Chapter Eight

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I woke up, ready to do the presentation I had for Malik's class. To make sure I had everything down, I went and looked it over and I managed to confuse myself. I started freaking out despite knowing everything on the slides.

I quickly walked to school, already frustrated as hell due to the lack of sleep I had gotten. It's impossible to sleep when your parents are screaming at each other in the next room until really late at night. I went to the media center before class and looked over it again.

It didn't really help. I sighed and closed out before too long and made my way to the classroom. For a while, I debated on asking Malik to push my presentation off until tomorrow, but at the same time, I didn't want to be that student.

I sat down and pulled out my phone, trying to distract myself from the growing ball of anxiety that was forming in my stomach. All I would have to do is read off the slides.

“Harry,” Mr. Malik called from the front of the room. I looked up and saw Mr. Tomlinson standing besides him. Tomlinson motioned for me to come with him. I grabbed my bag and slid my phone into my pocket, walking up to meet them. “Mr. Tomlinson needs you to go with him for the class period. You'll present tomorrow, sound good?”

Relief flooded through me as I nodded my head. I tried not to show it, though. I was usually really good with doing presentations and talking to the class, but the last few month with my parents had been really hard on me, and I didn’t want to make it into an excuse.

Tomlinson lead us out and Malik closed the door after us. We walked for a few feet before Tomlinson grabbed my shoulder and made me realize how fast I had been walking.
    "Are you okay?" He asked. “I thought everything was fine with your presentation.”

I had told him about it the other day, asking for his opinion on certain parts. He did think everything was fine because everything was fine before this morning.
    "Mine's fine, it's perfect, but I can't. I'm so worried I'm going to totally fu-” I stopped, catching myself and took a calming breath, “mess it up. I can't possibly mess it up but that's not stopping the voice in the back of my head from screaming that I'm going to fail. I looked at at all this morning and none of it made sense." I closed my eyes and turned away from him, trying to get my breathing under control again. "I'm sorry.”
    "Hey," he said softly, pushing on my back slightly and leading me to his room. "It's okay. Take in a breath, let it go." He repeated that quietly until we got to his door, and I did my best to copy what he said. "You're alright, Hazza."
    I nodded, sitting down in the desk that was right in front of his once in the room. "I wasn't like this before. I'm usually not like this at all."
    "Things change," Mr. Tomlinson said simply, shrugging. "How you've been acting isn't as drastic as you think. Trust me, you're fine having an anxiety attack over a presentation."
    "I feel stupid, though. How many other kids are freaking out? None." I shook my head.
    "Yes, they are. Think about how many kids just stayed home today to push it off. Or the ones like you, who came and are scared but will pull through and give an amazing presentation. I'm sorry, but you're not special here, Haz." He smiled and I found myself smiling back just a little bit. I've learned the difference between his actual smile and his school smile; this was a real smile. I noticed that he smiles more with me compared to before I started coming to the tutoring sessions, basically. I didn't want to say it was me, but my guess is I had some factor with it.
    "Yeah, I guess you're right." I nodded to myself, looking at the desk while Mr. Tomlinson moved to sit on the edge of his.
    "So I bought you an extra day, meaning that you have time to talk through your slides and get comfortable with them. I know it's just you in your head." He paused for a second then continued.  “You'll be fine.”
    I nodded again, trying not to let the grin break through to my face. "Yeah, I should give myself more credit."
    "You really should," he agreed. "But for now just relax. I have to grade these exams."
    I nodded, watching his ass as he walked around his desk to sit in the chair. I bit my lip and looked away once he turned to sit, pulling out my phone instead. As I scrolled through social media, I would say certain posts aloud for Tomlinson’s reactions, just because they could be really funny at times.
    I got a text at the end of the period from my mom telling me to be home straight after school. I frowned since I literally always have tutoring afterwards, texting back and telling her to remind her. My frown deepened when she said to still be home. I texted her back and rubbed my forehead in agitation which Mr. Tomlinson must have seen because I heard him ask "What's wrong?"
    "I can't stay today," I mumbled. "Have to go home."
    "It's fine, don't worry. One day won't kill you."
    "Yeah," I mumbled, looking up at him. But it sucks because I can't stare at you.

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