Kookies *REWRITING*

3

The white window in the middle of the wall is the most wonderful thing in my room. Sure my stuff is nice, and heck, I really love my bed, but the window is my favorite. Long gray curtains hang beside it, and it’s adorned with pink fairy lights and polaroids of my friends. During the summers I like to take out the screen and sit on the sill, painting in my sketchbook or just watching the neighborhood. It’s a lovely little area of peace, but not today. Today, it’s my secret office for detective work. That boy from a few days ago is outside and in sight.

The window is cracked, but for stealth reasons, I have the blinds down. I’ve got my desk chair pulled up close to the window and my sketchbook in hand. Okay, Kookie. What mischief are you causing today?

He’s just sitting there, on his lawn, his jeans and plain white t-shirt blending casually against the green grass. He has a notepad on his lap and he’s scribbling furiously. The door behind him opens and out comes a beautiful short woman, I’m guessing his mom, and walks up behind him. Kookie shoves the notepad under him and throws the pencil into the street. The lady starts yelling. It’s odd, I’m only across the street, I should be able to understand what she’s saying…

“Mom, I’m just sitting here, what’s wrong with that?” Kookie yells back defensively. He scoots to better cover the notepad.

Kookie’s mom yells back, but I still can’t quite make it out. The words she’s saying, they just sound like gibberish.

“No, I’m not, I promise, I’m just out here for the fresh air.”

His mom crosses her arms and gives Kookie a stern look. Without speaking, she sticks her hand out. Kookie shakes his head, but his mom is relentless. She reaches down underneath him and snatches out the notepad, ripping the top page. She fingers through the first few pages, and, seemingly content, gives Kookie the notepad back. She says something else, to which he just nods, then goes back inside.

“Ooh, drama,” I mutter. 

Kookie holds the ripped page gently in his hand. He looks up from his notepad, and catches me in the window. I duck, but it’s no use. He’s seen me. I peak back up over the window sill, and see that he’s abandoned his notepad on his porch and is jogging towards my house.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! I guesstimate he’ll be here in about five- no, three? -minutes, so I throw my hair back up in a ponytail, and dig through my drawers for something better to put on. 

“Uh, mom? If anyone comes to the door for me…” the doorbell rings, “tell them I’m dying!”

Mom answers the door. “Oh hi there! You must be our new neighbor. Remind me your name again?” I can hear the glee in her voice. Traitor.

“Jungkook. But you can just call me Kookie.” So that’s what his real name is. I manage to find my blue lace sleeveless shirt, and I throw it on over my gray shorts. Much better than the oversized neon tie-dye I had on earlier.

“Oh! Nice to meet you Kookie. My name is Heather.” I peak out the door and see them shake hands. Weird.

“Nice to meet you too, Heather. Is Lizzie home?”

Don’t, don’t do it mom, I’ll never forgive yo-

“Of course! She’s in her room at the top of the stairs.”

She did it.

“Great! Thank you!” Kookie steps inside and starts taking off his shoes.

Well Liz, now might be a good time to straighten up your room a bit. I move from my hiding spot behind the door and gather up all the clothes on the floor. By the time Kookie is almost to the top of the stairs, I have my clothes shoved in the closet and my desk chair back where it belongs. I'm sitting innocently on the floor when he enters.