Poet's Jasmine

Chapter 8

Perfect Families, Is There Such Thing?

As she looked at the blank page in front of her, and the scrawled torn up one on the side, Mindy panicked slightly. Oh, what an understatement, people like Mindy never panicked slightly, no, the smallest of things sent them into a downward spiral of self-doubt.

It was Tuesday, second period, which meant creative writing for Mindy's class. 

Currently they were working on poetry pieces. They didn't write poetry much, so each term they had a poetry assessment to keep it in check. Mindy loved it, but had trouble meeting the teacher's expectations (as per usual). She was a good writer, but feelings were something she had in excess, yet refused to share.

Her pieces always came up too metaphorical, too embellished, too shallow, for she refused to let it tip to the personal side.

If you looked close enough you could almost see all the sprockets working hard in her brain. Her hands held the sides of her face and she bit her lip in concentration. Her face was red and her shoulders tense. She couldn't write anything down. Nothing good enough, that is.

They had to write about childhood. So of course she talked about jasmine.

She wasn't about to talk of her mother's smile that is now gone, of her father's absence...

She wasn't about to talk of middle school and Luna Rutherford, or Dixon High (her previous school) and Mrs. Sullivan.

No, jasmine was much easier, it was her childhood in a way, it was the smell of the house, it was her  mother's favourite flower, it was the only happy thing she could extract from the word childhood.

The teacher said it was too superficial, too abstract. He wanted to hear about her life, not some stupid flower.

"Eventually you'll have to write something."

Mindy didn't bother turning around; strangely enough she could now recognize Ethan's voice.

"I will." her voice was sharp. Hadn't she decided to stay away from him?

"You've been staring at your desk for fifteen minutes now."

Ignore him. Think jasmine, breathe it in, and breathe out.

"Mindy."

This time she turned around:

"What?!"

"Don't stress over it." 

And Mindy swore she saw his eyes soften just then.

"I'm not." she replied sharply. "You know nothing about me."

Ethan wondered why Mindy was always so defensive. He meant no harm.

The two had been acquainted roughly since the age of 15, when Ethan was taken under the wing of a new foster family: the Rutherfords. He quickly learned that Mindy was his sister's, Luna, best friend.

She often came around but never engaged with the rest of the family. She seemed shy and wouldn't partake in any social interaction that wasn't necessary.

Ethan had also just joined this new family, so he wasn't particularly fond of talking either. But now they shared classes, as Mindy had transferred to Wellington's School of All Arts in the middle of year ten. It was now the beginning of their senior year and he just couldn't miss her. 

A year and half since she first arrived, and the girl still roamed around the halls by herself. He couldn't deny his curiosity. This only got worse once his sister warned him to stay away. He thought they were best friends...?