Chapter 3: The Hit List

Dressed up in my uniform, school bag slung over my shoulder, I make the trip back to the subway. I don’t really know what today will be like, to be honest. I mean, it’s a Friday, so there’s going to be subtle excitement in the air, but skillwise?

 

I have no clue. I have these skills, but the limitations seem…extreme. A small kernel in my brain is saying to throw all caution to the wind and…try to manipulate everyone into relations with me. The thing is, the rational part of me says that they’ll only do things they’re very close to agreeing to.

 

So…I’ll have to do this slowly and methodically. I’m not saying I won’t be using it—quite the opposite, in fact. I’m just going to leave enough hints—suggestions to a point where they’ll agree to most anything. And hell, if I can level up these skills, then it’ll be all the easier.

 

Stepping off the subway, I go through the gate, up the stairs, down the sidewalk, and into the school, giving a passing good morning wave to the assistant principal. She’s a little old, even for my tastes, but I know she’s packing some muscle underneath that button-up shirt.

 

Okay… she might be in my strike zone. Just barely…

 

I sit down in my first class of the day—English—and pull out a notebook while waiting for my very gung-ho Ms. Sopho. Flipping to the back, I title the top, ‘Targets’. Wait, no. Hold on. If someone found this, they might think I’m planning on un-aliving them.

 

How about…this… ‘Yearbook targets’. Alright. Better. I can probably explain that one away as people to sign my yearbook. Only a select few, such as my mom, know I can’t even afford to buy one. Anyway, I have skills. I have a lot of pent-up and repressed emotions which consist mostly of lust. I have…no plan.

 

But that’s okay. Little by little, step by step. Tortoise and the hare. It’s not really a plan, but I guess stacking up hypnotic commands is more of an idea, really.

 

Okay. I’m going in circles. Back to the list.

 

Actually…another conundrum. I know very few people at this school. I know. Shocker. I’ve been here for two years, starting my third, and I know more of the teachers and administrators than actual students… Huh.

 

So stalking is being put on my own mental to-do list. Need to stake out the girls I find pretty and beautiful and…proportioned…and figure out their personalities. Yes, I have the feeling I could probably override their entire existence with powerful enough suggestions, but then that feels just like collecting trophies.

 

There’s no passion. No love. Just lust. And an empty shell of a person. I’ll probably still override some things, like making them okay with polygamy, but otherwise, I’ll leave most things intact.

 

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So… Out of the administration, who do I want? Who do I want to share a bed with? Want to get to know on a deeper relationship than that of student and teacher? Who would I want to spend eternity with, even after death does us part?

 

How about the assistant principal? She’s kinda in the ‘maybe’ zone, but, let’s be honest, there’s going to be a wide age range here. Just not kids…kids too young I mean. Nor do I want the elderly…

I wonder if I can give my lovers immortality through the System… Maybe I can get immortality? Wait! NO! Getting ahead of myself…again…

 

I write ‘Kaitlyn Rosenberg’ down as the first entry. By the same thoughts, I guess the actual principal of the school is out the window. The woman already has a foot in the grave. And while figurative, she did have to go to the hospital last year. I think her pacemaker almost broke…

 

As I ruminate my second entry, Ms. Sopho walks through the door, a large stack of books in her arms. Even from the middle of the classroom, I can hear her humming a jovial tune. She has wavy brown hair, though hers is more honey colored. Her pantsuit jacket buttons up at her blouse, but I feel like that accentuates her bust more.

 

Oh, and they’re larger than mine, but smaller than Ms. Oswald’s.

 

Her jacket is a nice bright beige, and she wears some matching heels. Silky white stockings, at least I think, that are hidden beneath the beige, knee-length, pleated skirt. Or dress, whatever. Does it matter? I’m undressing her with my eyes anyway…

 

“Alright class, are you ready for Friday?!” She cheers, her bubbly personality creating an aura that tries and fails to combat the apathy of tired students. A weak cheer(?) resounds through class. Early morning plus end of the week equals a wish to be hit by a car.

 

Carrying on despite the lackluster reaction, Ms. Sopho says, “Well, you guys better get excited about today because we’re going to be reading a new book!” Oh…joy… “Now, now. Calm yourselves…” Nobody had moved. She puts her hands on her hips, almost hitting the books behind her, and pouts. “Come on! I was your age once, too. I loved reading, though I did hate reading for a grade,” she mumbled that last part.

 

“So! That’s why this won’t exactly be a grade. I mean, it will, but not in the way most of you are thinking.” This perks up some students; I’d say about twenty-five percent. “We’ll be reading this book together, in class, though you may read it at home, and we will have discussions. Though participation is not necessary, it will, in fact, award extra credit. We will, sadly, have quizzes on it, despite my arguments. We’ll be doing other things as well, but I wanted to try and make this as enjoyable as possible.”

 

There’s…something in her eye. Nobody else sees it. Nobody else is even paying attention. But I am. I do. I see that longing, nostalgic stare. The stare one has when winning fake arguments in the shower… The wish of what could’ve been…

 

I add the second entry: ‘Selena Sopho’.

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