A New Reflection

23. Speak Up

In fifth grade, my teacher wrote on my report card comments: "Natalia misses out on many life experiences due to her timid nature..."

My mom was indignant, righteously angry, and she offered Mrs. J a piece of her mind during our family-student conference. In my memory of the incident, it's unclear whether my teacher's original comment bothered me, or if I modeled my disgruntlement after my mother's intense reaction. Both my parents have always valued my natural personality unconditionally.

My teacher wasn't right. But it turns out she wasn't wrong, either. As I learn to integrate myself into the traditional social fabric of university life, all these never-before experienced emotions pump through my veins every moment of every day, and I love it so much I can barely handle it. At the same time, I don't regret "missing out" by hanging back in shyness and reflection for the first eighteen years of life. I think it shaped my mind into exactly what it is today, and I like my mind the way it is.

* * *

Professor Sharp rips apart every other line of my essay, challenging my logic, correcting the phrasing and offering thoughts on word choice. By the time I scroll to his annotations on the concluding paragraph, I'm grasping my forehead in both hands, elbows on the desk, fingers pressed tensely into my temples. When I reach his final comment, however, I discover he has assigned an A- to my work. Bolting upright, I stare down my computer screen with bugged-out, disbelieving eyes. A-?! I will take it.

I float down to "Bon Appetit" (the school cafeteria) with an overinflated ego, and the first person I spot in the line, a little ways ahead of me, is Joshua. He is wearing his classic, ill-fitting khaki pants, along with a dark blue sweater. My heart flips over once inside my chest as I suppress a smile in my lips.

None of my other friends have arrived for dinner yet. After I fill my tray with two unappealing chicken tacos and a plate of salad, I scan the Bon (our cafeteria's nickname) and spot Joshua sitting alone by the window in the far corner. Sucking in a bold breath, I glide towards his table.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all! Please," he replies with profuse sincerity, gesturing across from him for me to sit down. I smirk to myself. Though he has never once flirted with me or given any indication of a crush, it amuses me to imagine that he likes me.

"Plans for the weekend?" I ask.

"The math department is taking a hike to the waterfall on Saturday morning. We're carpooling over, and then there's a barbeque at Professor Gómez' house afterwards. You should join us, if you're not busy!"

"That sounds fun. Can anyone join?"

"Of course. There's a sign-up sheet online; I'll send you the link now." He pulls out his phone, and his eager efficiency causes my stomach to dance.

We continue chatting as we eat, the dialogue flowing freely. I wouldn't say I have become more natural with conversations, but I have settled into a sort of comfort with my own awkwardness.

In typical fashion, Joshua wastes no time and begins gathering his dishes onto his tray as soon as he swallows his last bite.

"Well, I better get back to my statistics project," he declares, and a pang of disappointment pricks my stomach.

"Sounds good."

As I approach the fruit display to grab an apple to go, I hear a high-pitched noise resembling a hyena.

"Natalia!" The hyena is screeching my name. I feel overwhelmingly embarrassed for some reason, and I spin 360 degrees with the measured speed of a rotisserie chicken twisting in the oven. Josué is ducking underneath the utensil counter. Somehow I'm the one who is blushing.