He chanted it over and over in his head, as if it were his new mantra. He shouted it from the depths of his mind, the thought reverberating almost painfully in his skull as he struggled to take a breath.
I can do this.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, making its way into his eyes and even his nose, impeding him from breathing further. He choked on a breath, his chest tightening painfully. He clenched his hands tightly, fingernails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. He waited a moment before trying to breathe again.
I can do this.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose before exhaling it slowly through his slightly open lips. He frowned as he realized the tension in his body hadn't reduced much -his back was still stiff from his rigid posture, his muscles were taut, and his chest felt like it would burst at any second.
I can do this.
He slowly blinked his eyes open when he realized he'd closed them and unclenched his hands, stretching his fingers out slowly, deliberately. He stretched his legs out too, returning the circulation to them, and cracked his neck, hoping to relieve some of the tension from his aching bones. He shook his head and sighed, forcing himself to focus on the task ahead. For a single moment, his mind cleared, his breathing evened out, and his shoulders slumped in relief.
"Carter Lockhart." The principal's voice crackled over the microphone and the large auditorium fell silent, heads spinning around to watch Carter as he rose up from his seat. As he stood, however, and began making his way to the podium on the stage, he felt his legs growing heavier beneath him as if they were going to give out from underneath him at any moment. His eyes flitted around, glancing at each face he passed briefly, but this only seemed to spike his nerves. Everybody wore the same dead, unforgiving expression on their faces, their eyes full of judgment. The anxious tightening of his chest returned and he briefly wondered if he was going to pass out before he even made it to the stage. He took in a shaky breath.
I can do this.
He carefully ascended the steps to the stage.
I can do this.
He reached the podium and set his papers down on it gently.
I can do this.
He raised his gaze and stared out at the too-still audience. His heart skipped a beat and he felt bile rising up in his throat.
I can't do this.
"Um…" He began nervously, mentally face-palming when his voice wavered slightly. He tugged a bit at his shirt collar, feeling hot all of a sudden. "G-good morning. My name is, uh, C-Carter Lockhart and I… I'm running for Sophomore Class President." He finally ground out, swallowing thickly as his stomach churned. He looked out at the audience and visibly flinched when he realized all eyes were on him. For once, nobody was playing on their phones or rudely chatting away with a companion -no, it seemed that the student body had collectively decided to focus solely on Carter and that didn't sit well with him.
The flash cards in his hands fell to the floor, breaking Carter out of his stupor. He hastily bent down to pick them up, accidently bumping into the microphone. The feedback resounded throughout the auditorium, drawing a few sounds of protests from the students. Blushing furiously, Carter once more stood upright, attempting to shuffle his note cards back into the right order.
Everybody was still staring at him expectantly, boring their eyes into him. Even the teachers seemed to have their gazes trained singularly on Carter. He swallowed again, unable to take down the vomit he felt creeping up in time.
As he opened his mouth to speak again, his body instinctively lurched forward and chunks of that day's breakfast came flying out of his mouth. He bent over to hurl the contents of his stomach onto the floor next to the podium. There were a few startled squeaks, a few grossed-out shouts, and a few concerned faces as Carter heaved. But what he seemed to notice the most was the almost non-existing chuckle coming from the back of the auditorium. At first it was one small sound, then another person laughed, then another, and soon the whole school was laughing at him.
Breathe, Carter.
He tried telling himself that he was okay, but Carter had never been much of a liar, not even to himself. As the roaring laughter grew in volume, Carter felt himself growing sick again. He turned on his heel as the principal sauntered up to him, followed by the school nurse, and ran out of the auditorium on shaky legs.
He managed to make it to a stall in the bathroom just as vomit pushed its way through his mouth again. It wasn't much this time, but it was enough to make his throat hurt from the effort.
A tear escaped from the corner of Carter's left eye before he could realize it and his heart sank as the realization of what had just happened kicked in. He had humiliated himself in front of the whole school by puking instead of giving his presidential campaign speech.
Nobody tried to help him or come after him, he realized bitterly. Nobody cared. All they did was laugh at him, like they always did.
He leaned back blindly and slid down until he was rocking on his ankles, upper body braced against the bathroom wall, as he allowed himself a true moment of weakness. He'd proven himself weak and worthless plenty of times, but never intentionally. This time, on the other hand, he convinced himself that he could do something embarrassing without beating himself up about it later. This time, he allowed himself the one thing a man was never supposed to do.
He buried his face in his hands and cried.