jesse
He rolled over in his bed to the sound of his annoying alarm. He lied in bed for a few minutes staring up at the ceiling. "Good morning, Jesse Renegade," He spoke out loud to himself. "You are 16 years old. And you are a diagnosed sociopath."
Jesse Renegade was tall and lanky with light brown hair. His perspective of the world was from a height of 6 ft 1 in. He had a terrible habit of thinking aloud instead of keeping his thoughts to himself.
He was one of those kids who was comfortable with staying in the background. He was fine not having to go to parties. And he was fine with not doing any activities other than his job outside of school. And he was especially fine with having no friends. Fine. Perfectly fine...
He rolled out of bed and onto his bedroom floor. He stared at each of the individual fibers of the carpet and tried to pluck up the motivation to get ready for school.
A knock on his door. "Hey? You up?"
It was his dad standing in the doorway. He was tall and slightly resembled his son in stature. His face had wrinkles around his mouth from smiling too much, but it was also worn with age and sadness. His eyes drooped from not enough sleep. Even his hair was a mess.
"Yeah," Jesse replied getting up from his spot on the floor. His dad walked back downstairs. He got ready for the day ahead of him and grabbed his back pack along with his school books and journal. He sprinted down the stairs, and according to the time, he had spent too much time staring at the carpet.
His dad sat at the kitchen table just looking into his cup of coffee. Jesse grabbed a granola bar and walked out the door, "I'm off!" His dad raised his head as if his son's voice brought him out of a trance. He only looked up and nodded his head. Jesse knew he should've felt bad for his dad. But he didn't. It wasn't in his nature.
The lanky teenager walked out the front door and grinned when he saw his motorcycle waiting for him at the end of their driveway like a bride waiting for her groom. "Yeah... getting married to a bike wouldn't be a bad idea."
He hoisted his leg over the side. He twisted the handle and heard the engine roar. He smelled the gasoline scent kick in as he drove away, his house getting smaller and smaller as his distance increased between him and his dad.
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The bell rang signaling the end of the school day.
Jesse could be seen pushing his way through the crowds in the high school hallways. He looked in his back pack, double checking to see if he had all his homework. "Great," He thought. "I don't have my journal."
He rushed outside, looking around the picnic table, which he had last seen his journal.
Then he spotted it. But it was in the hands of that girl he noticed was in his art class. His mind went frantic. "Shit. That has all my thoughts in it since last year!" He yelled quietly to himself.
He immediately pulled his hat down to cover his face and rushed away quickly. He would leave getting his journal up to his future-self.
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He was working at a local coffee shop to earn money for his family. "Family... or at least what's left of it."
His watch beeped. Break time.
Jesse quickly grabbed a cup of coffee and a slice of bread and walked over to the small square table that sat by a large window which he claimed as his own. He looked out of the window at the hustle and bustle of the street a few centimeters of glass away.
He saw a car drive by and a couple walking on the sidewalk. As he picked up his warm drink, his hand brushed against the wood of the table. He felt an engraving. He looked down and recalled the memory of when he engraved the A & J.
Almost one year ago, when Jesse was 15, he sat down at that very same table. Across the room, he saw a girl from his grade sipping on a cup of coffee. They made eye contact. That day, long ago, he did not say anything, but every day after school, they would see each other in the same spot. And eventually, they began talk. Soon enough, they both were around each other during the day at school too. All this time led to talking - to getting to know each other.
Jesse looked over to the spot Angela would always sit at. He could only see a phantom of those round, brown eyes. Those eyes no longer stared back at him. How did he get here?
He could remember to this day what had happened.
Once Jesse became more open with Angela about his life-about his struggles-about his home life-
She ran.
She left.
She moved.
She knew getting into the relationship that he was not capable of many feelings like remorse and guilt, and in most cases people like him couldn't even love. She knew that. But she thought it could all work out if they just tried hard enough.
And one day, out of nowhere, Angela never showed up to school. She wasn't at the shop either. Jesse figured she was sick or something along those lines. He went to a florist and bought anemone flowers for her. Once he reached Angela's house, he saw the truck.
The moving truck. He saw the moving boxes.
He dropped the flowers where he stood on the pavement and just stared at the sight. After moments of contemplation and constant muttering under his breath, he decided that the best thing to do was wait for her to tell him herself. This was unlike him to just trust her to tell him something so important like she was moving, but he knew that it would make her proud. So he waited.
She never showed up at school.
She never showed up at the shop either.
And once he got to her house the next day, the truck was gone... along with Angela.
YOU ARE READING
the art of chasing the stars
Teen Fiction"Doesn't it seem like dark events have always followed us? Ever since we were both little, we were fated to be riddled by the darkness that morphed us into the shells we are today." He thought for a second, still looking up, "You can't have the g...
