Horror floods through me as I realize what's happening but have no idea why. My skin begins to itch furiously, like a thousand ants crawling beneath thesurface, and I can feel hives breaking out along my neck and chest, angry and red. The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter.
"Charlie?" My mom's voice cuts through the rising commotion. "Oh my God, she's having a reaction!"
Chairs scrape against hardwood as everyone jumps to their feet—everyone except Ethan and Olivia, who remain seated, watching with wide eyes.
My dad rushes around the table toward me while Emily kneels beside my chair, her hand on my back.
"It's okay, breathe through it," she whispers, but her voice trembles. "Try to stay calm."
I want to tell her that's impossible when it feels like someone's tightening a belt around my windpipe, but all that comes out is another strangled cough.
"Where's your EpiPen?" Mom demands, her face pale with fear. "Charlotte, where is it?"
I try to speak, but the words won't come. My hands claw at my throat, and the room is spinning now.
"Her purse," Emily blurts. "She always keeps it in her purse!"
Bash is already moving, sprinting toward the foyer where our coats and bags were left. I hear him rummaging frantically through my things, tossing items aside.
"Come on, come on," my mom mutters, squeezing my hand so tightly it hurts.
Mr. Harper presses a cold, damp cloth to my forehead. "Stay with us, kiddo."
The hives are spreading across my chest and up my neck, an angry red constellation burning beneath my skin. Each breath is shallower than the last.
"IT’S NOT IN HERE!" Bash's voice echoes from the foyer, followed by the sound of running footsteps. He bursts back into the dining room, my purse clutched in his hands, panic etched across his features. "It's not in here. I checked everything."
My heart sinks as another wave of panic hits. I've forgotten it. How could I have forgotten it?
"Charlie," Bash crouches beside me, taking my face in his hands, forcing my increasingly unfocused eyes to meet his. "Where is it? Where's your EpiPen?"
I struggle to form words, each one scraping painfully past my swollen throat. "Suit... case," I wheeze.
"Our bedroom?" He confirms, already standing.
I manage a weak nod.
"I'll be right back." He squeezes my hand and then he's gone, the front door slamming behind him.
"Hold on, sweetheart," my father says, his voice steady despite the terror in his eyes. "Just hold on."
Emily strokes my hair, murmuring reassurances I can barely hear over the rushing in my ears. My body feels distant, disconnected, like I'm floating above the scene watching myself struggle to breathe.
"Should we call an ambulance?" Dad asks, phone already in hand.
"Let's wait for the EpiPen," my mom replies, though I can tell she's weighing the options. "If it doesn't work, then yes."
I catch a glimpse of Ethan still seated at the table, his eyes blown wide just staring at me. I look over and see Olivia has gotten out of her chair now and has her hand covering her mouth and…is she crying? The room is dimming at the edges, black spots dancing in my vision as I continue my coughing fit.
"Stay with us," Emily pleads, her voice breaking. "Come on, Charlie, stay with us."
Minutes stretch like hours. I count each labored wheezing breath—in, out, in, out—focusing all my energy on the simple act of drawing air into my lungs.
Finally, the door bursts open again. Bash appears, red-faced and panting, clutching my emergency kit in his hand. He sprints to my side, thrusting it toward my mom.
"Here," he gasps, sweat beading on his forehead.
Mom takes the EpiPen with practiced movements, pulling it from the case and removing the blue safety cap. "This is going to pinch, honey," she warns, though we both know the jab is nothing compared to the feeling of suffocation.
