Chapter 4. An Attractive Witch

Saturday evening, 31st May

Kavinsky sat on the sofa in the sitting room while his mom cooked in the kitchen. A knock sounded on the door, and he got up to check who it was. He opened the door and greeted him calmly.

"Welcome, Dad," he said as Mr. Mark walked in, nodding at his son.

Kavinsky shut the door behind him and returned to his seat on the sofa, picking up his phone and continuing his game.

Mrs. Mark came out of the kitchen and greeted her husband.

"How was work?" she asked, taking his briefcase.

"It was fine but stressful," he replied with a smile.

"Sorry," she answered, and he nodded.

"Dinner is ready!" she called out so Kavinsky would hear as well.

"I’ll go and shower first," Mr. Mark said, ascending the stairs.

"Mmm," she replied to no one in particular.

Mrs. Mark dished out everyone’s food, and soon Kavinsky’s dad arrived in a white shirt and black trousers.

"Honey, food is ready!" Mrs. Mark called out to Kavinsky.

"I'm almost done with this game," he said, focused on his phone.

Mr. and Mrs. Mark began eating, chatting about unknown things.

"I lose again!" Kavinsky shouted, and they turned to look at him before resuming their meal.

"Should I teach you how to play?" Mr. Mark asked, facing him.

Kavinsky laughed continuously at his statement. He looked up, only to meet the sharp gazes of his parents.

"I don’t seem to understand what’s funny," his mom murmured, sipping her water slowly.

"He said he wants to teach me how to play," Kavinsky repeated, pulling out his chair and sitting across from his mother.

"What’s wrong with that?" Mr. Mark asked, surprised.

"It’s a technological and advanced game, not the outdated ones, Dad," Kavinsky tried to explain without sounding rude, but he ended up smirking.

"So?" his father asked.

"Don’t worry about it, Dad," Kavinsky replied quietly.

"You think I won’t know how to play?" his father scoffed.

"Of course, you know how to play it. I’m sure you’ve played it a lot of times before!" he replied sarcastically, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Mrs. Mark smiled a bit, understanding her son's playful behavior.

"Naughty kid," Mr. Mark said, knocking Kavinsky on the head, and they all laughed.

The laughter died down a little.

"I hope you didn’t leave an injection in someone’s stomach," Kavinsky joked.

"Nope, your dad is trained and educated," Mr. Mark said, praising himself.

"I should probably open a boutique as well," Kavinsky's mom said, feeling a bit jealous that her husband always had something to say about his work.

"Anytime you’re ready, sweetheart," Kavinsky’s dad replied, giving her a peck on the back of her hand.

She smiled, and Kavinsky looked up at them.

"My birthday is coming soon. You guys mustn’t forget that," he said, rolling his eyes at their loving gestures.

"Trust me, honey," Kavinsky’s mom replied, holding his hand.

"Trust us both, son," his dad corrected.

"Okay," Kavinsky replied and continued to eat his meal.

They finished eating, and Kavinsky stood up from his seat.

"Good night," he greeted.

"You’re going to bed early today?" his mom asked in surprise.

"No, I have things to do upstairs, and I might not come back down again tonight," he explained.

"I am exhausted as well," Mr. Mark admitted, stretching his arms.

Kavinsky walked up the stairs and locked his bedroom door behind him. He walked to his study desk, turned on his laptop, logged in, and began his research.

Hours passed, and he couldn’t find a satisfying answer for his old school project.

"Damn!" he shouted in frustration, hitting the laptop keys.

The cool night breeze blew in through his window, and he stood up to close it. As he pulled the blinds, his eyes caught sight of the girl who had hit him in the face with the door earlier. He paused, staring at her through the window blinds before slowly opening them again.

She was looking out of her window at the sky. He watched her face, and a smile crept onto his face. She looked so beautiful.

"When did I start smiling at some random girl’s face?" he thought, slapping himself on the cheek before looking back.

She focused on the blue, cloudy sky as if it were the only thing in the world. He looked closer and could even see the pain in her brown eyes.

He continued to look at her until he shook in fear and moved back when she suddenly screamed.

"Arghh!" she shouted at the top of her voice.

"What’s wrong with her?" he thought, looking back out in curiosity.

His blue eyes met her brown ones, and they held each other’s gaze for a moment before she reluctantly closed her window. He blinked, realizing he had been staring for far too long.

"That girl sure is something," he said out loud, then walked to his bed.

He crashed onto it and sighed.

"She’s an attractive witch," he thought.

"But she’s cute as well," he added, smiling foolishly.

The next morning

Kavinsky got up from his bed and walked to the bathroom, yawning continuously. He had a brief shower and brushed his teeth.

"Throw the trash bag in the trash can outside," his mom said to him as soon as he got downstairs.

She walked up the stairs after saying that, and Kavinsky watched her walk away.

"Yeah, happy new month to you too," he muttered to no one, then walked to the kitchen slowly.

He picked up the trash bag and walked out to the lawn. He threw the bag into the dark green trash can beside the road, then walked back inside.

He returned to his room, packed his dirty clothes—or rather, almost all his clothes—into the laundry basket, and exited his room.

"You didn’t take your clothes to the dry cleaner yesterday?" his mom asked as he came out of his room.

He raised the laundry basket to show that, obviously, he hadn’t.

He walked down the stairs with a sigh.

"Stupid stairs," he thought.

"Happy new month, son," he heard his mom say from behind him.

He ignored her, thinking, "Payback time."

He walked out of the house with his huge pile of dirty clothes in the laundry basket and waited for a cab.

"Where are you heading to?" Kaylee’s dad asked as she walked to the door.

"I need fresh air," she replied coldly, opening the door.

She wore a blue woven top and black leather pants, as if she knew it would be cozy outside.

Kavinsky looked to the side and saw her sitting on the stairs of her house. She took out a pencil and started working in a notebook she held.

"Probably designs? Crafts? Drawings?" he wondered, trying to figure out what she might be doing.

A cab stopped in front of him, and he got in quickly.

"Dry cleaning company," he said to the driver.

The car started moving, and he looked at her innocent face as they drove past.

"She looks so... innocent," he thought.