He pinch-wiped his mouth with his thumb and index finger. I wanna write about the dualism in the book between, like, a skepticism towards both belief and disbelief, he said.

Okay.

I could tell he was trying to impress me, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of showing him that I was. Do you have that written down somewhere on paper? I asked.

Not yet.

Do you have anything written down yet?

He shook his head. I was irritated, but I also couldn’t help feeling a bit charmed. He knew he was bright, and he knew that I knew he was bright. Perhaps he had psyched himself out about actually following through and delivering on that promise, lest it turned out not to be quite so impressive as we had imagined his squandered genius to be.

Okay, I replied. Remember, I’m not looking for a PhD here. One thousand words. It’s really not that much.

He looked back down into his hands and nodded. I told him that I wanted him to show me what he had by next Monday and handed him back his book. And no more Rip Van Winkle in class, okay?

I know, I’m sorry.

As he packed away his book, I noted the dark circles under his eyes. You really do look tired, Kyle. He ignored this comment for a few seconds as he zipped up his bag, then looked up at me.

I’m not sleeping, he said. He was about to say something else but stopped himself.

Why’s that? I asked. He shrugged. I asked him if he was having problems with friends, and he said no.

Luke and Mohammed?

No, those guys are cool.

You sure?

It’s not that.

He was bouncing his leg nervously. He saw me notice and stopped.

Because you could tell me if it was, I said. I’m always here. But you gotta give me a chance. I pointed to the earbuds sticking out of his sweatshirt pocket. None of this, okay?

It’s just sometimes I feel like I need it to block out the noise.

Oh thanks.

I don’t mean you.

Seems a bit of a contradiction, no? Needing music to block out the noise.

He wiped his hand across his face. I know, I’m messed up, he said.

I didn’t say that.

I can’t sleep because of it. The noise keeps me up.

He gave me a pointed look, and my heart started to beat a little faster. What was he saying, exactly? Does your family stay up late? I asked.

No.

Your neighbours?