Chapter 1

“Thank you.” The voice belongs to a tall and slender girl. Her hair is long. Halfway through her performance, you decide her hair is too long. She was a talented dancer. You had grown up watching recitals and could quickly tell this girl was classically trained. You had already seen many dancers. This girl’s dance was above average. She stood silently as the rest of the students at the table took a few notes and went back over her application. The boy to your immediate right was Kim Doo Joon. You two are the senior class student representatives. You two score the highest on school exams and were highly respected by students and teachers alike. Also at the table are the student representatives from the junior, sophomore, and freshman classes.

The girl loosely held her right elbow with her left hand as she waited for an answer. You clear your throat. All of the student representatives lift their heads up. “You did well,” you begin. “Your movements were fluid and your dance appeared to tell a story.” Doo Joon agreed and made a few comments about the compilation of moves. The others added their two cents and after thirty seconds of discussion we decided to let her participate in the talent show. The girl’s eyes filled with tears yet before one could fall from her eyes she bowed vigorously. “Thank you! Thank you!” she repeated. You turn your page to the next audition. You were halfway done with the last day of auditions for the annual school talent show.

This was one of your duties as a senior class representative. The dean of the school was always partial to you. You had taken charge and participated in school activities since you were a freshman. This year, your senior year, he gave you full control over planning and executing school events for all of the classes. You knew it really bothered Doo Joon that he was never given full control over any of the school dances and rallies but you did not care. You were true to the definition of a type O. From an early age, you dominated school life. You excelled in your studies and even took up judo and participated in some school plays. You are a natural born leader and you are proud of it. There are very few things you cannot do.

You could hear the girl’s squeals from outside of the auditorium. You chuckled. You counted the number of applications left. Three more and you would be done. This was only the first step in putting on the talent show and you were already exhausted. “We sure do have some talented students!” You and your fellow representatives turn your heads and meet the eyes of the dean. He is wearing the usual, blue suit and black shoes. His hair is pulled back and dripping with grease, as always. You smile at him as he walks quickly to you, returning your smile. “How has the audition process been?” “Long,” you reply. He chuckles. “It has been hard choosing just nine acts,” says Doo Joon. The dean briefly acknowledges his comment and returns his attention to you. “I was able to finish sorting my files earlier so I wanted to come by and watch the last of the auditions.”

You smile and nod. He walks over to the opposite end of the table where an empty seat sits. “Next!” You scan over the next application. “Hello. My name is Choi Jun Hong. I will be rapping.” Your head shoots up. A slight frown appears on your face. You hated it when these type of people audition. They are mostly freshman who do not know about the dean and his disdain for rap music. You could not believe how tall this kid was. He was three times the height of your twelve-year-old sister. Not only did his height make him stand out. His hair was bleached. He also wore a mask that hung loosely around his neck. You prepared yourself to let him off easy as he took a quick breath.

“The tyrants hiding the bright light


Them who are like demons are playing fake every day

My ego is facing them and fighting them using the mask of justice


Without anyone knowing break all the stereotypes moving in rhythm It’s now time to move

Move the crowd action
We’re lifting a new wind in this world
Everyone follow us and stand out of the way


Us, the weak’s, it`s all passion”

        The dean raises his hand and he stops. “Thank you uh-“ the dean takes the kid’s application from freshman class representative Choong Shik and looks for a name. “Choi Jun Hong,” the dean finishes. “I also go by Zelo,” the kid says with a smile. The dean gives him a judgmental look. “Right. I assume you do not know much about this school. This school supports the all of the arts but what you just did is make a fool of yourself.” You felt terrible as you saw the boy’s eyes go from happy to sad to frustrated. “You are a new student so I guess you would have a rebellious spirit. At this school, we nurture our students and try to beat rebellion out of our students using rigorous classwork-“ “I rank in the top five out of the entire class in school exams,” the kid says harshly. The dean’s eyes now held a look of disgust.

        The dean has always been old-fashioned about many things. He believed that students should be seen and not heard. So the fact that this kid just interrupted him has probably angered him further. “Just because one is an above average test taker does not mean he is a model student,” the dean says harshly. You could tell this kid was not going to quit. You felt chills. You had to move the conversation out of the direction it was heading. “I think,” you begin loudly “that the lyrics were well thought out. However,” you feel the dean’s eyes sticking into you like daggers, “I do not think this hobby of yours is a talent that should be showcased in the school’s talent show.” You were successful in diverting the kid’s hatred from the dean to you. “What do you think?” you ask turning to Doo Joon. Happy to be the center of attention, Doo Joon straightened himself up. “I enjoyed your rap. However, I know many other students who can do what you just did.” The kid bit his lip.

        In all, this kid only received three votes. One was from the boy who represented the sophomore class and the other was from the boy who represented the freshman class. The girl from the freshman class either knew him personally or thought he was attractive. The remaining six as well as the dean voted against him. The kid appeared to be grinding his teeth as you gave him the bad news. “Maybe next year,” you say as sweetly as you can. He gives you a half smile and walks off the stage. You could hear the dean grumbling from the other side of the table. You hated giving bad news. This kid should have known better. You were not a huge fan of rap. You did not know anything about rap. You did not mind this kid’s though. ‘He should have known,’ you thought as you flipped through the remaining two applications and sighed.

