[Image Caption: Nick and Koda at the on campus coffee cart]

I manage to study for a couple solid hours. My parents go to bed at 11 and try to tell me I should too, but I decide to keep studying. I'm not tired yet. Soon enough, the clock reads nearly three in the morning, so I force myself to head back to bed. I have a hard time getting to sleep and an even harder time in the morning when it's time to get out of bed. I curl my fingers in my sheets and bring them under my chin. My eyes will barely stay open. I wish I could skip just ONE day, but that would never fly. My parents would lose their minds if I started skipping.

When I manage to force myself out from under the covers, it's nearing seven. I jump in the shower, hoping that will help me wake up.

I feel pretty out of it – my head gets all fuzzy sometimes. So, I end up taking a really long shower, and eventually my parents start knocking at the door, telling me to hurry.

I step out, wrapping myself in a towel and opening the door. My mom is standing there with crossed arms. 

"You're going to be late. I'll drive you to school today."

"Fine," I say.

"You need a haircut," Mom adds, putting a hand on my head. "You’re looking a little shaggy."

"Yeah," is all I respond with, but I have no intention of cutting it any time soon. I head back into my room and get dressed. I throw on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Man, I feel like shit today.

I fit my books into my backpack and head to the kitchen, where my mom is looking impatient, holding her car keys and a lunch she packed for me. Even though the homemade lunches are another one of her 'healthy body, healthy mind' gimmicks, this isn't one I really mind. 

"I'm ready," I tell her.

"About time," she says back. "You'd better hope the traffic isn't bad this morning."

When we get to the car I double check that I have everything I need for the day and then we head out. I'm honestly surprised she doesn't try to make me ride in the fucking backseat.

"Nick says it's really convenient to live on campus," I say offhandedly, "All he has to do is roll out of bed and he's basically at class already."

My mom gives me an irritated look out of the corner of her eye, "Well, yes, it's fine if that works for Nick, but it's important that you've been up awhile so you can be alert for your courses."

"I just mean… it seems easier," I try again. "There's less traveling. All you have to do is walk to class."

She lets out a sigh and I can tell she's getting annoyed with me. "Please don't tell me this is something you’re considering, Koda. It's expensive to live on campus. It's important for you to be at home."

I decide to drop it for the time being. Nick keeps mentioning that I should room with him next year, but I don't know. My parents would never let me, even if I wanted to. Right now, I don't know what I want. I don't know if it'd be better to be in a dorm. I'm always so wishy-washy. Maybe that's why my parents decide everything for me. Then again, maybe I'm wishy-washy because they decide everything for me.

I stare out the window, watching the town pass by. Soon enough, we're parked in front of the campus. I mumble goodbye, and when I'm about to get out, my mom grabs my arm.

"I'll pick you up after class," she says. "What time are you finished?"

"3:15," I reply.

She nods and lets me go.

When I get to my morning class I fish around in my lunch to look for something I can eat now. I didn't get to eat breakfast yet and after the literal singular piece of fruit I had for dinner last night, I'm starving. There's a granola bar, thank god, but it's one of the "all-natural" ones since I guess the regular kind have too much sugar.

The course I have right now is animal science, which always flies by because it's interesting. All we do is look at photos of domestic animals and learn things about their behaviors and bodies. The reason why it has to be so damn early is because frequently we take field trips out to farms—they want students to be able to make it back to their other classes on time.

I finish up around ten and head to the coffee cart that's on campus. I always meet Nick here when our schedules line up. When I spot him, he’s dressed similarly to me – sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He has two cups of coffee and when I'm close enough he hands one to me.

"How goes it?" he asks.

"I'm fucking tired," I say.

"Join the club," he snorts. "Hopefully coffee will help."

He starts chattering about some assignment he's working on. He still doesn't know what he wants to do. Most first years don't know what they want to do or they change their mind. I'm lucky I know what I want. I always knew. It never really changed.

"Well, hopefully I'll pass," he finishes with a shrug. "Honestly, regardless of what I study, it probably won't matter… I doubt I'll use my degree."

"A degree always looks good regardless," I say. "You have a better chance at a position if you have one."

I feel like I'm quoting something my mom said to me. Of course, it's true with veterinary science. It's impossible to get the job without at least seven years of education post-high school. I guess I could be a vet tech if things fell through, but that's not really what I'm aiming for.

Nick gives me a blank look. He probably thinks I'm talking out of my ass. Probably because I am. I have no fucking idea if his degree will help him. My degree might not even help me. It's definitely a little disheartening that getting a job is so fucking hard.

