Many people would assume that one month is not enough time to completely understand someone who was once a stranger. With enough interaction, and a sort of personal connection, however, it would seem natural that two people unknown to each other could find mutual companionship, understanding one another at a certain capacity. Such is the case with Patrick Carter and me.

We met on a day that has now been diluted in my memory, with a flash of faces and adolescent confusion: the first day of high school. I found myself to be another face in a the mass of freshmen who marveled at the sight of teenagers that danced on an expansive spectrum of physical and mental differences, where fully bearded linebackers co-existed with juniors who have yet to hit puberty. As I entered into my Biology classroom, I spotted one empty chair left, and claimed it before the dreadful tone of the bell on the overhead speakers. As what had appeared to become standard on the first day of school, our teacher introduced herself, and promptly began an "introductory" activity to get us acquainted with the unknown faces around us. And this was when I met Patrick Carter. He, like me, was not overly gregarious, and kept to himself as best he could. He saw me sitting alone in my chair, and took the seat next to me. He introduced himself, and we proceeded to exchange small talk interlaced with painful awkward silences, as was customary with many of my first encounters with others. I remember asking him what activities he wanted to do, and his response was different from the traditional answer. He was not unsure of himself: he did not cast any doubt about his intentions. He instead looked me in the eyes, and said, "I am going to be the President of the SGA". This statement, to me, contradicting the introverted personality he displayed, and I wondered how he planned on achieving this lofty goal of his. In the midst of my doubts, however, lay that memorable gaze as he made his claim, and perhaps that is what has pertained in my memory years after that forgettable day.

The elections for the Freshman Class student government did arrive, a month after the look of determination that Patrick gave me, and as expected, he was the first one signed up to be a candidate. He told me about his plan as it unfolded in his mind over the next week, and assigned me the role of his "campaign manager". We both knew that my attempts to direct his campaign were futile, but I appreciated the friendly gesture that I had not too often received from other students in the first month of school. Every day, he would strut into Biology with a grin smeared across his face, rush to the empty seat next to me, and introduce a grand plan that he had about posters, his speech, or some other aspect of his plan to victory that his campaign manager was unaware of. This continued as the election day loomed closer, but this pattern was sharply interrupted by a look of defeat as he walked into class only days before the election.

He sat down in the empty seat next to me, as usual, although this time, there was no child-like excitement, no outlandish plans to win the election. He merely sat forward, not acknowledging my presence, and said nothing. I asked him what was the matter. He was unresponsive, continuing to look forward. Not wanting to risk the one good friend that I had made that year, I did not press the matter, and let silence preside over us for the class. It was later in the day, at lunch, when he finally spoke, and interrupting our continued silence with

"Do you know who Amanda Renson is?"

He knew my answer to the question before he had even asked it. Everyone had heard of her. I told him that I was familiar with the name, but I had never spoken to her. He frowned, and proceeded to explain how earlier in the day he had discovered that she too was running for President of their class. The understandable feeling of defeat crept over him, and I could not help but feel pity for Patrick. The look of tenacity that he had given me when he told me his goal had been wiped away in a flash, and hopelessness had replaced what had once energized him. Being his "friend", a foreign concept for me, I felt the burden of responsibility to comfort him, as he must have come to the realization that his chances of victory had diminished to almost nothing. Elections such as this, like at many schools, have become popularity contests, and Patrick could not contend with the likes of Amanda Renson. We both knew this, but I felt it to be my responsibility to tell him that hope was not lost. I explained how there was still a chance for victory, if he persevered, gave it his all, and all of the other nonsensical uplift that would at least rid him of the taste of total defeat. He appeared to have appreciated the sentiment, but left without further conversation.

Election day approached, and there was no evidence of Patrick's elaborate plan to victory being placed into action. He continued to fill the empty seat next to me in Biology, but he did not do so hastily as he used to. The burden of defeat had weighed him down, and the childlike excitement had vanished. He did not speak as much as he used to, and my continued lack of contribution to any of our talks brought back the uncomfortable silences that dominated our first interaction. He mentioned that the only remote chance of victory that remained for him was the speeches, which were to be filmed and displayed to classes on the day before the election. I figured this would work even further to Amanda’s advantage, and Patrick’s resilience surprised me, but I had no expectations for his campaign, even as his manager.

