[Image Caption: Koda sulking in bed]

I wake up with a start when I feel Nick grab at me. I don’t think he realizes he surprised me because he’s staring at me with those big blue eyes and a dopey look on his freckly face. He’s so clueless sometimes, the complete opposite of my constant awareness. It’s not that I don’t like him—he’s my closest friend—but sometimes, man, he tests my patience. Especially when he looms like this, all six-foot-something of him blocking out half the damn light. His blonde hair looks almost white in the sun streaming through the window, making him look even more oblivious.

“I fell asleep again?” I ask, wiping drool from the corner of my mouth. Nick nods and I can’t help but groan. 

I gather my things together and we leave the classroom as the rest of the students are piling out. I have another class now, but Nick doesn’t have any more until tonight. I guess it doesn’t matter when his classes are because he lives on campus. I don’t, so mine are always back to back. I wish I could live on campus. It would be easier, but I can’t.

“So, you’re sure everything is cool?” Nick pries again, walking me to my next class.

“Yeah, for fuck’s sake. If I say something’s fine, then it’s fucking fine.”

“Asshole,” he says to me and I know he’s right. I’m acting like one. Soon enough we’re standing in front of the door to my next class. “See yah,” he mumbles, waving me off.

Since it’s the start of the term I haven’t really met anyone in this course yet, but that’s fine. I don’t mind sitting by myself. The class is Microbiology, which I have to take because I’m on the pre-vet track. I took regular biology last semester so I could get into this one, and it takes up a lot of my time because it’s challenging. Frankly, I don’t have energy to talk with my classmates on top of paying attention and taking good notes in a course like this. I feel a little out of my depth pursuing a science, especially in a field like veterinary. I’m not a particularly gifted student and have to work hard to get good grades. 

I take my seat. I’ll have to try not to fall asleep again. I probably need to take a nap when I get home. At least I only have one more course after this. I open my scribbler and prepare to take notes once the lecture starts.

When the school day is done, I find my car in the parking lot and drive home. I take the scenic route and by the time I arrive, the house is still empty. I’m glad for it. When I step inside, Kasper starts to bark. Kasper is my mother’s dog. He’s a big, black mutt who’s been around for most of my life.

“Hey, it’s just me,” I say and he settles down. I pet his head and then slip out of my sneakers, moving up to my room. I close the door and kick off my jeans and sweater in favor of something comfier. With that, I kill the light and climb into bed. When I feel myself begin to nod off, scratching sounds start coming from the door. With a bit of a groan, I roll out of bed and let Kasper in. He jumps onto my bed and lies down at the foot of it. I guess he wants to keep me company. Maybe he senses that I’m not feeling well lately.

I lie back down and close my eyes, trying not to think about anything at all, but I find it hard to blank my mind. Maybe that’s why I got so wasted. I still feel horrible that Nick had to put his plans on hold to take care of me Saturday night. I feel even worse that he drove me home at six in the morning and I couldn’t even invite him in for coffee. I wish he would have just let me take myself home. I know it’s a bad habit—perhaps one of my worst—and I’m an awful person for doing it, but sometimes it feels like my only choice. 

When I got home, my parents were livid. I played it down to Nick because it’s embarrassing. They immediately knew I was drunk, of course, and that pissed them off even more. They’re vehemently against me drinking, which is a challenge on its own, and it feels impossible to avoid when you’re a student. They always just tell me that being drunk makes people say and do things they don’t mean.

My mom said that in the future she just wants me to call them to come get me, and my dad agreed. That way I wouldn’t have to be gone the whole night. I suppose that’s better than having to put Nick out. I don’t want to do that again. Plus, he gets nosy. He asks too many questions about things I don’t feel like talking about.

I roll around in bed, rubbing my tired eyes and trying to relax but the more these thoughts cross my mind, the more awake I feel. I know I need sleep, though. I want my brain to quiet down. Just for an hour or two. I want to be asleep when my parents come home so they don’t try to ride my ass. The more I think, the shittier I feel. A lump starts forming in my throat, but I’m quick to swallow it. I pull the covers up and over my face. Kasper lets out a yip.

Insomnia has always been an issue for me. I take pills that are very carefully distributed to me by my mother before bed, though she prefers natural remedies. Melatonin. Valerian. They think they know what’s best for me. They’ve always been that way. They tell me how to live my life and I always listen. That’s why they were upset about the weekend. It didn’t go according to their plan. I’m not supposed to get trashed and crash at my friend’s house. I’m supposed to behave.

