There's a flower called immortal. But strangely, when you get a first look at it you would never believe it's immortal -I mean it looks all friable- but the truth is that little flower is pretty tough. But you would never assume it. Plus there's this whole thing where it's often use for funerals...

I'm like that flower.

* * * * * * * * * *

I love flowers. I pretty much grew up surrounded by them. My parents are horticulturist. Flowers are pretty much our life. We take care of them, grow them, sell them -everything's always about flowers.

I know my parents sometimes get to the point where they just can't even look at them. They almost hate them, but I don't. I never do. I just love to sit right in the middle of the yard with a book surrounded by all the flowers because it feels right -I feel home. When I sit in the middle of my flowers I know that's where I belong. I know that whoever my biological parents are it's a good thing they left me with Paul and Annie because there's not place on this world that compares to our yard of flower.

Now, I would have lived my happy life, with my flowers but strange things happen to me.

It was little thing at first. Like the time I helped out a lady with her bag of manure. The smell was so thick I was almost choking. The lady asked me where the burning smell came from. I immediately assumed she meant the manure, but she looked at me and said it wasn't it because we really couldn't smell it through the plastic bag.

Then it was bigger things like the time Tommy Laurent dared me to climb up the highest tree in the park and I fell from it. Everyone was screaming, shouting in panic. But I got up and walked home with barely a few scratches.

But those weren't the only things because if it had stopped at that I guess it really wasn't worth talking about. The first time I really definitely saw that I had a problem was when I was sitting in my bed, late at night reading a book and I heard Matt's voice as clearly as if it were my own. It didn't exactly sound like Matt voice at first -it had a slightly different tone - but I know him well enough to recognize his little expressions. And then it wasn't only his voice but the one of a girl, Nancy Stratford to be exact. But she wasn't even with him; she was speaking with him on the phone! And I could hear her voice as clearly as if I were the one with the phone to my ear. Let's just say I completely freaked out. I mean Matt's house is beside ours but we have a huge yard and his father's garage in between them. And Matt wasn't in my room or even in my house for that matter! But I just couldn't stop hearing him and her. I could even hear the distant sound of an open television. I was completely freaked out. My first guess was that I was crazy, but then because I am who I am I just had to check.

So I called him. If he was sleeping or doing anything else than speaking with Nancy on the phone I would seriously consider therapy... well either ways I would definitely consider therapy.

He picked up on the fourth ring. And when he picked up I stopped hearing his voice.

"Oh my God Jasmine I swear we must be linked by our brains somehow" he answered right away, not even letting me time to speak.

"What do you mean?" I asked feeble.

"I was just speaking with that pain-in-my-ass of Nancy Stratford trying to put some sense in her god damn empty head, really I don't even know why I bother, so she would just leave me the hell alone and stop texting me all the time, but she wouldn't listen. And I couldn't get rid of her she like called back every time I hung up on her. And then you call! You're my saviour!"

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god...

I was silent for a little while. I'm surprise I didn't faint!

"Jass, are you alright?" he asked.

"I think I'm going to puke..." I said out loud almost in a trance.

"And you called to tell me that?" he answered, chuckling.

"Trust me you wouldn't laugh if you were me"

"What's wrong?" his tone completely changed. He wasn't on laughing mode anymore.

"...nothing..."

And then we were both silent for a little while.

"You know me calling you won't help with the fact that Nancy can still text you and call you all the while we're speaking" I finally said.

"I told her it was my job."

"Call boy?"

"Ya."

And so things fell back to place just like they always do when I speak with Matt and I stopped hyperventilating.

And I probably would have stop thinking about it if it didn't happen again and again.

I mean it was always Matt I was hearing and it wasn't like I didn't already know what Matt talked about. Sure I always felt like some kind of really expertise eavesdropper but at least Matt was my best friend, practically my brother. We were almost raised together. When his mom died of breast cancer seven years ago, his dad would always come to our house with him and Katherine, his big sister and his father would follow my dad around looking like a dead man and me and Matt we would pull pranks on Katherine who was such a snobby.

I guess if I were to tell someone about all the odd things about me it would be to Matt. I mean a guy who cried in your arms is pretty much on top list for supernatural confession right?

But now don't get into thinking that I have a thing for Matt because I don't. Honestly I don't have a thing for anyone. It's weird. I know everyone at my age wants to get it on but not me. I don't know, I just don't get that whole establishment. I mean even when I read I fast-forward the make out scene or just skip them completely. It just bores me. It's so predictable. It's like everyone is just a pack of hormones for Christ sake!

Sure Matt is good looking with his ruffled honey-brown hair, his perfect angular face with flawless features, his greenish-golden eyes, his 6 ft 4 in and his I-can-run-a-freaking-marathon-just-for-the-kick-of-it body, but my brain just blocked that out and only let me see the boy I was raised with. The one who had thrown chocolate pudding in my face just because he said I was too pale, the one who moons our eighty years old cat-lady front neighbour, the one who actually thought of a plausible way to blow up our elementary school, the one who dragged me out of my house at five in the morning because he had found a baby bird in a nest alone and told me no baby should be left without a mom, the one who follows me to book fair and doesn't even complain, the one who once beat up a guy because he had said my real parents were the smart ones for abandoning me because I wasn't worth anything, the one who helps me build my greenhouse, the one... aw who am I kidding I kinda do have a thing for him, don't I?

But the reason why I can't have a thing for him is another reason why I am not normal.

Baron.

Baron always tells me to stop thinking about Matt. He tells me I care too much about him, and that I shouldn't because we're not meant to be. He actually threatened me once. Said he would freak the crap out of Matt if I were to start developing too much attraction towards him.

And that's not normal because Baron his only in my dreams. Pathetic right? I dream about him almost every night though I've never meant him and I'm pretty sure he doesn't even exist. My best guess is that he's some sort of subconscious substitution of a conscience my brain made up. But quite frankly the only thing we argue about is Matt because otherwise we just talk, and it's kind of weird...

It's always the same way. I wake up and I'm lying in the middle of a great meadow completely covered with thousand and thousands of flowers all different. There are orchids, daisies, lobelias, roses without thorns, tuberous begonia, iris, tulips, clematis, dahlias, fuchsias... and let's not forget liliums, so many different kind, lilium kelleyanum, lilium maritimum, sierra tiger lily, meadow lily, lilium rubescens, turk's cap lily... the list just goes on and on and on.

If that meadow were to exist it would be my favourite place on Earth. It kicked my yards ass to be more specific.

So I'm in the meadow and then he comes out of no where. He's tall, almost as tall as Matt. He has a very catlike way to walk, very elegant and kind of seductive. He has black hair set in a sort of neglected pompadour way, dark blue eyes, a real pretty-boy face, dark skin and he's always wearing something very formal like a suit.

He always sits right in front of me and says "Hello Jasmine" and I reply "Hello Baron". And then he starts to bombard me with questions. How was my day, who did I talk with, did my orchid die or was his advice to put a new kind of fertilizer -that I had never heard about before by the way- worked and of course what book was I reading. We would talk for what seems hours about the book I read, what I thought of it, what did I thought it meant, how I related to the characters...

And of course we would talk about my "powers" if you can call them so. And that's why we argue about Matt because he says the only way I'm always hearing him is because I think too much about him. But I always tell him I can't control it but he just won't listen! I swear for a conscience he's a real pain in the ass!

But I shouldn't be thinking about him either because when he finds out about it he gets so cocky and annoying I almost curse the perfect meadow.

I need to understand though, I really do. And I need it to stop, I really really do...