Insomniac

I know this all too well. Night-time. I know that it's passed eleven because the sprinklers go off at eleven every night, and they've already gone on and off ages ago. I know it's passed one because the train horn always goes off several times, telling everyone that this will be the last train until five AM. I know it's passed one-forty because my clock always ticks funny as it goes over the eight.

I haven't had a sound night of sleep in ages. It's been like this since the seventh grade. Currently I'm on a streak of three days, not my longest of course. My longest streak that I can recall was in tenth grade. I had gone a week and four days with not a wink of sleep and I guess it was pretty apparent because my English teacher pulled me aside one day.

"Micheal, hun. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she had asked, "Your grades have been slipping quite noticeably..."

I had to convince her that I really was ok, I didn't want to have to take a long string of sleeping pills. So I looked up from my shoes, "I'm peachy. Really."

Her eyes were burning holes into mine as she persistently prodded on, "So no problems at home?"

"Nah."

"You know, you can tell me anything Michael."

At this I felt my cheeks heat up to a bright red. I knew it was something all the teachers were told to say but coming from Miss. Daly it made me all kinds of nervous. She was the prettiest teacher I'd ever had. One of the newer, younger teachers, who had a passion for what they did. She had long straight hair, and the most beautiful of green eyes. Her smile was entrancing, and she always smelt great. I hated to admit it, but I did have a crush on her. And I think she knew.

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled.

"So I'd know if something was going on?"

"Mhmm."

But I lied. 

* * *

I get up out of bed now and pull on my sweatpants that are still on the floor where I left them. I grab a shirt and my keys, and be sure to be quiet as I sneak out. My destination has been predetermined. I'm going to the diner. The little hole in the wall place has been around for ages, serving up it's divine pie, and killer milk shakes. It's right off campus, so you'd expect it to always be hopping but the new 24 hour McDonald's has proved to be good competition. 

I don't mind though. More pie for me-- at a lower price.

The sign says closed as I walk up to the door, but I can see her sitting behind the counter wrapped up in some book.

"Hi, Sam," I drop my keys on the counter and grab a stool.

She looks up from her book and smiles at me, "Mike."

Sam, short for Samantha. She's a junior here, like me. She got a job here at the diner freshman year, just around the time I had discovered it on one of my late night drives. She's always had the late shifts, and when she doesn't she offers to close up so the older folks can get home. She's just sweet like that. When I asked her why she stayed so late her excuse was, "Well since I live at home I don't get much quiet time to do my coursework, so I do it here." but I knew she stuck around for me. She admitted it once.

"The regular?" she asks .

"The regular."

She smiles once again at me, "I had Dino make it before he left so it might me a little cold. I'll just go warm it up."

"Okay."

She places her book down, back cover, and front cover up to keep her spot. Sam always has some book that she's getting lost in. And from the looks of her partially done homeowrk and the closed textbook adorning the table I guess she hasn't done much but read.