The Neighbor

Chapter 7: The Neighbor

The good thing about doing the grocery shopping is that you can buy anything you want and no one will know. On Saturday when I went grocery shopping I bought all the groceries and I bought everything I needed to make a special treat for my new neighbor.

I wasn't the best cook but I knew that no one can resist cookies, even if they weren't the best. I had found a way to cut the sugar cookies into the shape of guitars. They were each frosted a different color. When I finished I put them on a plate and wrapped it in Saran Wrap.

My family was out shopping so I still had some time before they got back to go deliver the cookies and meet my neighbor. I stepped out into the warm evening air. Clouds were gathering above, a sure sign of a storm. I walked down the road and stopped at the end of the driveway. The house looked even more intimidating with the shadow of clouds coming up from behind it. Now that I was actually going to go to the door the driveway seemed much longer. I hesitantly took a step forward, and then another. I got to the simple, dark wood door.

Then something strange happened. My worries disappeared. The house didn't seem so intimidating anymore; it was just a house. I reached out and knocked in the door. I hadn't realized at first but you could hear the sound of the large TV from all the way outside, at least until he turned it off. He was trying to trick me into thinking he wasn't home. I considered knocking again but that probably wouldn't be the best idea. Instead I left the cookies on a small table next to the door and walked back down the driveway. I looked back and saw the arm of my neighbor. I was too far away to make out any details but I was happy to see at least a little part of my new neighbor.

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Everyday I knocked on my neighbor's door, left cookies on his table, and saw his leg as he rushed back into the safety of his house. I didn't know how long it would go on but I didn't give up. I delivered the cookies, I walked home, I delivered the cookies, I walked home. Finally, after two weeks, when I knocked on the brown wood door, I didn't have to leave the cookies there; I finally got a face.

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It was a regular Saturday. I had just made sugar cookies and was all ready to go deliver them. I put my hand on the knob and was just about to twist it when my mother stopped me.

"Ms. Kekoa called. She wants you to walk her dreadful dog, "she said.

If I had more confidence I would have said, "Sugar's not all that dreadful." But I wasn't courageous so I said, "Okay, can I deliver these cookies first?"

"You will go right now, "she scolded, "and if Ms. Kokea calls and says you didn't come I'll beat you." She became occupied with her phone.

Again if I had more confidence I would have corrected her, "It's Ms. Kekoa not Ms. Kokea." But instead I turned and walked out the door. My mother didn't even notice I had a plate of cookies hidden under my shirt.

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I went to Ms. Kekoa's only to find a letter saying:

Dear Danny, I know you don't get a lot of free time and I see you deliver those cookies everyday to the delightful young man next door. I called to have you take Sugar for a walk to give you some free time. So go on and don't be the shy self you always are. Open up a bit! Sincerely, Ms. Kekoa.

I laughed at her letter for reasons I didn't really know; I guess I was just happy. I walked down the long dirt road and got to the large house at the end. The bright sun light reflected off the white paint of the house. I walked up the hot, black asphalt drive way and arrived at the door.

After two weeks I figured I wouldn't be nervous anymore. But today I was, maybe I was scared my mom would find out I wasn't really walking Sugar. I raised my shaking fist and knocked on the door more quietly than the other days. I expected nothing; no sound, no face, nothing. Instead the door opened and revealed a man.

He was definently Brendan Jones. He was tall and pale, well pale compared to most the people in Hawaii. His smooth black hair was short on the sides with a wave on top. His brown eyes were wide and his smile was all white teeth. He wore a dirty white tanktop that said "Las Vegas, Nevada" in front of a palm tree and black skinny jeans with rips.

"Well if it isn't the girl who gives me cookies everyday, "he said in his beautiful voice, "I didn't think you'd be so thin with cookies as good as those. You as skinny as a stick!"

"Right back at you, "I said, "you sure you've been eating all those cookies?"

He laughed and said, "Your not like most girls that are around me. Most scream and ask me to kiss them."

"Well that would be weird considering the fact that I'm like 15 and your 23."

"Still." I gave him a shocked look and he laughed. "There's a lot of freaks out there, "he said, "you got to look out for them. Oh hey more cookies. Come on in."

"So if I didn't have cookies I wouldn't be allowed in?" I asked sarcastically as I walked in.

"Oh well of course not, "he said in the same tone as me. His house was nothing like I would have expected of a famous rock star. Had I come in a few years ago the floor would have been covered in beer cans and cigarette butts. But Brendan wasn't an alcoholic anymore so it was clean and surprisingly neat. The floor was vacuumed and the windows washed. Other than the pizza box on the mahogany coffee table there was no garbage. One of the huge flat screens was in the living room with large stereos on either side. There was a black leather couch and two matching arm chairs. Brendan opened the curtains to let in a little light to the dark room. There was a black and orange electric guitar on the couch.

"Right this way to the kitchen, "he said. I followed him through an entrance to the tiny kitchen. There was a small square counter on the same wall as the entrance. Along the other walls were white counters along with a stove, an oven, a microwave, a sink, and a fridge. The white linoleum was worn and dirty.

"Sorry it's so small, "Brendan said, putting the cookies on the counter, "smallest room in the house, I promise."

"So what brings you to Hawaii?" I asked.

"I want to live a normal life until my next tour. I just need a break. This viallage is where I have the least amount of fans for some reason, "he explained.

"Most of us don't listen to much music, "I said.

"Oh right you guys like the traditional drums and chanting stuff, "he interrupted.

"Actually we just surf a lot and have a lot of homework, "I said.

"Oh I'm sorry, "he said, "that's like a total stereo type isn't it?"

"Yeah kind of, "I laughed.

"Well maybe you could tell me more about this place, "he said, "you want something to drink?"

"Actually I have to get back home, "I said, "but maybe we could hang out tomorrow?"

"Definently, "he said. He showed me out and I walked home slowly. I was happier than ever. I couldn't think of any other time someone had actually wanted to hang out with me. No one had ever actually invited me to stay, they all just wanted me to leave. But Brendan was excited to be with me, unlike everyone else.