Even so, I feel like Nick is better off than me. He's self-sufficient and it makes me jealous. I wish I could be so sure of myself the way he is. I don't know if it's because he lost his parents at a young age or if it's because his aunt and uncle gave him room to explore. It could be a mix of both, I suppose.

"You okay?" he asks me.

"Yeah," I say. "Fine."

He nods his head and I can tell he wants to say more when he opens his mouth again, but then he stops and presses his lips together.

"What is it?" I pry.

"You don't talk about much," he points out. "Everything I know about you is shit I just happened to learn by chance. None of it is stuff you've actually told me. You keep everything to yourself."

The never-fucking-ending story.

I shrug. "So? I have nothing important to say. If I did, then maybe I'd talk, but I don't… so it doesn't matter."

"C'mon, I doubt that's true," he reasons.

"You're such a busybody."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, man. Move in with me next year. You're more fun than Tyler is."

"Maybe." I click my tongue against the back of my teeth. "I'm not sure my parents would allow it."

"Come on," Nick insists. "It'll be fun and cheap. The university has subsidized student houses to rent and it's not expensive when you have more than one person."

It probably would be fun. Actually, I would really like that.

"I'll talk to them more about it," I relent. "If I tell them some of the positives of it they might be willing to see my side."

"About time," Nick jokes, but I don't think it's funny.

I can't even imagine having my own rental house—what it would be like to be able to go into my room and be left the fuck alone or eat dinner at one in the morning. It sounds a hell of a lot more appealing than where I'm at now.

My parents are suffocating. It takes all of my self-control not to freak the fuck out at them. I can't start doing that. If I did, I know things would only get worse. Way worse.

"It will be fun," Nick says with a sense of finality.

"Yeah, it probably would be," I agree. "It'd be a nice change of scenery."

"Yeah, your parents are strict as fuck," he continues. "I can't imagine that. My aunt and uncle were the opposite. I mean, they were good parents, but let us make our own mistakes and then learn from them, y'know?"

"Yeah," I murmur.

My parents are too busy making sure I don’t make mistakes…. like getting smashed at college parties. That can't ever happen again. Seriously, it can't. I don't know what made me lose control.

"Guess it’s why you're so secretive," Nick muses aloud. He always says what's on his mind and never uses filters. It makes me want to roll my eyes.

I know that he thinks that if he pressures me enough then I'm going to spill the details of my life to him or something, but the truth is I'm just not like that. I won't talk about it because I don't need to talk about it—don't want to talk about it.

There are two types of people. Nick shares all of his little problems with everybody. He says complaining helps him deal with the stress better, but complaining about my own issues always just makes me hyperfocus on them and then I can't seem to let go. It just becomes even more frustrating when I can't do jack shit about it. Things work out better for me when I just keep it bottled up and deal with them on my own.

Everyone deals with shit differently and this is how I'm going to deal with mine, whether or not Nick thinks it's healthy. I'm sick of people thinking they know what's best for me.

"Sorry, man," Nick adds quickly, probably sensing my irritation.

I shrug it off. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

***

Come Friday, I’m careful not to overdo it. I've been sipping slowly on a beer, which is something that never happens. Usually I’m quick to get drunk, but not now. I need my parents to see that it's not going to happen again. Then maybe they’ll stop bringing it up and let it go.

"You're taking it easy tonight," Nick points out, coming up to me.

"Well, I had it rough last weekend," I say vaguely.

"Fair," he responds with a nod. "The last thing you want is a repeat of that."

Ugh, he has no fucking idea.

I look around the room and can tell that people are slowly getting really fucked up. We're at one of the frat parties tonight—which frankly aren't very hard to get into if you play sports and know somebody—and they made a cooler worth of jungle juice.

It's not a surprise that everyone is already so trashed considering none of them have any idea how much they're drinking. Even the people who made it probably don't know. Maybe that's why most of the frat members have beers in hand. It's kind of fucked.

I don't know if I should even stick around. Being here is just making me want to drink. I can tell Nick is already a bit drunk. Maybe high.

I don't know where he's been for the first part of the night, though. He does some hardcore shit, but he always seems to know what his limits are. I used to think I knew my limits, but I slipped up.

"I'm going to go home, I think," I say.

"Already?" Nick asks, surprised. "It's not even nine yet."

I shrug lazily. "I'm just not in the mood tonight."

"You sure?" Nick asks. "I can dip out for a while with you and we can just bum in my room or something if that might be more fun?"

"Nah," I dismiss the offer. "I'll catch you later."

He holds up a hand and I head out.