Prologue
I rolled down the window, glancing at the tall city skyscrapers we were leaving behind. Metal tones blurred into the endless green of the countryside, and the fresh wind, untainted with pollution, whipped my long hair. A sigh worked its way out of my lips, and I slumped into my seat. The back was crammed with our belongings. My sweet little bunny, Lola, was stretched out luxuriously across my lap, her little, white furry nose gently moving up and down as I stroked her back.
"Jasmine, I know this is hard for you, but I can't let you stay there if those kids keep on bullying you." My fingers curled into fists.
"It's been the same Aunt Juniper. This is the 23rd time we've moved." Nothing that I've said was truer than this. I honestly lost track of how many places we've been, counting our vacations. Malaysia, London, even Africa, they all blurred into bittersweet memories. And most recently, the United States. After Tennessee, Michigan, and Ohio, we're now traveling to Texas. Oh joy. Bet I won't make it through a year.
"Jasmine, look at me." I tore my eyes away from the window, gazing unwillingly into my aunt's kind hazel eyes. "I promise you, this is the last time we're moving. The community that I found is perfect for you. Friendly, with the same interests."
Oh marvelous. Last time she said that, I had wound up going to this helping club with a whole bunch of squealing, over-the-top girly little girls that were annoying the living daylights out of me. There was this one girl I despised more than the rest. Mckenzie, with her little angel smile and sparkly designer outfits, came up to me one day, and started complaining about how my shirt had absolutely NO SPARKLE. Just like that, she snatched a bottle of sparkly glitter glue and sprayed the contents all over my sunflower embroidered shirt. After a few clashes, more glitter attacks, some dramatic kicking, an incident with a pink spatula, and general screaming, the little brat finally apologized. I was still pretty mad, not about the shirt, well, okay, yeah. But I was mostly mad that a little kid can't respect my personal space. What do they teach little kids these days?
"I promise." Her voice snapped me back to the present. I absently wrote my Chinese name on the window, my eyes staring sightlessly out the glass barrier, fingers still automatically petting Lola. I honestly didn't have many friends, I mean, do you expect me to be all sunny and social when people treat me like a nobody? Didn't think so.
Besides, usually my peers are either too "cool" to even look at me, just never noticed me, or they're too scared to even say hi in case I "accidentally" wind them up in the emergency room. Back when I was just an innocent little five year old, I hated physical violence. But the past eight years of continous whispers and back-stabbing have changed all that. It's not like I loved picking a fight, it's more like the punching and kicking have been moulded into me, an instinct I don't even think about. Because for me to survive at school, I needed a tough outer shell, one that screams Don't you dare mess with me. It's just a cover up though, not the real me, the authentic Jasmine that's caring, extremely sensitive, and cries a lot. No one other than Lola and Aunt Juniper have seen that side of my identity, mainly because, well, there really wasn't anyone I could show it to. Most of the time I feel...numb, detached to the day-to-day activites of other classmates, almost like one of those creepy looking souls on TV that just stare at you blankly. Am I creepy? Well, you could say that.
"Alright," I muttered, knowing we would be packing again after a few months. Mostly because I was friendless, an outsider with different ideas. In fact, Lola is actually the only one soul I've ever talked to. I believed in faeries and mythological animals. Don't judge me. In fact, I had a pretty solid reason why I believe in them. When I was little (Well, littler.), I saw a dryad. Not kidding. In fact, we would chat, and sing together. She didn't speak a word of english, chinese, or any other language I knew, but somehow I understood exactly what she was saying. Willow was really pretty, with her vine like dress and graceful ways. That was before we moved away. Still even earlier, when I could walk actually, I think I saw pixies, whenever I would go outside in the moonlight to dance my heart out, letting all the sorrowful feelings seep out of me in my frenzied whirls and leak out into the ground. Shaking my head, I sat up straighter as a huge sign appeared. In jet black letters, the green sign read, "Welcome to Oakwood."
This is the prologue so far! I may not have a lot of time to write, but stay tuned for Chapter One! As always, comments are greatly appreciated.