I sat out on the edge of the roof of the orphanage at around 4:30 in the afternoon, my earbuds hanging loosely in my ears as I watched the cars of the Baltimore streets pass underneath me, honking their horns annoyingly loud as impatient college students attempted to not miss another hour of Seminar, and clean-shaven businessmen tried to balance coffee cups, phones, and briefcases in two hands. I let my feet dangle over the ledge before the wind picked up, and I crossed them beneath me instead, opting to not die by falling 12 floors into heavy traffic.

     Sighing, I leaned back on my hands, scooting back on the four-foot-wide lip of the rooftop, turning up my music and staring into the sky. It was cloudless today, as it often was in Maryland summers, and the sky was just the right shade of blue. It looked like a painting whose background had been started, but the artist had given up midstroke. Now the canvas was sitting there, waiting, calling out, begging to be finished with the right blends of colours, shades, and contours.            

     This was my life. It hadn't changed in the six years since my parents and little brother died, but it never really got boring. It wasn't necessarily exciting, but there was a vague feeling of content that sat over me, almost like sitting in front of a fire with a warm cup of coffee and a giant blanket in the middle of December with Christmas music playing in the background, while snow fell in sheets outside the window. Ok maybe it didn't feel that good, but there was definitely coffee and a blanket included somewhere in there. 

     Life wasn't all good, though. In fact, in terms of a normal teenage existence, life kinda . At sixteen, I was the oldest one in the orphanage, which would have been ok, if my friends didn't all get adopted every six months or so. I practically had to cycle through a whole new group every year, sometimes resorting to befriending the eight year olds, who were often times scared of me. I was surrounded by babies all the time, so that was a plus. 

     I chuckled to myself as I thought about how my mom would've been in heaven with so many babies around. She always did have a certain pull towards little people, particularly ones under the age of two. 

     I didn't think about my family often, because memories meant pain and pain meant fear and fear meant resentment and Master Yoda said something like that, so it obviously had to be true. 

     My train of thought was derailed by a cow in the middle of the railroad in the form of a song I hated. "Why have I not deleted this?" I asked, not caring that I was talking to myself. I was perfectly happy being my own best friend, thank you very much. 

     Quickly switching from the random INFINITE song, that I always skipped, to the next, I groaned dramatically when another song I cared little for began streaming into my ears. Ten songs, nine groans, and one very over exaggerated rant, about why GOT7 was truly the most confusing entity in this life and the next later, I finally landed on 음성 메시지 (Voice Message) by B.A.P, a song I hadn't listened to in a while. It reminded me of home, so I decided that it was a good choice to relax to, over MONSTA X's Trespass (if I woke up one more time in the middle of the night from a dream where I was being chased by attractive Asian cops around a box-set barred in by barbed wire, screaming 무단침입 at the top of my lungs, one more time, I swore I was going to fly to Korea and rip Jooheon's head off). 

     My relaxation time was short lived once I heard the door to the roof open behind me. "Rachel!" I heard the all-too-familiar voice call out, and I lowered the volume on my earbuds so I could hear her. 

     "Hey, Lil," I responded coolly to my friend Lily, two years younger than me, but currently the closest orphan to my age. 

     "When'd you get home from school?" she asked, sitting at my feet next to the edge of the roof. She would never outright admit it, but she was afraid of heights, opting to not look over the ledge every time she stalked me up here. Honestly, I didn't mind her fear of heights, because it meant that she didn't follow me up here all that often. I loved Lily, but even the orphanage owners and maintenance staff knew that this roof was mine, and I didn't always take kindly to intruders. When I was twelve, I bit the 15 year old boy who had wandered away from the main hallway, climbed the staircase, and infiltrated my lair. It wasn't my fault I was territorial. He should've known better. 

     "About an hour ago," I responded, continuing to stare out at the hundreds of buildings I had memorized the names of by now.

     "Miss the bus again?" she asked. 

     "Nah, I just wanted to walk."

     She scoffed. "You just wanted an excuse to listen to more K-Pop." She knew me too well. I let a small smile creep onto my face.

     "Guilty as charged," I relented, raising my arms in surrender.

     "Watchu listening to this time? More boys that look like girls?" she asked, her eyebrows raised towards me. 

     "Lily-" I grumbled. We had this argument every time she came up here. 

     "It's true! They look like girls!" I rolled my eyes and looked back out into the city. "Anyways, is it that B- something band?" she asked. I was impressed she could remember that much.

     "Lily, every band in K-Pop starts with the letter B. That does nothing to help me figure out which band you're talking about," I told her , eliciting a mumbled "whatever" in return. "But, I think the one you're thinking of is B.A.P."

     "Is that the one with the creepy music video where everyone dies?" What a lovely way to describe One Shot. 

     "Haha, yeah. They're one of the main bands I listen to."

     "What are the others?" she asked, as if she weren't trying to feign actual interest. Screw it though, because she asked, so I had a valid reason to continue talking her ear off about K-Pop.

