Chapter Two: Sleep Deprivation

Gretchen was eleven minutes late for Animal Rights at Oberlin. She hated being late even in the best of circumstances, but especially now, since she hadn't been to a meeting in two weeks. Stomach clenched and heart pounding, she raced down the hall of the Architecture Building and paused at the drinking fountain to wipe the sweat from her forehead, check her hair and make-up in the dirty metal reflection of the fountain and remove her fluffy, pink coat. She would have taken a second to quench her thirst as her tongue and throat were completely dry, but she knew Naomi, the President of Animal Rights at Oberlin, was strict about tardiness. Well, strict about everything, really, which was probably why Gretchen was feeling vaguely woozy. Although she was probably slightly over-heated, too. It had been uncharacteristically warm for late October, but Gretchen had really wanted Mike from Modernist Poetry to notice her amazingly stylish pink jacket. She hadn't had time to email Naomi about her past absences (or, for that matter, to even look over her emails at all, which was very, VERY unlike her), but she hoped she would get to apologize in person.

As soon as she arrived at Room 183, however, Gretchen noticed Naomi standing outside the door, her arms folded across her chest.

"Hey!" Gretchen said breathlessly. "I'm really, really sorry I'm late! I had to go to this totally stupid study session for Rainforest Biology, which is, like, totally all the way across campus. So dumb. The test isn't until next Friday anyway, but, like Professor Reid didn't think any of us were getting the concept about topography – whatever that is." Naomi narrowed her eyes and didn't respond. Gretchen bit her lower lip. Regina had told her multiple times that she had the habit of talking even more than usual when she was nervous (not to mention, the habit of repeating words like "like" and "totally"). She remembered that she was trying to work on this. "Sorry," she said again, smiling meekly. "Got here as fast as I could."

"Where the hell were you last week?" Naomi asked.

"Last week?" Then, suddenly, Gretchen remembered. A wave of prickly heat swept over her and her cheeks grew hot. "Oh my God," she muttered.

"You were supposed to drive us out to the animal shelter." Naomi said coldly. "They really needed us to help set up for their Halloween Benefit."

"Shit," Gretchen said quietly. "I-I'm sorry. I forgot."

Naomi shook her head. "You volunteered to be the driver," she said and Gretchen could only nod sheepishly – of course she remembered this. She had been very eager to help, mostly because she had always gotten the vague idea that Naomi didn't like her. "You can't just promise something like that and then not do it! I had to use our club's money to pay for a taxi and because we were late, the benefit had already been set up."

"I…I could pay you back?" Gretchen said, not meaning to phrase it as a question. "I'm sorry. This is really, really not like me." And it wasn't. She was nothing if not reliable. But sleep deprivation does strange things to people and Gretchen had been so busy with all her clubs and classes that she had only gotten a few hours this week. On the plus side, at least she hadn't forgotten to eat like she had for an entire week at the end of September, getting by on nothing but black coffee and cherry tic-tacs until she passed-out cold in Rainforest Biology and then had to get IV fluids (not fun, considering Gretchen had always hated needles).

But what HAD she been doing last week that was so damn important? "I was doing something else for one of my classes," she said vaguely, not so much to give Naomi and excuse, but more to try to remind herself. Then, suddenly, it came to her. Japanese class. "I…um…I was helping someone in my Japanese class who isn't getting it." This wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't entirely a lie, either. The truth was, Gretchen was the one struggling with Japanese and she had been with her tutor, Tadashi, a handsome senior who seemed more than a little tired of her.

Naomi continued glaring and shook her head. Gretchen wished she would say something – anything, really. Silence made her nervous. And why shouldn't it? Gretchen had noted long ago that one of the best ways to intimidate someone is to say nothing. She herself had, of course, never been able to master this tactic. As Naomi studied her, Gretchen felt sharp tears well up at the back of her eyes and throat and desperately looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. No, no, no, she was NOT going to cry in front of Naomi.

"I-um…" she stammered her voice disappointingly shaky. "I should probably go. I guess. I'm sorry." She turned quickly so that Naomi wouldn't see her quivering lip. Gretchen despised crying in front of people – mostly because she wasn't a very pretty crier. Not in the slightest.

"Hey," Naomi said, her voice softening considerably. "C'mon, don't cry. It was a mistake. It could happen to anyone. Just…make sure it doesn't happen again, okay? Next time email me if you can't keep your promises."

Gretchen could only nod, looking down at the floor miserably. Naomi was right. It was just a mistake and it COULD happen to anyone. But how had this happened to her? Just sleep deprivation? Maybe. But could "just sleep deprivation" explain why she was in danger of failing Japanese 101 even with Tadashi's help? Or why she had overslept and missed Scuba Diving class two weeks in a row? Or why she hadn't started her Buffy the Vampire Slayer paper defending Xander even though it was due next week? Or why she had torn up her quiz for Women's Studies that had "See me" written in large red letters and cried in the bathroom for ten whole minutes (and, as if this doesn't already go without saying, neglected to check in with the professor)? Or why everyone in every single one of her various activities talked excessively about going to clubs and parties that they had not bothered to invite her to? Sure, she had a busy schedule, but so did a lot of other people. The truth was she was failing spectacularly at everything. And you don't fail spectacularly at everything unless you are a spectacular failure.