☽ Upper Side Dreamin' (An Enhypen Story) ☽

Chapter 2: Seattle's Seoul

Kimber

It was a sunny Friday morning. You could smell that fresh rain smell in the air, typical for Seattle, from the night before. I must've left my window open. I peek outside and view the mountain from my window before promptly shutting it and getting ready for school.

I quickly put on a pair of black graphic cargo jeans with stars painted in blue and white on them, paired with a denim patchwork, asymmetrical top, and my classic white Air Force ones, which look pristine might I add. I ran downstairs, sliding along the railing, excited for the upcoming news.

"DAD DAD DAD!!" I scream at the top of my lungs, ruthlessly rooting through the morning mail.

"Kimber please-"

"Did I get a letter? Did you see a letter?" I ask, ignoring his begs for my silence.

"Do you ever shut up?" My younger brother, Jordan, asks, fruity pebble mush in his mouth.

"Shut up prick." I reply snappily, turning around and making a fist and punching motion in his direction.

"The mail hasn't run yet, my screaming child." My dad states, sipping his morning coffee, reading the newspaper like some sort of 1920s businessman.

"WHAT!? Why?" I ask, quickly turning to him.

"I uh, don't know? Ask the mailman when he gets here." My dad replied nonchalantly, not even looking up at me. "Not that you'll have time anyways, shouldn't you and Jordan be heading up to the bus stop?" He queries, now looking at his watch.

"I'm not leaving until the mailman gets here!" I stomp, as if I was declaring my territory like some dog. "This single piece of mail determines my past, present, and future!" I declare further in a patriotic sense.

"Alright Master Oogway." My brother teases before shoveling down the fruity milk remnants in his bowl.

"You have 3 minutes to get to the bus stop. If you miss school, I'm not taking you." My dad declares in his "you'll be in trouble" tone without even giving either one of us so much of a glance.

I quickly grab a favorite of mine, a wildberry pop tart, from the cabinet, and dash and grab my bookbag before challenging my brother to a race. "Last one to the bus stop buys the other a snack at lunch!" I shout as I dash out the door and up the street. One thing about me, I'm fast. Probably why I heard quick shuffling as I fled from the house. Running as fast as I could, I ran up the street to the stop in less than 2 minutes without even breaking a sweat. My endurance and speed knows no bounds. I smile at myself and look at my Apple Watch. "New record, eh?" I whisper to myself, waiting for the bus.

Slowly walking up the street, I finally spot my brother, who was a good 3 minutes behind me.

"Slow ass." I say laughing. "You owe me a cookie now, loser." I declare, laughing even harder.

"Yeah whatever." My brother retorts, pulling his phone out of his bookbag. "I think you'll be more interested in this, anyways." My brother adds, fishing out an already crumpled up letter out of his bag.

The letter could easily be read as "To Kimberly Chamberlain, and the parents of whom it may concern." Which could easily be a good thing, or a bad thing, which was always more likely in my case.

"Give it!" I yell, reaching for the letter, whilst failing to grab it from my taller brother's reach. Damn being 5'3!

"Ah ah ah. I don't think so." He teases, holding the letter far above my head. For being 14, my brother sure was already tall for someone his age at 5'9. How could we have the exact same genetics and be so different? I'm athletic and smart, he's stupid and a loser, albeit a tall one.