     "EXO, BTS, Block B, GOT7-" I started listing off. 

     "Is EXO the one with a lot of members?" I nodded. "And BTS is the one with the ladybug right?" I nodded again. So apparently she did listen when I spoke. "Block B had the clown masks?" Another nod. "I hate Block B," she finished with a disgusted look on her face. 

     "You hate everything," I deadpanned. 

     "No, but Block B's just creepy," she said, flicking her head to the side, in the sassy way that only Lily could accomplish. 

     "I didn't say they weren't creepy, I merely pointed out that you hate everything. Which you do."  

     "Oh, shut up. I would rather hate everything than be head over heels in love with boys that are too old for me and don't even know I exist," she snapped before making annoying kissy faces at me. Sighing, I laid down on the edge, hanging my head off the side that was above the actual roof. If I had hung my head over the edge that connected to thin air, Lily might've had a serious anxiety attack. 

      "Sometimes I really hate you," I told her, staring at her upside down. She just grinned a creepy chesire cat grin that vaguely reminded me of the one my little brother used to give me and I smiled back, genuinely happy for once, though the underlying sadness that accompanied that smile couldn't be denied. 

      "But, that just makes you love me more," she whined. 

      "I hate it when you're right," I said, bobbing my head to Janus by BOYFRIEND that had started playing on my phone a minute ago. 

      "Hey, Lily, could you give us a minute?" I suddenly heard from above me, in the distance. The voice belonged to the orphanage owner, a middle aged man with a balding head and somewhat younger looking face. He and his wife had started this orphanage when they moved to the city after getting a grant from who knows where and who cares who, and ran it with just enough responsibility, organization, and fun to not make my life seem like I just walked into some poorly made Hollywood horror film. 

     Because of my position, I couldn't see him, but I could hear him, and his request to Lily made nervousness and excitement evident in his voice. 

     "Uh, yeah sure..." Lily responded, confused and slowly got up, walking out of my line of sight and out the door. The second I heard the door close, the sun decided to be cruel and instantly moved into my eyes. Closing my eyes instinctively, I slowly sat up and continued to stare out into the city. Whatever Mr. Moore wanted to say, he knew he could say to my back. We had had enough conversation like this in the six years I had been at the orphanage, and it really seemed like a productive way to communicate- at least it had worked for us so far. 

     "Rachel, I have news," he said, excitedly. "Can you turn around?" he asked.

     "I'm good. Speak now or forever hold your peace," I singsonged to him, a small smirk playing at my lips. 

     I could hear the slight humor in his voice when he murmured "you're impossible" under his breath. "Fine," he gave in. "I thought you'd be excited to know though..." he paused, waiting for a response from me. When he realized I wasn't going to oblige him any time soon, he sighed and practically shouted at me in his "another-one-just-got-adopted" voice, "Rachel Ward, you have a visitor!"

___________________________________

     In the six years since I was walked up to the doors of the orphanage, holding a ratty blanket and picture frame that CPS let me take from home, I had seen many people come and go; get adopted or, less often nowadays, age out. Many people had had visitors in those years, and a lot of the time, the visitors ended up being the new family of the friends I had grown so attached to. It seemed as though I was the only kid who hadn't ever been called into a meeting with a potential family. I had grown accustomed to the idea that I would just age out and figure out what to do from there. 

     I had, of course, often wondered what it would've been like to be part of a real family again. My idea of a real family may have included white pearls, gelled hair, and a pair of cogender twins with matching jumpsuits and tennis rackets in their hands, but I had always pinched myself out of those fantasies- the reality was that most people over 6 had a 10-15% chance of getting adopted and that percentage dropped even lower every year. 

     But, as I heard the glorious words leave Mr. Moore's mouth, I couldn't help but feel like I was finally getting my second chance at a normal life. My fantasy of a normal mother and father, with probably a nice house, and maybe even some other kids, was finally coming together, and all I had to do was ace the interview. At least, that seemed to be all the other kids had to do before they were welcomed to their news homes with loving arms. 

     Rolling over onto my stomach on the ledge (not so) gracefully, I tumbled onto the floor of the roof with a "hmph" and frantically stood up, brushing myself off with my hands before looking up to stare with eager, wide eyes at the people who had taken an interest in me. 

     But, when I looked up, I didn't see the beautifully smiling faces of a happy man and woman. 

     Instead, what I saw was the creepiest smile ever, that quirked up to on side and made one of the eyes above it twitch. 

     The man standing before me was freakishly tall, with awkward, lanky legs, and gangly arms.

     He had the biggest ears I had ever seen that partially stuck out off of his head, and a mop of messy brown hair covered the tips of them. He looked so uncomfortable as he hesitantly raised his hand and gave me a gentle wave. 

     My face, thankfully or unfortunately (to this day I cannot tell which one), stayed blank as I stared at the giant in front of me, as I stared at the creepy smile, as I stared at the twitching eye, as I stared into the face of Park Chanyeol.