A Glimpse of Brandon

The whole bed vibrates, once at first, but then continues as Brandon frantically struggles through heavy blankets in search of the vibration source. Bzzz, goes the phone for the fifth time and “Ah! I’m out of time!” thinks Brandon. A falling stack of papers only helped to intensify the search and it is already too late. The vibrations are joined by an obnoxiously loud, incomprehensible chorus whose efficiency in waking him up had become the only reason it had stayed his daily reminder that a new day had begun. His alarm clock had been broken for months, and his phone had taken its place. Ever since then, Brandon refused to sleep without his phone by his side for fear that he wouldn’t be able to hear in the morning. And so every morning told the same story; because Brandon was a restless sleeper, he would unknowingly, throughout the night, bury his phone under piles of blankets, therefore making it virtually impossible for his half-asleep—if that—hands to find the phone before it succeeded in carrying out its usual task—telling him its 5:54 a.m., just another day.

The morning routine was a basic one, one that he enjoyed. Getting dressed was never a problem, and if yesterday had been anything like what today would be, then his backpack would already be packed and ready to go after grabbing a cold glass of orange juice and some toast for breakfast. “Alright, off to school.” Twelve and halve minutes later,—this was only an average, and of course as only Brandon would have it, was based on the assumption that one drove at the speed limit—he arrived at school. The walk through the parking lot that continued up around the administration building and finally led to the hallways he knew so well wasn’t actually that bad. In fact, he enjoyed the morning conversations usually held with a fellow classmate who like Brandon, knew the entire layout of his or her day. It usually began with a casual, half-mumbled “morning, how are ya?” and ended with a cheerful “see ya,” which then meant the day really had started.
First through fourth period were never bad. Brandon’s morning classes were always the same, just in a different order every day. But that didn’t matter because he could always count on his third period free for an entire fifty minutes of relaxation time he could not survive without. After struggling through Psychology four period, Brandon suddenly became aware of how hungry he really was. In reality, he was always hungry, and ate like it too. Luckily, he had a fast metabolism to match his insatiable want for massive lunches. His friends all knew he loved food, and so he was often the one who chose where the group could go for lunch. He knew every lunch place in the city, some of his friends claimed. Though obviously an exaggeration, Brandon found it, to an extent, somewhat comforting that he was know for something. He didn’t play sports and his involvement in clubs peaked during his freshman year when he voice cracked during a Rock Climbing role call. But now he was a senior, and quite proud of his food knowledge, which today had led his friends and him to Braza, a brazilian steakhouse. It was a good lunch, they were satisfied and Brandon was determined to finish off one more day. His last three classes went by quickly, the teacher’s lectured as usual and Brandon was glad to be done with his day.

The 3 p.m. bell rang and school was over. After a few friendly goodbyes to some friends and acquaintences, Brandon was again, twelve and a half minutes from home. Four hours later, he had completed his homework, eaten dinner, and was now enjoying more free time. His cell phone vibrated occasionally with text messages, most of which he replied to at random points throughout the night. Besides, most were facebook notifications, and being the 18 year old adolescent boy he was, he was logged on all night. Chatting with people online had become sort of a ritual, but tonight he felt he needed extra sleep. After all, he did have a test in Anatomy tomorrow. He was not worried, he had studied. After packing his backpack and thoroughly going through the hygiene process, he plugged his phone into the charger. It was 9:47 p.m, the alarm was set, he was tired, and so into a deep slumber he fell. Tomorrow would be another day, just another day.