It’s my turn. My name has been called. I start– where has the time gone?

I take a breath. People are staring, now. My trembling hands grip the paper. Jerkily, I stand. My eyes are wide and my throat is attempting to close. I look down as I push the chair in. I heave another breath.

My feet are moving now. I bite my lip and glare icily at the carpet as if it is its own fault that I have to speak. When I look up again, I am behind the podium. I can feel my voice rising in pitch. I’ve nearly forgotten how to breathe at all.

They expect me to speak, now. I clear my throat softly, and my voice pitch lowers, slightly. I cross my arms on the podium and lean against it a bit, hoping for a relaxed pose. The podium moves; it’s only a half-podium. It’s sitting on a table. I straighten up.

Inhaling once more, I smell my best friend’s perfume. I glance at her and manage a weak smile. People are squirming in their seats, now. I force my head down once more. My mouth opens in preparation. I read the first line, voice trembling and still too high. My eyes dart around the room, searching for a reaction. Everyone appears to be listening intently, but I know that few actually are. The vast majority of students had a glazed look in their eyes. I shook myself and looked back down again.

This time, I read straight through to the end, stumbling only twice over the words I, myself, had written. I finish lamely and look up again. A few are nodding, as though what I’d said made sense. I try to recall what exactly that was, and fail. My mind is scrambling in all directions.

I pick up the paper and step down. The carpet is still blue and raveled. I bite down on my lip again. My hands are shaking more than before. My right foot hits the back left leg of my chair. I move out of its path and drop into it as I pull it back. As the next name is called out, I sigh heavily and watch as I am replaced.