(REWRITING) The Skylar Experiment : Coveting

Chapter Fourteen - Oral Presentation Anxiety

EMMA

MS. PORTER shook her empty tissue box and fished out a piece of paper.

She unfolded it and called my name.

My legs felt numb, but I rose from my desk. Miles imitated me, flashing a sympathetic, almost private smile. I held onto that; it allowed me to avoid thinking about all those eyes beaming on my back as I walked to the front of the class. I tried to shut off the intrusive thoughts from my mind telling me that I would fail this.

I knew my lines. We worked well and hard for this. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was just an oral presentation.

Miles moved over to the computer, toying with his USB key and connecting it into the clamp. A moment later, our PowerPoint on the Cold War surfaced on the blank canvas unrolled from the ceiling. History class was one of the only classrooms to not own a Smartboard. I always found that peculiar.

Miles and I stood in front of the canvas waiting to begin. My hands were shaking as I grasped my memory notes. I needed to prove this didn't reach me. I made brief eye contact with a few in the class, and a lump formed in my throat. Since when did I have trouble talking in front of everyone?

Miles gave me a side-stare, his hands clasped together. He was calm and collected. He leaned a little over me. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "Just a bit nervous."

Ms. Porter nodded at us from the back, pen in hand. "You may start."

Silence settled over the room, and Miles began with the introduction as we had rehearsed so many times. During the time he spoke, I tried to get used to the feeling of being openly watched, repeating to myself that it'd be fine. I was coming to believe it when my turn to take the lead came.

I inhaled. "Indeed, tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union ran higher and higher as we approached the fifties..." People stared so hard I lost track of my words. My tongue twisted. I gazed down at my memory notes. "And, uh..."

I felt like hitting myself after hearing the way my voice stammered. Should I start over? Someone snickered maliciously in the background. Almost everyone I knew in town was angry at me for not speaking out on the attack, for not helping the police by telling them what animal it was that killed their friends. Being up here now was like exposing myself to their scalding judgement.

I swallowed. "Both countries, in the wake of World War II, were racing against each other to expand their culture and politics. They were rivals locked in a competition to rule one another..."

I checked my notes again as kids exchanged stares. I bit my lip, wishing there was a pause button I could press to stop time and scream into the void. But I couldn't. These kids hated me—wanted me to fail, and I never thought in a million years they could turn against me like this. 

The walls started to shrink ominously, and I had the impression that my body was floating in void. It's been now a minute since I hadn't said anything, and I stood there like a pole. Ms. Porter glanced at us worriedly, hoping the tension would break soon and that it was just the nerves.

Miles looked at me. "Emma," he mouthed, his eyebrows lowering with concern.

My eyes stung, and I stared at the floor as it spun.

If this grade only affected me, I would have given up the moment I started talking. I didn't want him to fail this because of me. He was the only person I spoke to daily, the only one with who I didn't feel like I had to pretend.