S A M

Present Day - ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
I sat in Lit class waiting for the school, which just began, to be over with. I kept my hoodie up over my head, hiding my brown locks, and ear-buds in my sleeves so I can forget that I attend this place beyond hell. Then she walked in. Cassandra Evans and the two wanna-be Barbies. I hated them. With a passion. I never thought it was capable to hate someone so much. She walked down in between the rows of desks until she sat in hers with the so-called 'popular' group consisting of the normal popular group constituents - jocks, cheerleaders, and the wealthy.

The bell had rang out and class soon begun. The only problem I never had in this school was my grades. I never failed to turn in an assignment or miss a deadline for a project. There's nothing really on my mind to distract me from not doing it. I guess it must be the pure agonizing boredom that's pretty much surrounded my life at this point.

Mr. Spitel came into the class. Late as always. He's been having marital issues for the past 4 months. He was surrounded by a dark, murky gray. He always is. He's never happy. I guess when you've been treated like shit for the past eight years of marriage, you would be too.

You might be confused of what I just said so let me elaborate a little bit more. When I said Mr. Spitel was surrounded by 'a dark, murky gray', I was talking about his aura. I see auras in everybody. I wish I didn't but I do and I can't control them. Nobody knows that I see them. I mean how would that conversation go? You can't just tell somebody that; they'll think you're a freak! Along with the auras, I can also read minds. You might think that seems 'cool' or whatever but its totally not. Hearing people's thoughts is a living nightmare for me everyday.

There's a girl that sits in the front row named Becky. She wears long sleeves and pants all year round. She wonders when her dad is going to stop drinking. When he's going to stop hitting her.

David sits in the back by himself with only a few friends and doesn't talk to anybody. Pretty much like me. He wants to know how many Xanax pills he has to take before he overdoses.

Then you have the important issues that build up in people's heads like 'Is he cheating on me?', 'Does he like me?', 'What color should I paint my nails?' and all the other bullshit that has no relevance what-so-ever with life and what's around them. But they don't care. They're a bunch of egotistical, self-centered, oblivious pigs. Rather than caring about politics and the well-being of human society, they watch 'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' not knowing their IQ's are plummeting by each Gucci and Chanel bag they see.

A knock came upon the door and Mr. Spitel was caught in mid-sentence, going over the class's book for the next two weeks - Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Read it like 5 times now and is still captivating. Spitel opened the door and in came a devilishly handsome man.

He had long dark brown hair that was refrained from his face except a piece in the front that he had left out intentionally. He had brown eyes that seemed soft and caring but also determined and powerful at the same time. He had a chiseled jaw that outlined his face perfectly with stubbles of hair forming a slight beard. He was tall with broad shoulders and tattoos peaking from his white v-neck shirt that he had paired with a black leather jacket.

During my observation, he looked at me with seductive grin. I put my head down still feeling the stare coming from his brown daggers. I started to doodle in my composition book not wanting to take another look up.

"Class, this is Zayn Malik, a transfer from the U.K.," Mr. Spitel announced. "You have the choice of sitting anywhere you like." Spitel said to him before he went back to his desk. Please don't sit next to me, please don't sit next to me, I begged. But as if he read my mind. He came down my aisle, passing Cassandra who was aaving him a seat behind her for him, right next to me. I gave myself a mental facepalm.

I noticed that he wasn't channeling an aura. That's weird. I never seen a person without an aura since the accident. I couldn't read any of his thoughts either. I tried poking around in there but it was like trying to crack open a vault and behind that vault, a brick wall and behind that a stainless steel fence. It was like Fort Knox in there. He chuckled lowly enough for me to only hear him. It was almost like he was laughing at my attempt to get inside.

'You should really be paying attention instead of prying into people's thoughts.'

Where the hell did that come from? It just popped up inside my head like I was recieving a text. I know I didn't think that and people around... Well, the people around me were oblivious to what's going on with me. This hasn't happened before. Not until he showed up.

Notes