The Happiest Day

Chapter 3

"Okay, so you said errands. So far, we've bought your groceries," Jasmine deadpanned, closing the refrigerator door, after she'd tucked the last of the veggies into the bottom drawer.

"That was just the most pressing, kiddo, plus you needed to see that. You'll notice that everywhere we go today serves a purpose—for me, I'm doing my normal domestic routine—for you, however, well. You'll see."

Chas shot the teen a cheeky grin, patting her on the head; Jasmine scowled, quickly batting the hand away.

"I hate it when you get all cryptic like that. Also, I have a question."

"When don't you have a question?"

Jasmine ignored the thinly veiled insult, and charged ahead with her question, determined to get some answers as to what was going on.

"Why am I here? What is the purpose of this?"

"Jasmine, honey, take the cotton out of your ears. This is the third time I've told you this, you're here to learn a lesson. You got the first part of it earlier."

"Yeah, yeah, my life means more than the opinions of everyone else on earth."

"Well, that's part of it, at least you're starting to grasp the concept," Chas agreed. "finally," she added, under her breath.

"I heard that."

Jasmine crossed her arms, glaring childishly at Chas, her mouth twisted in a snarl; Chas rolled her eyes, and fell into a motherly stance, hands on her hips.

"Spare me the teenage outrage, Hanson. The other part of your lesson, the part that you missed, is that the world will not end if the "boy of your dreams" changes his mind, or seems not to notice that you exist. Sometimes, fate has something better planned for you. And, if you haul off and try to take your life in a fit of grief, outrage, loss of sanity, etcetera? You'll never know what that plan was."

"You know, for someone who's supposed to be helping me, you're a real bitch."

"Alright, that's it. I'm gonna give you a piece of sage advice, honey. Stop. Feeling. Sorry. For yourself. To be honest with you, you really don't have it that bad. Your parents—yes, both of them, crappy as your mom might be at her job—love you. They love you exactly for who you are, and there is nothing you could ever do or say to change that. There are plenty of kids who don't have that luxury. At least back in your time, you have an escape, the bullying stops when you get home. Kids now don't get that option. They have cell phones, all of them," Chas ranted.

"...Kids have cell phones?"

"I know, again, more surreal shit. Pretty much every kid your age has a cell, and guess what? Their ordeal doesn't stop when they get home. They have to deal with bullying in text messages, bullying in e-mail, bullying in instant messages, and bullying through social media."

"What is social media?" Jasmine asked, tilting her head to the side quizzically.

"What is—oh, right, that hasn't happened yet. Social media is a kind of website you can join and build a profile on. MySpace is the first of its kind, but it's an afterthought in today's society. No, I'm talking about Facebook, which is quickly becoming the new MySpace, Twitter, Tumblr, 4Square and the like. Kids today get bombarded twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. There is no break. There are kids killing themselves every day, because they get bullied for being fat, bullied for sending out nude pictures, bullied for the color of their skin, their accent, their religions. Kids are being bullied for being gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, you name it. And you're whining over this? You're seriously telling me you slit your wrists over this? Please, Jasmine, tell me more about how your life was so bad, I'd love to hear it," Chas snapped.