KD/Kiya OS-Dead Meat

And yet, there was one situation where he had intervened to offer his help, even though there was no possibility of receiving a bundle of crisp notes for it. In fact, with his particular person, he had turned down the offer of getting any reward.

They'd almost grown up together-not as playmates of course. She was the sister of Anya Gujral, teen singing sensation. She'd grown up in an environment of highly-publicized rock concerts, scandals and the gossip-laden atmosphere of star make up rooms. Her hair, streaked a fiery red-accessories adorning those skinny arms, her skirt always two inches above the respectable level-she really was the ultimate rebellious diva.

But the real Kiya Gujral was not a rebel or a wildchild. The real Kiya Gujral was a girl without an identity of her own, because she had adopted her sister's personality for herself. The real Kiya Gujral was paranoid about losing her voice and being abandoned by her pushy Tiger Mom. Not that he cared. Just that if Kiya Gujral was crying in a hallway, she deserved a handkerchief. Even if she chose to drop it on the ground and look at it in disgust, it didn't change the fact that she'd needed it, and had even said a barely audible 'Thank You' for it.

He remembered glimpses her from their early days in Royal Academy, when as little children they were both terrified and inspired by the stories of the formidable Junglee. Even at that precocious little age, Kiya could care less about mischief. She had singing classes, and seemed to have been born a music prodigy. Banga didn't spark any spite inside her, rather she felt irritated because often she would end up getting Banga's share of rotten tomatoes. Becoming a star was her only goal, and she stuck to it, hence alienating her from all the people KD knew.

She'd looked just like a little chicken then, tromping up to school with her ruffled hair and a sullen look on her face, her nose pecking into the ground and into all those worms that greeted her and praised her in the hallways. It was much before the term 'Chick' had become popular slang, but that's what he'd always thought of her. Somebody who would grow up to give golden eggs, but would never learn how to fly.

Everytime she cornered him, her tongue laced with insults, her eyes threatening to burn into him, instead of feeling intimidated, he felt pleased. He enjoyed getting close to her, making her squirm, making her realize how vulnerable she was in front of him. That she could be Miss Singing Star, and yet she could only turn her face away and clutch tightly at her skirt when Mr 'Ewww' KD's lips ghosted inches away from her cheek and he smelled the flowery scent in her hair.  He enjoyed it so much, and he didn't feel guilty at all for it.

'Stay away from me,' the little girl warned, clutching her books to her chest.

'You're it,' the boy grinnned. 'Now I have to catch you.'

'I don't have time for your games,' she sulked. 'I have to go. Mom is waiting for me outside the gates.'

'It's just catch-and-cook,' he persisted. 'Your mom can wait.'

'But I can't, so move,' she said shrilly and pushed past him. The boy simply stared at her, and then his smiling face contorted into a frown.

'I'm going to catch you one day,' he vowed. How long could the little chiclet continue evading him? She was dead meat.