Chapter 24
Arthur
I knew I was losing the plot when I found myself jealous of a bloody table.
Look at that table over there, just existing. That table doesn’t have to do a presentation today, or ever. Oh, to be a table right now.
Quickly shaking my head and snapping myself out of whatever that was, I look down at my script. I’d practised it multiple times in front of the mirror, cringing myself out every time. There was just something so embarrassing about doing that, it felt like I was watching myself transform into some sort of cheesy TV presenter in front of my very eyes. Although I’d timed myself and knew I was hitting the target, I just had a horrible awareness that that wouldn’t be the case during the actual thing. I could picture it now. I’d immediately start shaking when I got up there and my clammy hands would either get stuck to the script or I’d drop it altogether. I’d start stuttering over my words like a bumbling idiot and don’t even get me started on the Qamp;A part. How anyone could improvise coherent answers on the spot was beyond me. I had everything crossed that everyone else in the seminar would feel just as awkward as I did and hopefully not ask any questions, but annoyingly I knew that even if that was the case, Jordan would definitely have something to say.
I’d got to commons an hour early this morning. Ember had texted me last night to say she thought it would be a good idea to do one final rehearsal before the seminar. Time was ticking though and there was still no sign of her or Caleb. I’d lost count of how many times I craned my neck to try and see if either of them were coming up the stairs behind me, I’m surprised it wasn’t stiff by now. At this rate, I might end up having to do the presentation by myself. I swallow down the huge lump in my throat at the thought and check my watch. Half an hour left. My thighs start jigging uncontrollably now, I wish I could stop them, fully aware that it made me look like I was desperate for a pee.
“Sorry I’m late!,” I hear a familiar voice shout from the other end of the room.
She was red-faced, her hair windswept and very clearly struggling to juggle all of her bags, judging by the fact that she was nearly tripping over the one that was dragging across the floor. I get out of my seat and offer her a hand, carefully grabbing the bag from the floor. She gives me a grateful smile before panting, “I’m so sorry I overslept! I must have forgotten to set my alarm!” I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the fact that this is about the third time I’ve met her like this, running late and absolutely frantic.
“It’s fine, no worries,” I reply, (even though only moments ago, I had plenty of worries). I gestured to the empty table, “Caleb’s still not here yet anyway.”
“Why does thatnot surprise me,” she says sarcastically. “So,” she says, taking off her black teddy coat and hooking it over the back of the chair, “first things first, how are you feeling?”
“Is shitting bricks an acceptable answer?”
She chuckles, “A perfectly acceptable answer. But I reckon if you set a timer on your phone and we bash out all of our bits now, we’ll be fine! We’ve rehearsed a ton of times anyway.”
I don’t know how she did it. How she was so positive and happy all the time. If there was such thing as a chill pill, there must be a national shortage because she’d clearly had them all. The closest I was going to get to somewhat ‘chilled’ was from the two can of monsters I’d pounded this morning. I hadn’t been sleeping very much at all for the past few weeks. I was lucky if I even got an hour at this rate. I wouldn’t be surprised if energy drinks had replaced my blood and was the liquid pumping through my veins right now. It didn’t help that after my less-than-ideal feedback on my formative proposal, I made it my absolute mission to read as many sources as possible to try and formulate an argument for my project and had ended up pulling a mass of all-nighters to get it done. I managed to submit it last night, so at least it was one less thing on my endless to-do list. The one good thing about the presentation being today was that it actually acted as a pretty solid distraction. I literally didn’t have time to panic after hitting submit last night because I needed to crack on with this. So, there was that I guess. To be honest, I’d completely shut myself off from everyone. I know it’s bad, but it needed to be done.
Setting the timer on my phone, we start. Ember absolutely smashes it, of course. She has such a bright and animated way of speaking; you can’t help but be drawn into her world. It didn’t matter what she was talking about, she could literally read the phone book and it would seem like the most interesting thing you’d ever heard. I do my best to follow that, trying my best to unglue my eyes from the script and make eye contact with her. After the ping of the timer, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
She gives me a reassuring smile, “that was amazing! If we do it like that in there, we’ll pass with flying colours.” As proud as I wanted to be, I was reserving any pride that I had until after we’d done the real thing, and that was of course only if we’d done it well.
“Alright everyone, you can come and take a seat now,” Jordan shouts, his head peering round the door. The crowd of students all slump in one after the other, armed with their scripts and grimaces to match. You could tell not one single person wanted to do this, which was reassuring for me. I seemed to forget that we were all in the same boat. Caleb finally decides to grace us with his presence as he comes trudging through the door. “Sorry I missed the bus,” he mumbles, pulling out a seat next to me. Judging by the smell of tobacco coming off him, he clearly had enough time to take a smoke break beforehand, so I call bull. In fairness, he did pull out a script from his bag, so here’s hoping that he’d put the effort in. Considering his flakiness during all of our previous rehearsals, Ember and I weren’t holding our breath.
Jordan switches on the projector and coughs really loudly, presumably to get our attention. “Right, who’s going to take one for the team and go first?,” he says with a grin. It seemed like he was enjoying the fact that everyone was terrified.
Silence.
Okay, so it definitely wasn’t just me then.
