"So guys,"

All heads turn to Prof. Evans as she rubs her palms together. "I've got something interesting to do, today. A simple assignment." Pausing, her eyes wander around the class, giving us an opening to wonder what the task might be, "Who's excited?"

One, two and then a few hands go up. Feigning bewilderment, she utters, "Just a few?" Real quick she replaces the shock with fake annoyance, waving a hand in front of her face, "Liars. I know you're all excited." That earns her a low, feeble chuckle from me, surprising myself.

Snapping her fingers in a swift movement, she sits on her chair, "Anyway, let's get to business. Here's what we're going to do. You'll come here according to your turn," she points to the floor beside her, "..and I'll throw you a word and you'll say the first three words that come to your mind when you hear it. Get it?"

Thud.

"Old game. What a shame." A boy, tanned, his hair ruffled in a weird way, a newbie I assume, comments from the back bench. Many giggle and snicker. Prof. Evans seems least amused. Once the laughter dies, she puts on a sly grin, "Oh yeah? Seems like you're experienced. So why don't you start and show the rest of us how it works?"

I bet the boy regrets his words now. Anyone knows better than to mess with our professor. He must have known that by now. Too late, though. "Come on." Prof. Evans gestures him to the spot. Reluctantly, he gets up and walks to the front. He must be terrified. It's only when we're alone, with no crowd to back us, we know how brave we truly are.

"Okay. Your word: Shell."

"Shell?" The boy's eyes go wide, perhaps not foreseeing the difficulty of the task. Quickly regaining his composure, he blurts out the first word that comes to his mind, "Uh.. Hard." Gaining confidence, he stops to think, but probably stuck, he repeats, "..Hard. Hard."

The scene, so hilarious and his voice faltering towards the end jerks the room into fits of laughter. This is where I say, 'I know I shouldn't smile because I can't imagine how embarrassing it'd be to a laughing stock in front of a crowd, but I can't help it.' I bite my upper lip to stop myself from breaking into one, but to no vain. Even Prof. Evans cracks a smile.

Shaking her head, she sends him back to his seat, "Go." I think I hear him murmur a soft apology, but no one seems to notice, too engrossed in the task with the excellent start the boy's given us.

Thud.

The game rolling on, we come across a variety of words, from pens and pencils to oceans and seas.

Thud.

Thud.

The pounding against my chest picks up it's pace with each student down, taking me a step closer to being out there in the spotlight. What adds to my turmoil is how most of them perform the task confidently, even Charlie, the guy whom I briefly ran into, a few days back.

Never a fan of public speaking and the wait sinking my heart further into the pit of my stomach, my turn arrives and I stand in front, awaiting the word I'm about to get.

Think quick. Say it. Escape.

That's my strategy and guess what happens to it the moment I hear the word? Out with the wind.

"Wood."

Thud.

"Um.." I try to blink away the fear that's clinging onto me and focus on the word I got. Too much tension blocks the straight functioning of a person's mind and that's exactly what happens.

Thud.

Taking a sharp intake of air, I try to wack my empty brain for words that's go with.. what's the word again? Wo- Yeah, wood.

Any words. Just three. I keep telling myself. I almost lose hope and close my eyes, preparing myself to fail the task. I become calm, the thudding inside slowing down exactly how it does when you reach the state of giving up.

When I peer my eyes open, I'm struck with the things in front of me.

"Bench. Desk. Chair." The words roll off my mouth.

"Finally!" A girl in the front row, Carol, slaps a hand to her face, exasperated as if waiting for ages to see me finish my round.

Slightly embarrassed, but all the more thankful and happy to have survived the battle, I return to my seat. Linda, sitting right in front of me, turns around to beam at me, "Good job."

That's when I really notice her, like really really notice at her. The sincerity in her eyes pushes me to give her a weak smile. Maybe she is genuine after all, but that's when I realise how easy it is to push away the fake, but hard to, the sincere.

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