When I walk into the Decatur High School band hall, I’m welcomed with open arms… and instruments. A sense of protection radiates here that nowhere else in the school can compete with. But within the band hall, there is a certain place I like to hide away and relax. I share this place with my drums. This place is my cubby.

Many people have a place they like to get away in order to refresh their minds and think. Maybe a certain tree to climb, a ‘secret’ place in a forest or even a room. A wooden box used for storing tenors suffices for me.

The neat thing about my cubby is that it’s hidden behind stacks of chairs used for class; that way no one can spot me in it. On a bad day I can disappear into my cubby without worrying about people finding me and asking the annoying “Are you okay?” question. If I’m in my cubby, there might as well be an “I am in my cubby for a reason so leave me alone” sign stuck to it.

I’ve made memories in that cubby. I’ve plucked my friend Lucy’s eyebrows in there; I’ve used it to take naps, to eat lunch by myself. I’ve even almost been kissed by a boy in there. Don’t worry, that didn’t happen. Since my cubby is so isolated, I use it as a barrier from other students so I don’t get distracted finishing up homework. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this story inside it right now.

Even whenever I’m bored I’ll lie inside my cubby and relax. Sometimes I’ll even use the palm of my hand to beat the side of it to create the sound of a bass drum and tap my fingernails on the wall to sound like a snare. The number of things to do inside that wooden box is endless.

I only have two years of high school left, but I hope after I graduate and leave my cubby behind, the next person who calls their cubby theirs will find it homey and inviting just as I did.