“That’s DT, right? Star receiver?”
I click my mechanical pencil up and up, before holding down the top eraser and pressing the lead against my skin—a nervous habit. “You’ve already heard of him? Word travels fast around here when it comes to football, huh?”
Ben pulls off his glasses and blows some dust off. “He’s in my algebra class. Lots of fist bumps. He seemed like a pretty big deal.”
I guess this is what Danny’s life will be like for the next four years. He’s always been Mr. Popular wherever he goes, but somehow also “my” Danny at the same time. It’s a delicate balance we’ve been able to maintain as friends over the years. Now that we’re at a bigger school, I wonder if that balance will shift. I let that thought flicker, then push it away. He might be busier with football, but I know we’ll be “us” no matter what.
Ben and I make plans to meet up the next day at lunch and go over our presentation strategy, which gives me something to look forward to tomorrow. I feel ten pounds lighter as I walk to the South Wing library to meet Danny.
I can tell something is wrong as soon as I see him. He’s furiously picking at the skin around his nails, but everything else about him is frozen.Is he even breathing?Danny starts frantically running his hands through his thick, dark hair, almost pulling at the ends.
I rush over to him.
“Danny? Are you okay?”
All he does is stare back at me with panic. Still frozen. We’re in a semi-public spot, in the open study area. I link my arm in his and start tugging him toward the non-fiction stacks, which is bound to be empty this time of day. It’s harder than I expected. Danny’s grown a lot over the past year physically, adding layers of muscle in preparation for football season.
“Come on, we’ve got to move.”
He drags his feet, but once we get there, we sit together on the floor in between bookshelves.
“Breathe,” I instruct.
Easier said than done, apparently. His shallow breaths haven’t let up, and he looks paler by the second. What is happening? Where’s my confident, charming, happy-go-lucky Danny? I hold his hand, and it’s clammy. Pressing my hand on his chest, I check his heartbeat, and it’s out of control.
“Look at me.”
Danny tilts his chin up. When his eyes lock on mine, I feel his heartbeat slow. I want to keep it there, so I do what feels natural. Holding my hand in front of my face, I put up four fingers and wiggle them.
“Where did these candles come from?” I ask playfully.
The corners of his mouth tick up and his uneven breaths seem slightly deeper.
“You know what to do.”
Danny leans forward, inhales, and blows on my hand.
I put down two fingers.
Danny leans his head back and forcefully exhales this time. I lower the remaining fingers, and his shoulders relax.
I pop a finger right back up again.
Grinning mischievously, I raise an eyebrow. “Trick candle. Gotcha.”
He chuckles softly and puts a hand over his heart. When he blows one more time, I finally put down my finger.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It’s the first day of school, and everyone already seems toknowme, like… like they’re all counting on me to perform or something, but I don’t knowthem. The possibility of letting anyone down feels big. Then I realized that this is what it’s going to be like for the rest of my life.These expectations from strangers.” He squeezes my hand and draws in some air. “Anyways, I started feeling pressure in my chest and then I couldn’t breathe.”
“I think you had a panic attack.”
“Oh.”
We huddle on the floor for a few minutes in silence. Danny remains largely motionless, looking straight ahead with a vacant expression. I’m fixated on him, unblinking, searching for any signs he might relapse into panic.
He opens his mouth to speak again, and his tongue makes a dry clicking sound, unsticking itself from the roof of his mouth. “I think I’m, uh, thirsty.”
