Virus

Okay, maybe I exaggerated a little about Franklin. Only the North Wing, where the detention center is, is horrible vandalized. I don’t think all the teachers have made the connection yet. Not everyone makes fun of me- only Cleopatra and her gang of five or so other popular, snobby airheads- the worst of the worst, but they certainly make a good job of making it seems like everyone is after me. However, this isn’t what’s on my mind today- my oral presentation is today- and if there’s one thing I’m afraid of, it’s speaking to a large audience. Although I love science, and my presentation on the Mendeleev traits is nothing if not thorough, I’m still worried. I hurry to my locker to drop my belongings off before I rush off to math, when I hear a sneer behind me. Great, I think. However, today I have other things to worry about.

“Hey, grandma, why are you still here? Don’t they have special classes for senior citizens who still haven’t passed high school?” Cleopatra jabs.

“Oh, shut it,” I say. I have things to do and refuse to be held back by someone as snobby as her. Shouldering my way past Cleopatra, I speed walk down the hall and slide into my chair just as the bell rings.

Where have you been? Lance mouths.

Later, I reply. After we finish math, which really isn’t quite interesting, the three of us head over to what is usually my favorite class- science. Normally, I would be happy, ready to learn about genetic traits and types of blood and other fascinating subjects. However, today was my oral report, and speaking to others was never my strong suit. Lance, on the other hand, can’t stop speaking- he has it down, even if his PowerPoint is barely adequate. Kira may not be perfect, but she has no qualms about expressing her opinion.

“Settle down, class,” my teacher, Mrs. Lunella, declares. “Today, we will be pausing in our journey to explore the realm of genetics, and instead present our oral reports on the Mendeleev traits. First up, we have…” she peers down at her list, “Eva Zeneddevaia!”

As I proceed to the front of the class, the twenty-something other students in my class meld into a sea of faces. The pressure seems to be a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders, and my right hand starts to twitch, a nervous tic that I often get, and I involuntarily reach up to correct my glasses. I open the PowerPoint. I know the words. I can do this. Even though I may be extremely nervous, I know I have an advantage over other presenters- my memory. Although it may not be extremely uncanny like some people I read about on websites, I have a photographic memory, and an effective one at that. I had memorized my speech last night- I was ready. “The experiment started in a garden of peas…” I began. However, although this may have been a good start, the rest of my report did not go well. I knew the words, but it was as if my tongue had become ten times thicker, and I stumbled over sentences as if I knew nothing. Finally, after what seemed like eternity and yet really was three minutes, the time limit, I ended my presentation and gratefully walked back to the seat. There, I watched the other presentations, which, although some of them were somewhat lacking in the written department (Thank you Lance, but Mendeleev was not born in 1934, that’s off by a century), every single presentation seemed to be a lot better than the others. At the end of class Mrs. Lunella even pulled me aside.

“Eva, I know you’ve done a lot of hard work. I really do.” She started. “However, although your presentation was spectacular, and deserves an A, you really need to improve on your oral. I know you have it in you, and I want you to do better next oral. Therefore, I know you’ve been a straight-A student, but I must give you an overall B-. I’m sorry, Eva.”

I was in shock. I knew it was bad, but Evan Springer was picking his nose half the time and he didn’t get pulled aside for hygienic issues, because honestly, that was a large moral health code violation right there. Still, I didn’t dare argue- Mrs. Lunella had a dark side, and it was a large one. “Can I at least do extra-credit?” I asked. I really, really, really, wanted to keep my 4.0 GPA- I had places to be in college, which was coming faster than I realized.

“Sorry, Eva, but you got above a C, meaning you can’t raise this grade. This won’t impact your science grade that badly though. You can still get an A, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It isn’t though. I’m worried about that failing the next upcoming oral, if I get anything below an A I’ll have a high B+ for the end of the semester, which for me is unacceptable. I know I have high personal standards, but I have been struggling though the orals since they were first issued and will not let this get in my way. However, as I leave the classroom to go to my elective, Art, I am worried.

As we meet up during language arts, exchanging news of what had happened during out electives, I store my science grade at the back of my mind. I can always come back to it later. The rest of the school day goes by relatively uneventfully. I dodge insults from Cleopatra, then ride the bus home. All was as it should be.