Rapper’s Delight

                  “You’re kidding me.” “Nope.” You mentally roll your eyes. Sunday was a sacred day for you. You spent most of the day in bed. When you got up, you would make yourself a big breakfast and catch up on all of your dramas. You could not believe this kid. You pull out your phone. “Alright,” you say in defeat. “You have to provide breakfast. Where are we meeting,” you ask as you pull up the notes application on your cellphone. He gives it to you and you save it in your phone. “I like pancakes but I will eat almost anything.” He gives you a confused expression before realizing what you were talking about. “I can’t cook.” “You’re a bright kid. You’ll think of something,” you say as you pat him on the back before walking away. After taking a few strides, you hear a voice call you from behind. “Thank you! You won’t be disappointed!” You turn around so that you are walking backwards. “Sure. Just don’t forget! ”
                 
                  After spending the rest of the day at the library, you went home. Exhaustion had taken complete control over your limbs. You had crammed as much as you could for your exam on Tuesday. There were very few people in the library. A couple of high school students who seemed to be doing anything but study sat a few tables away from you. There was also an older man who hid himself behind a stack of books that appeared to have experienced aging just as the man had. The library was nice and quiet, save for the two high school students. You ate one of your snack bars, like you always did, when you got hungry. On the way home your thoughts seemed to wander. Eventually, you began thinking about the boy from earlier that day. He seemed pretty determined. You secretly hoped he would not show up so you could get some sleep tomorrow. You walk up the steep hill to the family apartment. There were few people out. The neighborhood was not bad though so you were never worried about going home by yourself.

                  When you open the door to the apartment you had welcomed home to the smells of your father’s cooking. Your father took on most of the domestic roles in the family ever since your mother works more hours than him. Your mother works in human resource manager at a corporation. Your father is an anesthesiologist. Your parents were not poor by any means.  Yet, your family was not living in the lap of luxury. You liked that about your family and so did your father. You were close to your parents but felt closest to your father. The only difference between you two is your motivation level, which you get from your mother. Your father always enjoyed cooking so he is the cook of the house.

                  “My child!” your father cried out as he made his way over to you. “My father!” you responded, on cue. You and your father enjoyed doing little things like this that your mother found funny. You both embraced as if you had not seen each other for years. “How was your day?” you ask your father as you walk to the dining room table. “Boring. Most of the people I come in contact with just can’t stay awake long enough to have a decent conversation with me,” your father said with a smile. “So what are we having for dinner?” “Bibimbap.” “Mmmm.” You resist the urge to your lips. “Do you need any help cooking?” you ask apathetically. “No, no. I know you don’t mean it. Your father has got everything under control.”


 

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. A rush of cold air welcomes you outside. 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.

            It was a ten-minute walk. There were very few people out this morning. Just workers cleaning and a few couples walking. Your torso shivered as you walked through the cold morning air. You found yourself standing in front of what seemed to be an abandoned building. “Hey!” You spin around and see the kid coming up from behind you. He is carrying a bag that you hope contains breakfast. “I’m glad you showed up,” you say half smiling. “I’ve actually been here for an hour or so. I just went out to get breakfast.” He walked past you and opened the glass door at the front of the building. The building was cleaner on the inside than the outside led you to believe. The kid led the way as you both climbed up three flights of stairs. You were huffing as you both climbed up the last three stairs. “Tired?” the kid asked jokingly.
 

He led you down a poorly lit hallway. You stopped as he opened the door that had the sign ‘Emergency Exit.’ He turned back and waited for you to walk through.  You stood still. “Where are we going?” you finally asked after thirty seconds passed. “The roof,” he said with a smile. You stuck out your bottom lip as you reluctantly followed him up another flight of stairs to the roof. It had not warmed up in the short amount of time you had spent inside. It actually seemed to have gotten colder. Your torso began to shiver again. Even though it was cold, the view from the rooftop was breathtaking. The sun was peeking from behind the grayish blue clouds that, for now, overtook the sky. “If you want, you can sit here,” he said motioning to a couch on the far left side of the roof. “Did you?” you ask in disbelief. “Oh, yeah. It was on the top floor so it wasn’t a big deal bringing it up here. It is actually lighter than it looks. You nodded. ‘Liar.’ you thought.

