I'd always hated presentations.
That was first thought that crossed my mind as the tall boy that sat two seats in front of me picked my paper; out of all twenty-something of them shuffled in there, he'd managed to pick mine. In an instant, my stomach tightened, twisting into anxious knots. Each shallow breath I took shuddered in my chest. Not even out of my seat yet, and I was shaking. Instantly, my hand felt for the bracelet on my right wrist, fingers tracing the familiar shape of a bear, a bridge, and the outline of a tropical island that I couldn't quite recall. It offered little comfort. One by one, my classmates began to turn expectantly to face me, to gauge my reaction, maybe even to show pity. I heard laughter, a soft, trembling sound barely louder than the hum of the vents that filled the silence. Was someone laughing at me? No. I was laughing, a telltale sign of my own fear. My eyes instantly fell on the teacher, who tilted her head a bit to the side. A gesture for me to begin. I drew in the deepest breath I could manage and started, my voice, ironically, capturing the fear of someone about to drink poison, ready to face the unknown.
"Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again.."
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