the head with a sledgehammer and buried six feet deep. The last time I played a video game I ended up trapped for five years, no way was I risking that happening again. Maybe after a few days I would try to get over my fear and play some (Call of Honor: D-Day), or maybe some (Grand Larceny 7) to relieve stress. I'd always loved shooters, especially first-person shooters; there was just something cathartic about hopping into world free of rules and going nuts for a little while.

Honestly, (Grand Larceny 7) was probably my best bet. It was a criminal simulator where you were dropped into a world as a nobody, and went through a bevy of kingpins and drug lords. You'd become their lackey, for a time, until you inevitably killed them and took over their operation. It was a simple formula, and every (Grand Larceny) game over the last fifteen years had followed the same formula to a T, but it worked- and was incredibly fun.

What was that old saying; if it ain't broke- don't fix it? That perfectly summed up my thoughts on the game.

I shook my head and pushed all thoughts of videogames off a bridge to slam into the waters my consciousness below. I had already said I wouldn't play video games, standing here thinking about them was about the worst thing I could do right now.

I needed something to keep my mind occupied. Something fun, and mindless.

And that's how I ended up watching reruns of old cartoons for five hours. I thought it was kind of odd that even after all that time I still wasn't hungry, like, not even a little bit. But I had the feeling that I needed to eat something--

Making my way into the kitchen, specifically to the refrigerator, I pulled on both doors and looked to see what we had in stock. Our refrigerator was one of the older models, the kind with the double doors, both of which are far too small for all the food my dad tried to shove into it.

I know I keep mentioning my dad and not my mom, and there is a reason that. After I was first diagnosed with APL, my dad decided to take on the position of house husband while my mom quit her job and opened a store in town. It was one of those twenty-four seven gas station type deals, mom was there fifteen hours a day, six days a week. Which meant that it was usually just me and dad around the house.

My mom was often annoyed by my dad's... Shall we say, dietary choices. Oh, sure, there were plenty of healthy stuff to choose from; prepackaged salads, sandwich meats and cheeses, two percent milk and a selection of cereals. But we also had a lot of unhealthy choices, which is why I immediately grabbed the stuffed crust triple meat pizza out of the freezer and placed it on the nearby countertop.

I preheated the oven to a nice round four hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit, then made my way back to the living room to wait on the oven to finish heating up.

The TV was depicting America's favorite talking rabbit outsmarting a rather prideful duck when the oven beeped twice. The beeps may as well been dinner bells, as all nine dogs came running through the back door I'd reopened and crowded around my legs, forming the impenetrable wall of doge.

"Yes yes yes, can I get to the pizza first?" I muttered as I stepped over them and ripped open the box containing the treasured meal. I grabbed one of the many baking sheets my dad hoarded beneath the sink, tossed the pizza into the oven, and set a timer for twenty minutes. The dogs watched my every move and were bouncing around excitedly. They knew something good was cooking, and they all wanted some.

"I didn't say I was going to share with y'all. Get out here, go on, go!" I snaped my fingers and pointed towards the living room. Some of the dogs whined in protest, but they all followed the command. I followed them into the living room and dropped onto the couch.

The only thing left to do now, was wait for the timer to go off.

I opened my eyes and immediately felt something wet and slimy covering my face. I moved my head away and found Bear laying with his paws on either side of my head and his mouth hovering just over my nose. "I appreciate the bath, really, I do. But I took one earlier..." I wiped the slobber from my face and lightly pushed him away. "And now I feel like I need another one." I sighed and sat up.

Compared to some of the cots I'd grown used to sleeping on, the floor of my living room was surprisingly comfortable. A sea of fluff and wagging tails greeted me and I found myself smiling back at them. The herd of dogs had been invited in to keep me company while I waited on my parents to return.

"Guess I fell asleep." I mumbled around a yawn. My eyes widened as the smell of burning pizza caught my attention.

I leapt to my feet, almost tripped over Jasper in the process, and sprinted into the kitchen.

A new skill has been created!

Sprint

Level 1 (0.00 / 0.00)

By focusing all your energy into your legs, you can temporarily increase your maximum running speed by 1%

Sprinting increases SP drain by 100%

I dismissed the pop up immediately and yanked open the oven. My pizza was a smoldering wreckage of burnt cheese and foul-smelling dough... And it somehow still smelled better than half of the stuff I was eating in the other world. I reached in and grabbed the baking sheet-- and immediately jerked my hand back as the scalding metal burnt the tips of my fingers.

"Son of a..." I hissed through clenched teeth and shook my hand.

You have taken 1 point of damage.

"Oh, shut up." I dismissed the alert and tapped the oven's off button with my other hand. A bit of cold water later, and an ice pack for good measure, I managed to get the pizza out without further injuring myself. A feat my descendents will no doubt sing praises of for generations to come.

Disappointed that I burnt the pizza, but unwilling to let it go to waste, I grabbed a fork and moved to the living room. I kept the pizza balanced on the oven mitt I should have used to begin with, and started picking at it. The first bite brought a tear to my eye. I became choked up, not at the taste, though that was enough to make me gag, but because this was the moment it finally set in... I was home.

I ate half the pizza while sobbing intermittently. I promised then and there, my parents got home I was going to hug them until their spines cracked. I would never complain about doing chores again, I'd never complain about doing homework again-- "Did I ever... Did I have homework?" My mind's eye flashed back to the open document sitting on my monitor- the one I'd closed without a thought.

"Fuck." I stopped my foot and placed the now cool baking sheet on the carpet. Nine hungry eyes immediately rotated to stare at the pizza, and then I was hit with the full force of their ultimate attack.

"Don't give me the puppy eyes." I groaned. "Fine, I'll split up the pizza between you, okay?" The nine emotional terrorists stood and followed me into the kitchen. I cut the remaining three pieces into four equal squares, and eight half pieces. The four biggest dogs got a piece and a half each, while Max, Rex, Angel, and Rose got half a piece each. Fifi turned up her nose at the piece I attempted to give her, and gave me a sour look in return.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You're the biggest carnivore, aren't you?" I gave her two pieces of pepperoni in exchange for her forgiveness and washed my hands of the situation.

After washing the baking sheet and disposing of any remaining trash, I moved into my room. I found my backpack hanging on a hook beside the door and briefly searched through it for any sign of schoolwork that still needed to be done... I discovered homework from three classes that still needed to be done, and a note from Mr. Sandler; who I believed to be my PE coach, reminding me that tryouts for the track and field team were held on the following Saturday.

I stared at the note for a long while. I was utterly confused why he'd given me such a thing, I didn't remember having any interest in the track and field squad. But I doubted he would just give me the note for no reason, and I highly doubted it was because he saw some type of hidden potential in me. That left only one option, I asked to try out for the team.

I just wish I knew why I'd done such a stupid thing. Running from the living room to the kitchen, a total distance of about fifteen feet, had left me nearly breathless. I was going to die at the tryouts, if I even bother to show up. "No, let's not say that yet. I need to figure out why I would've asked about the team, surely I had a reason... Right?"

I placed the note aside and turned on my desktop. Once it was properly booted up, I opened a basic word document and pulled out my first textbook. Opening it was like looking at a picture of hieroglyphics. I snapped the book shut with an audible *clap* and twisted my hand so I could see the cover; my (Inspect) skill overlaid (Algebra I textbook) with the actual title of the book: Algebra 101.

"Well, that explains why look like a foreign language..." I sighed and reopened the textbook.

Is it bad that I was beginning to long for the days when monsters were trying to kill me?