“Guys, I don’t want to treat you like you’re in school, but if someone doesn’t volunteer to go first, I’ll have to pick and I don’t want to do that,” he says, acting as if he didn’t pick on me at least twice every seminar. That took me right back to GCSE English Literature. We were reading Of Mice and Men, and my teacher asked if there were any volunteers to read the next chapter. Of course, there was always that one kid who would throw their hand up in the air every single time, begging to be picked. I never understood why they couldn’t just be nominated to speak every time on behalf of the class. I mean, they actually wanted to get involved. I remember looking down at the book, as if me diverting my eyes away somehow functioned as an invisibility cloak, and the next thing I knew, Mr Jeavons was pointing a large finger in my direction, “Arthur, why don’t you read the next chapter?” As predicted, I was sweating profusely and fumbled over every word. There’s just something awful about being caught off guard like that.
Before I have time to dwell on that shitty trip down memory lane, the sound of Ember’s voice shatters through my thoughts. “We’ll go!”
My heart rapidly drums in my chest as we walk to the front of the room. I’m suddenly aware of all of the faces staring back at me. There’s only about ten other people in here, but there might as well be one hundred. You don’t realise how difficult it is to be perceived until you’re stood in front of a bunch of people. In reality, I know it’s not that deep, but I just feel like I’m ‘on show,’ an actor on a theatre stage, except one who’s forgotten all their lines. Ember looks over in my direction and flashes me the most reassuring smile. It’s as if she’s communicating an unspoken encouragement. Taking the world’s deepest breath, I prepare for my section. I guess we’re well and truly ripping off that plaster.
◆◆◆
“In our growing virtual environment, we clearly have exposure to a vast amount of content. As we have seen, particularly for children at their impressionable age, media can be highly influential, and I would conclude overall from the evidence discussed that there is huge potential for the use of pro-social messages in the media. Evidently, TV and gaming alike can generate pro-social messages in children that result in pro-social behaviours. I think that room should therefore be made for the implementation of pro-social TV and gaming in a child’s home and school curriculum, in the hopes of bolstering pro-social messages that don’t just contribute to a happier environment, but also a more generous and kinder individual overall.”
The room bursts into a round of applause.
“Well done guys that was brilliant!”, Jordan cheers, “and girls sorry”, he says, giving Ember a salute. “Does anyone have any questions?”
A few hands shoot up in the air. “I really like what you said about the whole concept of pro-social gaming influencing positive behaviours Arthur, but I just wondered if by that argument, you also think that anti-social gaming can lead to negative behaviours in the same way?”, a girl, who I think her name might be Sadie, asked, directing it at all of us.
With a surge of unexpected confidence, I piped up. “There’s been so much research looking into the correlation between violent video games and anti-social behaviour, but most often, it’s been found that the results are just that. A correlation, and as you all probably know, correlation doesn’t mean causation. I think it would be wrong of us to come to that argument because if that were really the case, every single person who had ever played a violent video game in their life, by that logic, should all technically be locked up right now, me included.” This earns me a collective laugh from everyone.
I don’t know what came over me. I was driving myself mad beforehand, but when I started talking, it was like someone else had stepped into my body and did all the cool and collected talking for me. That went so much better than I could have ever expected, and I couldn’t believe I was saying this, but I was so proud of myself. All the hard work had clearly paid off.
I feel a newfound weightlessness as we watch everyone else’s presentations, and weirdly, I even find myself joining in with the Qamp;A and asking my own questions to the other groups.
What was happening?
I’m a few steps out of the door when Jordan quickly calls over, gesturing me to come back inside. “I just wanted to say what an excellent job you did today, Arthur. I could tell you’d put in so much effort and I found myself really interested in what you had to say. Excellent work!” He then awkwardly tries to fist bump me, but I’ll take it. I was on cloud nine.
With a pep in my stride, I head into commons and see Ember waiting there for me, a quizzical look on her face. “You feeling okay?,” she asks.
“Great!,” I beam. “I can’t get over how well that went.”
She looks smug now with her arms crossed, “told you that you’d do well.”
“We did well,” I correct, the smile reaching my eyes.
With the mood I was in, I even wanted to congratulate Caleb, but he’d already long-gone, probably for his next smoking break I assume.
Ember grins, “I definitely think we’ve passed and as we bloody should too!, anyway,” she says, rea-adjusting one of the bags on her shoulder, “I should probably head off, I’ve got another lecture in 2 hours, and I haven’t done the reading oops.”
As if the same person who was using my body as host earlier during the seminar decides to start pulling the strings once again, I put an arm out to stop her. “Did you fancy going for a coffee? Uhm-just to celebrate and say thanks for all your help.”
Her eyes widen like I’d just asked for her hand in marriage. Shit. I instantly regretted asking now.
Contemplation filling her face, she pauses for a moment before finally saying, “well, you don’t have anything to thank me for, that was all you. But, yeah sure, I could do a quick coffee right now.”
I smile. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing, had I just accidentally asked her on a date?
No, no. This was just a celebratory coffee, casual. Stop making it into more than what it is.
“Cool,” I reply. Noticing that she’s still doing a juggling act with all of her bags like some sort of mule, I quickly edge closer to her, “let me take that one.” Gently pulling it off her, I perch the ‘hot girls read’ tote bag over my shoulder with no shame.
“Are you a hot girl who reads?,” she snorts.
Looking down at the new accessory on my shoulder, I laugh. “The hottest.”
Yep, someone was definitely puppeteering me right now.