“Oh god, I have two tests on Monday,” said Emma.

“What time do you want me to come over?” asked Trent.

“Ha, ha, I haven’t had any tests for any of my classes,” replied Sarah.

A place that is mandatory for all grades in high school to go to at the same time once a week and it’s called advisory. I always find myself moving towards these ginormous windows that are in this room that I have to go back to once a week with my fellow advises. The window faces the east side parking lots of the school. In front of the windows there’s this tree that just always captures my attention. I have been visiting this classroom for almost four years.

“I don’t know bro, up to you,” replied Dave.

“Did you see Mary’s Snapchat story? Why would you take a picture of that?” exclaimed Martha.

“How about you come after 10:00 PM,” suggested Trent.

“No, what did she post?” asked Stacy.

There’s just something about that tree, I don’t know what it is. It might be the way that it curves ever so slightly to the right. Or the way that red robins just seem to be attracted to it. The wind swirls through it’s branches and leaves, what’s left of them. I watch as the unidentifiable dead fruit still hangs on the tree swaying violently in the bitter cold. I wonder, how do they stay on? They must have some kung fu grip.
The robin has his head turned towards the beating sun, that shines its face throughout the buildings, stretching it’s many fingers. I can hear pencils scratch against papers, chairs squeak as they’re pushed in and out. Fingers tap against phones, laptops, and desks. Voices drifting in and out.

“She posted this ugly ass picture of her double chin,” replied Martha.

“How? What class do you have?” asked Emma.

“That’s it? I thought it was something nastier, but why would you do that? That’s so gross,” replied Stacy.
The smell of colognes, perfumes, and body odor mix together creating a nauseating pile of crap that runs in and out of my nose and through my lungs, an ungodly soup of stench and musk.

Yet out there in the open you don’t smell, hear, or see any of that. The bird’s head twitches towards the north away from the sun. I wonder what the bird is looking at? I wonder how life is for that bird? Can I be that bird? It’s tail twitches in the breeze, red belly shining in the sun, wings flapping against the bitter cold. I listen to bits and pieces of conversations fighting to be heard over each other.

The bird neither hears nor sees the shuffle of feet or the high pitch screech of the bell, signaling the end of advisory. He stays there while new noise makers come in to continue the never ending racket of high school. No one except me has seen the red robin.

I have wanted nothing more in my life than to be that red robin. He only worries about the bitter cold and his next meal.

Advisory is my place. To be here in this room where I can watch nature and separate myself from reality. Just like that bird, I have no care in the world. This place is where I can be aware of nature and all that dwells in it.