Chapter 3 I'm Just Playing Dumb
I stared at Emily, calculating exactly how much force it would take to teach her a lasting lesson about respect. Nothing fatal—just enough to ensure she'd think twice before opening her mouth again. My body tensed, preparing to move.
"Jade, please go rest," Frank's gentle voice interrupted from down the hall. "I heard what happened at school today. I'll handle dinner tonight."
The sudden intervention broke my concentration. I glanced toward Frank—a middle-aged man with kind eyes and slumped shoulders. He is our father.
I shot Emily one last cold look before turning away. She remained frozen, clearly unnerved by whatever she'd seen in my eyes.
I returned to my room and collapsed onto the thin mattress, feeling the springs dig into my back. This pathetic body was completely out of shape—just walking home had left it exhausted.
"You can't even find a decent job. How can you make edible food?" Linda's voice cut through the air like a dull knife—unpleasant and ineffective.
"That fat cow is just being lazy again," Emily's shrill voice joined her mother's.
"Like father, like daughter—both useless," Linda agreed.
I heard Linda continue her tirade as their voices moved down the hallway. The insults blended together into meaningless background noise.
"Jade? Dinner's ready." Frank's hesitant voice accompanied a soft knock on my door.
I dragged myself up, feeling the unfamiliar weight of this body. As I moved toward the kitchen to wash my hands, the TV in the living room caught my attention.
"More details are emerging about the Caribbean island explosion," the news anchor reported. "The private island, completely destroyed yesterday morning, appears to have housed an underground facility. Experts speculate that..."
I froze, water running over my hands as I stared at the footage.
"The island has completely sunk into the sea," the reporter continued. "So far, no organization has claimed responsibility for..."
"Are you just going to waste water all night?" Linda snapped from behind me.
I turned off the faucet, slowly drying my hands on a threadbare towel.
The Morgan family gathered around a scratched wooden table. Frank had made some kind of pasta with canned sauce and frozen meatballs. He'd given me an extra-large serving with a side of soup.
"This tastes like garbage," Linda said after her first bite. "You can't even heat up a can properly."
Emily giggled, pushing her food around. "Even the school cafeteria serves better food."
I ate methodically, my mind still on the news report.
Something touched my plate. Max had silently placed a piece of chicken on it, avoiding eye contact as he returned to his own food. An unexpected gesture that momentarily pulled me from my thoughts.
"The school called today," Linda announced, her eyes narrowing at me. "Your guidance counselor wants a meeting about your grades."
I continued eating, not bothering to respond.
"Are you listening to me? You're failing almost everything!" She slammed her palm on the table. "At this rate, you won't even get into community college. What are you planning to do with your life?"
I swallowed my food before answering. "I have plans."
"Oh, you have plans?" Linda's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Please enlighten us with your brilliant plans."
"I'll handle it," I said simply, turning my attention back to my food.
Having finished with me, Linda turned her venom toward Frank. "Do you know how your brothers laugh at me behind my back? God, how did I end up with such a useless husband?"
Frank stared down at his plate, not responding.
"All your brothers were just as broke as you when we got married," she continued, her voice rising. "Now every single one of them has a decent car and a new house. But you? You've got us stuck in this dump, using their hand-me-down appliances and furniture they were going to throw away."
Frank's face reddened with shame as he took a sip from his water glass, his features aged well beyond his years from stress and overwork.
"If you had any ambition at all, Max's leg might have been fixed properly," Linda jabbed her fork in Max's direction. "But no, we couldn't afford the surgery when it mattered, and now it's too late to fix it completely."
I noticed Max's fingers tighten around his fork at the mention of his disability, though his expression remained carefully neutral.
"I must have been blind to marry you," Linda concluded with a disgusted shake of her head.
"Jade, do the dishes," Linda ordered as dinner ended.
Frank stood up. "She should rest. She hit her head pretty hard today."
"It was just low blood sugar," Linda scoffed. "Her hands aren't injured. Washing dishes won't kill her."
My temper flared. As Shadow, my reputation for ruthless efficiency wasn't just rumors. I was about to show Linda exactly who she was dealing with when Max silently stood and began collecting plates.
"What do you think you're doing?" Linda snapped at him. "Emily and you need to prepare for your college applications. Let Jade handle her responsibilities."
I shot her a look cold enough to freeze blood. Linda's words died in her throat as she caught my gaze, and even Emily suddenly found her plate fascinating. The room fell into uncomfortable silence.
Max, unfazed by the tension, continued gathering dishes as if nothing had happened.
Later that night, I stood in the small backyard, assessing the rundown but spacious house.
I stretched my arms, feeling the limitations of this overweight body. My muscles were weak, my stamina nonexistent. The body I'd inhabited as Shadow had been a precision instrument, honed through years of brutal training. This one was the opposite.
"First priority: physical conditioning," I whispered to myself, beginning some basic stretches.
On my way back inside, I noticed light still spilling from beneath Max's door. I pushed it open without knocking.
Max sat hunched over his desk, staring at a physics problem with a furrowed brow. Advanced calculus equations filled the paper.
I glanced at the problem. "The answer is 347.8 newtons per square meter."
Max's head snapped up. "What?"
I picked up his pencil and quickly wrote out the solution, explaining each step with precise terminology.
"How did you..." Max stared at the solution, then at me. "This is college-level physics. You're failing basic math."
I shrugged. "Those classes are too boring to bother with."
"But..." His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Your report card shows you're failing almost everything."
"It's all an act," I said, turning to leave. "Those classes are beneath me."
"You've been pretending to be stupid?" Max's voice was incredulous. "Why would anyone do that?"