5. Panic Attack

Apparently, Freen's friends had planned a camping trip. Honest-to-God camping in the woods. In this cold weather. She wanted to protest and avoid the trip at all costs. But apparently, it was a tradition for the students of Camden, and she wasn't about to ruin the friendships she'd managed to make.

She glanced over at Becky's table, a wave of disappointment cutting through her. The other three were there, but Becky was absent. Freen sulked, her head bowed, while the conversation continued around her. It wasn't until a few minutes later that Nam gently nudged her. Freen looked up, expecting something trivial.

"Becky Armstrong is staring at you again. I wonder why she's sitting alone today."

Freen's gaze followed Nam's direction to see Becky, smiling softly, staring at her from the empty table across the cafeteria. Once their eyes locked, Becky raised a hand, motioning for Freen to join her.

Freen stood in disbelief, not knowing how to react. Becky smirked.

"Does she mean you?" Nam asked, her voice brimming with excitement.

"Um, I... I should go see what she wants," Freen mumbled.

She stood up, but of course, Heng had been listening and watching the exchange. "Go get 'em, tiger!" he cheered enthusiastically, making Freen blush as she walked toward Becky's table.

When she reached it, Freen stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" Becky's voice was light, her smile welcoming and kind. Freen sat down automatically, her suspicion never leaving her gaze. She found it hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real.

"This is different," Freen finally said, the words feeling foreign in her mouth.

Becky paused, her smile slipping into something more playful. "Well..." She drew the word out before continuing in a rush, "I'm not much of a religious person, but since I'm going to hell anyway, I might as well do it thoroughly."

Freen blinked, waiting for something that made sense.

"I have no idea what you mean, you know that, right?" Freen pointed out, a frown on her face.

"I know," Becky replied with a smile. But she quickly shifted the topic. "I thought your friends would be angry with me for stealing you away, but they seem jubilant over it."

Freen couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. What high school student uses 'jubilant' in a sentence?

"A few of them have certain off-the-wall assumptions," Freen added with a knowing grin.

"I may not give you back, though," Becky said with a strange glint in her eyes.

Freen gulped. Not from fear, but the ever-consuming confusion that seemed to follow Becky.

"You look worried," Becky noted.

"No," Freen quickly replied, though her voice wavered slightly. "Surprised, actually."

What had changed?

"I told you, I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So, I'm giving up." Becky's smile was still there, but her eyes were serious, almost intense.

"Giving up?" Freen repeated, her confusion growing.

"Yes," Becky said, her tone steady, "I'm giving up on trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now and let the chips fall where they may."

Freen blinked, utterly lost. "You lost me again."

Becky's breathtaking smile appeared once more, taking Freen's breath away.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you. That's one of my problems," Becky mused.

"Don't worry, I don't understand any of it," Freen said wryly.

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends..." Becky trailed off, the word hanging in the air.

"Or not," Freen muttered, already feeling dejected.

Becky just continued grinning. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind her smile was a warning, and it was real.

"You say that a lot," Freen observed.

"Yeah, because you're not listening to me," Becky replied, the intensity in her eyes growing. "I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

Freen nodded, trying to process everything. "So, as long as I'm being... not smart, we'll try to be friends?"

"Sounds about right. What are you thinking?" Becky asked curiously.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

Becky's jaw clenched, her sharp features accentuating the tension, but the smile remained, albeit with strained effort.

"Are you having any luck with that?"

"Not too much," Freen admitted.

Becky laughed softly, clearly amused. "What are your theories?"

"No. You'll laugh, and I already do a great job of making a fool of myself."

"I won't laugh."

Freen caved, her curiosity getting the best of her. "I've thought about super steroids, radioactive spiders, or alien origins with an allergy to green rocks."

Becky laughed, and Freen kicked her gently in the calf. "You said you wouldn't laugh."

"Sorry. I am just absolutely not Supergirl."

"I don't know, blonde hair, gorgeous eyes, white skin over impressive muscles, rescuing damsels in distress. I don't think it's a huge leap."

"You're not even close," Becky teased.

"I'll figure it out eventually."

"I wish you wouldn't try." Becky was serious again.

"Because...?"

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" Becky tried for a playful smile, but it was off, and her eyes were impenetrable.

