Live while you can.

The quotation tag that hung from the car's half- snapped rear mirror chimed in the breeze, drawing my entire attention on how awfully I wanted to hop out of the dreadful old vehicle (which I assumed aged a thousand years by the current date) and enjoy the pleasures of my creaky bed.

The squeaking seats reminded me of my great-great-great grandfather, whom I have never met in the sixteen years of my life, and who I supposed must have bought this mature AMC Eagle in the 80s and drove the next three generations in its fabulous splendor. Unfortunately, neither did the splendor last, nor was it much of a heartbreaking tale for the trendy students in my ex-school—and I didn't expect it to impress the ones at the new as well.

Especially not with the farting odor that I'm ashamed to confess comes from the vehicle. Or as my Mum put it, 'The beauty of nature comes from the back.'

I knitted my eyebrows, at how ridiculous it was going to be and sighed sturdily. "I cannot believe you actually made me do this."

Josh laughed for a good thirty seconds, unable to reach a full minute after seeing the stubborn look on my face. He cleared his throat, "Well, atleast now we know that your Mum will be happy." His eyes shot at the third woman he ever married, and never regretted over his declaration. I, on the other hand, cringed at both how weird it sounded, and how beautiful their love was.

I drifted my gaze at Mum, and remarked at how right he was— she really seemed in high spirits. Unlike her partially-dead daughter who was actually the one going to school. How wonderful.

"She might be, but I'm definitely not," I tried to appear as devastated as I already was. "I don't really have a reason, do I?"

Josh leaned against the car door, hands crammed in his pockets. "Are you sure about that?" He peeked at me through the corners of his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I arched a brow, noticing the sarcasm in his voice.

"Well..." Josh exaggerated the suspense, forcing me to wince in impatience. He swiftly turned at me, anxious if I flinched because I got hurt and burst the tension in haste. "I have something for you."

He fumbled in his pockets, and I watched him reflectively. Only if he had been married sixteen years earlier to Mum, would I have been proud to call him an over-protective dad. Sixteen years makes a huge difference.

He pulled out an antique box, carved with dark wood and gold fillings. My eyes widened at it, enthralled by its magnificence. Josh paused and stared at me, a hint of a smile lurking around his lips. He handed me the box, "Open it."

I stroked the wood carvings with my fingers and gently unlatched the top. As the box exposed its interior, my chest stiffened with sentiments. Inside the tiny antique lay an emerald pendant, which was an exact copy of the one Mum wore when I was born. That same pendant which was sold away to a jeweler during those rough times when Dad had left us and life was nothing but a selfish creature which never sympathized upon our grief.

And looking at it now, my eyes glistened with tears. That was one time, and this was another. Mum was married to the man she loved at that time, and she is still married to the man she loves now. The man changed, but life leaped into freedom.

I shot up at Josh and opened my mouth to speak, but no words embraced me. What could I have said that could have been more mesmerizing than the present he had gifted me?

Amidst all these, Josh stood there, eyes glued at my reaction as a broad smile beamed across his face. "I bought it back. I know how much you liked your past, but..." he wiped my tears with his fingers, "that doesn't mean your present cannot be better."

I wished this moment wasn't so emotional, but somehow, I was grateful for it. I stared at Josh's grinning face, and God knows how enormous the tsunami of words had drowned me into it. And yet, each time I opened my mouth, the tsunami suddenly seemed to transform into a drought; the words were in my heart, and my brain couldn't succeed to understand its worth.

Finally, with some incredible strength, I pushed the shortest sentence that failed to hide behind my pretend mask anymore, "Thank you, Josh." The words were almost a whisper, as if something that I wanted no one but Josh to hear. And feel. And understand.

The supremacy of those words held more power than the sharpest sword in Arthur's legend. And I believed in it.

I watched Josh stutter with his words too, and I could almost listen to the tsunami's soaring feelings pouring on him. Alas, the feelings were also trapped in his heart, and his mind neglected to recognize them. I looked at Josh straight in the eyes, and for the first time, saw something more than two daring blue marbles. "Blake, I..." he jerked into a nervous laugh, and clearing his throat again, he continued, "I mean...you're welcome, Blake. You're welcome."

