Chances

Chapter 1: My Birth

Ever since I was a baby, I knew I was different than the others: I never shed a tear as doctors pulled me out of my mother's womb, I didn't even laugh or squirm out of my parent's grasp, I only opened my eyes and look at how pretty she was.

The minute I heard Mom shrieking, I was moaning, but yet I quieted down when she stared into my eyes. She had light brown skin and dark hair, almost like mine. I inherited my father's hazel green eyes and his curious frown.

I remembered being wrapped around in a soft pink blanket, even though I detested the color. Dad looked at me in awe as if I was a miracle worker or something.

"She's so pretty, Ben." Mom crooned. "Just look at her eyes." My eyes flickered at my father and felt his wet lips brushing against my forehead. Hesitantly, he carefully picked me up from Mom's grasp and looked at my eyes.

He had one green eye and one hazelish green eye, facial hair flourished around his mouth and on his sides. Dad looked really handsome up close, despite his pale skin. His dark brown hair was really messy, and I noticed that he was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and sandals.

Curious, I reached my tiny hand to his finger and squeezed it tightly. Dad gave me a shy smile then squeezed back.

"She looks just like you," he laughed in a British accent.

They decided to name me, Cleo after Uncle Seth's best friend, Cleo Mae.

After staying in the hospital, they drove me home and placed me in a small, yellow crib.

I watched patiently as Mom handed me a soft brown teddy bear and left me alone in my strange room.

It had a soft brown carpet, purple walls, and books shoved into white bookshelves.

Drawers were sitting up against the wall, with pictures of my family.

"Is this where my future niece sleeps?" someone asked. He sounded almost comical and laidback.

"Yes," Mom answered. "But don't scare her, okay?"

"Got it," the voice replied.

I ignored my teddy bear and stared at the door, almost waiting for the guy to show up.

With the sound of the knob turning, a young guy with red hair, brown eyes, and freckles, came inside my bedroom.

"Hey Cleo," he greeted. "I am Uncle Seth, at your service."

He wore a black t-shirt with words that says: I am ugly and I am proud. Strangely, the guy had khaki pants, but no shoes. I don't know if he is a Viking or a hobo.

"Hi," Uncle Seth greeted, picking me up from my crib. "How are you doing?"

I didn't answer him, I only played with his beard.

"So, is this how babies say Hello?" Uncle Seth chuckled. I giggled at his joke and yanked hard on his nose.

"Ow!" he cried, pulling my hand away. "Don't do that! My nose is extremely sensitive!"

I guffaw even louder and toyed with it some more. Just then, I heard various footsteps climbing on the stairs. As it turns out, it was my parents.

"Seth," Dad cried. "Is everything alright?"

Mom picked me up in her arms and cradled me.

Uncle Seth was too busy rubbing his sore nose.

"For a baby, she sure has super strength." he winced.

Soon, Mom stroked my hair and kissed my forehead.

"She is such a baby angel," Mom whispered. "I love you, Cleo."

I laughed a little and touched her cheek very gently.

In return, she giggled then massage the back of my head with her finger.

Three years later, I started speaking two sentences at a time. While kids were learning how to spell cat or bug, I was learning how to spell intricate and tenacious.

I solved puzzles and Rubik Cubes under five seconds, learned how to walk, and I know how to be polite to adults. My mother, Uncle Seth, and my father were even dazzled by my intelligence.

Many teachers suggests that I should attend a gifted school, but Mom and Dad insisted that I need to participate in my own level.

However, by the time I turned seven years old, I went from preschool to third grade.

At first, it was weird being in a classroom with slightly older kids, but I managed to work diligently like the others.

In my free time, I played chess with Dad, read Sherlock Holmes with Mom, and even spied Uncle Seth hacking the cafeteria menu.

"Uncle Seth," I moaned one time. "Shouldn't you get a normal job, like Mommy and Daddy?"

Mom works tirelessly as an accountant while Dad became an FBI agent. But according to their case journals, they both work for the Federal Bureau Investigation until Grandma made Mom quit.

My uncle gave his hair a scratch and looked at me.

"This is my normal job," he insisted.

"I am a White Hatter, after all."

Uncle Seth's job is assisting companies and protect people from house burglaries, insurance fraud, and many other criminal activities.

But most of the time, he hacks into my school lunch menu.

He was sitting casually in the living room couch, typing onto his laptop.
"What about a job as a firefighter?" I suggested, sitting next to him.

"Nope," he answered.

"Waiter?" I asked.

Uncle Seth shook his head.

I thought about it for a minute.

"What about a boxer?"

"Cleo, I am a hacker, not a fighter."  said Uncle Seth. 

"And besides, you always like the meals I put on the school menu."

Before he sleeps, Uncle Seth replaces mush and slimy green vegetables, with Panera Bread, Campbell's, and Yoplait.

After his work is done, Uncle Seth gets rid of his paper trail.

Mom and Dad persisted on Uncle getting a real job, but he sometimes helps them with their financial problems and Dad's cases.

Marching downstairs, Mom showed up in a stunning black dress and matching wedges. Her black hair with ombre streaks fell down to her hair. She has brown eyes, curved lips, and freckles.

"You look pretty, Mommy." I say, making her blush.

But deep down inside, I knew that Mom hated dresses and high heels as much as me.

"Come on Cleo," she insisted, slinging her black handbag through her shoulder.

"While I have some accounting to do, I'm dropping you to Daddy's job."