But instead of feeling embarrassed, Alex started to laugh too. It was absurd, really – the situation, the morning, the entire day. He realized that he was never going to be the most coordinated or the most confident person. But he could learn to laugh at himself.
The video player opened. A black screen. Then, a frozen frame of your own face, pixelated and mid-blink.
The invitation said “pool party,” so Marcus showed up in neon swim trunks and flip-flops. The backyard, however, held a kiddie pool—the hard plastic kind with a fading cartoon fish on the bottom. Three inches of tepid water. A single floating Band-Aid.
There was no sound—codecs were missing—but the video played in slow, stuttering frames. You watched yourself lean forward. You watched the interviewer lean back. You saw your mouth open, a dark, cavernous hole of anxiety, moving rhythmically. awkward. torrent
You looked terrified. Your suit jacket was bunched up on one side. You looked like a child wearing a parent’s clothes.
Jake chuckled. "Well, at least you're consistent. I'm starting to think you're allergic to coordination or something."
He stumbled through the rest of the morning, tripping over his own feet, knocking over a chair, and spilling his backpack contents all over the floor. It was like he was trapped in some kind of bizarre, never-ending nightmare. But instead of feeling embarrassed, Alex started to
Alex shook his head, feeling a mix of relief and mortification. "I don't know, man. I just can't seem to get anything right today."
You had to know. It was a masochistic itch. You needed to see the exact moment your voice cracked when they asked about your greatest weakness, and you said, "perfectionism," but then tried to backpedal because you knew it was a cliché, resulting in a sentence that lasted forty-five seconds and ended with you whispering, "spiders."
And then, in the corner of the frozen video feed, you saw a chat window overlay. The user who had initially seeded the file. But he could learn to laugh at himself
As the day went on, Alex found himself embracing his awkwardness. He tripped over his own feet? Who cares? He spilled his lunch? It was just a funny story to tell later.
It was a typical Monday morning for 17-year-old Alex. He woke up late, feeling groggy and disoriented. As he stumbled out of bed, his feet got tangled in the mess of clothes and backpack straps that seemed to have multiplied overnight. He cursed under his breath, trying to shake off the remnants of a poor night's sleep.
As Alex began to mop up the mess, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of embarrassment. It was as if the universe had conspired against him to make this morning as awkward as possible.
You stared at the screen. The progress bar was still red. Stalled. But your name wasn't in the peer list. You were invisible. You were safe.