Jesse's Girl

Chapter 1

this story was started in late 2010 and finished in early 2020. aside from the obvious issues, one of the main things that might be a bit jarring for newer readers is the change in writing style throughout the entire story. it's a first draft of one of my first stories ever, so just keep that in mind.

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      A door suddenly swung open, slamming so hard against the wall beside it that I turned to the sound with a kind of shriek that sounded like a mix between a frightened cat and an angry hamster.

     The first thing I noticed when I looked to the door was that it was janitor's closet. The second thing I noticed, after waiting a second, was a girl with dark hair tumbling out, clutching her handbag and using her free hand to rub at her tear stained face.

     I barely had enough time to peg her face as familiar before she stomped right past me, not sparing me a glance at all before she reached the corner of the hallway and disappeared from my view. I stared after her, my lips slightly parted with the words, "Are you alright?" hanging at the tip of my tongue. Seeing as how she was gone though, I closed my mouth and turned back to my locker, quickly resuming what I had been doing and pulling out my bag from the compartment before I was any more late to class than I already was.

     But then a grunt and the sound of something toppling over made me look back to the closet.

     And then he came out.

     All black hair and shimmering blue eyes, Jesse Sawyer came walking out of the janitor's closet, casually shutting the door behind him. There was a certain look to his face that made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd sauntered out of a janitor's closet twenty minutes late to class. And from personal inference, I also knew it wasn't the first time a girl has come running out crying thanks to him.

     I found myself staring at him with hostility, shooting him looks that I would only throw at someone I truly hated. Despite that claim though, I was in no position to hate him. In fact, I've never even spoke to him. I just hated how he treated people - girls in particular, like disaposable and replaceable items.

     As he brushed his jacket off and began to walk through the hall—likely to his class, but I couldn't be sure with his lousy attendance rate—I turned back to my locker and shut the metal door, hoisting my bag over my shoulder and kneeling down to pluck up my textbooks from the floor. As I stood up, I brushed them off and turned toward my class, thinking of a believable excuse for my tardiness while I still could.

     I fell in the hallway and couldn't get up. I got locked in the bathroom. I was in the nurse's office faking an illness. I tripped on a wet floor sign. No, wait, I already used that last one.

     Maybe I'd be better off telling the truth: I wasted more time than I should have in my P.E. class last period because your class is boring as hell and you're just as annoying—

     "Do you need help?"

     I jerked to a stop when I noticed a figure blocking my path and absentmindedly responded with, "What the hell?" But when I glanced up at the face belonging to the person in front of me, my nerves instantly  tingled and my nose flared. I swallowed, composing myself before I said, "No. I don't."

     Tightening my grip on my bag and my books, I took a step to the left, a large step forward, and a step back to the right before I continued walking.

     Once I began to believe I was off the hook as I walked away, I heard Jesse clear his throat. It was loud, and very clear to me that it wasn't because of congestion. I slowly turned over my shoulder, having imaginary fantasies to see him writhing on the floor choking, but was midly disappointed when I only saw him staring at me.

     I had been shifting my eyes around awkwardly when he said, "You don't have to carry all of that by yourself. It won't be a hassle for me to help."

     He walked up to me, extending a hand for my things. I stared at him blankly and then shook my head a moment later. When I heard my own voice, I was a bit surprised that it wasn't as cold as I imagined. "I can handle this just fine, but thanks for the offer."

     I earned a puzzled look from him as I smiled half-heartedly and left him there.

     Once making my way to class – very late, by now – the teacher gave me a cold look as I opened the door and emerged, but simply wrote that I was tardy instead of pestering me for my reason and told me to sit down. Following her instructions, I crossed the room quickly and fell into my seat with a huff that blew my bangs away from my face.

     "What happened to you?"

     Glancing to the speaker on my right, I met Katrina's curious gaze – the only girl in this whole school that I had the justice to say was my best friend. "Same thing as yesterday," I answered her. "I got carried away in P.E."

     "Oh, of course," she said with the roll of her eyes, then turned back to the teacher, picking up her pencil and tapping the desk absentmindedly.

     The rhythm she was keeping up faltered when the door suddenly opened, and the same girl that had stormed out of the janitor's closet earlier walked in.

     I realized at that moment why she was so familiar.

     Her face had been cleaned, but the puffiness and red in her eyes was as clear as day. It was evident that she took quite some time fixing her hair and making it seem as if everything was all right. After receiving the cold look I'd just gotten from the teacher for being late, she moved through the aisles to her desk towards the back of the class, and immediately began talking to her friends – answering every one of the hundred questions they threw at her once she sat down.

     "Jesse already broke up with her?" Katrina didn't seem excited or disappointed that he was single again, but actually gave off that she knew it would have happened sooner or later.

     "Yeah, I saw them."

     She looked at me, silencing the tapping she was doing with her pencil. "What happened?"

     I bit my lip, lowering my voice so no one else would overhear. The short story seemed to be a better option though, since it was a small classroom. "Um, well...he dumped her, she cried about it, and...that's about it."

     "I meant what did he say, Carson?" She rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

     "I don't know." I glanced uneasily at the girl crying. "They were talking in a closet. All I know was that she was crying afterwards."

     Katrina sighed and sank back in her seat, likely eavesdropping on the conversation behind her.

     As the class dragged on, I began to grow irritated towards the girl crying with her friends behind me. There wasn't any false judgment when it came to Jesse – since every girl knew what they were getting themselves into when they agreed to date him. How long they expected to stay with him was on them, but it only came down to one thing.

     It became clear that when they bored him – which was usually after they slept with him, from what I knew – was when he sought out for a replacement.

     And if she was naïve enough to do that, then she shouldn't be crying because of Jesse – she should be crying because she knew better.

     Drawing some indescribable scrawl on my 'notes', I increasingly began to feel worried.

     What if the way Jesse was talking to me in the hall was a sign? Would I be next?

     Of course, thinking the worst was over exaggerating, but I couldn't help it. When it came to a person like Jesse, it was hard to think that he was capable of a normal courteous gesture – such as offering to help me with something – without any ulterior motive.

     Even if I was right and he was planning something...what could I do? Walk around with a sheet over my head? A ghost like that wasn't invisible though, and dressing like one would only be that much more attention attracting.

     But looking at the girl who just walked in...dressing like a ghost seemed to be a solid plan.

     It was better than nothing.