The day arrived when students viewed the campaign speeches, which had been recorded earlier that day. I had become accustomed to Patrick’s solemn walk to the empty seat beside me in Biology, although that day he once again broke the pattern. He strutted over to the seat, sat beside me, and grinned. A smile that I had not witnessed in nearly a week, and his excitement became contagious, and I could not help but smile too. I asked him what caused this change in attitude. He turned towards me, and responded with a look similar to what I saw when he first proclaimed his goal. A look of tenacity, with eyes that gleamed of promise and optimism, and I felt as if he had done something that had given him hope, and brought back his childish wonder and lofty goals. He paused for a moment, still staring me in the eyes, and said,

“Just watch.”

I was still unsure of what caused this sudden change in attitude, but excitement grew in me as well, and even though I was unsure of the reason why, I felt optimism for Patrick. That class, we watched the campaign videos, and I realized that this is what he was referring to, and this was his vehicle to success. At the time I did not understand how he could gain an advantage by the speech, however the look in Patrick’s eyes explained to me that he had done something.. different. It came time for the candidate’s speeches for President. Amanda was first, and provided the standard speech about how she would like to see certain changes made to the school, including promises that elected candidates hardly manage to deliver, and her classic charm that had gained her general support from many. It was not a particularly unique speech, but it did provide her yet another advantage over the hopeless candidates competing against her. Following her were a few candidates with similar promises and claims of experience, and it appeared as if they too had realized the plight of their campaign. The last to give a speech was Patrick. On the screen, he stepped up to the podium with a bright smile on his face, one similar to the one he was wearing then as he watched himself on screen. And then it happened.

Patrick Carver proceeded to deliver the most outlandish speech, if it could even be called a speech, that I have ever witnessed. Intertwined with impossible promises and nonsensical banter were puns and a general comedic effect that brought a sea of laughter to the classroom. It defied the archetype of elections speeches; no serious intentions were evident, and Patrick appeared to be having the time of his life on screen. I was so captivated by the performance that I failed to look over at the seat next to me, and it was not until the end of the speech and the sound of applause that I peered over at him. I saw not the face of determination that he had worn when he walked in, but rather a face of satisfaction and relief as his risk had appeared to have worked on the voters. As he walked to his next class, I saw smiles and laughter as people who one disregarded him recognized his face and complemented him on his speech. I too could not hope but smile, for he had pulled off the seemingly impossible, and now stood a chance in the election.

Election day had finally arrived, and the traffic of conversation was in Patrick’s favor. When it came time to vote, I was filled with the satisfaction of seeing his name on the ballot, and checking off his name reminded me of the confidence that he had previously displayed during our first encounter. I did not know if he could come through with that claim, but I knew that he had overcome my expectations. As the votes were tallied, I sat in an uncomfortable silence, as I sometimes did, although this time it was replaced with a nervous churning that brewed inside me. I am sure it must have been even more painful for Patrick, and my apathy only further contributed to my discomfort. At the end of the day, the ringing bell from the overhead speakers made my heart sink, as I knew this was the moment. The monotonous administrator on the intercom system, announcing the results of the election. I felt like I could hear my heartbeat, and its intensity was increasing. It may have been the fact that Patrick was my only true friend, but I felt connected in some way; I was awed by his persistence and his desire for success. The announcement continued, and at last, the result my mind was craving was announced.

“..and for the Freshman class President this year, the winner is Patrick Carter.”
My heart skipped a beat. I failed to process what I had just heard for a moment, and when I realized the significance of the statement, I cheered. My veins pumped with adrenaline, and I was so overpowered with joy that I failed to realize that I had shouted out loud, and was encountered with the staring faces of the class. Instinctively, I looked at the seat next to me, expecting to see an equally excited Patrick staring back at me. The chair, however, was empty. I was in English class. Without reason, I turned to the door, and waited for Patrick to stride in, like he had so often before, and take the empty seat next to me.