"Oh," Freen said, as several things Becky had hinted at suddenly clicked into place. "I see."

"Do you?" Becky's face turned abruptly severe, as if she'd said too much.

"You're dangerous?" Freen guessed, her voice almost a whisper. She had been trying to figure out what Becky had been hinting at all along.

"But not bad," Freen added quickly, shaking her head. "No, I don't believe you're bad."

"Wrong," Becky said, her voice sharp.

"You don't scare me," Freen replied, though her words didn't carry the conviction she wanted.

"I should," Becky muttered.

Freen furrowed her brow. Becky could be intimidating, sure, but scary was not it. Freen had never felt safer than when she was with Becky.

The silence lingered, until Freen noticed the cafeteria was nearly empty. She jumped to her feet.

"We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," Becky replied, sitting perfectly still at the table.

"Why not?" Freen asked, still in motion, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." Becky smiled, her expression unreadable, though her eyes were troubled.

"Well, I'm going," Freen stated, though she wasn't sure why she was going to class.

Becky looked back down at the table. "I'll see you later, then."

Freen hesitated, torn, but then the warning bell rang and sent Freen hurrying out of the cafeteria.

When she arrived at class, she was lucky. It hadn't started yet. They were doing blood typing today. Freen cringed, trying not to show how uncomfortable the sight of blood made her. She was glad she wasn't squeamish.

The class paused when sirens wailed past the school, multiple cop cars and an ambulance speeding by. Freen's stomach dropped. She tried to ignore the dread settling inside her but couldn't.

"I heard an officer was injured."

"You think it was those animal attacks again?"

"Maybe they found the thing. Hope they put down whatever it was."

Freen felt herself start to spiral. What if her mom was hurt? What if she was attacked?! Her nightmares of teeth and blood flashed through her mind, and she began to hyperventilate.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping her arms tightly, trying to ground herself. She vaguely heard the teacher instructing someone to escort her to the nurse's office. She was aware that Victor was trying to get her attention, but her thoughts were too loud.

When he gently began leading her out of the classroom, she couldn't take it anymore.

"I can't," she wheezed, dropping to the floor, trying to catch her breath. The panic attack was spiraling quickly from mild to extreme.

Victor clearly didn't know what to do. He mumbled something about asthma and the nurse.

"Freen?"

A voice. Freen winced, recognizing it immediately. Oh, Jesus, kill me now.

"What's wrong? Is she hurt?"

Freen opened her eyes. Becky was there, closer now, and she sounded upset.

"I'm taking her to the nurse's office. I think she's having an asthma attack."

"No," Becky said confidently, her voice full of authority. "This isn't asthma."

Becky knelt down beside Freen, pulling her hair out of her face, and the panic attack subsided slightly, but Freen's hands were still shaking.

"I'll take care of it, Victor," Becky said firmly. "You can go back to class."

"I was meant to..."

Before Victor could protest, Becky scooped Freen up into her arms with ease.

"I said I'll take care of it." Becky's voice was calm but unyielding, leaving no room for argument.

Becky carried Freen into the locker room and set her gently on the bench.

"Can you hear me?"

"No. Go away," Freen grumbled, her voice rough.

Becky forced a small laugh, trying to bring Freen's attention back to her. "I'm going to need you to breathe with me, okay?"

Becky took exaggerated breaths, but Freen struggled to follow. Then, Becky grabbed her hand and moved it to her diaphragm. Becky continued to breathe deeply, and Freen finally followed her lead. Slowly, her breath began to steady.

"What happened?" Becky asked gently.

Freen shook her head slowly, not trusting her voice yet.

"My mom..."

"Worried about your mom?"

Freen nodded, tears threatening to fall again.

Becky leaned back slightly and pulled out her phone. She dialed and put it on speaker.

One of the officers at the station answered. "Hello, is Sheriff Chankimha there?"

"She's in a meeting. Can I ask what this is about?"

"No. Thank you." Becky hung up, looking at Freen, who was now almost relaxed on the bench.

"You're safe now," Becky said softly.

Freen slumped forward, relief flooding through her.

"Thank you," Freen whispered, her voice weak.

"Anytime, Freen," Becky responded gently, brushing Freen's hair out of her face.

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