After letting go of Mike, Grandma Connie drifted into her memories and started telling him, "That was over thirty years ago. Your grandma and I met in Las Vegas. She was a beautiful woman with soft, flowing blonde hair…
Back then, we were cleaning up at the casino…"
Seeing Connie getting carried away, Mary quickly jumped in: "Mom~"
"Whoops, look at me—gets me all excited and I can't stop." Grandma Connie snapped out of it, remembering Mike was still just a kid. She gave an apologetic smile and said, "This is my daughter, Mary."
Mary stepped forward and gave Mike a warm hug.
"And this is her husband, George~" Connie went around introducing everyone.
George was a chubby middle-aged guy. Other than not being bald, he kinda resembled Dennis in a lot of ways.
He came over friendly-like, shook Mike's hand, and said, "Welcome, Mike."
Next up was the Coopers' older son, Georgie, who politely shook Mike's hand too.
When Mike got to the little girl, Missy, she didn't wait for an introduction—she excitedly threw herself into his arms.
Only when Mary's mom-glare started looking dangerous did Missy let go, step back, smooth her little dress, and say all ladylike, "I'm Missy. Really nice to meet you."
"I'm Mike, and I'm just as happy to meet you," Mike said with a grin and a nod to the little girl.
Finally, Grandma Connie brought Mike over to little Sheldon and introduced him: "This is Sheldon—the smartest kid in the Cooper family."
Sheldon had his hair combed like a little adult, complete with a fancy bow tie on his shirt collar.
As soon as Connie introduced him, he slipped on a pair of knitted gloves he'd clearly had ready, then extended his hand and said seriously, "Mike, you appear significantly more intelligent than Georgie. I hope we can become friends."
Right now, Mary was worried sick about Sheldon not making any friends.
The super-smart Sheldon, not wanting to stress his mom out, had already started trying to make friends at school—just with pretty lousy results.
That's why he'd decided to give friendship with Mike a shot.
"Sheldon, do you have germ issues or something?" Mike didn't shake the gloved hand. He looked right at it and asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"Of course not. I wear gloves simply to protect myself from bacteria. You see, human palms sweat easily, which creates an ideal environment for bacterial growth…" Sheldon launched into a dead-serious explanation.
"Alright, Sheldon, medically speaking, that's pretty much the definition of germaphobia." Mike chuckled, stuck out his hand anyway, and added, "But don't worry—I washed my hands thoroughly before leaving the house."
Staring at Mike's long, clean palm, Sheldon was now faced with the dilemma of whether to take off the glove.
"What an adorable kid~" Seeing the conflicted little expression on Sheldon's face, Mike leaned down and pulled him into a quick hug.
The second he felt Sheldon's body go stiff, Mike let go with a laugh.
The hug short-circuited little Sheldon's brain. With an awkward but polite smile, he asked, "Excuse me, but I need to know—when exactly did you leave the house?"
Clearly, he was still calculating the bacterial risk on Mike's hands.
"Hmm, let me think…" Mike pretended to count on his fingers, then said all serious, "Around noon yesterday, I think."
Sheldon realized it had been a full day and a half since Mike last washed his hands. His face filled with horror as he yelled, "Oh no, germs… GERMS…"
He spun around in panicked circles like a headless fly, then bolted screaming back into the house.
[Intelligence Attribute +10]
[Intelligence Attribute +5]
Mike watched him go, crooked a finger, and snatched the two glowing orbs Sheldon had dropped out of the air.
"What a total treasure of a kid!" Mike muttered under his breath.
One orb dropped during the hug, the other during the freak-out.
[Intelligence: 143 (128 + 15)]
Once his intelligence hit the 140s, Mike felt the difference big-time—like upgrading from a single-core to a dual-core processor.
A bunch of fuzzy old memories suddenly sharpened and popped into his head.
The rush from that intelligence boost felt almost like evolving to the next level of life.
"Mike! Mike!! You okay?" Grandma Connie noticed him zoning out and waved a hand in front of his face.
Mike had been processing the flood of new info in his brain. Snapping back, he quickly said, "I'm fine—just wondering about Sheldon?"
"He's always like that. He'll calm down in a bit… you'll get used to it," Connie explained, then invited him in: "You must be starving. Come inside and try the Texas secret-recipe barbecue I made just for you."
Surrounded by Connie and the whole Cooper crew, Mike headed into the house.
Sitting down at the dinner table, Mike kept feeling like he'd forgotten something.
Too much new info had hit his brain at once, so he didn't dwell on it right away.
(Outside, a certain middle-aged guy was still snoring away in the RV.)
…
By the time they said grace before dinner, Sheldon had finally emerged from the bathroom—though his glance at Mike was a little resentful.
In the center of the table sat Grandma Connie's massive special barbecue, surrounded by the huge spread that stay-at-home mom Mary had whipped up.
After everyone stuffed themselves, George—the man of the house—sipped his beer and asked, "Mike, how tall are you?"
"About six feet," Mike answered after swallowing a bite of barbecue.
George had coached high school football half his life and could spot potential a mile away. He kept going: "Weight?"
"Around 170 pounds… give or take," Mike said. He'd been shooting up lately, so it was just a rough guess.
"Solid build. You're still young—plenty more growing to do." George's eyes lit up. "Ever played football?"
"Nope, never," Mike shook his head.
"That's a shame…" George sighed, then added with a grin, "But it's not too late. Wanna join my high school football team? With your natural gifts, you'd pick it up quick."
"Oh yeah, by the way—I'm the head coach of the high school team." George smiled proudly, then nodded toward his older son. "And Georgie here's on the team too."
"Come on, Dad. I'm just a benchwarmer," Georgie grumbled when his dad brought him up, clearly a little salty about it.
Truth was, Georgie was about Mike's age but only stood a little over five-foot-four and was pretty scrawny.
Compared to his dad's big frame, Georgie really didn't have much natural talent for football.
"Alright, Mike just got here. Let him settle into school first—he'll decide on his own," Mary cut in, shutting down the topic to spare Georgie some embarrassment.
Then she turned to Mike, curious: "You're not even sixteen yet, right? How'd they let you drive all the way here alone?"
"Oh crap—DENNIS!!"
Mike finally remembered what he'd forgotten. He jumped up with a yell and bolted for the door.
(At that exact moment, a certain balding middle-aged guy in the RV groggily opened his eyes…)