Tomorrow’s the day.
I really wish I was sick, then I don’t need to attend school tomorrow.
Why? Why did the teacher choose me out of the 30 students in my class?
There are people far better than me.
Tomorrow, I had to give a speech on global warming in front of the entire grade 7 and 8.
Which was terrifying.
The others in my class were allotted for dance; which has no need to speak in it. A better option.
But my class teacher chose me for the speech. Just great.
I prepared from yesterday, which doesn’t seem enough.
What if I forget my lines?
What if everyone laughs at me?
What if I collapse on the stage?
My mind was racing with all the disasters that might happen.
It’s too much pressure.
“Did you learn your line?” my class teacher asked, looking at me with a questioning but kind face just as I entered the bustling class. I nodded. My throat was too dry to speak.
“Good! Just be calm on the stage!” She advised me and left the classroom in a hurry.
I sat in a corner and reread my lines.
The next day, my heart was thumping in my ears.
I must’ve read the speech a hundred times but I was still terrified.
Before I knew it, I was next in line to give my speech. I felt like I wasn’t alive anymore. Anxiety crawled over me as I gripped the paper tightly with my sweaty palms.
“Next in line is Lily, with a speech on global warming.” the anchor’s voice boomed on the speaker.
The knot in my stomach twisted even more.
I felt like I was going to faint.
As my shaky legs slowly stepped onto the middle of the stage, my eyes registering the big scary crowd in front of me, my heart leaped into my throat.
The microphone stood there haughtily, daring a silent challenge which I didn’t want to accept.
A hundred eyes were silently staring at me, waiting for me to open my mouth.
The thudding in my ribs didn’t seem to stop.
I took a deep shaky breath and started to mutter. “Global warming i–is the increase in the
… Earth’s temperature…”
I was terrified the entire time. The huge yet quiet crowd never stopped staring at me as my magnified voice spoke hesitantly.
After what seemed like hours, I came to the last words on my wrinkled paper.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
The silent but enormous crowd suddenly burst into applause, sounding like the pitter patter of rain, as I quickly exited the stage.
I’m never doing that again.
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