Insomnia

Insomnia(inˈsämnēə)

INSOMNIA

INT: A BEDROOM. NIGHT.

JOEY(ˈjō-ē), a teenage(ˈtēnˌāj) boy, is lying in his bed, trying to go to sleep.

JOEY

Oh hey, brain(brān). What’s up. How about you actually turn off for once? It’s not a big deal, but I have an AP History test tomorrow and yeah, it’s going to be the worst on four hours of sleep. Wait.

(Checks clock)

Three hours and forty-seven minutes. Do I know everything about the New Deal? Crap, do I know all of the acronyms(ˈakrəˌnim)? CCC is the Civilian(səˈvilyən) Conscription(kənˈskripSHən) Corps(kôr). Is that right? Conscription? Conversion? Well, this is off to a stellar(ˈstelər) start. Okay, okay, CWA is the Civil(ˈsivəl) Works Administration(ədˌminəˈstrāSHən) and—I wonder what time Claire is taking the test tomorrow. I could offer to go over notes with her beforehand(biˈfôrˌhand). Or I could kill myself, because it’s going to be seven in the morning and she’s going to think I’m such a huge spaz(spaz). Which I am.

Maybe…maybe if I’m just hanging(ˈhaNGiNG) out in front of the testing center early, concentrating(ˈkänsənˌtrāt) on my notes. That worked outside her math class. She said hi to me and sat down, right? That’s a good sign(sīn). Or it’s a sign that she’s a person and I am a moron(ˈmôrˌän).

Oh god, and then she asked me if I was going to go to the cafeteria(ˌkafiˈti(ə)rēə) for lunch and I said “Is your face going to the cafeteria for lunch?” and it was the actual(ˈakCHo͞oəl) dumbest(dəm) thing anyone could have said to anyone else in the entire(enˈtīr) history of the universe(ˈyo͞onəˌvərs). And she was like “Eh—heh.” And, god—

(Rolls over and punches(pənCH) the wall, hard)

Ow. So, ow. That was stupid. And why am I thinking about this right now? Why can I not just go to sleep? Brain, you have ten seconds to shut off, and if you think about anything else embarrassing(emˈbarəsiNG) I will go chug(CHəg) cough(kôf) syrup(ˈsirəp,ˈsər-) until you stop bothering me.

Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one…

(A long moment of silence)

I wonder if I should text Claire. Maybe she’s awake.

(With a groan(grōn))

Ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…

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