"I can't believe you would put me through this again, Dre!" Jasmine lay in bed, letting her narrow fingers scamper blindly across her nightstand searching for the skinny rubber thread of her headphones. Shortly before, she had heard the sound of the front door creak open, and also gotten a glimpse of the red numbers on her clock. She could only imagine the state her mother was in. She could feel the rumblings of her pacing footsteps all through the house.

"Calm down, 'Vonne. Stop jumping to conclusions," she heard her father offer.

"I've heard things..."

"Untrue things..."

"If I find out that baby is yours..."

"It's not mine."

"I was such a fool to marry you."

"How could you say that! What about our daughter? Our beautiful daughter! Was she a mistake to you?"

"..."

"'Vonne? 'Vonne!"

"If it means never having met you..."

They continued on and on like that until early morning. Somewhere in the middle Jasmine would finally sink down into her pillows, too tired to hear anymore.

"Good morning, beautiful," her father greeted sweetly. "It's time for school."

"Morning, Daddy," she replied, stretching her limbs as she slid one foot off the bed.

She stood naked in front of her bathroom mirror, with arms to the side, and feet spread shoulder-width apart and her chin tucked in. Her hair was still wet from the bath. She moved the matted strands from her forehead again as she studied her reflection. She took a good, long look. Her pupils were sandy dots in the middle of her white eyes, there was a timid pout on her lips; a pale, lethargic face. The skin: like a shell, deadened and hard all over, cold on the inside, no matter how warm it looked on the outside.

But then, she broke out of her trance and began to position herself like a statue, a pious idol carved out of stone. She peered deeply into the mirror as she struggled to find an angle of what a good, dutiful child would look like, or at least something that had any value in the eyes of her mother, but ultimately she found herself hating half of any side she turned to, for the resemblance was inescapable.

She pulled her school uniform off the hanger in her closet, put on her socks and shoes. Her mom wasn't downstairs to greet her. Her dad was already in the car.

On their way to school, Jasmine's dad tried to fill the awkward silence.

"Any big tests coming up?"

"Chemistry on Wednesday. Korean on Friday."

"Korean? Wow, that's crazy. I think I can barely grasp the little bit of Spanish I know: Uhh, me lamo Andre."

"'Llamo, Dad. It's a 'y' sound."

"Oh, right. See? I think you definitely have your mother's brains, for sure."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he shouldn't have said what he said. The silence spoke volumes.

"Why does mom hate me, dad?" she pouted meekly.

"She's your mother, Jas. Why would you ever think that?" He paused. "You heard us talking huh?"

"'Talking'...you two were screaming."

"Look, your mom is just...frustrated, okay? It doesn't mean she doesn't love you. And it doesn't mean I don't love your mother. Things are just...complicated right now, okay? It's gonna get better." He took her by the chin as she averted her gaze to the road. Then he reached down his collar and pulled out the dull piece of jewelry he kept around his neck.

"Remember this?"

"Yeah."

"This belongs to your mother just as much as it does to me. You're our missing piece, beautiful. Don't you ever forget that, okay?"

They were in front of the high school by then. He pulled Jasmine in and kissed her on the forehead.

"I won't," were the words she replied, without the confidence to conceal her aching heart, but by the time she reached the doors of her high school came the necessity to make that all evaporate with the smile everyone would expect from the girl they wanted to be: Miss Perfect.