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“Yeah,” I say. “See you in class.”
I’M LATE,ANDI’m never late.
Class has started, and there is no way I’m going to be able to talk my way out of this speech thing. I’m not going to pretend to be sick. I’m not going to say I accidentally deleted the outline on my phone. No. I’ve got to deal with this. The only problem is I just don’t know how. Like Sienna basically said, I’m usually the nerd who’s over-prepared.
The class—about thirty of us—sit in our usual U-shaped formation. But Ms. Townsend dug up a wooden podium and put it front and center. Oh, come on.
I like Ms. T, but she is way too enthusiastic about this speech situation. All bright and smiley, she says, “I, for one, am really looking forward to hearing these speeches.”
Then I hear Cedric say (to no one in particular), “I, for one, am not.”
I’m sure Ms. Townsend hears Cedric, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s not going to let some wiseass student dial down her enthusiasm.
Ms. Townsend looks down at the index card she’s holding. (She’s always holding an index card.) “Let’s begin with Lily Panarella.”
True to form, Lily is sharp and eager and very impressive. That is, if you happen to care about her speech topic, “Eliminating Dress Code Problems with Affordable School Uniforms.” She talks about what’s good about uniforms (no clothing obsession) and what’s bad (no creativity). Honestly, I never thought about uniforms. To me, a uniform is like a Boy Scout uniform or a police uniform or… uh-oh, I’m getting sucked in. I’m going to start thinking about every person and every topic and forget to think about my own speech.
Dan-the-Man Wilkins is next. I’m prepared to hear a lot of environmental speeches today. And Dan-the-Man does not disappoint: “Can We Reverse Climate Change?” Dan starts talking about trees and plant growth, and I am tuning out this one.
Why am I suddenly not paying attention? No surprise here. I’m scared as hell. I’m thinking about my topic… or my non-topic. I’m so nervous I won’t have to pretend to be sick. I may throw up for real.
Gabe is looking at me. He mouths the words,You okay?I mouth back one:No.
Ms. Townsend thanks Dan for his “informative discourse.” Then she addresses the class.
“I have our next speaker listed as Carolyn Tubekis.” Of course, all heads turn and look at Carolyn. But Carolyn doesn’t move. She doesn’t stand up. Ms. T continues speaking.
“Carolyn emailed me last night and said that she had not been able to gather all her source material for her speech. She is waiting to interview two members of a local DC amateur dance group, Movement Access, to figure out whether dancers or athletes work the hardest. So we’ll be hearing Carolyn’s presentation at our next class.”
Groans all around. Most of the kids don’t even try to hide their feelings. Someone even loudly says, “Freakin’ lucky.”
Come to think of it, yeah. It is freakin’ lucky.
You mean all I had to do wasaskMs. Townsend for an extension?
All I had to do was make up some “academic” excuse?
I know. I know. I can hear Nana Mama: You mean all you had to do waslie?
“So, we’ll move on,” I hear Ms. Townsend say. “Our next speaker…” She looks down at her index card. “Our next speaker will be…”
You guessed it.
THE USUAL SYMPTOMS.Just like a cartoon. Knees weak. Heart racing. Stomach churning. Hands sweating. Arms shaking… no. Wait. Not just my arms. Damn. My whole body is shaking, and it feels like every inch of my skin has been painted with sweat.
It takes me about three weeks to walk from my desk to the podium.
Then, as soon as I reach the podium, Ms. T speaks.
“I don’t seem to have your topic listed, Ali. I don’t think you ever emailed it to me. So this will be a surprise for all of us.”
“For me, too,” I say. That line gets a laugh, but I’m the only one who knows that I’m accidentally thinking out loud.
And then there’s something like a wild little explosion in my brain. Not precisely a miracle, but as close as I’ve ever come to a personal phenomenon. My mind turns on a kind of recording, a super-sharp video, a movie that I’ve never seen before but I’m seeing now. It’s a new kind of scene from last night. Not just the three gang members being put in patrol cars, but the crowd. The crowd is angry and disappointed and confused. I see their faces, a series of close-ups. They are watching the crime scene. I am watching them watching the crime scene.
“Whenever you’re ready, Ali.” Ms. Townsend says.
The class is quiet, strangely quiet. Gabe and Cedric look nervous for me. I glance at Sienna. In that glance, I see a little bit of worry and a little bit of sympathy on her face. Which makes a little butterfly flutter in my stomach.
