Teenage Millionaire

Chapter 21: Concern

Darla looks at me for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to trust me with this information. Finally, she seems to come to a conclusion. "Since he attained his fortune, he hasn't really needed to care too much about anything. His future is probably even more wealthy than his current life. But even before- he's really always liked knowing. Knowing as much as he can, and always for certain. For example, this 'state of nature' project. It allows him to experience the state of nature to a significant extent, and observe another person also in the situation."

"He said his tutor suggested it, I thought." When did I become so overbearing (another symptom of hanging around Patrick, I suppose)?

"Sharla did have the idea. She understands his learning patterns, by this point. But that need to know, and the ways he tries to achieve an understanding- that can be... concerning, in certain situations. For example, in the context of biology. It seems very unlikely that he'd take it to a problematic extent, but we still don't want to risk it. We don't know exactly how he might react to the information."

Oh. Oh.

"That's the main reason we told you not to correct him, as well- if he sets his mind on proving something, and someone tells him that he would have to do something more dramatic to actually receive the proper results, that could also go downhill quite quickly. Or he'll try to do something to prove them wrong," his dad puts in.

"Alright. So... what should I tell him?"

"You can blame it on us. Say you don't want to go against our rules. You seem like a responsible boy, I'm sure Patrick won't push you too much."

"Alright, we're here," Darla's husband says, gently coming to a stop. It seems to take forever, in comparison to Patrick's random slamming of the brakes.

I get out of the car and go to the front door, finding it open. I hesitate, but a moment later the door opens anyways. Patrick's standing there, smirking a little. His hair is damp and he's wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, so he must have showered already.

"Wow, my dad is such a slow driver. I managed to drive the same distance, put all the camping gear away, tell Sharla about the trip, and shower all before you guys got home, with about five minutes to spare."

"So you've just been waiting by the door?"

"Pretty much. Come on, you can shower while I call someone to look at your hands."

"It's not that bad, really-"

"But why chance it? Oh, and I also got out some ice packs for your hands, hopefully to prevent any swelling."

"There isn't any swelling. I'm fine," I insist.

"Then for pain." He leans against the wall casually and runs his fingers through the strands of his damp hair, only for them to flop back onto his forehead.

"I- I don't need-"

"Todd, they're just ice packs. They're not going to do anything bad to you. I promise." He pulls me into the kitchen (by my wrist), and pushes two small ice packs with soft-looking towels wrapped around them towards me.

I sigh. "It's not that bad, really. I'm fine."

He eyes me for a moment. "If you're really against it, then fine, be in pain, but know that you could have relief."

I roll my eyes and take them, deciding that it's probably for the better if I'm going to be writing (because I am going to do my homework. He's not going to stop me. He's not going to interfere with my grades).

"Good. Want to shower, now?"

I nod. "Yes, please."

He grins a little and exits the kitchen. "Follow me."