The Secret Life of Emily Blu

Chapter Eleven

People are staring at me. Like, all the people. Not only are they staring at me, but some of them are also pointing. Despite keeping my head down, I can feel the eyes of all the students staring at me. I walk faster, trying my best not to run into anyone as I weave through the crowd.

I think the whispers are the worst because I can't hear what they're saying but I know they're talking about what happened between me and Bethany. There's no way that story hasn't gotten around. An ambulance was called and I'm sure it arrived with sirens blaring.

My chest starts to tighten, and I realize I'm about to have a panic attack. It seems silly to me; there was a point in my life where everyone stared at me all the time and it'd never bothered me, but now having the students look at me is enough to send me over the edge.

"Emily!" someone calls after me.

I keep on walking, head down, trying to get to English before I hyperventilate, pass out, and have another ambulance called for me.

"Emily!"

I keep walking.

A hand grabs my arm and I turn around, striking whoever is touching me in the chest.

I blink and realize it's just Hardy, who's looking down at me with his too blue eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?"

I open my mouth to assure him I'm fine, but a wheeze is the only thing I can get out. I clutch at my chest, convinced I've forgotten how to breathe.

Hardy takes one look at me and pushes me through the nearest classroom door, slamming the door behind him. I let him move me without fighting back. My panic is rising exponentially with every passing second and I think I'm about to pass out.

Hardy pushes me down and I sit in the desk he's brought me too without complaint, my hands still clutching my heart.

Hardy crouches down in front of me so he's eye level and slowly raises his hands and take mine, forcing them away from me. "I need you to count with me, Emily." When I don't react besides continuing the wheezing gasp that's replaced my even breathing he squeezes my hands. "I'm going to start, and you need to focus on the numbers. When you can speak again, start counting with me."

I give him a small nod. It's all I can do.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Now we're going to start again." He repeats himself.

This time around I join him at six. At first I'm just mouthing the numbers, but by the time he starts over at 10 again I'm saying numbers. We go through the sequence two more times before Hardy stops.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," I admit. I'm embarrassed and I don't want to look at him anymore. I lower my gaze.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," Hardy says, standing and reaching his hand down for me to take. After a moment of hesitation, I take it and he pulls me up. "I was trying to warn you before you got to school but my mom took my phone."

"Why?"

Hardy rubs the back of his neck and has the decency to look embarrassed. "I might not have pushed you and caused you harm, but my mom thinks I'm at least partially responsible for the whole thing. She took my phone for the next week."

"I don't think I agree but that's very nice of her."

Hardy chuckles. "I'll let her know you said so. She also wanted me to tell you that she raised me better than that and that any poor behavior on my part is not a representation on how she raised me."

I feel myself smile, and the sensation feels weird. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Do you get panic attacks often?"

I stare at him for a second, my mouth falling open.

"That is what you just had, right?"

I nod. "How do you know what to do when someone is having one?"

Hardy's easy smile falls slightly. "I used to get them all the time after my dad died. They're rare now, but I went to a lot of therapy and got a lot of help for them."

"Oh. I am so sorry," I rush to say, my cheeks burning. "I didn't know, I'm sorry."

Hardy shrugs. "There's nothing to be sorry about. If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here for you."

Despite my general distrust of people, I know he means it. "Thank you."

The bell rings cutting into our conversation.

"Do you think you're going to be okay?"

I shrug. "I feel better now. I think the part that got to me was that I was unprepared to have everyone staring at me."

Hardy nods. "I get it. I'd like to say I could make everyone stop, but we both know that's impossible. Everyone knows that Bethany attacked you and you went to the hospital. I haven't said anything on the matter because I wanted to see what you wanted me to do first."

I want to rub a hand over my face, but I stop myself. I don't want to ruin my makeup. "I don't really think there's anything else for us to say. That's as basic as we can make it. Honestly I'm a little surprised you haven't been defending your girlfriend."

"Ex."

"What?"

"Ex-girlfriend. Bethany and I aren't dating anymore."

"Oh," I say, wracking my brain for something to add. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Hardy laughs without humor. "That's a lie, but I'll let it pass. To be completely honest, I think our relationship died a long time ago and this incident just made it abundantly clear to me that we couldn't continue on lying like that. It's not because of you, so don't feel guilty."

"I guess that makes me feel a little better. I guess."
Hardy sighs. "Truly, it's fine. Now we better get going or we're going to be late to English."

I follow him out. He walks in front of me down the hall, hiding me from view, and I couldn't be more grateful.