The words tumble in my head like lotto balls, organizing themselves into the perfect answer, the moneyball. Clear my throat, once, twice. My voice won’t catch, it won’t scratch, I won’t have to re-clear it once I start speaking. I study the question I’ve decided to answer. I can’t mess it up, I know all the words. I picked the verb I could conjugate flawlessly, the sentence is short, simple. My sneaker toe flutters into the linoleum as Senor surveys the room. I avert my gaze, the foot taps increasing as my heart does. Don’t pick me yet, I haven’t practiced my answer enough. Everything lingers in the air for a second that feels an eternity, and I should raise my hand NOW. Someone else raises their hand. Senor nods, and she flawlessly delivers the answer. Next question.
54
Next Question | Katie Bernfeld
