A Backwards Myth

“Soph, are you okay?”

Sophie jumped, spilling her neon green index cards beneath the rectangular lunch table. She hurriedly grabbed them and frantically tried to organize them as a flush flooded her cheeks.

“I’m totally fine,” she muttered, voice unsteady. Why did I take Public Speaking? she thought angrily. Oh, right, because Nicola wanted me too. As Nicola turned away, satisfied that her friend was still functioning, Sophie glared at her. She was startled again as Gideon laughed next to her.

“Realizing that you’re only in this horrible class because of her?” he asked. As she nodded, surprised, he added, “That’s why I’m in it.”

“Really?” I guess it makes sense…Nicola and Gideon have always been really close. Long before Sophie and Nicola had become friends, the two cousins had been almost inseparable. Puberty and Gideon becoming a werewolf had loosened that bond, but only slightly. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly.”

“Let me guess…you’re feeling slightly nauseous?” Gideon asked, sounding concerned, as he looked from Sophie’s panicked face to her untouched yogurt resting on the table.

“What?” she replied instantly, before fully comprehending the question and lying, “No. No, of course not.” Suddenly worried that her queasiness was showing, she added, “Do I look nauseous?”

“Of course not!” Gideon proclaimed in an overly zealous voice. “I was just asking. Projecting, kind of. Because I do. Feel nauseous, I mean.” He smiled awkwardly.

“You two are so pathetic!” Nicola laughed, reaching for Sophie’s neon note cards. Sophie jerked them away, accidentally elbowing an innocent passing freshman. She smiled at the girl apologetically before glaring angrily at Nicola, her anger somewhat muted by her sense of growing dread and despair. “Seriously, you two, calm down! Soph, your presentation will be amazing, and you know it. You’ve been pulling almost-all-nighters working on it for weeks. And Gid,” she continued, shifting her gaze to her clearly worried cousin, “well, actually, Gid, you tend to slack off when it comes to Public Speaking, so I guess just hope that someone pulls the fire alarm or the entire class falls asleep.”

Nicola grinned as Gideon managed to look both shocked and offended, and he reached for Nicola’s arm, most likely to inflict some sort of familial pain. Nicola easily evaded his attack, jumping up from her seat and dashing to the other end of the table.

Sophie stared at her note cards, silently fuming. She had put a decent amount of effort into her presentation, but not during the nights Nicola had mentioned. She had been kept awake those nights not by choice, but because of a birth defect.

Startled by the bell signaling the end of lunch, Sophie quickly grabbed her things and tossed her unopened yogurt into the garbage, feeling yet again the queasiness Gideon had mentioned. She walked dejectedly to Public Speaking, hoping for a miracle—or, at the very least, a reenactment of the scene from Meg Cabot’s Airhead that Nicola had referenced.

The Public Speaking classroom was almost filled when Sophie stepped solemnly over the threshold. Mrs. Amato-Hase was hooking a projector to the computer at the front of the classroom, designated for student use. Sophie compulsively checked her pocket for her flash drive, as she had been doing since homeroom, frantic for a moment before realizing that she had not lost it. Haven’t lost my flash drive, she thought pessimistically, but I may have lost something else. It rhymes with blind. Maybe if I faked blindness I wouldn’t have to present!

“Alright, my little kiwis with gravy!” Mrs. Amato-Hase began, rising from behind the computer desk and dusting off her pant legs. “I realize this is public speaking and you are all freshly fed, but please refrain from vomiting in the classroom! If you feel ill, book it to the bathroom. Your grade will only suffer if you make me suffer through a day in a vomit-scented room.” The class laughed in an unsure manner, several people exchanging confused looks and accepting shrugs. Sophie rested her hand on her stomach, willing herself to stay calm. “So, prior to our last presentations, I drew half of your names out of the Lovely Bucket,” she gestured to a bright yellow bucket with pink and turquoise butterflies painted haphazardly on it, “and told the rest of you that, due to my sophisticated teaching methods, you may never have to present orally.”

Sophie fought the urge to grin. YES! I forgot about that! The first presentation day of the class, Mrs. Amato-Hase had explained her completely-up-to-chance method for determining presenters, meaning that there was a possibility—a very minor possibility—that students could go without presenting at all, their grades instead depending on the quality of their materials. My presentation alone is great, Sophie thought, but with me included in drops down to suck-tastic.

“However,” Mrs. Amato-Hase continued, and Sophie felt her heart fall at the impending conclusion of her only method of escape, “I have been informed that all students must present at least once, to allow me to adequately judge their public speaking skills. This IS public speaking, after all.” She smiled positively at her disappointed class. “So this is good news for all of you! The people who presented last time are off the hook today—” a few students cheered and clapped, and Gideon sighed in relief “—and the people who didn’t get to show their skills today! No exceptions,” she added in a serious voice. “So, who’s first? Shall we consult the magic bucket?”

