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Back The Infinite Noise Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

My dad does one more twirl, his eyes twinkling, and I’m reminded of all the ways that he and my mom used to make learning fun when I was a kid. I feel my smile get bigger and a knot in me loosens.

“It’s good to see you laugh, Adam,” he says, smiling warmly at me.

I know he doesn’t mean it as a jab—I know he’s just happy that I’m happy—but I’m suddenly self-conscious of my own joy. Oh, right, this is what this feels like. Why is this usually so hard for me to get to?

My smile cracks just a little and I feel the water start to wash over me again, pressing me down. I watch the small collapse reflected in my dad’s eyes.

9

CALEB

I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this—

“Mr. Michaels?”

Mr. Collins’s voice snaps me out of my hamster-wheel brain and I look over to his desk to see him giving me a pleading look, like his eyes are telling me, Just say something, kid, you’re making an ass of yourself. Because right now I’m standing up at the front of the class, silent, my sweaty palms making the ink smudge on the papers in my hands.

Oral presentations are not a strength of mine. I’m nervous already—I don’t like public speaking of any kind—but everyone is giving their presentations today so everyone is nervous. And now I have Mr. Collins feeling nervous for me, which is a whole weird different thing than just feeling someone else’s emotions. Feeling when someone else is anxious is one thing, but when they feel that way on my behalf, it’s like I get stuck in this weird feedback loop where I’m nervous and then I’m nervous that I’m nervous and then I get self-conscious about being nervous and that makes me more nervous and … well.

I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this—

“Shakespeare’s Macbeth is a grim contemplation of fate versus free will—”

I’m reading on autopilot and my voice is shaky. It makes me feel so small and stupid. My hands are trembling and my mouth is so dry and I hope the sound that’s coming out is coherent because I’m pretty sure I’m blacking out from the stress.

My body feels like it’s filled with bees. Bees that are moving through the molasses in my veins and using the sludge to build a hive in my stomach. At any moment, I’m going to move my mouth to form the word “Banquo” and a whole swarm is going to come pouring out instead, attacking the class and earning me an F.