Kayla's POV

"Kayla,"

"Kayla,"

"To earth, Kayla," someone said, shaking my shoulders.

I turned around to catch Lila and Luca staring at me, their brows knitted in concern. Luca handed me his handkerchief to wipe my lips.

“What’s going on, Kay?” Lila asked, her voice filled with worry.

I waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s nothing—just my nerves acting up again.”

“About what?” she pressed, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I took a deep breath, “Lila, I have a panic disorder too. Sometimes, those attacks can hit out of nowhere without any real trigger.”

Her expression softened. “So, are you feeling any better now?”

I forced a smile, “Honestly, I always feel a bit lighter when you guys are around.”

But Luca stayed silent, lost in his thoughts. I turned to him, concern bubbling up again. “Hey, Luca, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied with a weary sigh. “Just buried under stress. Is it really only one class in?”

The stereotype about us top students is that we thrive on classes and studying. Sure, we do enjoy learning, but it’s not always as glamorous as it sounds. We face our fair share of struggles too, wrestling with the weight of expectations—both from ourselves and those who believe in us. Keeping up appearances is exhausting, and sometimes it feels like the pressure could crush us.

"Do you think it might be a good idea to take a break?" I nudged gently, hoping to offer some support.

He shrugged with a small, appreciative smile. "Nah, I'm alright. Thanks, Kay." And with that, we were off to tackle our next class.

Next, we had English class, so the twins and I strolled over to the classroom. I personally enjoyed Literary Studies more than English classes; perhaps it was because I loved the world of literature. While Literary Studies was meant to be a part of the English curriculum, at Everest High, it was treated separately.

Lunchtime rolled around, and we were gathered around the table, eagerly unpacking the delightful spread that Luca had whipped up earlier. The warm, cheesy mac and cheese paired with juicy drumsticks.

“Mmm, Luca, this is amazing!” Lila exclaimed, practically inhaling her meal.

“How’s yours, Kayla?” Luca asked, glancing over at me.

“It’s delicious, as always,” I replied, savouring each bite.

With a grin, he said, “Let’s enjoy the meal then, shall we?”

“Absolutely!” Lila and I chimed in chorus, laughter brightening our table.

As we dug into our food, Luca suddenly brought up, “I think we should start prepping for the play soon. It’s a big deal, and I hear a lot of the school’s sponsors will be attending.”

"I’m on board. It’s important, after all."

“Is there a part of the novel you can’t wait to bring to life on stage?” he asked, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“I’m really excited about Chapter 46—it's where Lydia elopes with George. It dives deep into the societal pressures women faced back then, and I think it’ll ignite some interesting discussions,” I explained, feeling the passion rise in my voice.

“What scene are you most interested in?” I pressed, clearly invested.

“Oh, definitely the moment when Elizabeth Bennet meets Mr. Darcy for the first time. Elizabeth’s fierce spirit is so inspiring; I just love how she holds her ground,” he responded, my enthusiasm infectious.

“I’m really enjoying the characters too,” I added, glancing at my friends.

“Same here!” Lila said, a mouthful of food making her voice slightly muffled but filled with excitement.

In our trio, Lila was the exuberant foodie who brought the energy, while Luca and I played the quieter roles; I supplied the brains, and he brought the creativity. Together, we were like a perfectly balanced team.

After lunch, we were off to our next class, Chemistry.

"Lewis's Theory states that an acid is regarded as any compound which, in a chemical reaction, can attach itself to an unshared pair of electrons in another molecule. And VSPER Theory is- first off, what does this acronym mean?"

"Valence Shell Electron Pair Repulsion," I mumbled.

"That's correct, and what is this theory?"

"It's a model used to predict 3-D molecular geometry based on the number of valence electron bond pairs among the atoms in a molecule or ion. This model assumes that electron pairs will arrange themselves to minimize repulsion effects from one another," Luca explained.

"Wow, that was absolutely spot on!" the teacher exclaimed, a broad smile spreading across their face.

A group of students began mumbling, and soon noise spread across the classroom. "Quiet, class," the teacher said, but the noise didn’t decrease. Once again, the teacher yelled, "Quiet!" before the classroom finally settled down. I have always hated it when a teacher puts their best effort into their craft only for students to show their disrespect by not listening. Although I loathed math class, I did my best to pay attention, both for myself and as a sign of respect for the teacher. I couldn’t understand why some students thought that disrespecting teachers was fun or cool; that logic made no sense to me.

I sat in the last class before lunch, but suddenly, the world around me began to fade. My vision blurred, my hands trembled, and I could feel the warm, stinging tears welling up in my eyes. I fought hard to regain control over my mind and body, but they stubbornly refused to listen. My breath quickened, turning heavy, while my heart pounded wildly in my chest.

Another panic attack. The thought echoed in my mind as it dragged me back to the one I had just yesterday when Fiona came over.

Having been diagnosed with panic disorder before my anxiety disorder, I often found myself caught in a confusing web where the two could easily be mistaken for one another. Panic attacks hit harder and faster than anxiety attacks; both can be triggered by stress, but panic attacks have a nasty way of creeping up on you, even in the safest of spaces. The true weight of living with this disorder can only be grasped through experience.

Right now, I felt my brain slip into flight or fight mode, and I was powerless to wrest back control.

“Deep breaths, Kayla,” I reminded myself, a mantra in the storm.

I focused on my breathing as I wrapped my arms around myself, giving myself the butterfly hug—a small comfort amidst the chaos.

When I finally opened my eyes, my classmates surrounded me, a blend of worried looks and hushed voices. I could tell the teacher had noticed something was off, but no words came to my lips.

Disassociation. It was a familiar refuge I often retreated to when the dark wave of impending doom crashed over me. My brain created this barrier, a defence mechanism to shield me from the overwhelming tide of fear.

I repeated the mantra in my mind: This isn’t real. Just a vivid apparition conjured by my imagination. Yet, the intensity of it felt all too genuine, pulling me deeper into its illusion.

I suddenly felt my body hit the hard ground, and everything became clear -this was it.

As I accepted my situation, I noticed that only a few people from the class cared. Just a few rushed to help me, their faces blurred as shadows grew around me. Soon, darkness surrounded me, a quiet feeling that suggested I could escape.