Piño
I'm going to be fine. Piño breathed aloud as he stepped onto the stage, he can feel the weight of his body increase with every inhale and exhale. I'll do it. I can do it. He remembered what his father told him before.
"If you ever feel anxious in the stage, close your eyes and count from one to three, then all your fears would go away."
Piño scanned the silent crowd, watching every movements of his muscles.
Fifty people have came to watch the spelling bee in the school. In the corner of all the other people, sat his father, eyeing him with a proud look in his dark eyes. I can do this.
"Go on Piño! You can do it!" his friend, Rani, cupped his hand as he shouted. Shut up. His friends cheering didn't give him confidence, his other classmates laughed as Rani cheered.
Crap.
"It seems like you are ready boy! Now I ask you, what is your name?" A woman dressed in a girl's suit asked, her mouth hurled spit onto the mike, glistening like a snake's skin. The throbbing of Piño's heart grew faster, and stronger, and his panting didn't cease.
"M- my n- name's. . . Piño" His lips have gone dry as Julio's spaghetti, his voice quivering in fear.
"Hispanic? Wow! Now let's adjust the mike here . . . and there! Now how old are you, Piño? the woman asked, gently leaning against his shoulder.
He stretched his back to appear taller and older, he tried to speak in matured tone, like his father, but he only managed to squeak like a mouse.
"I am 12 years old."
"Twelve years old? Wow! I thought you were younger than that. Well anyways, so judges, what is his first word gonna be? Piño can clearly see that the woman in front of him was struggling awkwardly.
"Okay, Piño, spell "Ambiguity."
This is it. He tensed his back, scratched the back of his bronze arm, and closed his eyes.
Uno.
Dos.
Tree.
