I’m not much of a talker.

Curly brown hair, hazel eyes like my mom, tall like my dad.

Josiah Pierre Thompkins,  everyone calls me Joey.

Being 5’9 makes it hard to blend in, so I clutch my notebook to my chest and crank my iPod volume up loud.

I only hang with two other guys, David and Brice. We’ve known each other since 3rd grade.

David, tall as me but athletic, girls fawn over him, but me and Brice are the only ones who know his secret.

Brice, shorter than the both of us, standing at a mere 5’3. Crew cut black hair, freckles that have dotted his cheeks all his life. Video game aficionado.

The three amigos as my mom likes to call us.

David the athlete, Brice the gamer, and me, the writer.

I can write for days, from poetry to short stories. My notebook is full.

I’ve never presented my writings. I hate public speaking with a passion.

David and Brice always want me to present my writings. My mom and dad too.

They say, “Joey, you are too talented to not share your stories.”

So when I saw a flyer for an upcoming showcase, I pondered the idea for a moment.

The last time I spoke in front of an audience, I wet my pants.

Granted, I was 6 years old, but the memory is still there.

The day of the showcase, I finally got around to telling David and Brice.

They were ecstatic about it. I knew they would want me to participate.

Later that night I signed up. I would be the fifth person to present.

The people ahead of me were really talented.

I was more than a little intimidated.

Would the audience like me?

When it was my turn, I stepped up to the microphone.