by Stan Dupp
I stood at the podium, knees trembling, heart racing. My mouth was dry. I took a tremulous sip from the glass of water provided.
“To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether ‘tis n-n-nobler…” Snickers and whispers floated from the back of the room. My mind went blank. My heart drummed loud and incessant in my ears. Eyes wide, I looked for something, anything, to jog my memory. An errant paper airplane came hurtling in my direction, and for a moment seemed to suspend in the air before it landed at my feet amid an eruption of more snickers followed by the sharp rapping of the teacher’s yard stick on her desk in a desperate attempt to restore order.
“Please continue Mr. Kowalski.”
“W-Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to s-s-suffer the slings and airplanes…” A loud laugh burst from the crowd. I scrunched my eyes in shame, inwardly flogging myself. Another rap sounded on the desk. I drew a deep breath and swallowed hard.
“…Arrows of outrageous f-fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles,” I glared at my classmates. “And by opposing, end them, to d-die to sleep no more, and by a sleep, to say we ennnndddd…” And as I spoke the words, they echoed off into the hollow air. I blinked a long blink and watched the world slowly tip to the left, and with a muffled shout from the teacher, crash into my side.
Black.
Quiet.
A circle of fuzzy light came first, then sounds filtered down as if from a long tube. Dark shadows poked themselves into view.
“Is he dead?” was the first audible phrase. Then, as if cotton was pulled from my ears, “Stand back! Give him some air!” …and then I wished I really was dead.
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