Cold winds clashed on our faces, tranquility taking the lead. It was abruptly so calm that every second started to choke me with its intensity. I tried to keep my glare distracted from Josh's. As if after a whole era, Josh opened his mouth to speak...when Mum and Mariana hopped into sudden existence.

"What were you guys talking about?" Mum raised her voice, and murdering the wicked silence, surfed through her purse for the keys. Josh looked at me for a minute before turning at her and said, "Nothing. I was just giving her some advice on life. Where were you? I thought you were supposed to drive our," he bit his tongue to avoid the next words and progressed, "I mean, drive Blake to her new High School."

"I was just discussing some important things with Mariana," Mum nodded to the decent lady with red hair, standing near her with a captivating smile.

Mariana was an unbelievably jobless woman in her mid twenties, who was by God's destiny Josh's youngest sister in the family of four brothers and two sisters. Young and attractive, she cherished all her family's physical treasures in her, and yet chose not to marry before getting into a modest career. The misfortune is that she desperately aimed to be a guitarist (and she was extremely good at it), but her dad declared that she must be an entrepreneur like the rest of her siblings. And that was where the war had begun—she left her home, and came to ours. Nonetheless, she was still buried into opting for entrepreneur occupations, because she wanted her family to be proud of her apart from her beauty.

At first, when she joined us suddenly, I was so obvious that she might be into stereotypes against fatal patients like me that I had abandoned to converse with her for four prolonged months. Every dinner seemed weird with a stranger popping onto the table with a laptop or a phone with thousands of rejected applications. But I had completely misjudged her.

It was a horrific day for me when I learned that Dad had remarried someone who had never wedded before and yet had a girl of my age with the same blood as Dad's. It was a day when I was so sure that the fates had won against me, and was slowly assassinating me into quick death. That was, until Mariana came into my room with her guitar and I was so irritated that she would start playing some sad songs which would make the day even worse that I yelled at her for the first time in the entire century. But instead of playing it into melodious tunes, she asked me to smash it into pieces. My head dashed at her, astounded. She wanted me to spill my rage onto her most precious obsession in the world, just because I was feeling left out.

I never thought she would do that for the girl who never even spoke to her since the day she adhered with the family. That was when I analyzed that all beautiful things didn't really have to be vicious—there were people misjudged and misunderstood in the society.

Mariana paced towards us and punched Josh on the arm, "Would you mind trusting me with your wife for once, old man?" She laughed out loud, revealing her perfectly set teeth, which almost seemed like crystals gleaming in the sun.

Josh raised an eyebrow and smirked mockingly, "With a devil like you? I don't think so, young lady." He burst into a cackle, and the three of us (Mum, Mariana and I) stared him blankly. He paused and lifted his hands, "What? I thought it was funny. Oh, come on!" He headed for Mum, surrendering his 'humor'.

Mariana giggled, "Josh and his jokes. Both are outstandingly predictable." She turned at me, "How are you doing for your first day in your second High School?" She knitted her eyebrows, "That sounded way less weird in my head."

"I'm petrified," I sighed erratically. "The students will never let me live in peace once they find out my Great Tragedy. And moreover," I bobbed my head at the rusted metal of the car, "this one's definitely not helping either. I just hope that we reach late so that I don't have to confront anyone in this ancient Fart-Lord. Why can't we just leave the idea of schools anyhow?!"

Mariana grinned, "Believe me, I've seen worse in my life. Besides, you've a plus point too." She edged closer to my ears, "Boys love girls riding in cars from the...." she paused for an instant, "80s?"

"I really think this model's from the relic era." I looked at her, "But that's not the point. I just...I wish Mum understood that I'm not me anymore. She's still expecting Blake-From-Two-Years-Ago to engulf me into the past. And...even though I'd have loved that, it's impossible."

Mariana let the moments pass by in silence before shrugging, "Honestly, I love Blake-From-Now more than the one which might have been in the past. And you know why? Because this Blake..." she exploded into a chuckle, "is hotter than the one I never even met."

"Are you kidding me right now?" I puffed my cheeks like she does when her applications get rejected, "You really are a devil!"

