Glitter and Chalk

Fear jammed itself in my throat and I could feel my palms beginning to perspire, like normal. Ms. Scofield sat in a spinning chair behind her desk and rotated it from side to side with the tip of her black stiletto. The thing squeaked and moaned in protest, but she kept at it. The kid up in the front now was stuttering and getting himself tongue-tied. I slunk down farther in my seat until my butt was balanced precariously on the edge of the crappy blue plastic and my head was leaning against the place where my back was supposed to be.

Our teacher examined the room as Peter, the kid up front with the stuttering problem, brought his presentation to a grinding halt. Ms. Scofield smiled politely (scarily) at him and he sat down in his seat in the row farthest away from her desk. I could feel my chest getting tighter as she scanned the attendance sheet and stopped on another name.

“Eliza Benedict, you’re on deck. Marissa Patterson, go ahead. Teach me something.” Marissa stood up from her seat, grabbed the flimsy poster from the desk, and trudged to the front of the room. Her flip flops slapped against her heels as she went. As she arrived at the chalkboard, she placed her poster, covered in white glitter, on the chalk holder and stood next to it with a paper in her hands.

She fixed the class with a bored stare and gave her presentation on a Revolutionary War hero while I sat in my seat and clutched the desk with sweaty palms. Everyone else either dozed off or paid a mild amount of attention, keeping their chins on their palms and their elbows on their desks. Five minutes went by and my stomach churned all the more with each passing moment.

You can do this, Eliza. I had issues with attention. It was difficult for me to stand up in front of people, especially these people. Chris Hagan sat in the far corner, a straw sticking out of his back pocket and a wad of spit and paper being ground between his molars. Caroline Jenkins was fiddling with her phone under her desk in the row next to mine. Dianna Kirk was listening to music, but the sound was turned down--something that came as a shock to me--so no one else could hear it. They all shared an uninterested expression. I smoothed my poster out as Marissa brought her lecture to a close.

“And that is why Martha Smith is an unknown hero.” With that, Marissa pulled the poster down off display and carried it across the room to Ms. Scofield’s desk. It made a noise like thunder as she let it go. Sparkles flew everywhere and Ms. Scofield wasn’t exactly enthused. Her mouth formed a very pronounced frown as she brushed off her turtleneck. Everyone breathed an annoyed sigh as Marissa sat down. Our teacher waved her finger above the list again and her finger came crashing down.

“Logan Clark, you’re on deck. Get up there, Benedict.” My legs trembled as I pushed myself out of my seat slowly. I picked up my poster, about half as creative as everyone else’s (even Chris’s was cooler than mine was) and even less interesting and colorful. I set my poster on the black board and positioned myself next to it. I opened my mouth for a second, but before anything interesting could escape it, a loud siren filled the room and everyone jumped a little. I left the stupid paper where it was and filled outside with the rest of the class, the halls jammed up with excited students. I let my lungs fill with the outdoor air and release it in a sigh of deep relief.

I’d have until next class to prepare.