I give my head an emphatic shake. “No, it’s not. It’s nothing like that. That was fun—well, you know, back then, when we were little.” Do I sound dumb? I wonder. Yeah, I sound dumb. But I’m smart enough to hold in what I really want to say to him: Those were some of my favorite days.
“Speech is exactly that.” Sam picks up a script and pages through it. “Why do you think I do it? People hand me awards for doing what little kids do every day.”
“You don’t get scared?”
“Well, sure.” He shrugs and I’m certain he’s never felt the fear I have. “But you just use that as fuel.”
“You’re not afraid someone will laugh at you?”
He gives me a look. “I’m hoping they will.”
I laugh, because clearly that’s what he wants right then.
“My problem is I want to do everything. I drove my coach crazy last
