“E

very student will deliver a five-minute oral presentation.” Chaya felt the color drain from her cheeks as she stared unseeingly at her teacher. “Your goal,” Mrs. Bliss continued, shining her typical half-smile on her ninth-grade students, “is to convince us, the consumers, why we should buy your product.”

Groans ascended from all corners of the room.

“Girls.” Mrs. Bliss clapped her hands to get their attention. “The best way to become an effective public speaker is to…?”

“Speak.” The class finished the sentence amid some eye-rolling.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Mrs. Bliss commented wryly. “I look forward to hearing from you this Thursday.”

At that moment the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

Chaya felt an ice pick pounding her temple, and she dropped her head in her arms and whimpered.

“I can’t do it,” she groaned. “There is just no way.”

“Chaya?” Breindy asked, putting an arm on Chaya’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Not if I have to stand up and speak in public,” Chaya mumbled. “I can’t go through that again. I may have to get sick tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on,” Breindy cajoled. “We’re all in this together. No one likes to speak publicly. But we’ll get through it. It’s just five minutes.”

“You don’t understand!” Chaya insisted. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

Stung, Breindy backed off. “If that’s the way you want it,” she said, letting the sentence dangle as she marched away. “I thought best friends can be honest with each other.”

“Sorry,” Chaya whispered.

“ ’Kay,” Breindy said, mustering a small smile and a conciliatory wink.

The rest of the day dragged, and every class sailed right over Chaya’s head. Immersed in bitter memories, Chaya couldn’t focus on the present. Hurled back through the mists of time, she was experiencing the pain as if it were happening right now.

“And now,” Mrs. Hilstein announced during the Friday night seudah of their middle school shabbaton, “Chaya Schoen will deliver a devar Torah.”

Polite clapping welcomed Chaya. Blushing furiously, she made her way to the center of the dining room.

“This week’s parshah…” she began, her words flowing effortlessly. Forgetting to check her notes and the clock, Chaya raised several thought-provoking questions.

“Listen to this amazing story,” she exclaimed, launching into an inspiring tale. And then it happened. She remembered the exact moment, precisely when she was about to pose the second question. Someone laughed. Shocked, Chaya looked up and caught the giggler’s eye. Like a raging wildfire, the chuckles spread from one girl to the next, until most of the audience was shaking and laughing uproariously.

They’re laughing at me, Chaya realized, horrified. What should I do?