Smart Girl

03.02.17

or when you've taken the backseat because of your mouth, your brain, and your mind.

"wren and justin, you two first," señora said. we stood, preparing to play 'around the world' with the spanish vocabulary which no one had studied very intently.

i don't remember the word she gave us, but i had it within the first two seconds.

next person, a red-haired girl, was defeated quickly. after her, the theatre kid with glass that were either trendy or pedophilic. then the gay junior, followed by the band girls on the back row.

i wrung my hands from the very beginning. i knew what the teacher was doing when she had me go first. she wanted to see if someone could beat me. it was made clear by my peers as i went around the world that they wanted someone to put me in my place. each time i faced a new classmate, they were fervent in their cheers for my opponent and their bashes on me.

i felt my throat constantly grow tighter and tenser. my cheeks burned as i kept going, kept winning.

"they're just jealous," señora reminded me halfway through before asking what congestionado translated to.

one of the last people i was to face in our class of 33—minus the five native speakers—was none other than kamal, my friend, ranked second in our year. the chanting grew louder, louder, until it was nearly impossible to hear.

"beat her, kamal!" was just one variant of their cries.

first try, we were tied for speed.

second, again.

just before the third attempt at attaining a victory of sorts, kamal joked, "just get this one wrong, wren?"

i couldn't help but smile again in the face of all the anxieties building up in me. my face didn't know how else to react.

"torcerse el tobillo."

"to sprain one's ankle," i spoke confidently.

despite my confidence, i was met with 'boo's.

it took bravery to tell my teacher i couldn't stand doing it anymore, that my anxiety wouldn't stretch thin enough to let me go another round against the native speakers.

on the way down the stairs after class, i was still shaken.

"señora was right, we're just jealous," said a classmate.

jealous of what, my work ethic or the mind which is broken because of it? because really, i would have chosen to be less intellectually gifted than to have smarts coupled with mental issues.