Jasmine

T W O

I hurried up the stairs and into my bedroom.

I was still in my nightgown and hadn't combed my hair in nearly a week. There was no way I was going to make it on time. All of my clothes are in the washing machine, and my makeup bag has gone missing.

My father's voice echoed from the garage, "Jasmine, you're running late!"

Well, no shit, Sherlock.

"Coming!" I replied.

I hurried over to my sister's room and grabbed one of her cropped t-shirts and grey joggers from her wardrobe. Although there were many more exquisite outfits available, I went for the essentials. Her sense of style was far more superior than mine. Drucilla would typically chastise me for stealing; however, I have no choice.

She's been out of town since our summer break began, and I don't blame her. If I had that many friends, I'd spend the entire week away from home without missing a beat.

I checked the time once again, and 5 minutes have passed. "Dad, I don't think I'll be able to make it on time," I groaned.

"I was joking around, kiddo!" He chuckled, "We have three hours to get there, and your meeting doesn't begin until 2 p.m."

I didn't respond because I was afraid that something nasty would've escaped my lips if I did.

Instead, I dragged myself over to the restroom and turned on the shower.

My only solution for untangling bushy curly hair was to do so when wet or somewhat damp.

Believe it or not, I've never gotten to the stage in my life where I'd leave my hair undisturbed like a bird's nest. But, pretty soon, I'll be having baby birds hatching there.

I felt relaxed and pleased after my shower. I think it had something to do with the fact that I'm clean. I can't believe this is the last time I'll shower for another month or two. Not literally, of course. In the comfort of my own house, I mean.

I got out of the restroom and returned to my room. Surprisingly, I found my makeup bag directly beneath my bed. How did it get there?

That's strange.

I only presumed my clothes in the washer had been rinsed and were waiting to be dried, so I went down to my basement. Don't worry; it's not underground like most properties. My father remodeled it not so long ago, so I don't find it too intimidating.

"Jasmine, do you mind helping your little brother with his math homework?"

"Nope, not all, Mother. I'll be there in a second!" I responded while folding my clothes.

I dashed to my bedroom and threw my freshly laundered clothes messily on the shelf. Then, I made up my mind and chose to wear the outfit from my sister's wardrobe since I didn't know what else to wear.

I'm not very gifted at maths. Lord, I despise that subject with all my heart. I haven't understood a single lesson after the whole division, fraction, and multiplication phase was complete. So what the actual fuck is 7y+x/4e-5v7x1=?

"Hey, Cayden, what's up?" I politely inquired as I approached my brother's room. But, unfortunately, Cayden's school was ongoing, and all I knew was that he wouldn't be out anytime soon.

Bummer.

"Jaz, what does 'y=mx+b' mean?" He questioned, scratching the back of his neck.

"So basically it is, uh. Uhm. I'll be right back!" I stumbled my way out of his room and into mine.

I then grabbed my phone and googled it. Bloody hell, what is this shit? I watched a 10-minute explanatory video and couldn't comprehend a single word. How was I supposed to assist Cayden? I'll get Dad. After all, he is a mathematician.