        The last two auditions went by quickly. The audition before last was a boy who juggled a couple of oranges and an apple. We ended up putting him through because we only had dancers and singers so far and we wanted to appeal to a diverse group of talented students. The very last audition was a group of girls. They screeched the lyrics of a popular song. You thought you knew the song they were singing but their version was unintelligible. Doo Joon stopped them two verses into their song. Everyone stretched as the door slammed shut. “Finally!” one of the freshmen student representatives whined. The girl who represented the sophomore student class promptly nudged him. “Cut it out,” her counterpart chimed in. You rearranged the stack of papers before you and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The dean stood up and stretched as if he had sat through the entire audition process for the day.
       

You pull out your cell phone as you walk out of the auditorium. “Hey!” You spin around just as you are halfway to the door. It is the kid from before. You stand and wait for him to walk over to you. You put on a friendly yet distant smile. “You auditioned earlier. The rapper right? What can I do for you, kid?” “I have to be in the talent show,” the kid says. His eyebrows are scrunched together and his eyes are filled with determination. Your smile falters. “I am sorry kid. The majority was not in your favor.” You shrug your shoulders. “Rapping is something that just is not done in talent shows put on by this school. It cannot compare to modern dance or any legitimate form of art.” As the words left your mouth you could see the kid’s eyes go from determined to furious, to the point that they scared you.

“You don’t understand! Rapping is poetry! It is the spoken word! Have you even listened to a rap song?” he barked at you. You were quick to open your mouth but quickly shut it when you realized you have never listened to it. Your parents raised you on traditional Korean and Chinese music. You sometimes listened to Girls Generation and other pop groups. However, you knew what this kid had done earlier was nothing like anything you have heard before. The kid shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, which was slightly curled at the front. You noticed he had some kind of facial mask resting around his neck that covered his chin but you did not have the courage to ask. Suddenly a brilliant idea enters your mind. Before you take a second thought you open your mouth and the words come out faster than you expect. “Show me your process.” “Wha?” he says obviously taken aback and confused as to what you were implying. “Show me your process. The writing process and presentation. If you can prove to me that rapping is an art form then show me how you come up with these....’raps.’ Then I will let you in the talent show.”

His eyes cast down and you watch as he contemplates the notion. He stands still for a nearly a minute and you assume that he is refusing your offer. “Look, there is always next year. You are a freshman right? I am sure you can pick up an actual art. There is alway playing an instrument or..juggling?” you say cursing yourself not being able to think of another more dignified type of art. “No.” Your eyes zone in once again on the kid. You felt awkward having to look up to meet the kid’s gaze. He was freakishly tall for a freshman. “By ‘no’ you mean..” “I’ll do it,” he says. A smile suddenly takes over his face. His eyes even begin to shine. “You’ll do it then?” you say not believing the three words that came out of his mouth. “Yeah.” He scratches the back of his ear like he was a puppy. “Alright. I am free Sunday then. I can meet with you then. What time is good for you?” you ask. “5:45AM.” “What?”

[CHAPTER 2 TEASER]

You groaned as you turned over in your bed. You swung your hand down harshly on your alarm clock that was going off madly.You could not believe you had agreed to meet that kid at five o’clock in the morning. You barely got enough sleep as it is since you spent hours at the library. (The night school you used to attend was shut down. You were mugged a little while back so your parents forced you to go to the local library less than a mile from your home.) You reluctantly rolled out of bed and began preparing for your day with that kid. Jun something. You tied your hair back into a samurai bun and walked over to brush your teeth. You are a morning person. At least, you thought you were. You never had to wake up this early in your life. You began to debate whether this was considered Sunday morning or Saturday night. You walk over to your window and notice that the sky is brighter than you expected it to be.

You finish dressing and grab your warmest boots. There was no point in thinking much about your attire. Your sweat pants and fleece jacket would come in handy when you stepped out into the cold night (morning) air. You snuck quietly out of the house so as not to disturb your younger sister and parents. Before you step out of the door you slip on your boots after sliding off your house slippers and head out the door. The weather was just as you expected it would be. You are welcomed outside by a rush of cold air. You notice dew on your mother’s plants that sit in their pots outside of your mother’s front door. Your mother was known throughout the neighborhood as an expert gardener. You pull out your phone again to check the address before you walk through your small yard, open and close the wooden gate, and brace yourself for the unexpected.

AN// Bam! I wanted to start this story before school starts for me. I have wanted to do a noona story so this is it! I love BAP! (I am a definite BABY!) Zelo is absolutely adorable. (If only I could adopt him and Chanyeol...) Please review and subscribe if you like it so far! For my current subscribers and readers, I just needed to finish up one paragraph of this story so I posted this before A Cup Of Sugar. I have been busy so please forgive me. My updates will probably occur on the weekend since I return to college in a few weeks. I will update when I can and want to. Don’t worry! I love both stories and will not let either die! I love you all for reading and please pray for Nichkhun! He’s going through a rough patch and he needs all the love and support he can get! My teasers are usually longer but I want to start working on A Cup of Sugar ASAP so there are only two this time. Suggestions and constructive criticism is appreciated! Crap! I almost forgot! I have absolutely NO IDEA what to name this story. I have one idea: "Noona Call Me Oppa." I have also tried to work on the poster for this story but photobucket is being a mean. Will update when I can!