“Yes. But that was worse.”
“Have you felt like this before today?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me exactly what you felt?”
“I, um ... I couldn’t breathe. Dizzy. I got tunnel vision, and it felt like I was being squeezed through a little tube. I thought I was dying. I thought I was going to die in front of everyone.”
“She said—well, we put something in the newspaper we probably shouldn’t have, and that might have caused some issues at school,” Mom says, watching me. “Could that have done this?”
Dr. Harris rests a hand on my back. “Possibly. I believe what you suffered was a panic attack. Now, panic attacks can be triggered by extremely stressful circumstances. Big life changes, death of a loved one, things like that.”
I shove my head deeper between my knees. My forehead pulses.
“I can recommend a great therapist who helps a lot of teens with panic and anxiety issues,” Dr. Harris says. “One panic attack doesn’t make a disorder, but if you have more, consistently, that’s what it could become. We want to do our best to avoid that.”
Panic disorder? I don’t have panic disorder. Panic disorder was a thing that came up in my psychology elective last year. I read like half a paragraph on it.
Dr. Harris tells my parents I’m okay to go home, but I shouldn’t go back to school today—not that there’d be enough time—and if I’m not feeling up to it, I shouldn’t go tomorrow, either. Then he ships us off, and I shuffle between Mom and Dad out to the car, where I sit in the back seat beside my recovered backpack for the ride home and try not to think aboutMonstrous Sea.
Does the fandom know? Have they already been told? Do they believe whoever told them, or do they think it’s another rumor?
Over the years, LadyConstellation has been “found out” many times. Usually someone trying to grab a little popularity before the researchers came and stripped away the fame. But this time it’s true, and the truth has a way of holding on. Truth is the worst monster, because it never really goes away.
The house is empty when we get home. Except for Davy, who trundles over to the door and slowly smashes himself against my legs, buckling my knees. Church and Sully are still at school. Mom and Dad try to get me to lie down on the couch in the living room, but I insist I’d feel better if I slept in my own bed. They help me upstairs, and set to work making chicken noodle soup and ginger ale.
I let Davy into my room and close the door behind him. Sidle to the computer and shake the mouse to wake it. The desktop is so serene, so quiet. I open the browser and head to the forums.
It is chaos.
To the untrained eye, an online forum looks like a bunch ofrandom messages cobbled together. To someone who knows how to navigate them, they tell a story. And the story of theMonstrous Seaforums is “Eliza Mirk: Hoax or Reality?” Without clicking on any of the subforums or any of their threads, I know the consensus isreality. They found the article in theWestcliff Star. They found the MirkerLurker account, and the drawings Wallace wanted me to put up so badly. They foundme.
I’m logged in to the LadyConstellation account, and my inbox number is so high the page no longer displays the quick-tip number over the inbox icon. Just an ellipsis. Half a minute after I log in, messages attack the right side of my screen. From people I know, from people I don’t. From friends and from trolls. They come in a trickle at first, and then, as more people realize I’m online, in a flood. There are so many the page begins to lag. They come so quickly I don’t have time to read them.
I log out and log back in under the MirkerLurker account.
This one is even worse. There is another ellipsis next to my inbox, but when I start receiving the messages, I do have time to read them. At least one of them.
I JUST SAW YOU LOGGED IN TO LADY CONSTELLATION
YOU LOGGED OUT THERE AND LOGGED IN HERE
IT WAS TOO FAST TO BE COINCIDENCE
IS THIS REALLY YOU?
A picture comes up in the message window. It’s my yearbook photo from this year. Not even the horrible seventh grade one they included in the graduation article. How did this person get my yearbook photo?
I log out of MirkerLurker and close the browser, my stomach cramping.
I push my chair away from my desk and put my head between my knees again. I’m not light-headed or having trouble breathing like before, but this makes me feel better. Makes the space seem smaller and reminds me that I’m the only one in the room.
I grab my phone and open the messenger on there. All the MirkerLurker messages are still there, but at least the phone app lets me shut them out and look at my conversation with Emmy and Max.
Damage control. They tried running damage control. I let out a short, hysterical laugh. How could anyone run damage control on this? This is it. The fandom won. I lost. Eliza Mirk has been swallowed by the tides of their sea.
I switch to my messages with Wallace. There’s nothing new since the last time we used the messenger. I don’t have any emails from him, either. Or texts. He hasn’t tried to call me.
