Some of you may remember that in January of 2024 (and then in February when it was rescheduled due to the weather) I booked my very first speaking engagement as an author. When I was asked to give a presentation about writing to a bunch of 7 and 8-year-olds I was both nervous and excited. I started to wonder, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Presenting to elementary schoolers is certainly not for the weak, but I survived. And more importantly, I had a lot of fun. I even used the experience to book another speaking engagement. But still, that dark thought remained. What was the worst that could happen?
~ ~ ~
Ryan gave himself a hard stare in the mirror, adjusting his tie as he did so.
“You got this,” he said, and raised a finger to point at his reflection. “You. Have. Got this. Little shits won’t know what hit them.”
Dusting imaginary fluff off of his jacket, he stepped out of the bathroom and into the dingy hall of the school. Dust and stray papers littered the floor; a problem for the janitor at the end of the day.
“Mr. Perry,” said the teacher, smiling too big as she locked eyes with him. Whisps of grey hair tumbled out of her bun and over her lined face. Mrs.… Something he couldn’t remember. He had more important things to worry about.
“The children are waiting,” she said.
“I’m all set up,” he said confidently. Too confidently. The smile he offered back was shaky and crooked.
Damn it, no! He was not going to let those brats get to him. He forced his lips open to show off a big toothy grin. He hoped it made him look more confident, but the teacher’s brow furrowed even though her comically large smile remained.
“Good,” she said, leading him back towards the auditorium. “The children have been looking forward to this.”
A lie, and they both knew it. The students at Amberwood Elementary were notorious. No one – not even the charities – wanted to associate themselves with the school. If you gave a presentation during the assembly, led a fundraising event, or planned a community activity, it was almost guaranteed to end in disaster. Popular children’s television host Barry the Clown was never heard from again after his ill-fated performance at the school, and all his shows were promptly taken off the air.
But, for the lucky few who succeeded in capturing the attention of the… fastidious students… Well, the results spoke for themselves.
When the local children’s hospital planned a sports day fundraiser with enough variety of activities to keep all the kids engaged, not only did they raise the money they needed to build their new oncology wing, but they raised enough to pay the salary of the head oncologist poached from a reputable European hospital. When Dorothy Matthews did a live reading of “The Fish Who Could Walk,” her picture book topped the New York Times Bestseller list for months before she landed a TV and merchandise deal.
Ryan Perry was determined to become the next Dorothy Matthews. The reward was worth the risk, and he was not going to let a bunch of snot-nosed terrors stand in his way.
“Good morning, Amberwood Elementary!” he announced triumphantly as he jumped onto the stage. His voice echoed throughout the silent auditorium and he had to squint into the bright stage lights to see if there were any children in the room at all. A sea of tiny faces with beady eyes starred back at him through the shadows.
“How is everyone today?” he asked exuberantly, trying to get some sort of a reaction out of those blank faces.
A sound to his left caught his attention. He turned and saw the teacher, Mrs. What’s-her-face, motioning for him to get to the point. The big smile on her lips was still there, but her eyes were filled with fear.
“Right. Well, I am Ryan Perry. You may have heard of me on the news recently as I just published my tenth children’s book: Pookie and the Barbarian. It is a classic tale about–”
The teacher cleared her throat from the wings. Without looking at her, Ryan nodded. Get to the point.
He opened his mouth to speak, but found his eyes squinting back out into the auditorium. The children seemed closer to the stage now. This was a good sign; they were engaged.
“Let’s just get to the story, shall we?”
Swallowing hard, Ryan opened up the picture book and began to read.
“Pookie was a little toad who sailed the shining sea. On land, he travelled all the roads to see what he could see.”
There was a shuffling noise somewhere in the auditorium, and Ryan pulled his attention away from the page to look at the teacher. She was gone. With a shrug, he turned back to face the students and saw that they were even closer. The stage lights illuminated a few waxy faces, chins sparkling with drool.
“Then one day he met a man who claimed to be so tough. The man smashed everything in sight. It never was enough!”
With a big smile, Ryan looked up at the children again, but his smile quickly faded when he spotted the little fingers gripping the edges of the stage. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow.
“Wow, you folks keep it hot in here,” he mumbled before clearing his throat. “This s-strange strange man was… so… so…”
His eyes were transfixed on the little face before him. The child was no more than eight and had pulled themselves up onto the stage. He heard it panting from the exertions and its little mouth opened to reveal a toothy grin. And those teeth… Those teeth. They were thin and needle-like, all laced together like in the mouth of an angler fish.
Ryan struggled to get the words to come. “Y-you… You…” He gulped. “You don’t like the story, do you?”
With a shriek of agreement, the toothy child unhinged its jaw and ran at Ryan while all the other hungry children swarmed the stage.