You made your way to the couch and sat on the old, cozy cushions. Although you are able to make yourself comfortable, the cold air prevents you from doing so. He walks over and drops the brown paper bag he was carrying into your hands. “Thank you,” you mutter. The bag feels warm and you wrap your hands around the source of the heat radiating from the bag. He laughs and you shoot daggers back at him. “Hey kid! Don’t make fun of your elder! I’m not used to being up at five in the morning.” You poke out your lip and look down at the bag. “Not only are you cranky but you whine like an old woman too.” You start trying to slap him but being that he is so tall and you are sitting down you only manage to hit his lower back. “Ya! Why are you so tall?” “Puberty. You should try it sometime.” You are boiling and let out a loud huff. He soon realizes his mistake and apologizes. “I forget that other people aren’t used to being up this early,” he replied. “It’s okay. Let’s start then.” He begins to dig deeply into the rather large pockets of his jeans and pulls out a few folded pieces of paper.

“I actually got a burst of inspiration earlier this morning,” he replied as he unfolded the sheets. “However, I’ve been stumped since three o’clock.” “Wait,” you say waving your hands. “How long have you been up?” He smiles. “Oh, just until two o’clock.” Your mouth is gaping open. “You were at a hak won right? Studying?” “I left the hak won at one thirty this morning. I just started thinking about this and what you said.... You inspired me.” “Really?” you say inquisitively. You are now curious as to what he has come up with. “I want to see!” You perk up and reach for the sheets and he lifts them up so they are out of reach. “What happened to you?” “I just needed to recharge.” He shakes his head and you are pretty sure he calls you crazy under his breath but you ignore it. “I’ll read it to you.” He sits down on the empty space on the couch and smooths out the sheets of paper.

In a world where art is not appreciated,

Brings out he fire passion within

                  You nod as you let the words sink in. Then he begins to speed up and you begin to have trouble following.

                  Ajummas are afraid of
                  this style that I have because
                  their minds can’t comprehend the words that fly out of my mouth like-
                 
                  “Whoa!” You start shaking your head. “Good right?” he says in broken English. His pronunciation of ‘good’ sounds more like ‘goo.’ “Good,” you repeat back slowly in perfect English. “You should give attention to each syllable and not just the first two in the word.” He rolls his eyes. “Hey!” He interrupts you before you can say anything else. “So, what did you think? Why did you stop me I had two more lines.” “It was too fast. Is that what rapping is?” “Yeah. It is whatever you want it to be. Did you like it?” “It was odd.” “You did not answer my question. Did you like it though?” You take the sheets from his hand. You scan through each piece of paper and see that they all appear to be separate lyrics. You return to the sheet containing the lyrics he had just spoken. Your eyes freeze on one phrase. “Ajumma? Are you calling me an ajumma?!” “You are older than me...” “By only a few years!” You cross your arms after roughly handing back the paper to him. He waits a minute before asking you again. “Did you like it?” You hated to admit it (well maybe you did not hate it that much) but you liked the sound of it. You were a bit taken aback, just as you had been at his audition, but you were beginning to like this rapping thing he was doing.

                  “It’s good.” A huge smile plastered itself on his face. “Really?” He asks in disbelief. “Yeah. It’s different. But good.” He does a little dance and you scoff. “Are you serious?” “The biggest challenge is getting approval from people like you, who hate or never heard of rap music. Most people think I am goofing off when I tell them I rap.” He becomes solemn and his head drops. You start to feel bad and immediately try to move the conversation elsewhere. “Well I haven’t said I would let you in. You better validate me waking up at sunrise.” You nudge him and he seems to get the hint. “Okay!” He looks down at you. “You probably should eat that before it gets cold. You had forgotten for the past few minutes that a hot, now warm, breakfast was sitting in your lap. “Right!” You open the bag and pull out what seems to be a breakfast sandwich with egg and cheese. Your favorite. “I did not want to get you something you didn’t like so I got you the basics.” “Thanks,” you say showing off your biggest brightest smile. Food was the one thing, besides family and school that made you extremely happy. It was your first love. He smiles back and laughs at your childish expression.

