“Be safe, and be home by twelve,” my dad said to me as I walked out the door. “Okay,” I yelled back at him. I had never planned on coming back by midnight, but that was his rule. I hopped into my car, plugged in my iPod®, and headed down the road to Tyson’s house. It was a rainy night, and the streetlights’ reflection glistened off the wet road. My right headlight was out, so when I signaled to turn, my blinker was blinking at an obnoxious rate.
I rolled into Tyson’s driveway, parked in the grass, and shut off my iPod® to save the battery. I walked up to and through his door and was immediately greeted with a hug from Jennifer (Tyson’s mother). I passed by Megan who was doing a nonsensical handstand, “Hey Tyson,” I said. “Hey, what’s up,” he replied as we proceeded with our classic combination of hi-fives and fist bumping. He walked around for a little with me shadowing him as we eventually made it up to his bonus room. We sat down and started playing NCAA Football ’11 on his 64” Panasonic flat-screen television. It started off 0-0, then we kicked off and it took him all but 10 seconds to put a score on the board.
Tyson has a mild case of ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), so we played the game for just over four minutes until he asked if I wanted to hang out at his Cousin Alicia’s house. I just said, “Yeah, sure,” without really thinking about it. So we trotted downstairs and told his brother Tyler what we were up to and he tagged along. We all piled into Tyler’s pint-sized Honda Accord and headed on our way. Alicia lived a little ways a way, so we got to talking although I can’t recall what the exact words were so I won’t try and make them up for you. We arrived at Alicia’s house and man, was it nice (I had never been). They had a ridiculously nice basketball hoop chillin’ in the driveway and I was tempted to pick up a ball and shoot, but I refrained.
We walked into the house and Tyler and Tyson were greeted with hugs as I was greeted with awkward stares and meaningless hi-fives. They had a plasma screen in every room of this house I swear. If they had a dog I’m sure he would get his own TV. We went out to their father’s shed where there was an air hockey table and loads of other neat-o toys, but we just sat and talked for a while. Once again, not sure what it was about because it is not the point. The point is that I was so awestruck by these people and so caught up in conversation that I forgot that time doesn’t just stop while you’re having a good time, it actually keeps on going. When I gained the courage to look up at the clock it read 12:43.

“Hey Tyler, I gotta jet man, my mom’s going to kill me,” I said afraid of being de-manned when I returned home. “Alright man. Hey, we gotta go, Jensen’s got a curfew,” he said. They seemed fine with it and hugged goodbye and what not as I walked toward the car hoping Tyler would realize that I needed to leave right at that moment.

“Hey man, what’s the rush,” Tyson asked as we reentered the car. I laughed, “Because I’m an hour late for curfew that’s why.” “Oh (Profanity),” he responded. Tyler helped me out and went fifteen over the speed limit the whole way home. I couldn’t really pay attention to anything until Tyler turned down the music in the car and said, “Okay Jensen, you know what to do when you get in there, right?” We were coming up on my house. I still am not sure if he knows my first name. “Uh no... What?” “Get up there, and change all your parents’ clocks back an hour in their room and around the house.” I figured-foolproof, Tyler was a real straight shooter, has the best ideas, what could possibly go wrong.

“Hey thanks again man, it was fun,” I said as I closed the door with my trembling hands. I was zoned out and didn’t even pay attention to whether he responded or not. I walked through the door, turning the knob and opening the door very slowly. I took off my shoes, tip-toed up the stairs to my parents’ room and quietly opened their door. I quickly turned back their alarm clock to read 11:58 rather than 12:58. I then moved on to the tick-tock clock that was hanging above their bed. I don’t know how, adrenaline maybe, but I got up there and changed that clock so fast I broke the space-time continuum. The clocks now read 11:59.

“Hey mom, I’m home,” I quietly said. “What time is it,” she replied. Thanks Tyler. “It’s 11:59, right on time.” She checked the clock to make sure I wasn’t cheating and slowly drifted back into a deep slumber. I was so high on my horse that I went straight to bed without changing the clocks back, which would come back to haunt me. My mom woke me up for school the next morning and I realized that something was wrong. When the sun rises an hour early because of your doing, you tend to notice. I thought I could play it off cool until I saw my dad’s name on the caller I.D.

“Balls,” I thought. As my mom spoke with him I was quietly humming hymns to myself to try and calm down, but it wasn’t working. My mom hung up the phone and oh boy, was she furious. My dad was an hour late because of me. No, because of Tyler. The kid who doesn’t even know my first name. It was his fault, but they wouldn’t let me get away with this. To make a long story even longer, my mom only grounded me for two months while I was expecting a minimum of six. My dad’s boss was angry as well and my dad had to play it off to try and make me still look like a gem. I realized that day, it’s better to tell the truth and get punished then to lie just to get punished even more.