Tales of the Heart.

Chapter 3|Amaani.

Amaani (12 years old).

2009

"Imaaan! Where's my toothbrush?" I yelled from the bathroom while staring at my reflection in the mirror and wincing at what was looking back at me.

Gross.

I'm not a morning person, to put it mildly.

"On your side of the bathroom, Sherlock." The girl in question rolled her eyes and took position beside me, turned my head with her hands and there on a makeshift holder was my brush over the sink.

"What's this? Why are we having two sinks in one bathroom?" My head couldn't grasp that.

"Surprise surprise. Now shoo, off to your side."

"Why do I get the side with no mirror?" I cried as she pushed me to 'my side'. The bossy short thing.

"Again, because you don't love the mirror like I do, you avoid it every morning because as you always say, you look hideous before you take your beauty bath or shower so I did you an honorable thing by making that decision for us. Now thank me, sister."

"Bleh!" I stuck my tongue out and brushed my teeth while she made faces in the mirror.

Everything she said was right, but then I love staring at my reflection when it's not early in the morning. That's nothing but pure torture.

"I call dibs on the shower first." She quipped in with a smile.

"Which leaves me to the toilet. Yay!" Yeah that was sarcastic.

After doing our business we took the bus to school with Lina who made us late because her hair wasn't cooperating, in other words she wasn't feeling beautiful enough. The most annoying part of it was the fact that Lina wears a headgear over said hair that wasn't cooperating, only herself and her veil were aware that the hair wasn't up to her standard, everyone else would have been none the wiser.

It happens all the time. Sometimes it's her fingernails that aren't cooperating, I've never seen anyone more obsessed with their looks than she. It baffles me, and it likewise baffles her whenever she sees me rummaging through my jeans drawers like a wildcat and then shrugging on the first jacket my fingers grasp from the closet. She, however, dresses with too much care.

I don't care if it matches or not because I am the poster girl for mom jeans, baggy hoodie and sneakers in neutral colours, Lina never got the memo. Sometimes Imaan doesn't too.

I don't own a single shoe that makes me artificially taller and it irks the other two girls I call my sisters.

Shocker yeah? Well at 12 years old Imaan has a few high-heeled shoes.

"Imaan, why are you smiling like a fool?" I asked the girl who was pursing her lips and sighing and smiling with her eyes closed. She's a total daydreamer.

She sighed once more before responding, "Sometimes we normal people think, we think about random stuff, stuff that people like you don't consider worth thinking about."

I rolled my eyes, "I can totally guess what's on your mind," to irk her, I lowered my voice and slinked in a bit of drama to my tone, "boys, that new transfer boy."

Her eyes flew open, "Eww no. I was thinking of myself in scrubs. Yuck." Then she left me to do a little bit of thinking of my own.

And I let myself think of the new transfer boy. He's so cute.

I sneak peeks into Lina's novels, not like she's old enough to read them, at 15 she believes she's an adult and spends quite a bit of time in the comfort of her blanket reading novels.