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No wonder he’d had a panic attack today.
He raked a hand through his hair. “So between the stress of that dumb speech I have to write by the fall, applying to law schools, my father’s affair, and most of all, worrying about my mom…I think I’ve been falling apart for a long time. Today I just finally lost it altogether. Unfortunately, you got a front row seat to the show.”
“Well, I want my money back.”
He looked over at me and smiled.
“Kidding.” I squeezed his knee. “There are some things you can’t change. But other things you can.”
“Meaning…”
“Why don’t we work on it this summer? The whole public speaking thing.”
“We? You’re gonna help me what—learn how to not be a blubbering idiot?”
“Yeah. You can practice on me. It won’t matter how many times you flub up. We’ll keep working on it until you get more comfortable. This kind of thing is my forte.”
“I almost forgot, Miss America.”
“Miss America Scholastic,” I clarified. “Anyway, it’s not just about learning to communicate in front of an audience; it’s about how to not give a shit what other people think in that scenario.” Excitement grew within me at the prospect of working with him. “Seriously, let me help you.”
“You don’t need me as a summer project.”
“Actually, I do. You have your internship. What am I good for if I can’t accomplish something useful here?”
He paused. “When are we supposed to do this?”
“Anytime you want.”
“You know I’m desperate if I’m agreeing to let you coach me.”
“How about a couple nights a week, like after dinner but before we go to the beach? It can be whenever, really. It’s the middle of June, so we have two months to work on it.”
He laughed. “I hope you’re not sorely disappointed when you can’t help me. But I guess we can give it a shot.”
“Cool.” I smiled.
“You’re pretty cool, Noelle. Nothing like the goody-two-shoes know-it-all I might’ve assumed you were.” He winked.
“And you’re nothing like the snobby jackass I thought you were,” I replied. “I mean, you’re a jackass, but not a snob.”
“Fair enough.”
“Kidding again.” I elbowed him.
He took another deep breath, looked around, and finally got up from the rock.
“Ready to roll?” he asked.
I brushed off my butt. “If you are…”
We ran together back to the house in silence. The Archie alongside me now was nothing like the Archie I thought I’d known this morning.
CHAPTER 7
ARCHIE
PAST
NOELLE LOOKED SO damn cute when she was being all serious. A couple of nights after my panic attack, we were in her room for my first how-not-to-be-a-fucking-blubbering-idiot lesson. She paced as I sat up against the headboard on her bed. She didn’t realize it, but I was sketching her while she spoke.
“I was Googling today,” she said. “And I found many articles that talked about the seven Ps of public speaking.” She tried to recall what they were as she counted on her fingers. “Purpose…people…preparation…planning…personality…” She paused.
“Penis,” I deadpanned. Already, I’m not taking this seriously enough.
“Good guess, but no.”
“Penetration?”
She laughed. “It’s…performance.”
“Sexual performance. See? I was right.”
“Very funny.”
“All right. I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I’ll try to be good.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Okay, never mind the seven Ps. The first rule of public speaking is knowing what the hell you’re talking about. If you’re not confident in what you’re relaying, that’s gonna be an issue.”
I sat up straight. “Well, that’s problem number one. I have to make a speech about how wonderful my father is when he’s been nothing but an asshole to me almost my entire life.”
She scratched her chin. “Hmm... Well, even if he hasn’t been the best father, you can agree that he’s had a remarkable career. There’s probably a lot we can compile that will have you convinced he’s worthy of accolades, even if Father of the Year isn’t one of them.”
“Yeah…of course. I just have to put it all together.”
“Can you interview him?”
I immediately shook my head. “No. He wants me to do this on my own, and he’ll only end up pissing me off if I ask him for any help.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “That’s why you’re going to have homework.”
Shading in some of my drawing, I said, “I didn’t realize I’d enrolled in school.”
Noelle winked. “No actual grades though, which is pretty nice for you.” She took a seat and kicked her feet up on the edge of her bed. “In my research on public-speaking fear, it seems one of the biggest challenges is the false impression people have of their importance as the speaker. People are listening to what you have to say. They don’t care as much about you as you perceive. Somehow the person who’s nervous assumes they’re being judged on a personal level. So we have to get you to somehow…lose yourself.”
I pointed my thumb behind me. “I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my room. That usually does the trick. Will that work?”
