All I Ever Knew Was Your Name [Nick Robinson]

TWO

chamber of reflection by mac demarco

When I get home, I do what I always do: homework. Unlike most students, I like getting a decent sized workload some days so that way I can keep myself occupied for more than an hour before I go on a mindless television marathon binge that drains me of every possible brain cell. I often wrote and drew, but only if I was feeling exceptionally inspired.

How inspired can someone who does nothing day in and day out be?

Thankfully, I was assigned a three page paper about the leadership styles of the famous or infamous leader of my choice for my history class. It isn't due until the following Monday, but I decide to start it the day after it's assigned because I am that desperate for things to do.

When eight o'clock comes, I decide to start. As I slowly gnaw at some baby carrots straight from the bag, I search for a leader that I can potentially write about. I know a majority of the class is going to pick our idiotic president or Adolf Hitler or Oprah Winfrey, which is why I want to steer clear from any of them. Nothing against Oprah (maybe the other two), but I just want to be original and delve for some information to keep myself busier.

I open Google and type in: "infamous leaders" to see what comes up, and I'm disappointed by the results. Adolf Hitler, Pol Pot, and Joseph Stalin are top hits, but I find no interest in them. We learned about them all in middle school, and I know Mr. Hadley, our teacher, is going to have his hands full with papers on them. And Oprah.

My hand holds my chin as I scroll through some pages lazily, looking for anything to spark my interest. I even yawn, bored my my own boredom.

Is that even possible?

I look at the clock again, reading 8:13 P.M. Rather than continuing on in my ever so exhilarating research, I decide to save it for tomorrow and go to bed instead. After all, I had a long, hard day of doing nothing at all. Perhaps some television time is deserved.

Walking my laptop over to my desk, I put my history binder back in my backpack on the chair for class tomorrow. As I'm checking through my belongings to make sure I have everything for school tomorrow like a total, complete nerd, a loud slam from outside my window startles me to the point where my stomach feels like it fell out of me.

I gasp, then peer out the window with a heavily pounding heart. It's hard to tell what's going on considering it's so dark, but it's evident that the noise came from the neighbor's house less than twenty feet away. A ladder is pushed up against the side of the home, and there's a dark figure climbing up it.

Oh god, I panic. What do I do? Do I call 911? I don't even know who my neighbors are, but I'll feel terrible if they're killed or their house gets robbed!

Although I want to move, I can't. I just continue to watch the person move up the ladder towards the window that is slightly open. My eyes adjust enough to see them push the window open even more, where they slide in and land. I can feel my hands trembling anxiously, unsure of what to do. My phone is downstairs, and I'm too afraid to move still. It's when the figure stands up straight and turns around when I feel my insides knot up.

He's looking at me. He knows I see him, and I know he sees me. He's young— probably around my age, and yet I've never seen him before. His hair is chocolate brown, and he is tall. He's wearing black pants and a gray sweatshirt. And he's still watching me as I feel myself grow even more internally terrified at the thought of him knowing that I see him breaking into my neighbor's house.

He looks calm, but also shocked that I'm still standing there. With that thought, he gently pushes the ladder down to the ground and presses his finger up to his lips, as if to tell me to be quiet.