Second

 “Emily Diaz, second place!” The girl walks up to the front, she smiled. The scent of ungrateful satisfaction hungs into the air. Eyes glared towards her, as a strange mix of spoiled sweetness and acrid resentment lingered the room. It curls into the air like thick smoke, suffocating every corner and every person present. The walls seemed to close in, pushed down by the weight of unmet expectations. The room no longer smelled sweet and fresh like strawberry, but rather it was a heavy stifling odor of someone who had consumed a stale and old “once was” optimistic academic persona.