The other contestants look as stricken as I feel, but the eighth-grade girl quickly shakes it off, and confidence returns to her face. She glides over to the microphone. “My speech on feminism is important and deserves to win because my mother was told to reach for the stars and that she could be anything she wanted to be—and yet I watch her constantly battling between motherhood and career. We’ve come a long way since her mother’s time, but we still have much more work to do.” I gulp. I see my mother’s eyes rapt on her. And I see what must be her own mother wiping a tear from her eye.

“Milla Bloom,” Rabbi Adler calls, summoning me back to the podium. I walk with leaden legs. There is a ringing in my ears.

“Um,” I say, my voice sounding eerie now in the microphone. “Well—” I take a step back as the microphone screeches and everyone winces. I try to adjust myself to where I was before when I said my speech. Why do I think my speech deserves to win? Because it made people laugh. Because I worked hard on it. Because then I’ll be a somebody for once. I mean, I know it’s good—I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I know the audience liked it—I could hear them genuinely laughing and genuinely listening. I take a deep breath and hold the microphone.

“I think my speech deserves to win because it was funny. And, well, people never realized before how much they tell other people about themselves from such a small act as the way they peel an orange.”

This time there is awkward silence from the audience. I trudge back to my seat. I avoid looking at my mother.

After everyone has their turn, the judges, who are sitting at a folding table at the front of the audience, confer. They huddle together whispering, looking at their notes while Rabbi Adler leads the audience in a Jewish song. I feel like something sticky is on my skin. Orange juice that has dried.

Finally, one of the judges signals Rabbi Adler, and he shushes everyone again so he can announce the results.

“We had some very strong speeches this year … and some unusual ones.” He smiles. I shift in my seat and try to keep my expression neutral even though it’s obvious he’s talking about mine. Why did I ever think I had a chance?

“It is my honor to award Samuel Mizrahi third place for ‘Why Does Racism Still Exist?’ An excellent question and one he did a wonderful job exploring. Well done, Samuel. Please come up to receive your award.”

I mold my mouth into a smile as the boy with the tie now flashes us a huge grin and struts to Rabbi Adler. My face feels cold. I can’t believe that somewhere deep in my heart I actually thought for a minute when I finished my speech that I had a chance at third.