Sinatra Syndrome

Chapter 1

I looked at my arm. "Good morning, darling." It was wrote in fine black ink. I ignored it and washed it off while doing my hygiene. I continued with the rest of my mundane monday morning routine. The writing? Oh, it's just my soulmate.

At the age of 15, anything your soulmate writes on their skin appears on you. (Tattoos were outlawed not too long after this began.) Everyday since I turned 15, I have awoken to a "Good morning, darling." My left arm always has it. Even when I wrote back and asked them to stop, they were persistent with it.

You may be wondering if we both must be 15 before it actually works. No, only one of you must be 15. I just assumed I have the same birthday as my soulmate. My friend always draws profane things on his arm to tease his soulmate.

"Carter! Aren't you worried she'll get mad?" I pointed to the penis drawn on his hand.

"No way, Keanu. She has a sense of humor." He laugged.

Lydia walked over whilst holding her hand up. She was gesturing to the drawing upon it.

"Nice, babe." She said as she kissed his cheek.

I often do small doodles on my hands or arms. It's just something I do as a nervous habit. I don't know what my soulmate's reaction is, but she doesn't seem to mind. She hasn't left a note under any of them.

I walked into class with the two lovebirds. We all took our seats. Before the teacher entered, everyone was looking at their appendages. It was normal. Before class begins, they always chat with their soulmates.

I decided to look at my own hands. There was a moon drawn on my left hand. "Fly me to the moon" was wrote beside it. I popped the top on my pen. On my right hand, I drew some stars crudely. Beside them, I wrote "and let me play among the stars." It looked alittle bad because I am right-handed.

"Pens down." The teacher said abruptly as he entered.

I was in the high class. 1-A. It was for kids with good grades. We were the ones looked up to. Of course, I didn't have the highest average. I was atleast in the top ten. Our teacher was very strict. He doesn't like us to have any distractions.

"Mr. Jacobs, what is that wrote on your shoulder?" Brady asked.

In bold letters, on our administrator's shoulder, was a message from his wife. "See you when you get home, daddy~" The whole class began to chuckle.

"What are you gonna do to her, daddy?" Quentin asked sarcastically.

Mr. Jacobs turned red. We all began to laugh louder. His expression turned. He was now angry with us. We changed to a more respectful rhetoric. He wiped it off and took a seat at his desk.

The day went by slowly. Before I realized it, it was time to walk home. I noticed some notes wrote on my arms.

"Darling, be safe on your walk home."

"What color should I use for these?"

"Can I get a cat?"

"This class is boring. Talk to me!"

"Guess you were busy."

I decided to write back to them.

"Sorry. I was taking notes."

I continued to walk. I noticed a girl writing on her arm. She had headphones in, and she was focused on her arm. I looked down at my arm.

"It's fine. You'll need good grades to afford your girl a nice house."

I chuckled at this and wrote back.

"Maybe I'll jump infront of this truck."

A truck zoomed past me. The girl on the other side of the street laughed.

"That's funny. One just went past me."

That was weird. I wonder if...

"Hey!" I shouted. "Did you write this?" I yelled as I held my arm up.

I couldn't see the girl's face. She had her hoodie up. It was apparent that she paused her music that was playing through her earbuds. Her head lifted to glance at me.

I began to raise my hand to wave.

"It is you." I said.

She rushed around the corner in an attempt to avoid me, and I slowly lowered my hand.