Livin' La Vida Italia

Chapter One- New Beginnings

New story! Yes, I still use Wattpad :P i hope you like it! :)    Vote, comment, give me feedback:D . Actually, this chapter isn't that long, I just put a lot of spaces between each paragraph. AND i split it into 2 chapters :3 heh ok i'm done talking, you can read now. vote, comment.. ;) 

◊◊Jasmine Bax ◊◊

   I ex out yesterday’s date on the calendar, and feel a shiver of remembrance when I read the colorful scrawls of my 8th grade penmanship as I look at today’s date. 

“JAKE AND JASMINE’S 11 MONTH ANNIVERSARY!” it screams, cheesy hearts and ditsy smiley faces fill up every centimeter of white space.  I roll my eyes at the stupidity and desperate lies that I told myself. It’s embarrassing that I thought we were going to last more than a year. 

 I shake my head and tell myself to forget it. It's the past and now it's time to restart. And restarting starts with a new home, new faces, and new beginnings.

I’m packing. After becoming impatient with my new attitude, my parents have found a boarding school, far away from here. As in, half way across the world. As in Italy. And while I’ve been dreaming of traveling around the world, being sent off by parents who love my little sister more than me just hurts. I was- I am their child! How could they do this, and not even feel bad?

I’ve always felt out of the family. I have long brown hair and tan skin while everyone else has lighter brown hair and paler skin. My eyes are a deep brown and theirs is more hazel. Only my great great great great grandpa has (had) brown eyes.

I throw a family picture into a bag, but change my mind and I take it out and chuck it out the window. I instantly regret it. We have had some good times, when I was in a good mood. I know that this isn’t the right way to approach life, but it’s been hard for me.

I linger on the thought of leaving what I called home for the past 15 years, and am only brought back to reality by the screeching of a cat, the victim of a very heavy picture frame. 

*****

My last day of school was yesterday. School is one thing that I will not be missing when I leave. I didn't have many friends, maybe one or two nice acquaintances. I never had a boy friend since Jake.

I spent the day carrying around a sheet of paper that said, "We will miss you! Remember Mortan High Schol!" And yes, school was misspelled.

I got a few signatures. Mostly from teachers and sympathetic classmates. I walked around the school, dragging my hands along the cold lockers, went to the bathroom where I ate lunch most of the time, and hurried to the art room. That's where I spent my free time.

The art teacher was nice and understanding. She let me stay in the room and just do whatever. I made countless wooden sculptures, bowls, and paintings. I understand art more than I do boys. 

I took a deep breath of the smell of wood, earthy clay, and acrylic paint. I felt myself tear up a bit. What if the boarding school didn't have an art class? Or a bathroom to eat lunch alone in? I was sitting on the floor, bawling, a slab of clay in my limp hand. The art teacher, Mrs. Kleinsmith, came up to me and sat down. 

 "Jasmine, honey, it's going to be ok. Italy is absolutely beautiful, you'll have a new canvas to paint on, ready to be whatever you like. Europe has so many inspirations, you just need to be inspired. Take this." She handed me a large yellow gift bag, with blue tissue paper and curled ribbons on it.

"Open it on the plane or something." She smiled at me, and gave me a small hug. 

I cried some more, chucked the clay at the ground multiple times even though we were always told not to, and then got up and left. But before I did, I left a note on her desk, thanking her for her support, and for introducing me to art.