"WIGGLES, NO!" I scream as my Butterfree died in a Nuzlocke challenge.
Everyone in class looks up from their test and chuckles. No one expects that from me, even the teacher jumps from his chair from my sudden outburst.
"Sorry guys. Kinda was, um, daydreaming there."
"Nate Mendoza, see me after class," Mr. Johnson tells me as he goes back to grading the previous periods' math tests.
"Yes sir," I say as I go back to playing on my graphing calculator, which has Pokémon Gold installed in it.
"Oh, you're in for it big," my friend next to me says. She has known that I play in class since math is my best subject but never expected me to get caught in that manner.
"Yeah, yeah, Lauren," I reply as I go to put my Butterfree in the "death box" at the PokéCenter.
"I'm on good terms with him and I can slide by without any problem. I'll just say I was reading a story on my calculator and was too emotionally involved with the characters."
"Sure, that'll work. Go back to your game while I finish this test."
"Fine then," as I start to look through my PC to see if anything could replace my Wiggles. I guess Pidgeotto will do...
Forty minutes pass with me playing till the lunch bell came. People start to pack up their belongings, talking about the test with their friends while I stay behind.
"Lauren, I'll catch up with you after I'm done talking with Mr. Johnson." She raises her hand and leaves, leaving me alone with Mr. Johnson. I slowly approach him with my Hatsune Miku messenger back across my side, graphing calculator hidden within.
"Mr. Johnson?" I ask in an uncertain voice, slightly questioning his name.
Mr. Johnson sighs deeply, "Nate, I know this class is easy for you. You play on your calculator all period and still ace the test but can you please refrain from yelling out in class." He grabs his laptop and heads towards the door. "I'm leaving now, and I have to lock the door, so I need you out."
"Yes sir," I say as I walk through the door. I turn around to Mr. Johnson. "Sir, I know this won't change anything, but I do listen to your lessons and you're a great teacher. It's just that math is really easy for me and I need something to fill the other part of my brain that isn't being used."
"Thanks, but try not to make it as obvious as you did this time. It's just going to distract everyone in class," he turns and walks towards the teacher's lounge to have his lunch.
I arrive home first, as my parents are still at work and sister is doing her sports. As I approach the door, I see a small package on the doorstep. I pick it up and it is addressed to me with no information on who sent.
Curiosity piques within me but I don't open it just yet. I've read and seen too many situations where the protagonist receives a mysterious package, changing their lives forever. Still, my interest sky rockets as the package is just in my hand.
"Well, I'll open it up later. I've got some homework to finish up."
Opening the front door, I walk in, greet my dog, and go to my room to finish the homework.
Hours pass by while I do my various homework assignments, with the occasional break here and there. But this nagging thought keeps preventing me from full concentration on doing my assignments. What's in that package? I still don't open it, even with that persistent question in my head.
Around ten o'clock, I give in to my inner thoughts and open the package. Preparing for the worst, I wrap a bandanna around my nose and mouth in case poisonous gas leaks out.
"Damn, I must be paranoid," I say aloud to myself.
The package was about the size of a deck of cards but half the width with the typical Manila paper envelope around it. I slowly tear the top of the package as far away from my body as possible. Relieved that no visible gas was escaping the opening, I finish tearing the Manila package open, it accidentally slipping out of my hand.
Luckily, nothing happens as it hits the ground. I pick up the package and a small metal ring falls out.
Interesting, apparently I'm not wanted dead.
It was an unadorned ring at first glance. Grey-silver was the color and it doesn't shine particularly well in the light. Further examination of the ring reveals a phrase on the inside, written in beautiful calligraphy; it says: "Your dreams will come true."
"Huh. This has to be a joke, right? All that trouble of opening a package, and gives me a ring." I start to get frustrated but soon calm down. I quickly analyze the situation as this isn't normal.
Obviously the ring was nothing special. Anyone could've bought it. The engraving on the inside though, that probably cost a bit. That calligraphy must have made it much more expensive as it looked handwritten. Putting the ring on my ring finger, it's a perfect fit. This person must have gotten lucky with my finger size or has somehow come across that information.
Getting out of my analytical phase, I get up from sitting and quietly say, "I'll play your game. My dreams better come true then."
Soon afterwards I start getting tired and head to my bed. Before turning off the light, I make sure the ring is on me. Tiredly, I turn off the lights and say, "Time to see if this works."
Little prepared me in my sixteen years of life for what awaits me in the future...