“HILDY GIMBERG,” I spluttered. A burst of nervous laughter erupted from the judgmental, bored seventh graders around me. I swallowed and blinked back tears.

“Excuse you?” Said the history teacher, clearly losing patience. She sighed, pushed up her glasses, and reprimanded, “This isn’t a joke. This is your fourth quarter presentation on the Cherokee tribe. The PowerPoint is obviously well done. Dear, if you continue to joke, I’ll give minus 50.”

The class teased and mocked. “OOH!” they said.

My brows furrowed in guttural anger. I practiced this speech for days! How come I just can’t get the words out???

Perhaps this is the curse for all the sins I’ve done.

I closed my eyes and feel the annoyed stares coming from my peers. The teacher is on her phone. Am I that boring?

“Continue,” The teacher said.

I shook my head.

“Continue, or I’ll have to give you a zero,” warned the teacher.

I sniffed, about to cry. I opened my mouth-

“DO IT SHOP FISKVPD!” I screamed.

The class began laughed and giggled. They pointed at me. Honestly, can I blame them?

I would laugh too.