Life in high school is lived as a series of nights before the test. Each test significant, each result pivotal. I pore over the history chapter like a hawk, scavenging for any missed details. Satisfied, I proceed to band my note cards into their waiting elastic, the ones I so meticulously put together and studied. With a nod, I bid good-night to my desk as I flick the switch on my desk lamp...it answers with a cheery click. A teensy smile escapes the corner of my mouth as I stretch and visualize acing the test in the morning, anticipating the sweet fruit of my labor.
Humming my favorite Tyler Carter tune, I strut to the bathroom in my oversized Jason Mraz concert T-Shirt and lucky moccasins. I brush my pearly-whites to a familiar minty freshness, fogging the mirror with an exhale. I pop in my hot-pink, zebra-striped retainer and flash a couple of silly faces at my reflection. Marching back to my room, I sing-song a “Good night, sweet dreams, I love you, Mom!”, and set my five alarms, each to yodel two minutes apart. I bounce into bed and cozy up under the covers. I give the darkness a confident smile; no matter the outcome, everything will be okay.