Page 27 of The Chemistry Test

Penny

On my way home from Biochemistry with Amy, we get handed three separate flyers as we walk past the library, all about various societies.

She reads them aloud as we approach the recycling bin outside our block.

‘Pole fitness,’ she says, discarding it.

‘Musical theatre?’ she says, hand hovering over the bin.

‘Nope.’

‘And TEDx.’ She wrinkles her nose.

‘Wait,’ I say, snatching it from her just as she lets go, CJ’s words still ringing in my ears.

I sneered at him when he suggested it, but when I got back that day, I kept noticing how often I’d check both my Instagram and CTY inboxes, hoping there was someone who needed me.

Someone who wanted to hear what I had to say.

And I realised that if I could just get past the scariness of speaking in public, I might actually like the TEDx Society after all. Which would mean that CJ, who’s known me for less than a semester, might have known me better than I knew myself in that moment all along.

Amy looks at me expectantly.

‘I just want to check something,’ I say.

And that’s how I find myself here, outside a lecture theatre at eight in the evening on a Wednesday.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about it since we’re a few weeks into the semester already, but I know I can leave at any point if I want to.

People don’t tend to question it when someone in a wheelchair leaves early, especially when you really do feel sick all the time anyway.

There’s no one else in the hallway, so I roll up to the room and look in through the thin glass panels in the middle of the door.

There’s a big-ish group inside already even though I’m a few minutes early.

I feel even more like an outsider now. Until I notice a boy in a sherpa-lined denim jacket behind me.

‘Here for TEDx Society?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I haven’t been before.’ I can’t tell if he’s a regular or if he’s here because of the flyers too.

‘You’re at the right place.’ He smiles, opening the door and answering my question.

The lecture theatre is much smaller than the ones my actual lectures are held in, and instead of steps leading up to each row of seats, the desks and chairs are all set on a gradual slope.

People are sitting on the long tables like benches, with half of them facing the front and half facing the back so they can all talk together.

Several stacks of paper are scattered on the table in between the two occupied rows.

‘The flyers worked!’ one of them shouts, waving me over.

I introduce myself as I wave back, steering myself over to the tables.

And then I’m met with one of my least favourite decisions.

To stand or not to stand. If I’d thought this through properly, I would’ve at least put on my knee brace or brought my walking stick, so it doesn’t look quite so odd – standing up from a wheelchair with no obvious signs of illness or injury.

I even consider staying in my chair just to avoid the awkwardness of it, but then I remember where I am – a place for people to speak, listen and learn.

So, I take a quick breath, put on my brakes, and take the first step.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I hop on to the table, and I wish I knew what they were thinking. Surely, at least some of them must know some wheelchair users can walk? I mean, if not, I guess they do now.

The girl next to me scoots along so there’s not as big of a gap between us and since it’s still relatively quiet, I consider explaining the whole ambulatory wheelchair situation, but I don’t think I need to.

And before I can overthink it, the guy who met me outside sits next to me at the end, introduces himself (‘Elias – you won’t confuse it with Ellis, will you?

’), and starts explaining what I’ve missed.

Which honestly, doesn’t sound like a whole lot.

He fades out mid-sentence when a girl in a blush-pink blazer slips off the desk and strides up to the front.

The row opposite swivels around to face her, so I have to sit up as high as I can to see over them.

‘Hi, everyone. I’m Fiona, and I’m the president of TEDx this year. It’s either lovely to meet you or lovely to see you again,’ she says, smiling at the people who wave to her. ‘I’m just going to explain what the TEDx Society’s all about and then we’ll get straight into tonight’s talk.

‘So, TED talks are all about the notion that “Ideas Change Everything” and our society aims to show exactly that. The “x” in “TEDx” just means we’re an independently run society that holds local, independent events, designed to spark innovation and inspiration.

We really hope you enjoy being a part of it,’ she says, before introducing the guest speakers and stepping aside.

Two men take their places, as the front cover of a book flashes on to the screen. It has a navy cover that reads The Key to Success: You’ve Had It All Along in blocky white letters.

‘The world isn’t always fair. That’s a fact that not many people would dispute,’ says the older of the two men as he steps forward. And it takes me a second to realise that this, itself, is an independent TED talk and not anything about how to give speeches ourselves like I expected.

The man carries on. ‘And what makes it that way is that everyone’s born into different circumstances, with different strengths.

’ He’s using all the space he has, stepping back and forth to emphasise and introduce new sections of the speech, as though we’re walking through it with him.

‘But we also all have an edge, of one kind or another, which can help us become successful,’ he says, slowing down and lowering his voice.

‘As long as we can correctly identify and utilise it.’

The other guy steps forward then. ‘These edges can be things like wealth, status and intelligence. But they can also be found in more unexpected places.’ He’s walking less than the first guy but gesturing a lot more.

‘Take someone who doesn’t have much money, for example.

’ He pulls out his empty pockets. ‘People who don’t have much money are likely to be more innovative and creative than someone who does.

Simply because necessity is the mother of invention ,’ he says, quoting the famous proverb.

‘And that gives them an edge that not everyone will have, that can be used to succeed.’

I sit up in my seat, taking it all in as they continue the speech together, taking turns to explain how everyone, even those who may seem to be disadvantaged, actually has some kind of an edge that can greatly benefit them – if they know how.

And while I don’t believe all ‘edges’ are equal, what they’re saying makes a lot of sense.

They’re talking more softly now they have our full attention, and the more they speak, the more it makes me think about my own edges and how I can use them to fuel my own success.

In fact, I’m so wrapped up in that thought, that when the talk finishes and I’m handed a sheet to apply for the big TEDx event this winter, I actually consider it.

The theme is Health and Well-being, and as I read through some of the questions – which mostly ask what ideas we have that could ‘change everything’ – a few answers instantly come to mind.

It also asks for my social channels, and I realise that as crap as it is, my condition has probably given me an edge here too.

I silently thank my younger self for starting my Instagram page when I did – it now has over thirty thousand followers, showing that I not only have a voice, but I know how to use it. Surely that’s got to count for something?

The mental image of CJ’s face after I scoffed at him for having such an absurd idea in Genetics bursts into my head again. So unbothered, almost amused, like he knew he was right and was just waiting for the Penny to drop.

And now, here I am, contemplating how I have always wanted to share my story and what I’ve learned.

And it’s not just been some hopeless, unattainable dream either.

I’ve already been dipping my toe in – mainly online, but also with the pep talks I seem to give everyone in real life too.

Like to Beth in Genetics and to CJ himself on various occasions now I come to think of it.

Huh. Maybe I need to listen to him more often.

I tear my eyes from my paper and look around. I’m definitely not the only one feeling inspired, although I guess we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t already have a craving for this sort of thing. The speech just spurred us on even more.

Now it’s over, pens are being whipped out of pencil cases left, right and centre and everyone seems to be buzzing with an energy they didn’t have before.

‘I told you things would start getting interesting soon,’ Elias chortles, gesturing around the room, which is literally humming with ideas.

He watches me jot down my social media handles and smiles, making his forehead wrinkle and bringing down his hairline a few notches. First session in, and I’m well and truly sold on it all.

Since we’re heading in the same direction, I put the sheet on my lap and we walk together, discussing the questions as we go. ‘Meet you here next week?’ he asks, as we reach the library, where our paths split. And I can’t wait.