Love Forever

“Jasmine! If you don’t get down here right now, you’ll be trekking to school this morning!”

Mum’s voice pierced the house like a fire alarm. Honestly, I think she missed her calling as a town crier. Our neighbors three doors down probably jolted awake.

I quickly threw on my flannel shirt, slung my bag over my shoulder, and gave the mirror one last check to make sure my hair was decent. My hair—pinkish-blonde, neat, cute, very me—was tied back into a loose ponytail. Satisfied, I darted out of my room and sprinted down the stairs two at a time.

“Morning, Mum. Where’s Dad?” I asked, landing on the kitchen stool.

She was zipping around the kitchen like a whirlwind, flipping toast, packing lunch, and somehow still glaring at me. “Back in my day, we didn’t have school buses. We’d finish getting ready early and wait at the junction just to catch a ride from classmates whose parents had cars. Now you’ve got the luxury of a bus, and yet, you’re always late.”

I sighed. “God knows how many times you’ve told that story. Plus you can just always drop me off.”

Dad appeared at the foot of the stairs, briefcase in hand, already chuckling. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Gosh, I know, right?” I said, grinning at him.

Mum folded her arms. “So you’re both ganging up on me now?”

“Of course,” Dad said, ruffling my hair. “She’s my only princess.”

I fanned myself like a diva. “Jealous much?”

Mum squinted at the clock. “You do realize your bus leaves in ten minutes, right?”

“Oh no—gotta run!” I lunged across the counter, grabbed the paper bag with my breakfast—sandwich and chocolate milk—and flew out the door like the house was on fire.

But halfway down the street, I glanced at my watch—and froze.

Twenty. Whole. Minutes.

Mum tricked me. Again.

I groaned, slowed to a walk, and opened the bag. The sandwich was still warm. I munched slowly, savoring the taste, and sipped my Choco milk as I made my way to the stop. By the time I reached the bench, I’d eaten everything and tossed the paper bag into the nearest bin.

I settled onto the bench, casually sipping the milk, when I noticed it.

Stares. Lots of them.

The kids at the stop were gawking at me like I’d grown a second head.

“What?” I snapped. “Never seen a pretty girl drink Choco milk before?”

They turned away, pretending they weren’t caught. Whatever.

When the bus finally arrived, I climbed on and found a seat near the back. But the stares didn’t stop. They intensified. Even the driver glanced at me twice.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Was something on my face? Crumbs? Milk moustache? I checked my reflection in the window—nothing. I brushed my shirt down and sat upright, trying to act normal.

By the time we reached school, I was so done. I was the first one off that bus.

But things only got weirder.

The hallways were worse. People turned their heads, whispered, stared like I had neon signs stapled to my forehead. I tried to keep my cool, walking with my usual ‘don’t-mess-with-me’ strut.

Then came Sabrina.

She practically glided up to me, surrounded by her usual swarm of followers, with an emphasis on dramatic.

“Oh. My. Gosh, Jasmine!” she squealed, grabbing my arm. “Your hair is so pretty today! Where did you get it done?”

I blinked. “Umm… what?”

She touched my hair like it was spun gold. “We should totally go to your stylist this Saturday. My treat, obviously.”

Her voice was syrupy fake. What was she talking about? My hair was the same. Or at least, I thought it was.

“Uh… sure. Gotta run!” I said, ducking out of her grip and speeding down the hallway.

I caught a group of juniors staring at me near the lockers. “Quit looking at me, will ya?!” I barked.

I needed answers, and I needed Ariana.

She was by her locker, flipping through a textbook. “Sup, Ria?”

She looked up—and froze.

Mouth open. Eyes wide.

“Earth to Ria.” I waved a hand in front of her face.

She blinked hard. “Girl… what did you do to your hair?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, seriously confused.

Without a word, she shut her locker, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me down the hall.

“Where are we—”

“The bathroom,” she snapped.

We burst into the restroom and she spun me to face the mirror.

I gasped.

My reflection stared back, but something was off. Way off.

“My… my hair. My hair!”

Strands of it—no, streaks—were blue. Not bright blue, but electric enough to be impossible to miss. And not the even kind you get from a salon. These streaks looked like they had grown out of me overnight.

“I… I didn’t do this!” I stammered, touching the strands.

“You’re telling me this just happened?” Ria folded her arms. “You didn’t dye it? No prank?”

“Why would I prank myself?” I said, panicked.

Ria studied me. “You eat anything weird?”

“Just the usual sandwich from Mum. That’s not going to dye my hair blue, right?”

“You’ve had her sandwiches for years. So unless she’s hiding secret potion mayo, I doubt it.”

“I swear it was normal this morning! I even looked in the mirror!”

Just then—something happened.

The blue strands glowed. Bright, pulsing light. It lasted five seconds, maybe less, but I felt it—like a spark buzzing against my scalp.

“Ow!” I flinched, almost yanking my hair.

“You saw that, right?” I asked, eyes wide.

Ria looked like she’d seen a ghost. “That wasn’t normal. Jasmine… this isn’t ordinary.”

I stared at the glowing-then-not-glowing strands.

For the first time all day, I felt something deep in my chest—something is happening to me. And it’s bigger than sandwiches and school buses.

Something strange had begun.

And it started with blue.