Checkmate

20 |Three minutes

Once, when I was twelve, I had to play piano in front of the entire school after I told Mrs. Middleton I'd started piano lessons. It was music appreciation week, and she thought it would be an excellent way to show the students who don't play instruments what they could achieve if they signed up to music class. Only I hadn't had lessons long – a few weeks worth at the most – but despite telling her this, she insisted I'd be fine.

I wasn't. I fumbled through a rendition of Ode to Joy by Beethoven, stomach in my throat as I prayed for the nightmare to end. I thought after that, I would never have to experience anything as nerve-wracking again, but today has proven me wrong.

For the next hour of Art, I'm on autopilot. At one pm, Mr. Charter directs all of the candidates and their campaign captains to their assigned classrooms, so Blake and I end up back in our classroom to review my speech. We don't talk much – I've never been much of a talker in stressful situations – but something tells me I'd feel even worse if it were anyone other than Blake here.

After reciting my speech, I glance at Blake. He's sitting opposite, legs stretched in front of him as he leans back in his chair to watch me. He's always so calm, relaxed, as if nothing could ever phase him; I wish I could be that way too.

Another glance at the clock reveals there are ten minutes to go. I'm in the middle of reading my speech again when Liv appears at the classroom door's window, waving frantically. I wave her in, watching as Kenny and Freddie slink in after. "You're going to get into trouble," I say, thinking they're here to see Blake. "Only the campaign captain is allowed in here."

Freddie grins. "We know."

"But–" Liv adds, "we figured we'd sneak in and wish you luck. So, good luck."

A brief look at Blake reveals he's just as surprised as I am. I barely know them, but hearing they would go out of their way to wish me luck before my speech means everything. Even Kenny, who is either extremely shy or just doesn't like me, steps out of their shadow to mutter good luck.

"Thank you," I say. Liv steps forward to hug me, and the trio heads out before Mr. Charter catches them. I turn to Blake, my nerves getting the better of me. "I'm going to projectile vomit."

"I didn't need to know that."

"I'm serious." I get up from my desk and pace back and forth. "What if I forget my speech? What if I fall? What if I stutter?"

"What if you don't?"

This way of thinking comes naturally to him, but it doesn't to me. No matter how hard I try to relax, my brain has other ideas. "Fine, what if I don't? What if everyone laughs at me instead?"

"Your problem is you care too much," he says.

I move closer. I do it because standing this close to Blake feels magnetic, like standing near the edge of a cliff. "I don't know how to stop."

"It's easy." He drops his voice. "You think to yourself: does what this person thinks about me define me? The answer to that, by the way, should always be no."

The gravel in his voice pulls me closer. I'm moments away from giving my speech, the most crucial part of this campaign to date, and somehow, it's like I've forgotten. All I can think about is if I'll ever be brave enough to take this thing further. Whether one day, I'll push down my horror, my pride, and kiss him.

Mr. Charter walks in before I can do something stupid. He's with a few members of the council, all clutching clipboards, and smiles as he readjusts his glasses. "How are you holding up, Rose? All ready for your speech?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Mr. Charter."

"Good, that's what I like to hear." He turns to Blake. "I was pleasantly surprised to see you down as Rose's campaign captain, Blake. Out of curiosity, what made you go for the role? It doesn't strike me as something you'd be interested in."