Up All Night

This page is written after lights-out, by torchlight, under a blanket. If it suddenly ends mid-sentence, that's because someone came up the stairs.

Things I know about the night

Researched from my bed. Sources: one window, one torch, one moth.

• A Game Boy screen can be read by torchlight if the torch is in your mouth. This is science.
• Batteries are money. Two AA batteries = one week of night shifts. Spend them like it.
• The moth outside my window is called Colin. He is not my pet. He has never once come when called. We are colleagues.
• Why Colin circles the street lamp is a mystery science hasn't solved. My theory: he is showing off.
• Snoopy sleeps on TOP of his doghouse, out in the open, like a king. This blanket fort is my version of the doghouse roof.

Rain nights, the night shift moves to the roof. Protocol by the beagle. Colin has those nights off.

Lights-out survival checklist

1. Wait twenty minutes after the stairs go quiet. Twenty. Not twelve. Learned this the hard way.
2. Torch batteries in the sock drawer. Spare torch under the pillow (decoy torch is ON the pillow).
3. One ear out of the blanket at all times. For stairs.
4. If caught: you were asleep, the torch is haunted, Colin did it.

Night log (I was asleep for all of this)

• Monday, late. Beat the water level. Batteries at half. Colin on the window for moral support. A perfect shift.
• Wednesday, later. Rain on the window, no Colin. The night shift is smaller without him. Finished a whole chapter by torch. English homework can only dream of this attention.
• Friday, latest. Footsteps on the landing. Torch off in record time. Lay very still and thought about being asleep. Oscar-worthy.
• Sunday, dawn-ish. Slept. Actually slept. No entry. This is also data.

The batteries are almost out. .:.