Perfect. A word that held humongous meanings and synonyms. Something that we all tend to achieve, somehow. May it be in the field of career, job, or simply life. We keep hustling tirelessly to achieve perfection, in our flaws. People fail to look above their imperfections and flaws, and solely accept who they really are. 

I was no exception.

"Maya, hurry up! You're going to be late for school!" My mom's voice echoed around the house.

"Just a second Mom I'm trying to tie my necktie. I'll be there in five" I assured.

"Okay, but you better get down here quick, your dad wants to head out early for work." 

"Got it." I lightly shook my head, a sly smile escaping.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, watching my perfectly ironed uniform, perfectly hugging my curves in all the right places. That still somehow managed to make me feel hideous. I was never one who would feel proud of its own body or exterior appearance. I was never comfortable in my own body and hated almost everything about me which, maybe, made me anomalistic.

I wore a plain white shirt with a red check skirt and a tie with a white blazer. 

How I hated wearing a blazer during the summer!

"Maya hurry up!" Mom called me again as her tone grew impatient.

"Yeah, I'm coming, Mom."

I fetched my bag and sprinted down the stairs to join my mom and dad. 

"You look, lovely sweetie!" My mom chirped beside me with a bright smile on her face.

Okay. I knew that glossy smile. I bet she either wanted me to do something, or she already had agreed on something for me to do without any of my say in it. I couldn’t say I would be surprised if that was the case.

I playfully raised my eyebrows at her. She knew I knew her too well for all above her sugar-coated words.

"Professor Adams was amused after reading your essay last semester. He kept praising you for hours!" Mom's voice dripped with exhilaration.

She could sometimes exaggerate when she was too happy.

"Oh! Did he?" I asked with a nonchalant tone, while my eyes kept hopping between cereals and cornflakes, deliberating the choice for breakfast.

"Don't be such a buzzkill, Maya," she remarked, furrowing her brows in annoyance.

I stared at her in amazement. Where even in the world did she learn slang? She watched too many Youtube videos and meme clubs. I made a mental note to exit all the meme groups from her Facebook account.

"What? I'm a cool mom. I have to keep up with the modern generation. It's a trendy word!" She justified herself.

"Whatever you say, mom." I shook my head, letting out a soft chuckle.

"As I was saying, Professor Adams said that it would look very good on your college resume if you take part in the inter-school speech competition on behalf of your high school." 

I stared at her for a few moments before I tried to phrase a few coherent words out of my mouth.

"You're saying that I should take part in the inter-school speech competition with students from high school all over from the state, giving a speech on-stage? Yeah, right!" I scoffed, blocking out the idea from my mind. Public speech was never my thing.

"Come on sweetie, it is a great platform for you to show the world how creative you are. The way you see things are from a whole different perspective. We all know it and such talents are rare and so you shouldn't pass on the opportunity." Her voice softened by the end.

"Your mom is right. Your talent must not be forbidden only to the school. It must also be appreciated by the world, who can teach you through the process of constructing a better version of yourself each time. " Dad voiced out his opinion, clearly siding with mom.

My dad was always the ultimate advisor for me. His advice had always been words engraved in stone because he could see right through me, and always be right with his advice which benefited me every time. I listened to him because, well, I was a Dad's princess. Not the spoiled one though. He never allowed me to reach that point because he was pretty strict at places where he really should be. But, he loved me dearly, as much as he loved mom and I loved him the most as well. More than my mom. But, not always. Not at times like this.

"I'm not doing it. Dad, you know I don't do such stuff. They are not my forte. If you tell me to write an essay I can give you 30 pages without complaining, but not this!" I frowned.

"But..." My mom started to speak, but I cut her off.

"Please, I never say no to you guys. I do everything you guys ask me to, but please don't make me do this." I begged with pleading eyes, which made my mom's vision soften a bit.

"Fine." My mom reluctantly gave in, not elated with my refusal. "But you better tell this to professor Adams yourself."

"Done." I chirped and planted a kiss on her cheeks.

"You act strange sometimes. God knows what goes through your head." Dad blurted.

Though I loved my parents, I didn't confide in them. I never opened up about my weaknesses, stagefright being one of them. During first grade, I prepared a poem that I was supposed to recite in front of my class. I remember that day as clear as a crystal. I was super excited about it. When it was my time to recite the poem, I trudged to the front of the classroom while trying to control my sweaty hands that kept trembling. I inhaled a deep breath and began narrating it as gracefully as I could.

By the time I was done, the entire class, which could never be generalized under the obedient and quiet ones, shifted into a pin drop silence. The teacher asked the students to share their thoughts on my poem, wiping off the sweat from her forehead, followed by a peal of nervous, sympathetic laughter. A boy stood up and sneered that he didn't understand anything as my English wasn't proper. He also contended that my voice sounded like a cartoon character's voice. 

The whole class laughed at it. I was mortified, frozen at the spot, unable to argue back. I was soaked with cruel laughter and all I could do was turn as red as a beetroot. I ran out of the class as fast as I could, trying to leave the incident behind. It was an utter humiliation.

The embarrassment was enough for a lifetime. I was bullied for many weeks. That was the last time I ever spoke confidently in front of people. But that didn't mean I gave up like a quitter. I tried taking part in debate and drama clubs but the constant rejections tore my confidence apart. When I tried doing it, the memory would tootle up in my mind, and I would forget the things I was supposed to speak. I was determined to never take part in anything that involved speaking in front of an audience.

"Don't worry dad, it's nothing. I just don't feel like doing it. Come on, Let's go. We'd be late otherwise. We don’t want that now, do we?"

He nodded his head, making sure not to push me forward. He stood up and plucked the car keys from the key holder.

"Alright. Let's go. We don't want you to get detention on your first day of senior year."

Senior year. The last year. End of high school. Let's just get this over with. The sooner, the better. Senior year, here I come.

"Let's do this." I faked a forced smile and left the house with him, completely unaware of what life had in store for me next.

Hey guys, this is my first time here so I really hope you guys like it.
And pardon me if I make any grammatical mistakes.
Do let me know if you find one and let me know how you liked it.
I'll release the next part real soon.

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