Minutes became hours, the glow from the battery-powered alarm clock advancing steadily until I freed myself from my goose-down cocoon at 3:42 a.m., my frustration getting the better of me. Even if I were to fall asleep now, I’d barely get four hours of rest.

Finding my boots, I tugged them over my wool socks, unzipped the tent, and emerged into the light, making my way through an alley of tents to the first-aid station.

I found the physician asleep on his exam table, his security tag identifying him as Zeb Gnehm.

“Excuse me? Yo, Doc. Some help, please?”

The physician sat up, bleary-eyed.

“Sorry to wake you, but I can’t sleep and I need to be able to function in four hours. Could I get a sleeping pill or something?”

Dr. Gnehm responded with a contagious yawn. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Ambien works well, but you shouldn’t take it if you’ll only get half a night’s sleep. Same with Lunesta. Best to go with either Rozerem or Sonata, both of which stay active in the body for only a limited amount of time.”

“What’s he on?” I pointed to Ben, who was passed out on a cot, headphones over his ears.

“Hintzmann? He’s on a prescription for Desyrel. It’s an anti-depressant used for anxiety. How about a Valium?”

I popped the pill and returned to my tent. I zippered myself inside my sleeping bag and grew more irritated as my bladder reminded me I should have visited the port-a-potty while I was up.

Looking around the tent, I spotted a half-empty container of Gatorade. Two long swigs drained the wide-mouth bottle, which accommodated me just fine as I refilled the plastic jug with urine.

Relieved, I crawled back inside my goose-down womb, the digital clock winking 4:12 at me as the Valium pulled me under.…

“Zachary, you’re not thinking, son. Wake up.”

I opened my eyes to find my mentor seated in a canvas folding chair. Joe Tkalec’s brown hair was long and Albert Einstein wild, his matching goatee showing a touch of gray. His kind yet inquisitive brown eyes were magnified behind the same pair of rectangular glasses he had worn every day while teaching middle school science.

Transferring to a new school is never easy, especially when coming from another country in the middle of the academic year. I arrived in America with a Highland accent as baggage and a ninety-five-pound physique. It was deer hunting season—and I was Bambi.

Mr. Tkalec shielded me from the abuse. He helped me to overcome my accent while encouraging my love of marine biology by allowing me to borrow books and research papers from his personal library. His roommate, Troy—a retired semi-pro football player—introduced me to weight training and conditioning drills when I was thirteen. His coaching tips helped me to earn the starting halfback position on our high school football team.