Chapter 77– Paige's Past
Paige had always been lonely.
In this world full of idiots, she often felt out of place because she was simply too clever—yes, including compared to her own parents.
But that didn't stop her from loving them. After all, love and IQ weren't directly related.
That was how things remained until someone appeared in her life and changed everything.
You probably think I'm about to say Ron, don't you?
No—I mean Sheldon.
For the first time, Paige discovered that in the sea of fools around her, there was at least one person whose intellect could almost keep up with hers. Granted, he seemed to have some sort of congenital defect that left him with virtually zero emotional intelligence, but at least… he was entertaining.
To be honest, nothing delighted Paige more than pinning down a fool who was almost as smart as she was—a different kind of fool—and grinding him into the dirt in a battle of wits. It might sound a little twisted, but try it once yourself and you'd understand: it was honestly great fun.
Paige once thought she'd always be this happy: a harmonious family, obedient friends (who had long since gotten used to letting her lead because she was too smart), and an amusing little toy—Sheldon.
Until the day she discovered that her parents were fighting about how to raise her—and that the arguments had escalated to the brink of divorce.
On that day, it felt as though the sky was collapsing on top of her.
After that, she began to spiral.
The sweet, bright neighborhood girl disappeared. In her place was a sullen teenage rocker, hanging out with petty delinquents, shoplifting, even flirting with the idea of trying drugs.
For most people, getting hold of that stuff would've been difficult.
But for a genius like Paige? Child's play. She could have extracted something far purer from over-the-counter cold medicine herself—certainly purer than this pathetic little pinch of "detergent" she'd just bought, now sitting on a piece of foil.
Her pale, delicate hand trembled as she flicked the lighter, the wavering flame inching closer to the foil.
But just then, a strong hand closed firmly around her wrist.
"I'd strongly advise you not to touch that," Ron said evenly. "Even though the newspapers and the media like to call this stuff 'medicine,' you probably don't realize that in a certain country it literally means 'poison.'"
He made a point of saying the word.
Paige looked up, recognizing the meddlesome idiot immediately—her favorite toy's family member: Sheldon's older brother, the other fool who was a little sharper than George but still, in her estimation, an idiot all the same.
Sure, he had eyes that looked strangely weathered and often thought about things in a grown-up way. But none of that changed the fact that compared to her—or to Sheldon—he was an imbecile.
Of course, to normal people, the three of them would probably all be called geniuses.
Geniuses?
What a joke.
A seventeen-year-old high schooler who couldn't even solve a nonlinear partial differential equation—what kind of so-called "genius" was that supposed to be?
Unmoved, Paige shook off Ron's hand irritably and flicked the lighter again.
"But the bottle says it's a painkiller," she said flatly. "And I'm in pain right now. I feel terrible. Why shouldn't I take something to make it stop?"
"Believe me," Ron said, voice low, "if you take that, you're going to end up with a lot more pain than you started with. And when that day comes, you're going to regret this decision. I'm sure that smart little brain of yours—just like my brother's—can understand that much."
Without the slightest hesitation, he smacked the foil out of her hand. To be extra sure she wouldn't pick it up again, he ground it into the floor under his heel.
"Just so you know," he added, "I accidentally stepped in dog shit on my way over here. So if, after I leave, you still feel like trying it, and you notice any…special flavor, don't blame me."
A vein pulsed on Paige's forehead.
"Do I look like the kind of person who'd pick something off the floor and eat it?" she snapped. "I'm not Forrest Gump, you moron."
"Forrest Gump isn't a moron," Ron said, defending his sidekick's honor. "He just… looks like he's not very bright."
"And what exactly is the difference?" Paige demanded, rolling her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck.
"There's a big difference," Ron said calmly.
"The kind of idiot you're talking about is the one who, when they can't get what they want—or when something they loved is suddenly gone—just gives up on themselves entirely."
"Forrest Gump was never like that," Ron said calmly. "When Forrest decided to do something, he always stuck with it until he did it better than anyone."
"…Of course, math and science don't really count," Ron added after a moment, drawing on years of experience in his past life arguing with nitpickers.
"Persistence?" Paige let out a laugh that was far too jaded for her age, her expression as if she'd seen right through the world. "Tell me—if you lose your family, who are you supposed to keep trying for?
Never mind—you're too much of an idiot to understand. Sometimes, being too smart is a curse. It can even be the thing that destroys a family that used to be happy."
This time, it was Ron's turn to develop a dark line across his forehead.
Seriously—these lines, this tragic monologue…Paige, were you the founder of the entire 'edgy middle-school girl' movement? Although, given your age, 'founder' might be a little premature…
She was about the same age as Missy, and even Missy's idea of liking a boy only extended to wanting to hold his hand.
"Alright, enough of that." Ron's tone turned mocking. "You really believe your parents fought because you're too smart? That's your explanation? What kind of excuse is that? If they weren't already incompatible to begin with, what would they even have to fight about?
Maybe—and I'm just saying—maybe it was your birth that kept their shaky marriage limping along for a few more years."
"Is…is that really true?"
Paige's head snapped up, her empty gaze suddenly sparking with something alive. She stared at Ron, wide-eyed. It was the first time she'd heard anyone analyze her parents' divorce from that angle.
It had simply never occurred to her that it might be like that.
Not because she wasn't smart—she was a genius who could crush Sheldon from every direction. But some things can't be understood through intellect alone. They require life experience. And in that department, Ron had plenty to spare.
"Of course," Ron said, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. Before she could protest, he deftly unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it into her mouth. That was exactly how he always calmed Missy down.
And it always worked.
"From now on," he continued, "don't always assume everything is your fault. I know you're young and there's a lot you still don't understand, but you can talk to your friends, or play, or just hang around with us. I don't mind keeping an eye on one more little rascal. I know Missy really likes you."
Having lived a previous life as an only child, Ron had naturally become a doting big brother in this one. Sure, he played favorites with the girls, but the main reason was simple: Sheldon was just too unlovable.
"Then…can you walk with me for a while?"
There was something almost pleading in Paige's eyes.
Ron hesitated, then nodded.
"Of course. But you'll have to wait a minute. Right now is my father-son 'fitness hour' with Old George. I'll come find you right after, okay?"
From a distance, Old George's furious roar echoed through the neighborhood:
"RON! You little punk! You smashed all my beer! Get back here right now—you're not getting away!"
"…This is your so-called 'fitness hour'?"
Paige peered over Ron's shoulder, watching Old George huffing and puffing as he jogged toward them. She turned a skeptical stare back to Ron.
"You look an awful lot like someone who's about to get beaten up."
"Exactly." Ron nodded sagely. "Old George is way too fat. If I don't find ways to get him to exercise, he'll drop dead of a heart attack before he's forty."
He winked conspiratorially.
"Don't worry—he won't actually hit me. The truth is, the bottles I smashed were all empty and filled with water. I already hid the real beer at Grandma's house."
Paige looked at him like his brain was beyond salvation.
"…Are you sure your grandma isn't going to drink them herself?"
Ron's expression froze.
Crap! I didn't account for that!
So that's why Grandma was all smiles when we were hiding them—and even gave me five cents of pocket money. She was planning this all along!