Plastic Hearts Read Online Free PDF

favorite doll; she said I was too old to play with toys and it was time to take piano lessons and work with a math tutor. I didn’t want to play the piano and I was already way ahead of my classmates in math. I didn’t say anything, though. I never did. However, that day I took a brush and stroked it over a large white piece of paper until the bell rang and I realized how much better I felt when class was over. It soon became my form of expression and an outlet for all the things I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Art meant everything to me.
    I looked at the clock on the wall; I only had ten minutes before I had to start my walk across campus. I glanced over at Jade who was still sleeping and remembered she had a class the same time I did. She could care less if she went to class or not, but for some reason it mattered to me. She was always there for me when I had boy or parental difficulties and this was the one thing I could offer her. I was good at doing what I was supposed to do.
    "Jade, you need to get up. I have strict instructions not to let you miss the first day of class!" I yelled as I threw my textbooks into my backpack. Jade missed so many classes last semester that she almost got kicked out of school. She had vowed to do better this term and I had promised to help her. I couldn’t guarantee she would make it to all her classes, but the first day was pretty important.
    "Who gave you those instructions?" she mumbled, rolling over and folding her pillow over her head.
    "You did," I said, grabbing a notebook and pen off my desk.
    "Okay, just give me five more minutes." She moved so that her head rested back on her pillow, using her arm to cover her eyes.
    "That leaves you with five minutes to get yourself ready," I said, dangling her need to always look good. She rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe so fast you would have thought the fire alarm sounded. She was a little on the side of ridiculous, but I loved her anyway.
    "Is that what you’re wearing?" Jade asked as she crinkled her nose. I had chosen a pair of old jeans that were worn in the knees and frayed at the bottom and paired it with a fitted royal blue turtleneck sweater. Not my best outfit, but it was appropriate for where I was going. I attended class to learn, not to pick up guys. Her face seemed to lighten as she looked up and saw that I had let my long blond hair fall into soft waves instead of doing my usual ponytail or loose knot at the top of my head. I threw on my puffy black coat and turned back to look at her.
    "I start my Art class today and I don't need paint stains on my good jeans," I said, giving myself a once over. By this time she was dressed in black leggings and a long grey tunic and had started to pull on her knee high boots. Why anyone would go through all that trouble to sit through a lecture or two was beyond me. I pulled my backpack on and headed toward the door.
    "I’m taking off. Don't forget your textbooks." I began the ten-minute walk to the NYU Art Center and instantly regretted that I hadn’t grabbed my hat and gloves; the weather in New York was anything but tropic in the middle of January. Personally, I didn’t mind winter. There was nothing better than jeans and sweater weather. A storm a few days before had left a light dusting of snow on the ground and my feet made a crunching sound with every step I took. It was a melodic, relaxing sound that cleared my mind as I inched closer to class.
    My pulse picked up as I entered the art studio that would hold my class for the next four months. It wasn't the class itself that scared me; I was walking into a room full of strangers whom I would join three times a week for two hours as we shared our intimate thoughts through art. The people in this class would probably end up knowing more about my inner thoughts than any friend or family member. Art was a way to express everything that I was feeling during a given day; some days it all came out rainbows and sunshine, but on