My Short Stories

Part 2 Pressure (Fiction)

After class, as I was packing up my things, Mr. Haven pulled me aside, "So what made you come in late today?"

"Well I was doing homework last night to bump up my grade and I guess I stayed up too late. I have 2 projects due on Friday and homework for 2 classes. My night was a little busy, maybe 3 hours of work." I say while fixing my glasses.

"The homework should only take about 20 minutes each, not 3 hours and the projects still have a few days." He said it felt like he was actually concerned.

A few weeks later my stress has really gone down. I now have new strategies for homework and Mr. Haven talked to the other teachers and made them lower the homework a bit. I wasn't the only one having homework that took forever to finish, many other students complained as well. With all the extra time I had on my hands, Jess, Kylie, and Morgan are now my friends. Recently it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

That Sunday the last rays of sunlight danced across the concrete floor, casting long shadows across the skating rink, laced up their skates, and stepped onto the smooth, cold surface. We were regulars at this particular rink, and we moved through the crowd with the effortless grace of seasoned athletes. Jess, the youngest of the group at ten, was already showing signs of promise, her lithe figure cutting through the air with a precision that belied her inexperience. Kylie, at twelve, was more of a show-off, spinning and flipping her way across the rink with a confidence that was both infectious and slightly annoying. And then there was Morgan, the eldest of the group at thirteen, whose style was more about power than finesse. She carved long, sweeping arcs across the floor, her arms stretched wide as if she were flying.

But it was me, the quiet one, the one who always seemed to blend into the background, that caught the eye of someone new. As this girl navigated the crowd, my gaze fixed on a spot somewhere between the floor and the ceiling, my body moving almost instinctively to the rhythm of the music, I felt a gentle nudge on my shoulder. Startled, I looked up, nearly falling on my back to see a girl she'd never met before, grinning at her from behind a pair of oversized sunglasses. "You're pretty good," she said, her voice low and throaty. I smiled back, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Thanks," I managed, before returning my attention to my skates.

The evening passed in a blur of music and movement, and before we knew it, the rink was closing for the night. As our group made our way outside, we decided to head to a nearby cafe for drinks. We found a cozy little place with a vintage jukebox and a worn-in leather booth that seemed to fit us perfectly. I ordered a hot chocolate, still feeling the chill from the rink, while the others opted for coffee and tea. As they sat there, sipping their drinks and laughing about their exploits on the rink, the new girl introduced herself as Lily.

Years later, I took a deep breath and looked out at the sea of familiar faces. They were all here, gathered in the expansive auditorium, their eyes fixed on me expectantly. It was a surreal moment, standing at the podium on this day, my graduation from high school. I glanced down at the neatly typed speech in my hands, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement course through my veins. This day marked not just an end, but also a new beginning, and I knew that I wanted to thank the people who had helped me get here.

As I scanned the crowd, my gaze landed on her, sitting in the front row, his head thrown back in laughter. Angel, my best friend since grade school, had always been there for me, even when I was the class stress ball, the one who everyone avoided. It was Angel who had helped me with my homework, who had encouraged me to join the debate team, and who had never once judged me for my anxiety. And now, here we were, on this momentous day, about to embark on a new adventure together.

My eyes then drifted over to the other side of the auditorium, where Mr. Haven, our beloved world history teacher, was beaming with pride. It was he who had first recognized my stress and had helped me find ways to cope, to manage it, to turn it into something positive. Thanks to him, I had learned to meditate, to practice yoga, to breathe. And now, here I was, standing before him, a testament to the power of his guidance.

As I began to speak, my voice steady and clear, "I thank Angel for his friendship, Mr. Haven for his wisdom, and the four other girls who had stuck by my side since I met them through thick and thin, Jess, Kylie, Lily, and Morgan. They had seen me at my worst, had loved me anyway, and had helped me become the person I am today, the student council president of this school. I know that this is only the beginning."

The applause that followed my speech was deafening, and I felt a warm glow spread through my chest. As I took my seat among my classmates, I glanced over at Angel and flashed him a grin. He winked back, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect, as if nothing could ever go wrong again. But we both knew better. Life, after all, is full of twists and turns, and we will face our share of challenges in the years to come. But on this day, as we stood on the threshold of adulthood, I was grateful for the people who had helped me get here, and I looked forward to whatever the future might hold.

1012 words