One.

The buzzer sounds, it's loud, deep, and ominous. "Sorry, the correct spelling was Q-U-I-C-H-E, quiche. NEXT PLEASE!" I stand up out of my plastic chair, and watch the boy in front of me walk off stage after he failed to spell a word that should be simple for anyone who is participating in a high school spelling bee.

As he walks off stage right he disappears into darkness; I begin to make my way on stage. I plant one foot after another against the shiny, hard-wood floor of the dimly-lit stage.

When I reach the top of the steps, I fiddle with my hands, circling my thumbs around each other. I turn towards the stage and push my hair behind my ears; I hate when it gets in my face. I take a deep breath and then walk forward.

I make it to the middle of the stage and turn towards the audience. I straighten my skirt, adjust the buttons on my blouse, pat down my hair, take another deep breath and clutch my hands together. Squeezing tightly, I walk towards the podium, I slide my hands over the wooden top that reaches about the bottom of my rib cage. The spotlight is bright and I can barely make out the massive crowd that stands in front of me, almost as if I'm talking into an alley way. I push my hair over my ear, ignoring the light, then look towards the instructor, waiting for my directions. "Your word is Hero."

I take a deep breath, this word is easy, too easy, I got this. I adjust the microphone that hangs out of the podium and begin to speak into the microphone.

"Hero, J-" Wait, no that's wrong.

"I-" NO, WHAT AM I DOING? STOP!

"R-R-" I know how to spell it. Why am I struggling now?

"O-H." No no no no no.

I hear the buzzer sound and I'm in shock. I can't move a muscle. My heart has sunk to the bottom of my chest. My arms and legs are lead, dragging me closer to earth.

How could I have made such a huge mistake? The whole rest of the stage darkens, and the spotlight dims. The audience begins to become visible as the light moves out of my eyes. And the lights that hang on the walls in the audience begin to brighten.

The rows and rows of people move like a towel that's been hung up to dry in the wind. Like the ocean in a storm. They stand up one row after an other with such precision it is as if it had been coordinated weeks in advance.

Their booing grows louder and louder and louder, the waves crash against the rocks causing a deep rumbling it shakes almost rivaling the strongest earthquake. Their words grab at me tugging and pulling and pushing. How can I be so stupid?

I back away stepping down from the podium, my mouth gaping, hands at my sides. It feels like I'm wading through thick mud. Every step is harder than the last. I'm sinking into the ground and I lose my sense of direction.

The room is pitch black but their voices are so much louder know, like a high pitch screeching that rings on and through every bone in my body, every inch of my skin. I lift my hands to cover my ears, it's like lifting the weight of the world, the pain of a simple movement is almost unbearable, but I'm able to reach up to cover my ears and block out the sound.

There is a sudden shift as their voices change. The screeching has become quiet.

And the voices now chant my name, "ROSE." I'm sorry.

"COME ON ROSE." It wasn't me, a loud pounding now accompanies the voices that speak my name. "ROSE." I didn't know what I was doing.

"ROSE, WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE." What? There is a large series of pounding and my head pops of my pillow, my blanket is thrown off my body as I sit up. My hair is all over my face and I have multiple strands of slobbered-on hair stuck to my face. I hear another set of loud knocks on the door and I can hear my mom yelling at me. "COME ON ROSE. GET UP!"

"I'M UP! I'M UP!" I push my hair out of my face and turn to my bedside counter and look at my clock which is making a horrible screeching noise. I slam the snooze with my fist and get it to shut up. I look at the time and it's six o'clock, as usual my mom decides to wake me up way before school starts, and way before I even need to worry about getting ready.

I wipe the crust from my eyes and I push my blanket to the floor, adding to the piles of clothes, books, and various failed pieces of art. My walls are littered with falling posters of various musical groups, bands, movies, along with college and sports teams flags. I never took much interest in sports, but I love how colorful they are.

I swing my feet off and over the right edge of my bed. I sit up and stare at my sliding mirror closet which is propped open by an old pair of jeans, and covered in old stickers and flyers.

I stretch my arms out wide, pulling back on my shoulders. I bend the back until my hands touch. I grip tightly and push up, once again stretching my shoulders. I roll my neck around a few times then release my grip and push myself off my bed.

I step into a pink skirt that I haven't worn since I was in elementary and lose my balance. I begin to fall to the ground but luckily I have enough time to grab onto the window curtain that sits to the right of my bed. I lean over to pick the skirt off of the ground but end up losing my balance once again, falling to the floor and taking the curtain, and its rod with me.

The rod falls my way and hits me right in the center of my forehead , knocking my head back and causing a throbbing pain. "OOWWWWWW!"

The curtain lays on top of my face and I lay still on my clothing-littered floor. My hands lay still at my side and what I think is a pair of jeans is holding my back up.

I can hear my mom yelling from the kitchen, "ROSE? ARE YOU OKAY?"

And I respond with a muffled yet very sarcastic "Im JUST PEACHY!"

"Hold on sweetie I'll be right there," her voice is closer now.

"Alright, I'll be here, waiting, dying, slowly, painfully, agonizingly. I could not survive the great war against the curtain holder upper thingy," I thrust my arms in the air dramatically, reciting Shakespeare, "Just tell my wife and kids I love them."

I hear my mom opening the door and walking in, and I can hear the rustling as she shuffles through the heaps of clothes on the floor.

"Stop, being so dramatic." She takes the curtain off my face and sets it on my bed. She is clearly annoyed, her hazel eyes are narrowed as she looks down on me with the disappointment of (having) a childish 15 year old daughter, and her dark hair is tied back so tightly it pulls her pale forehead up removing it of the usual wrinkles.

"Honestly Rose, you're not even hurt," she sticks out her arm to help me up, but I keep my arms to my side.

"I am too, Marsha! Look, I'm dead see? Blegh!" I close my eyes then tilt my head while sticking my tongue out.

She grabs my arms and tries to pull me up, "GET UP!" She lifts my torso off the ground and I tilt my head back.

"I'm dead, Mother. I can't hear you."

She lifts me higher then lets go of my arms dropping me. I fall to the floor and the back of my head slams against the coffee stained carpet.

"We don't have time for this!"

I sit up with my legs crossed and rub the back of my head, "It's six a.m. We have plenty of time."

"No, today is the time change, it's seven a.m."

I shoot onto my feet. "WELL, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" I quickly snatch up the jeans that were holding my back up and a grey t-shirt that lays next to it. I start sprinting out of my room and towards the bathroom to get ready.

My mother's voice is behind me know as I open the bathroom door.

"You were 'dead'." Her voice is annoyed and she makes those quote things, with her finger things.