Rejects | | a.u

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Today is the day I curse the most, presentations. Every since I was young I’ve had this chronic fear of presenting. I was perfectly fine blabbering on in a debate at school but I could never deal with actually holding a book in front of me and reading from it.

  I fix the ankle wrap that’s itching against my leg. Thankfully, my ankle is now almost back to normal so I can finally wear shoes and not have my toes crying from being icicles.

  I look over at Luke who’s sitting beside me. He’s wearing a white t-shirt which is quite a nice change from his black I must admit.  I tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.

  “Luke,” I whisper, trying not to disturb the presenting group.

  “Bethan,” he says back.

  “I don’t want to present.”

  “We have to.”

  “No, Luke. I can’t present.”

  “Is it because of the kiss?” he whispers harshly.

  “No, no. I kinda have really um, bad stage fr-fright.” I stutter. Luke looks surprised.

  “You? Stage fright? Yeah right. I don’t believe that.” Luke tries to keep in his laughter. “Last year you were almost the caption of the debate team.”

  “I can do that because it’s voicing an opinion but I have trouble reading out of a book.” I admit.

    Stage fright hit me the day I had to read a speech or a poem or whatever it was at my parents funereal. I clearly remember standing in front of the three hundred some people with trembling hands and a neatly folded piece of paper.  

  I messed up and stuttered so many times, tears spilling everywhere. It was honestly just a pathetic mess. It just made everyone feel even worse that the daughter of the dead couple was crying her eyes out trying to present a eulogy at her parent’s funeral.  It haunts me every day honestly.   

  I look at Luke and see him staring at my lips. I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. We had to talk about this sooner or later.

  “Luke, can I ask you something?” I whisper.

  “Go for it.” He makes it look like he’s actually paying attention to what’s going on.

  “Did it really mean nothing to you?”

  “Did what really mean nothing to me?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.” I frown, chipping my nail polish off as a distraction so I don’t have to look at him.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Luke, we have to talk about it sometime.” I say in a harsh whisper.

  “Dammit Bethan, there’s nothing to talk about.” Luke says a little louder than needed earning a scowl from Miss. Fray.

  “Yes there is.”

  “No there isn’t.”

  Miss. Fray hushes Luke, holding her pointer finger to her mouth signaling him to be quite. He mutters ‘fuck you’ earning her finger pointing out the door. He sighs and loudly gets out of his chair, storming out of the classroom.  Miss. Fray apologizes to the group performing.

  About five minutes later once they finish, I slowly raise my hand to ask to go to the washroom. I walk out into the hallway and find Luke sitting against a locker at the other end with his head in his hands. I make my way towards him quietly. He looks really stressed out about something.