I sprint across campus,clutching my backpack to my chest so my laptop doesn’t get broken in the process. Visions of Belle lying half dead on the floor fill my mind, even though I’m pretty sure she would have called 911 if that were the case. Still. I can’t shake the frightened sound of her voice.
I almost knock into someone on my run, and hear a string of hurtful insults hurled my way, but there’s no time to hiss something equally mean back to them. I don’t know what kind of power this Stokes guy has over everyone here, but I refuse to let it bother me. Maybe he’s just jealous that my life in Cali is better than his life here.
I yank open the door to our building and my shoes are loud against the flooring as I skid to a stop in front of door sixty-two. My hands shake as I reach for my key, but the door swings open before I unlock it.
“Finally,” Belle says, one hand on the door and the other on her chest.
I step inside and she locks up the door behind me. I give her a once over and she looks intact. No blood or missing appendages. She’s breathing loudly though, panting like she’s the one who just ran a marathon instead of me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing her shoulders.
“It’s… it’s…” she gasps for breath. “I can’t breathe!”
“Yes you can,” I say.
She shakes her head, a panicked look in her eyes. But all the while she’s breathing – breathing fast and raggedly, her chest heaving up and down. “No I can’t, no I can’t,” she says, clutching her chest. “I can’t breathe.”
“Belle!” My sharp voice gets her attention. “Listen to me. Youarebreathing. You’re doing it right now.”
Tears roll down her cheeks and she nods. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
I smile. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
She shakes her head. “Sophia, it’s happening again. It’s happening. I can’t make it stop.”
“The panic?” I ask.
She nods again, her whole body shaking as tears roll down her cheeks. I’ve done a bit of research on panic attacks since I moved here, and I know that the people experiencing them will often think they are dying, or that they’ll never be okay. But the symptoms will fade. She will be okay, and I want to help her feel that way.
“Let’s sit down,” I say, putting my arm around her shoulders and leading her to her bed. “Want me to call Aunt Kate?”
“No,” she says harshly, like I’d just asked if she wanted me to punch a kid. “My mom doesn’t need to know. She’ll just worry.”
“Okay.”
I pat her back, hoping I’m doing this whole comforting thing right. My mom never comforted me when I was growing up, but I’ve had enough nannies over the years. They always patted my back when I was upset.
“What do you want to do?”
She sniffles and wipes tears from her eyes. “I just want it to stop.”
“How did it stop last time?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Time, I guess.”
“What if we watch Netflix and take your mind off it?”
“Okay.”
I get her computer ready and then raid her snack drawer for some candy, chips, and chocolate. We only have bottled water in here, and I want to go get a soda from the cafeteria because nothing says comfort food like sugary junk, but Belle doesn’t want me to leave. So water it is.
She’s still jittery and anxious for the rest of the day. She also keeps apologizing, saying she’s sorry I’m skipping class for her. I tell her it’s totally okay.
I’m taking care of my cousin when she needs me. Shelfbrooke can just deal with it.
* * *
An entire weekgoes by before Belle feels comfortable enough to let me go to class. Luckily, my aunt stepped in after the first day and plead my case in front of the administration, and they allowed me to do my school work from my dorm on a temporary basis so I can take care of Belle.
