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Jess
When I was sprinting to English, I smacked into T accidently on purpose. He held me longer than he had to. Best sixty seconds of my year. I finally felt like I could breathe.
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age16)
I grip Gabriel’s arm tighter. But my fingers tingle. Go numb. Stay numb. Even when I flex them. Cotton expands in my throat. Everything around me fades into a dull kaleidoscope. The room shrinks, my world shutting down while my body can’t decide whether to float away or compress into lead.
Strong hands grab my waist, keeping me upright, but inside I tumble into ice-cold panic. A rushing river fills my ears, swallowing all the sound. Invisible fingers fist inside my chest—squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. Smothering my heart. Muffling the sluggish beat. Dissolving, disintegrating, I sink into myself, like I’m being vacuum-sealed from the inside out.
“Breathe, Jess.” Gabriel’s underwater-garbled voice swims through the void. He guides me back to the wall, rubbing his palms up and down my arms, the friction waking my arctic skin. He slides one hand to cup my neck and the other to warm my back, wrapping around me like a Kevlar coat.
I don’t tell him to back off. He’s the only thing holding me up. And I like how safe he makes me feel. His fingers trace my spine. His heartbeats settle mine. I follow their steady rhythm—inhaling and exhaling every time he reminds me to breathe until my world ripples out.
Two women crowd next to me.
One of them wears an orange volunteer ribbon. The other... is Catherine Kyle, the empathy in her eyes the only thing keeping me from bursting into tears.
“I’m calling an ambulance.” The volunteer lifts her cell.
No. No. Ohmygoshjustno. I shake my head, claw my fingers down Gabriel’s chest, meeting his eyes with my own 911 plea.
“Jess has low blood sugar.” He reaches for the volunteer before she presses those three never-live-them-down numbers. “I brought her a granola bar.” He steels the lie with a sureness that makes her back off, then looks at me like he’s hoping he made the right decision.
He did. I’m not dying. Even though I feel like I am.
Catherine Kyle steps closer, glancing at my badge. “Jessica, right?” A soft southern drawl wraps her words. “These things can be overwhelming. I still get nervous wondering why all these people are here to see me and when they’re going to figure out I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She straightens my dress with a mom-like touch that warms the frozen parts of me like steamy tea on an icy day.
“Catherine.” Someone calls her name. Her volunteers are trying to organize the crowd around her table. My rope is the only one still latched. She smooths my dress one more time, then gestures to Gabriel on her way back to her table. “He’s a keeper.”
He doesn’t piggyback off her comment or twist it to his advantage. There’s too much worry haunting his eyes. “Do you need to skip out on the signing?” His voice in my ear is a disturbingly quiet calm in the noisy clatter of my panic.
I wish I could skip out on my life. But I have a table. Books. And... Vi. “I can’t.” I don’t know why he looks impressed when I just proved I was a total loser. I glance over his shoulder. “Everyone’s staring.” That awful sinking feeling returns.
His sigh is long, loud, and melodramatic. “It’s thesepants. They spotlight the awesomeness of my godlike booty.” He over-rolls his eyes like he’s severely put out.
I want to laugh, but my laughter dried up along with my throat. I try for a smile and make it less than a quarter of the way.
With a dopey chuckle, Gabriel uses his thumb and forefinger to curve up my mouth. He smooths his hand down my hair. “Tell me one of your perfect moments.” His deep voice rolls over me.
“That’s stupid.” The dizzy way he affects me is stupid.
“Just answer.”
I say the first thing that pops into my head. “Tanning by the pool while my dad mowed the lawn.” The summer Mom spent sober. I try to bypass him.
He blocks me. “Give me three details.”
Why did I share something so personal? “The hum of the riding mower.” I grab for what I remember. “The sun on my face. The smell of grass mixed with sunblock and chlorine.”
“That’s your safe place.” His power smile sets off his melty eyes. “Take that with you.” He squeezes my hand and slowly spins me toward the table.
If that’s my safe place, how come it’s carving a crater inside my heart? I take a deep breath and sit in the chair he pulls out.
He gets me situated, then sits next to me.
The volunteers start down both sides of the unorganized line with yellow sticky tabs and pens, giving instructions for people to write their names the way they want us to sign.
Gabriel shoves a piece of minty smelling gum in his mouth and offers one to me. “You never know who might kiss you.” He winks.
