Forget Me Not Read Online Free

manages to escape his usual bed time, but as he falls asleep curled up in my arms I remind myself to allow this more often. Today’s been a good day.
    I have carried him to bed and now I’m flicking through the endless TV channels in the hope of finding a distraction. It’s no use. How can I possibly concentrate on anything other than Jesse? Today, I opened the safe and uncovered the Jesse files that had been stored away for years and now I can't remember the combination to lock them away again.
    There’s only one thing for it. After turning off the TV, I tiptoe up the stairs, past Benji’s closed door and into my bedroom. I switch on the harsh light and ease the door shut so I don’t disturb him. I pull myself up onto my dresser chair, after dragging it into my wardrobe, and scramble through several years worth of nonsense until I find my objective. Confronted with a dusty, customized shoebox, I sit cross-legged on the floor.
    My cherished time capsule is covered in old lilac wrapping paper and is decorated with masses of doodles in black ink. Hearts and flowers . I really was a walking cliché of a young girl in love. The thought makes me smile.
    My eager hands fumble to remove the lid and I’m met with my very own buried treasure, not gold or jewels, but movie stubs and concert tickets. Beneath them lays my reason for unearthing the box. My yearbook . Bound in deep red leather, looking and smelling as it did the day I placed it in there. Not surprising considering I haven't looked at it since. When Jesse left, the memories within it became unbearable.
    I scan through the mosaic of faces, recognizing almost everyone because the majority still live near. I stop at Emma's face. What a beauty she was, and still is. She has the same dark hair that flows long past her shoulders and her big brown eyes are bright with hope.
    On the next page my eyes flit to my own mug shot. My hair’s short and wavy and my face is plump with youth. It’s obvious that the young girl is me, but I seem so different. The biggest difference being how happy I appear. It's just a photograph, just one click of the camera and yet somehow it seems to capture my all. My smile is full and my eyes sparkle with hidden secrets. I’ve quoted some auspicious lyrics from a favorite love song, further highlighting my sappy frame of mind. I can’t remember the last time I looked so completely happy.
    After searching hundreds of faces, I finally find his entry. It reads, JESSE LEE JENNER and he declined to give any further information or quotes. He sits inside this little window with a plain black t-shirt and the quietest smile on his otherwise expressionless face, yet his photo screams out from the page. Gone are the rows and rows of faces that surround his image, it's just him. A face I haven’t seen in so long, too long. His eyes are bright from the camera flash and they burn the bluest of blues. His gaze is directed slightly off camera and I wish so much for him to be staring right back at me.
    My dusty memories haven’t done him justice. I’m overwhelmed by the power that his image has on me. My hand flies to my chest, silencing my heart as it calls for him.
    Suddenly seeking comfort, I move myself from the floor and I curl up on my bed with the book laid out in front of me. I wrap my quilt around my body, finding some much appreciated warmth as I continue to turn page after page, looking for further evidence of my Jesse.
    Nothing.
    He was never involved in any sports teams or clubs. We never even had our photo taken at prom. There is absolutely nothing further documenting him even being at that school.
    Jesse was never popular in the classic sense of the word. He wasn’t liked for his heritage or his sporting abilities. He didn’t try to conform to the elite’s ideal of what high school should be about, so it makes complete sense to me that his time at Fairview High wasn’t documented further. Yet, people were intrigued with him. He often showed