                  You were surprised at how time seemed to draw. He spent most of the time sitting by the door, legs crossed, writing on the floor. You tried to take your time eating but realized that your breakfast was gone in less than five minutes. This not only left you feeling empty, since the warmth was now in your stomach and not your cold hands, but it also left you feeling confused as to what you should do. You tried to nap at first. That lasted a couple of hours. When you woke up, nothing appeared to have changed. He was still sitting. It was still cold outside. Your hands were still cold and you were left with nothing to do. After performing a few unsuccessful attempts at warming your hands you walk over to the kid. As you get a closer look you realize that he is slumped over, sleeping. You question whether or not you should a.) wake him up, b.) leave, or c.) move him over to the couch to sleep then leave. As appealing as the last option was you knew there was no way you would be able to drag him over to the couch. As for option ‘b,’ you slowly began to realize how mean that would be.

                  You then began brainstorming ways to wake him up. Yeah, a normal person would have tapped him on the shoulder but you were not a normal person. You surprised to find that there were no dark circles under his eyes. You stuck your index finger on your cheek and formed a thinking pose. Then, inspiration hit. You move your index finger from your warm cheek to his forehead, which is very cold. You first poke him lightly. He does not wake up. You then start poking him at a faster rate and slightly harder. His eyes then shoot open and you fall back. “What are you doing?”

[CHAPTER 3 TEASER]

                  Your right cheek burned from the blow. “How could you make a decision like this without me?” You pressed your fingertips gently on your hurt cheek. “Weren’t you the one who gave me control over the talent show?” He huffed. He knew it was true and he could not refute that. “You know how I feel about rap music. It has no place in this school. In my school.” “Well with all do respect, this school may belong to you but it also belongs to all of the students in this school. Although he does not look it, this kid is talented. You wanted a diverse group of talent and here he is. It was my decision to let him in. You should not have given me this position if you did not trust me to put on a great show. Whether he wins or not, him being in the talent show will improve your image with the lower classmen.” His eyes flickered. Recently, he had confided in you that he was at risk of being replaced with a younger man who happened to be related to the district’s head of the education department.
 

“This will be good for you,” you replied letting your tone change from harsh to reassuring and kind. “I would never do something to make you look bad.” You could tell by his facial expressions that he agreed with you and was now on your side but his stubbornness would not let him say so. “Very well,” was all he said and he left. Once he had turned the corner you let out the breath you had been holding since he slapped you. You had never spoken to an adult, let alone the dean, that way. ‘I must be crazy,’ you thought as you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. Suddenly, you felt sharp tingling. Your cheek. You quickly walked to the bathroom. You applied a wet paper towel to your cheek. At first, you pressed a little too hard and the tingling turned into stinging. You continued to press the towel on more gently until your brilliantly red cheek turned a pink rosy color. You wore little makeup but your mother insisted on giving you ‘the basics.’ You had never used most of them. You reached into your briefcase bag and hoped for a miracle. You smiled as your hand wrapped itself around it. Concealer.

You generously applied the concealer. It helped some but not a lot. You reached into your bag again and found the two articles of makeup you were familiar with mascara and blush. You put blush on the other cheek to even out the color of your face. You put on the mascara so you had something else besides blush on your face. You really liked how mascara made your eyes look bigger, like an anime character. You also liked how the blush added color to your face and made you look like your favorite childhood doll. She was a Russian doll and was very bright and colorful. You heard the door open. It was the ballerina dancer, Hana. “Everyone’s ready,” she said. “I’m coming!” You gave yourself one quick look in the mirror before following her out the door. “I like your blush,” Hana said after taking a quick glance at you. “Thanks.”

AN// Hey guy!! It feels like FOREVER!! Started school last Thursday and I have been super busy since. I work early in the morning and have class all afternoon. Therefore, I will try to update every two weeks. The chapters will be long, just as they have been in the past. I probably won’t be able to proofread my chapters. I will run them through Word’s grammar and spell check. I hope you liked this chapter. Their rap session is not over! It will continue in the next chapter. I hate/love to leave cliffhangers but the teasers should satisfy everyone to an extent. Thanks you everyone for reading/subscribing! More is to come! Please leave comments! I love to hear them!  Shoutout to Kool and the Gang. I love old school rap and one song inspired the name of this chapter.