Sophie fumbled with her index cards, trying to force her hands to stop trembling. She wouldn’t typically have been quite this nervous, but the transformation of the previous night had left her feeling edgy. As Mrs. Amato-Hase pulled names from the Lucky Bucket, Sophie was filled with nerves, followed by relief. With three presentations left, Sophie’s anxiety grew. She was clearly going to present. It was just a matter of—

“Sophie Saunders! Come on down!” Mrs. Amato-Hase called in the style of Bob Barker.

Sophie sighed heavily, thinking profanities at Nicola, Public Speaking, and the world, and made her way to the front of the room. As she readied herself and her PowerPoint presentation, she glanced at the primarily uninterested class. Only four people were looking at her: Mrs. Amato-Hase, who was giving what was surely meant to be a supportive smile; Gideon, who grinned encouragingly when their eyes met; Nicola, who had written YOU’LL DO FINE! STOP SHAKING! on a page of her notebook and was waving it in front of her face; and, oddly, Shane Wilson, werewolf and member of the school’s varsity football team, was smiling at her comfortingly. Despite the kind nature of his stare, Sophie felt herself cringe slightly, unnoticeable to others. She double-clicked “Prejudice Yesterday or Today,” the topic of the class’s presentations, and stood as her title page filled the screen.

“Prejudice,” Sophie began in a voice that seemed shaky, even to herself, “is any preconceived feeling or opinion formed without knowledge, thought, or reason. It can be positive, for example,” she clicked the mouse and the image of Gossip Girl’s Chace Crawford filled the screen, along with the words He’s hot—he’d make a GREAT boyfriend! The class laughed and Sophie smiled, glad that her make-them-happy plan had worked. “Or prejudice can be negative, as shown in this scenario.” She clicked again, showing the image of Severus Snape from Harry Potter with the caption He was a death eater, he MUST be evil! Again, the class was amused. Mrs. Amato-Hase was chuckling.

“In our town today, there exists an abundance of negative prejudice,” Sophie continued, adopting a more serious tone. “This prejudice is a learned behavior which results in discrimination against this minority and discourages these citizens from fully expressing themselves to their neighbors. This minority is known collectively as Werebunnies.”

As she clicked the mouse again, a gasp echoed throughout the room. On the screen was the image of a small, brown rabbit resting on a porch. Over the rabbit Sophie had placed the word DANGER in heavy red lettering. Sophie rolled her eyes at the class’s response, not bothering to look around at their undoubtedly horrified faces. Instead, she looked to Mrs. Amato-Hase, who was, unexpectedly, smiling warmly. Encouraged, Sophie continued speaking.

“Werebunnies were long ago forced into a crippling stereotype. Viewed as vicious monsters lacking human values, they were shunned, abandoned, and even murdered. The majority continues to label these Werebunnies as dangerous, and as such the most common depiction of these misunderstood creatures remains as such.” With another click, Sophie displayed a crude drawing of a vile-looking rabbit with fangs, claws, and blood dripping from its mouth. “However, it is estimated that fewer than one percent of our town’s population at any given time has ever laid eyes on a Werebunny in rabbit form. This lack of eyewitness accounts indicates that a Werebunny could just as easily look like this.” On the screen, an excellent drawing of a teenage girl with a rabbit nose and ears appeared. Sophie had commissioned one of her students from summer volunteer tutoring to draw it, thinking it may come in handy.

As the drawing filled the screen, the class began laughing. Sophie managed to complete her presentation amid the outbreaks of giggling, but the dramatic effect had been lost. As she spoke her concluding statements, Mrs. Amato-Hase again smiled at her.

“Well, that was a very interesting presentation, Sophie. Now, we must judge how persuasive you were. Class, please raise your hands if Sophie persuaded you at all.”

Sophie groaned quietly. She had entirely forgotten the test-your-persuasiveness portion of her public speaking grade. With her topic, she was bound to fail that section. In order to get full credit, she needed to convince at least four people, and any more than ten warranted extra credit. Looking up, she saw only three hands in the air. Nicola and Gideon had loyally raised their hands in support, but both wore looks of confusion. The third hand belonged to Shane Wilson, who was looking thoughtfully at Sophie.

“Well, you have four people convinced, Sophie. Good job,” Mrs. Amato-Hase announced. “Let’s find out who’s next, shall we?”

“Umm, Mrs. Amato-Hase?” Sophie muttered, perplexed. “I only see three hands.”

“Exactly, Sophie,” she replied, smiling. “You also convinced me. Courtney Paulson, come on down!”

Sophie sat back down, relieved that no one had dared to heckle her during the presentation. She knew she had questions to answer from Nicola, Gideon, and no doubt quite a few random classmates, but she was proud of her presentation. It was a small act, but it was an attempt to bring normalcy to the lives of Werebunnies like herself.

The final two presentations, sloppily put together and horribly delivered, had the entire class—minus Sophie, Gideon, Nicola, and Shane—convinced, no doubt in a preventative act against Sophie’s attempted revolution.