"Oh, trust me, I am," Mariana smirked. "Anyways, I want you to remember something."

"That boys are attracted to girls riding in Fart-Lord?" I sighed unsurprisingly.

"Good one, but no. What I want you to remember is that, never give up. Just because life is a bullshit person throwing tomatoes at you doesn't mean you should climb down the podium. Instead, speak up. Fight for your rights, and never forget who you are today. As they say, yesterday was history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift—and that's why it's called the Present," Mariana patted my head and smiled. "And of course, boys are attracted to girls riding in Fart-Lord."

I gazed at her laughing all by herself and pondered upon all the struggles she had to stand up for, alone. All she ever wanted was a lively occupation with her passion, and yet the world had fought against her. In a way, although I never noticed this before, she was like me. A person stuck in the road created by life and tragic. She headed for the door, when I called out, "Mariana?"

She turned. "I really would love if you, for just once, tried an application for the Music Association in New York. I bet they won't leave such a talented lady empty handed. And believe me, you deserve some treat for yourself after such a lengthy speech," I winked oddly enough to draw the attention of Mum and Josh as well.

Mariana beamed, nodded and walked indoors.

Mum strolled towards me, "What was that about?"

"Life?" I responded rather matter-of-factly. Before she could continue, I said, "A-are we ever leaving or not?" I mourned at the words immediately.

Mum's face glowed with delight, "Yes! Finally, you've comprehended the situation. Aw, Josh, did you hear her excitement?" She rotated at Josh, who looked inevitably at my false enthusiasm with his 'Are you serious?' reaction striking across his face.

"Yeah, I-I heard." He could barely hide his snickering expression. "Have a good day, Blake."

I nodded wearily, and watched Mum sit in the front, groping for the keys to start the engine. I thud my head on the seat, and smiled at Josh. He indicated Mum and gestured a smiley face. She was ultimately getting what she always needed—happiness.

I took a deep breath, exhausted from Mum's erstwhile fictional stories of how she made her first day at High School a mess. If someone ever knew Mum, they would have become skilled at narrating her illusionary tales of schooldays without a single blunder at each thrilling part. Everybody I knew was familiar with Mum would always distinguish between her imaginary tales and the reality.

According to her made-up stories, Mum was a badass backbencher in her schooldays, dating senior guys and bewitching teachers to sign up good grades on her exam papers. She had a brain of an amoeba, and a body of a bike rider. At least, that's what she had told everyone at our previous neighbourhood.

But here was the reality. Mum was a stupidly intelligent nerd at her school, who always sat in the front bench to impress teachers with her Einstein's brain. She had never even had a crush, and was totally a skinny skeleton. And that was the universal truth which everyone was aware of.

I jumped into consciousness as she continued, "But Mark never let me ride his motorcycle, so I ditched him in the movie hall itself!" She laughed wickedly, "I was quite a badass, you know."

"Yes, Mum, I know." I rolled my eyes. "Can we not repeat the same story anymore?"

"Story? This isn't a story, Blake. It's the truth. When I was of your age..." She trailed away with the saga again.

I exhaled tiredly, staring blankly outside the window. The trees wafted by as we drove on, creating a blurred sight of the morning's fascination. I curled the pendant around my fingers, caressing the emerald's smooth cut with the thumb. The surroundings were so smothering that it was hard not to concentrate on the tubes sticking under my nose. The feeling of being pitied over by strangers was the second most annoying thing in the list of exasperation, with the first one being admitting in a school. The thought frustrated me instantly.

As if it wasn't already enough, the traffic lunged by, forcing my eyes to dart at the park across the street. My heart froze, and I unknowingly started to clench the pendant in my hand. Nothing had changed about the park. It was one of the best memories I had with Dad. The man who was supposed to be here today, holding Mum's hand as she wore that pendant on her neck, staring at her brilliance in the mirror. But unfortunately the pendant was in my hand. My fingers trembled as my mind drifted me to the elapsed times, when Dad was grabbing my baby hands as he lifted me on his shoulders and wandered me around the park, humming nursery rhymes.

"Twinkle twinkle little star, we have a big old car.