I guess I eventually manage to fall asleep. When I wake up, the clock on my nightstand reads 9:02 PM. “Shit,” I say aloud. I slept a lot longer than I thought. Kasper is no longer in my room, which means somebody must have come home and let him out. I’m surprised they didn’t try to wake me up. I debate between getting up to find some dinner and hiding out in my room all night doing homework and pretending to be asleep. The second option sounds more appealing but I’m starving by now.

Finally, I push myself out of bed. Maybe I’ll be able to get in and out of the kitchen unnoticed. I open my door quietly and shuffle down the hall, but once I reach the living room I see that my mom is sitting at the dining table going through the mail.

“Welcome to the land of the living!” she chimes at me. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“Yeah. I was tired.”

“I could tell, but you better be careful, if you keep sleeping at weird hours then you’ll mess up your sleep schedule.”

I don’t bother arguing or telling her that it’s too late. There’s no point. I’ve learned that many times in the past, so I’ve stopped trying. Mom always wins.

I rummage through the fridge and my Mom decides to cut in again. “You should have a piece of fruit or some toast. You don’t need to be putting any garbage into your body—especially not this late at night.”

I huff out some noncommittal response, but listen to her nonetheless. I take an apple and bite into it. It’s far from satisfying, but it will do. I make a quick getaway to my room and finish the apple almost as soon as I get there, tossing the leftover core into my rubbish bin. I’m surprised my mom didn’t insist I take a full meal, but she probably thinks I don’t deserve something larger since I slept through the dinner she made.

Sitting down at my desk, I pull a few heavy textbooks out of my bag. I should review the reading for microbiology if I want to be able to keep up with the class. I’m hoping that if I start strong that I’ll be able to propel myself through the semester.

Not a minute later, my dad opens my bedroom door. God, I wish he would knock. “Hey,” he says somewhat sternly. “I wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m doing my homework,” I say, swiveling around in my desk chair.

“Right, good. How are you feeling in light of this weekend?”

I feel fine, but I give him the answer he wants: “Run down. You and mom were right.”

“See? You need to be careful.” Naturally, this is where the conversation goes.

“Everyone drinks, Dad.”

“Well, if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you follow them?”

I want to roll my eyes and say that that’s completely different, but I refrain. “No,” I pause and then add, “I slipped up. It won’t happen again.”

“I would hope not. Learn from your mistakes.”

“I do,” I say and my voice wavers slightly. I want to scoff at myself for getting blatantly emotional, but I really want him to leave. I don’t want him to reprimand me anymore. I’ve had enough of it. I know I messed up. I don’t need to be reminded of it over and over and over. 

My dad continues to stand in the doorway and stare at me awkwardly, so finally I just turn my back to him and say, “I really need to study.”

“Keep up the hard work,” he says before I hear him turn and walk down the hall.

He didn’t bother to close the door behind himself—despite the fact that I made it pretty obvious that I wanted to be left alone—so I walk across the room and shut it for him. I would lock it too if it weren’t for the fact that we have literally no locks in this house, not even the bathroom. 

Two seconds after I get back to my desk, my dad is back. “Leave your door open.”

That’s the last thing I want to do right now, but I don’t feel like starting a fight so I just nod and say, “Sorry, I thought it would help me focus.”

“Watch the attitude, Koda,” he says almost like an afterthought. “We don’t want you to start acting like that messy friend of yours.”

“Nick is a nice person,” I say, because it’s true. He is a nice person. Perhaps the best I know and I don’t even feel like I deserve someone like him in my life. He’s a way better person than I could ever dream to be, more moral with pure intentions, but I can’t say that aloud. My dad wouldn’t believe any of it. Like my mom, he has his beliefs and nothing I can say will ever sway him.

“You should try to meet new people,” he tells me, as if he’s offering some sage advice. “Branch out.”

“I have other friends. Nick just happens to be my best friend.”

I know they hate him. They hate him because he’s loud and opinionated. The opposite of what they want me to surround myself with.

“Well, you shouldn’t have best friends. It makes others feel unequal. It’s better to spread your time out among people.”

I wish I could explain to him that I’m really not that special. People aren’t fighting to spend time with me. 

“Yes, Dad,” I try to say as softly as possible, but I know it comes out bitter. “But it really can’t be helped. I just get along with him better.”

“Make an effort to get along with other people too.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ll let you get back to your homework now, but leave your door open. It’s rude to close it when other people are home.”

I let out a long, hard sigh. I would rather punch myself in the face than keep up with this conversation. Make an effort to get along with other people? Jesus Christ. What does he think I’m doing right now? 

“Okay, I will,” I say pleasantly, picking up my textbook and waving it at him as confirmation before he finally turns to go.