Power of Persuasion

Chapter One:

I can't stand looking at him, but at the same time it's all I want to do. He walked right past me. Shoulders slumped, dragging his feet a bit. The bags under his eyes get darker every day. I know he doesn't sleep. I see the bags under his eyes.

You know that theory where people say "When you can't sleep at night, it's because someone else is awake thinking of you"? Well, That person is me. It's always me. It made me realize that I'm the cause of his insomnia. The way he is constantly on my mind, is the reason why he's so sleep deprived. The dark purple bags under his eyes? It's all me. That is, if that theory is true. I just watch him talk to a few of his friends. Well, students he puts up with occasionally. I wouldn't really call them friends of his. I watch him showing off his crooked teeth when he smiles. Or how every time he doesn't know what to say he bites his lip and sticks his hands in his front pockets, rocking back and fourth on his heels and toes. He looked over at me and raised his eyebrows, not smiling or anything else. I subtly wave at him, raising my eyebrows back.

We hardly ever smiled at each other. Just acknowledged each others presence. But when he does grin, it lights up not just a room, but the whole city. Forever that crooked smile.

The first bell rings and I begin walking to my first class. The same routine every day. More like a rut actually. I didn't really have a close friend at school; it was more of scattered acquaintances. No one I would miss, with the exception of Jesse, but no one to miss me.

The whole day was pointless, and pretty much a blur. Same as every day, school consisted of spending an hour in each class staring at the clock waiting for the bell to ring, just to walk a few steps in the hallway and do it all over again in your next class. Psychology was the only class I looked forward to, and it was my last class. So to get to it, I had to endure all the bullshit before it. Jesse was in that class, that's how he became one of my scattered acquaintances. We both sat in back of class. One person separating us named Terry. He was your average jock, really. Lacrosse was the big thing at our school. The Roosevelt Rough Riders have won state 3 years in a row due to this guy. His name wasn't even Terry, it was Drew. Terry was his last name.

I would always glance at Jesse, and he'd be biting the end of his pencil, leaning back in his chair, listening contently. The intelligence level he has is unbelievable. Not to mention that his test scores are intimidating.

I tune back into the lecture when Mrs.Galloway starts writing on the board. "Studies show that a lot of people think dreams represent unconscious wishes that we're afraid to express in our waking life. So that leaves us with the question...Why do we dream?" She asks, writing the question with an expo marker. "Mr.Lane?" She says, calling on Jesse. He looks up from his lap and takes the pencil out of his mouth. "Well, I think dreams are meant to mystify us. I mean, they either leave us waking up confused, scared or very, very satisfied." He said laughing under his breath as the class laughed too. "Proposed that our dreams did represent unconscious wishes that we're afraid to express. I mean, I know my most recent dreams aren't really compatible with that theory. Dreams are stories that we create out of the random stimulation that occurs in the brain while we're sleeping. Neuroscience explains the stories we make up as reflecting our hidden desires but they are not primarily the products of repressed wishes." He sticks his pencil back in his mouth, glances at me and raises an eyebrow. My stomach sinks when his eyes hit mine, I quickly look down into my lap. Why do I do this? Why do I look at him, gaze at him, desperately wanting him to look back at me, and the moment he does, I turn away?

The last bell rings and I get up, throwing my backpack over one shoulder. Jesse is still looking at me from his seat. I can't tell if he's just zoning or it's intentional. Terry gets up and starts talking to him, so he finally looks away.

Through the hallways, and finally out the school doors, I start my long trek back home. Being 17 and practically the only senior without a car is somewhat...mordifying, but I don't mind walking. Seattle's weather isn't too bad this time of year. Everything is the same when I walk. It's like I'm stuck in the Bermuda triangle. I see the same cars driving home from work, I see the same people waiting at the bus stop, the same group of freshmen girls that bring boys in ally's to boost their popularity. I could start taking a different route I guess, but I don't know, who likes change?