Two large eyes stare deep into my soul—dark pits, empty and menacing. I can't look away. Sweat crawls down my brow and drops to the floor with a tiny plop that echoes in the silence. He doesn’t blink, just keeps firing daggers into my gaze.

I grip the sides of my chair. My knuckles bleach bone-white, matching the color-drained mask of my face. Pain prickles behind my eyes like spiders marching across my pupils. I want to blink. Desperately. But I don’t.

I stare into the twin gun barrels of his gaze as my toes tap a silent rhythm against the floor.

Until…

He blinks.

I leap from my seat and the room explodes in cheers.

I did it! I did it!

I won the National Staring Contest!