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Masen crosses his arms over his chest, looking at me like a meal he
can’t wait to eat again. “Shake your pompoms, Rocks,” he says. “You just
reminded all of us that love is truly only skin deep.”
I walk as quickly as I can, a cool sweat spreading down my neck and back
as I dive into the girls’ locker room. The weight on my chest gets heavier,
and I pass girls undressing for P.E. as I slip into one of the shower stalls,
draw the curtain closed, and turn on the water.
I step to the left so I don’t get hit with the spray. The white noise of the
water shields me from listening ears, and I grab my inhaler from my pocket,
taking two quick pumps and leaning back against the shower wall, closing
my eyes.
Four years. I haven’t had a fucking attack triggered by panic in four
years. It’s always exercise-induced. My lungs start to open up, and I slowly
breathe in and out, forcing myself to calm down.
What the hell is wrong with me? The guy’s not a threat. I can handle
this. So he was challenging me. So what? Am I going to flip out every time
that happens? Sooner or later I’ll leave safe Falcon’s Well, and I’ll no
longer be Queen Bee. I’m acting like a baby.
But for a moment, everything went dark. Slowly the world in my vision
got smaller and smaller like I was in a tunnel going backward. The light
ahead of me—Masen, Mr. Foster, the other students—became tiny as the
darkness ate up the room, and I felt completely alone.
Just like before.
“Alright, everyone!” Ms. Wilkens, my fourth grade teacher, calls as we
line up at the door inside the classroom. “If you’re staying in for recess,