Someday we'll drive in that, and take you to the school so far."

I tightened my grip on the pendant, panting heavily. I whispered gently, "Mum?"

But there was no response. I realized that I didn't utter a single word. With more strength, I murmured again, "Mum?" The word dissolved into thin air. My vision slowly submerged into blur, and initially my eyes began to burn. Darkness was taking over, immersing me more into the memories.

Dad was running after me...and then he promptly stopped. He shoved me away, "Who are you? Where is my daughter?"

"But dad, I'm your daughter," I smiled eventually.

"WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER??!!" He screamed, ignoring me. "GET ME MY DAUGHTER!"

The noises from the car suddenly altered into distinct voices from faraway lands, hindering me to form any words. I tried to call Mum once again, "Mum?!" It was a yell. But it seemed an eternity before the vehicle pulled over and darkness took the lead.

I had heard the song before. My mind played it over and over again. Something was tangled around my fingers. Gradually, my eyes unlatched, only to be greeted by the aroma of blossoms and dazzling sunlight crashing over my face. Did I fell asleep with anxiety again?

"We're here, Blake. Welcome to your new High School!" Mum screeched over the loud music on the radio, gazing at me from the rear mirror. It almost seemed like she had turned sixteen again, enthusiasm burning her up, as destiny dragged her back to her long-lost lover.

I took a hard crack at trying to secure the same fascination, but my heart resisted to do so. If being confined by a chronic satire wasn't enough, I was, in addition to that, opting for a school a month late of the year. Which meant, no friends even with the hardest effort. One careless misstep, and I'd forever be the clown. And in my dictionary, forever was a never-ending journey.

That inserted it in the list of 'to-do not's of my conscience.

I rubbed my eyes to adjust to the sunlight and glared at the scenario outside the window, my eyes gulping down the view. An enormous white building stood among the cherry blossom trees, inviting refreshment to shower upon every possible passer-by who took a glimpse of it, with the largest ever campus surrounding it. Where on earth was I again?

The car drove through the blossom-blanketed street, crossing glances of the distinguished students marching to the resident. Pretty blonde girls gossiped their way out between the flower heads, and I assumed the chat to be of the guys who followed them.

The guys, specifically, seemed more rowdy than I had expected any boy to be. Their teenage voice pierced through my ears, avoiding the already-deafening song on the radio, and their flirty conversation could be heard echoing in the campus.

As we drove closer, the faces came in recognition on the screen of the window. Few of the bus drivers and security guards had already readied their sympathy looks as they watched the girl in the tarnished vehicle, tubes all over her. And that girl was none other than myself.

I lowered my view and sealed the sight of the tubes with my adored mask. This had been the reputation-supporter all my life. I recalled the day I was registered to my first High School, where rumors spread quicker than butter on bread. My "friends" called it a perfect life, but to me, it was a scheduled life— a life where I was supposed to be abandoned. At that time, the mask was the only thing that heard my loneliness. And I'd never forget such a favour.

I continued watching the prospect which seemed to pass by like a hazy smoke.

And that was when I first encountered him. He was a guy lagging leisurely towards the school, far behind the enthusiastic dudes. He rather approached more calm and barred from the rest. And yet, all the blonde beauties were trailing him, whispering vigorously in high pitched voices. But the thing that tugged my attention towards him was his eyes that were fixed on mine. Astoundingly, he had not a single expression on his face—only the espy of curiosity in his bright hazel eyes.

There was something about him that cautioned me to stay away, that he was not someone I would have a pretty introduction with, but my senses mumbled that he was someone I would meet again, even if I ignored it for the first few times. I decided to listen to my heart, but it had fallen into a serene silence.

It occurred to me that our exchange of vision took place for less than a minute, for the car had already lapsed over his figure; but somehow, it felt connected to an emotion I couldn't recognize...yet.

I clasped onto something that was snarled around my fingers and when I analyzed it was the pendant, I clutched it tighter. I was going to absorb the advices Josh and Mariana gave me, for this was an astonishing start for me, and I had a strange feeling of treasuring more new experiences. I took a deep breath—only if I don't stand out, that is.