Precious Things || Jensoo

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I get home at least fifteen minutes before my allocated curfew. After greeting my grandfather politely, I make my way upstairs to my room and carefully put my books away. I stop by my small mirror to check that there are no Oreo crumbs near my mouth despite the fact that doing so is patently ridiculous.

I just don't want my grandfather to know that I ate the Biscuit of Evil.

I'm very quiet for the rest of the evening, even for me. I hope he doesn't notice that my head is somewhere else, that my brain, in fact, is completely focused on Jennie Kim. Well, I figure he'll notice that my mind isn't with him but he won't exactly guess where it is. He's not psychic.

I hope.

She wasn't mean to me, not like I thought she might have been. Oh, I guess she kicked me out, but I knew she had plans with Jongin. Yet, she talked to me like I wasn't completely dirt.

Her Mormon question floored me, and I wonder why I didn't tell her the truth. Perhaps she'd be more understanding if she knew that my clothes weren't exactly my choice.

Perhaps not.

Jennie Kim is one independent woman. She might just put me down more because of it.

For the millionth time I question my obsession with her. She's gorgeous, admittedly. She's not exactly nice though, and I'm nothing if not a nice girl. She's smart, but she doesn't apply herself. She's funny, but she uses it caustically half the time.

I wonder what makes her tick.

I wonder a lot of things about Jennie.

Mostly I just wish to hell I could get to know her better. Part of the problem in getting just a little bit of what you want is that no one can stop at a little bit. The fact that I held back on the cookie today was testament to my iron will. My resolve only works with food though; when it comes to Jennie Kim, I know it would fold like a house of cards under a tap.

My weekend is filled with usual weekend activities of homework and whatever my grandfather deems necessary. In spring, summer and autumn, that's gardening: digging, weeding and all the rest of it. Grandfather does the actual planting himself, as well as the landscape design. I do a lot of the weeding, and of course the spreading of fertilizer. Despite the fact I hate it, I do feel a strange sense of pride. It's an amazing garden, especially the rose bed. I'm not allowed near the roses – they're my grandfather's sole dominion – but I do help a lot in the rest of it.

I don't have a lot to be proud of so I take it where I can find it.

I spend the rest of the weekend thinking about her, though. No matter what I'm doing, I keep having little snippets. Things like the way her hair looks in the sunlight and how happy she was in those family photos. I remember one photo where the whole family looked to be horsing around: Jennie's father had his arms around her waist as she laughed, trying to get away; Kyla grabbing on to her hand; and their step-mother clarly behind the camera.

It was a friendly photo, a loving photo.

I have no photos like that.

I once asked my grandfather if there were any snapshots of my family with me, and if I might have one. He coolly replied that there were none, and that was the end of that. I don't believe him of course. I think he just can't handle having the photos around.

I know I remind him of what he's lost.

I just don't think it's fair that I have to be cut off from what I've lost,too.

Yes, that would count as insolence if spoken aloud.

Still, for the first time in a long time I'm actually looking forward to Monday morning. And not just because it signals the end of a gardening marathon that left me grubby and grumpy.