My feet trudge up the cracked side walk, my arms around my aching stomach. My fellow nine-year-old classmates’ joyful cries pierce my head, making me want to run away.  I wonder if I would get any relief, and my wish is answered with a cold blast of air conditioning from the church. But soon I’m worse, with warm, squirming bodies smashed into a pew with me.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks, the first to notice something is wrong.

“Umm, I don’t know,” I hesitantly respond.

“Okay class,” Ms. Gamm, my fourth grade teacher, says, “turn to page 674 in your song books.” Everyone grabs the books, laughing and racing each other to the page number. I slowly grab my book, wanting to leave or lie down. Luke leans over again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Well, I feel like I’m going to throw up,” I finally confess, some stress rolling of me.
“Really? You should tell Ms. Gamm,” He whispers as we start to sing.
“No, I think I can keep it down.”

“Well, just don’t do it on me,” He says as he joins in with everyone else. I try to follow along, but I keep swallowing my spit every few second, trying to think of something else besides my stomach. I close my eyes and try to embrace the momentarily relief, but my head and stomach continue to scream at me.

“You should go and tell Ms. Gamm,” Luke repeats, sounding worried .

“Its okay. I’ll tell her after we leave.” But I don’t feel like I can make it that long, I secretly add.

“Okay,” Luke responds.

Patrick says something funny after the songs ends, and I try to laugh, which makes me feel even worse.

“Okay class, we are going to put our books away and SILENTLY leave,” Ms Gamm says. We all stand up and shuffle out. I grab onto each pew, my legs and arms shaking. My stomach screams in protest with each step, making me want to puke right there. I step through the clear glass doors of the church and try to breathe in the cold, clean outside air. I slowly walk down the sidewalk, and I hope that I can at least make it to a trashcan. Mt stomach starts to fell even worse and I try to convince myself that I am fine, but I can’t stop the inevitable. I rush forward, trying to next to the dirt and rosebushes. I lean forward, and my stomach empties its contents. The puke flies out of my mouth, splashing on the ground. My stomach starts to feel better, but my throat is searing with the acid.

Luke and Johannes start running, screaming “XAVIER THREW UP!”

“Great.” I think to myself.

As Ms. Gamm walks me to the office, I think of how if I had said something to my teacher, I would have avoided throwing up in front of all my classmates. I could have also listened to my friends and trusted Luke when he gave me advice. Now I know to listen to my friends and not to be afraid to talk to my teacher when I am in an emergency.