“Scarlett? Are you okay?” Chris asks, staring worriedly at the side of my face. I barely register his question through the vicious pounding in my ears. Everything is distorted, muted under the current of my blood.
Tender fingers touch the soft skin of my elbow. The sensation startles me in my seat, bringing more attention to me.
“Scarlett, are you alright?”
“Yes, Mrs. Ross. I’m-I’m sorry, I must have been spacing.”
Through her large-rimmed glasses, her eyes scan my features. I hold my breath, trying to calm my quaking heart while she takes in my slightly flushed complexion and raised flesh.
“Why don’t you go get a water from the vending machine? You won’t miss much. I’m going to hand out the worksheets now.”
Mumbling my thanks, I take her up on her offer and dart out of the class. Chris calls my name on my way out, asking if I want company. Before I can deny his offer, Mrs. Ross orders him to follow, to make sure I’m okay.
I don’t wait for him to catch up as I storm down the hall. The beat of my heart controls the pace at which I walk.
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump, it pounds in my chest, doing its best to bring me to my knees. As a child, I suffered severe anxiety attacks. By the time I was six, they had become uncontrollable, paralyzing.
My dad sat with me then, came down to my level, and taught me how to be in control. From that moment on, I never lost control again, until now. Feet echoing in the corridor, I use the techniques my father taught me to slow the beat.
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. We all get panic attacks, but I’m going to teach you how to control them. Just listen to my voice and follow me,” Daddy says, falling to his knees while I tremble and shake on my Princess and The Frog blanket.
Holding up both hands, Daddy shows me his wrists. “I want you to take your left hand and wrap your fingers around your right wrist. Just like me. Okay, Scarlett. Let me see.”
Pulling my hands out from underneath my legs, I do what he does, showing him my hands before folding my quivering fingers around my wrist. Daddy smiles, calling me a good girl before guiding me. “Do you feel your heartbeat, sweetie? Right there, under your thumb.”
He places my first two fingers off to the side.
“Y-yes,” I whisper through my clashing teeth.
“I want you to take that heartbeat and hold it. Trap it in between your fingers and force it to settle. See, ’cause your heart is powerful, baby, but it’s no match for your mind. With just enough will, you could do anything.”
“My heart is no match for my mind,” I murmur, trapping my hammering pulse between my fingers. Then, with more pressure than may be necessary, I force my pulse to drop. It’s an instant high, the relief of my heartbeat falling below sixty.
Breathing comes easily, just in time for Chris to catch up to me.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You didn’t seem okay back there.”
Feeling a hundred times better, I shake my head, wooing him with my smile. “Oh, I’m fine, just zoning out back there listening to the waves.”
“Ahh,” he agrees, fingers brushing my elbows as we walk down the stairs to the first floor. “Yeah. I get lost in those too. I don’t know how she expects us to focus when she keeps the windows open.”
“Right? Don’t you want to jump out and run to the water? I do. Live out my mermaid dreams.”
“You’d be the prettiest mermaid,” Christian says. His mocha skin burns the brightest red, a blush so obvious I can barely contain the light burst of laughter. Not to make fun of him, but because he’s so damn sweet.
“Thank you.”
I’ve known Christian has had a crush on me since the first moment I got here. His kindness exceeds that of a normal friendship, and though I try not to lead him on, I appreciate all he does for me. Including now, when he sticks a dollar bill into the vending machine, buying my water.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that,” I say, kindly taking the bottle from his grasp.
I’m taking a sip when he utters, “Don’t worry. I know a few ways you can make it up to me.”
That phrase is, and will always be, a red flag, no matter who says it. Once said, it’s best to put them in check real quick. Pulling out a dollar from my pocket, I slap it into his hand. “Consider us even.”
His shocked face brings joy to my heart before it’s shot down by the front doors of the school opening. In walks our Assistant Principal Colleen Howard. Behind her are two men in button-ups and slacks. One of them I don’t recognize, but the other-
“Dad?”
