I stretched my arms out, wincing at the soreness, and slowly made my way to the adjoining bathroom I shared with my sisters. Luckily, the house was still mostly dead quiet. I grabbed my toothbrush, squeezed a generous dollop of mint toothpaste onto the bristles, and shoved it into my mouth.
I didn't bother turning on the harsh bathroom light, relying on the faint glow coming from the hallway. I lazily scrubbed my teeth, leaning heavily against the doorframe. With the toothbrush protruding from my mouth, I began the slow, agonizing descent down the wooden staircase.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner into the open-plan kitchen and living room, a bright light assaulted my sleepy eyes.
Someone was already awake.
In the Dunphy household, the hours before sunrise belonged exclusively to one person: Claire Dunphy. She was the undisputed general of the morning, the mastermind of suburban logistics.
While Alex occasionally woke up early to cram for a test, and Phil generally snoozed until 6:30 AM, Claire was always the first one up. She used this sacred, quiet time to drink her coffee, organize the chaotic family calendar, prepare three different school lunches, and get a head start on the daily chores before the rest of her loud, demanding family woke up.
I shuffled into the kitchen. Claire was standing at the marble island counter, wearing her comfortable robe, violently scrubbing a frying pan from last night's dinner while simultaneously reviewing a stack of utility bills.
I raised a lazy hand, the toothbrush still hanging out the side of my mouth, and gave a muffled greeting.
"Mowrning, Mom," I mumbled around the foam.
Claire instantly froze.
She dropped the sponge into the sink with a wet splat. She whipped around, her eyes wide with sheer, absolute surprise. Seeing her middle, most chaotic child—who normally had to be physically dragged out of bed by his ankles—standing fully conscious in the kitchen before six in the morning completely short-circuited her brain.
Her maternal instincts, which were always dialed up to eleven, immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.
"Luke?!" Claire gasped, hurriedly wiping her wet hands on a dish towel as she rushed over to me. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated concern. She immediately pressed the back of her cool hand against my forehead, checking for a temperature, before feeling my cheeks.
"Sweetie, what's wrong? Is your stomach hurting? Do you have a fever?" she bombarded me with worried questions, her eyes scanning my face for any signs of extreme illness. "Did you throw up in your bed? Tell me right now! Tell me everything if there is any problem. We can go to the urgent care clinic right now before the traffic gets bad!"
I just stood there, letting her check my temperature, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation in my chest. Even if Claire could be overbearing, incredibly strict, and slightly terrifying when she was angry, her love and worry for her kids were absolutely genuine.
I sighed softly, taking the toothbrush out of my mouth.
"Mom, relax. I am perfectly okay," I assured her smoothly, my tone calm and steady to defuse her panic. "No fevers. No stomach aches. My bed is completely vomit-free. I just woke up earlier because I need to go to practice."
Claire blinked, her hands dropping from my face. "Practice?"
"Yeah. Football," I reminded her, leaning against the counter. "I joined the football club, remember? Coach Miller runs a mandatory morning practice before the first bell. If I don't go, he'll make me run laps until my legs fall off."
Claire's concerned expression instantly shifted into one of deep, complicated emotional distress. Her logistical brain went into overdrive.
"Oh, my god. The morning practice," Claire said, slapping her forehead. "I completely forgot they do it before school! But sweetie... I... I can't drive you right now!"
She gestured wildly to the kitchen counter, which was covered in half-made sandwiches, permission slips, and bills. "I need to prepare the food for you and your sisters. I have to make sure Haley actually gets out of bed, and the dry cleaner opens in thirty minutes! If you had told me last night, I could have completely rescheduled my morning plan for taking you to school in the car!"
She looked genuinely distressed that she was failing a 'mom duty' by not being able to chauffeur me to my newfound athletic endeavor.
I raised an eyebrow, putting the toothbrush back in my mouth for a second to free up my hands. I pulled it out again and pointed it casually toward the garage door.
"Mom, don't we still have a bike in the garage?" I asked. "I can just ride it to school. Wasn't it Haley's old one?"
Claire paused, her panicked rambling coming to a sudden halt. She slowly nodded.
"Oh... well, yes. It's sitting in the far corner of the garage, behind your dad's old golf clubs," Claire said, her expression twisting into a very complex, highly hesitant grimace. "But... Luke, honey. That bike is really old. The chain is a little rusty."
She bit her lip, looking at me like she was about to deliver devastating news. "And... well, it's very much a 'girlish' style. It's bright pink and baby blue, and I think it still has those sparkly plastic tassels hanging off the handlebars from when Haley was ten."
She placed a gentle, comforting hand on my shoulder, looking deep into my eyes. She knew how cruel middle school kids could be.
"I know you will feel incredibly embarrassed riding that in front of your new football friends," Claire continued gently. "You're trying to build a tough reputation out there on the field. How about this? You just skip practice today. Tell the coach your mom had a scheduling error. Tomorrow, I promise I will start waking up even earlier and taking you to school in the car."
I just blinked up at her.
Eh? Embarrassed? Friends? I thought, my Webnovel MC mindset completely rejecting the premise. Who cares about the opinions of a bunch of middle schoolers? A vehicle is a vehicle. As long as it has two wheels and gets me from point A to point B without me having to jog there, I couldn't care less if it was painted like a sparkly rainbow unicorn.
"Mom, no problem at all," I said, looking her dead in the eyes with absolute, unshakeable confidence. "My practice is important, and I don't want to skip. Besides, you already do enough around here. You don't have to worry about driving me. I will use the bike and go easily."
I puffed my chest out slightly, laying on a bit of philosophical charm. "Besides, cycling is also a great warm-up exercise. It's highly beneficial to my cardiovascular health. And feeling the cool morning breeze blowing through your hair while riding? That's just top on gold. It's the ultimate freedom."