listen,” I said, in a way that made it clear I was proud of my mom’s bravery. “She’s at work right now, in fact.”
“Well, your dad … he seems to have some … some issues to deal with,” said Ben, approaching the subject cautiously.
I was about to defend my father, say that I didn’t believe the evidence, when I felt the first sign of trouble. The tightness started in my throat, like the feeling of a hand around my neck, making it hard to get down a breath. My skin prickled and tingled as panic turned my body rigid.
I heard Ben call my name in a worried voice. “Maggie, you all right? Maggie?”
I saw people get up from their seats in a flash, some breaking into a sprint, gathering around me, circling, closing in on me, closing …
“What’s wrong?” That voice belonged to Justin D’Abbraccio, crying out as he ran toward me. But I knew what was happening. Panic clamped around my heart. I could feel my lips, my eyes swelling as I fought for air.
“I think she’s having an allergic reaction!” Ben screamed.
“What did she eat?” someone asked.
“Nothing. Just her lunch. She had brownies, maybe those?” Ben sounded on the verge of tears.
“My pen,” I wheezed.
Ben was already fumbling with my backpack. This wasn’t my first allergy crisis, so I knew I had to stay calm or I would make the situation worse.
My vision was blurring, but I could see Ben unzip the backpack. He felt around the big compartment for the special carrying case containing two EpiPens. I had two pens with me at all times in the unlikely event a pen malfunctioned or more than one injection was required. His search became increasingly frantic as he looked through various pouches and compartments for the case. He came up empty.
Sharp pains made me clutch my stomach, groaning. Scarlet bands started to streak across my hands and I felt them burn into my face. My breathing became increasingly shallow as the panic inside me deepened.
“The pens! It’s not here … it’s not here, Maggie.” I heard Ben’s terror, and watched as he dumped the contents of my backpack on the ground, searching with increasing desperation. He rifled through various pockets and pouches, again coming up empty.
“Where is it? Where is the case?” he cried with fright.
I stumbled off my chair, wheezing as my eyes lost focus.
“The nurse! Someone get the nurse!” It was Justin’s voice I heard.
If I could have talked, I would have told them any EpiPen would do. Somebody in the lunchroom had to have one. The scarlet bands on my hands spread to my arms. The rise and fall of my chest quickened as I fought to get air down my swollen throat.
Is this what dying feels like?
I looked at Ben through gauzy vision.
My pens are in my backpack, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get out the words. Light slowly faded from my eyes. I knew the pens were in there, but I hadn’t bothered to check because I never take them out.
I started to make an alarming sucking noise as I heard someone say my lips were turning blue.
“Where’s the nurse?” Ben shouted. “Hang on, Maggie.”
His voice was the only thing keeping me from succumbing to total panic.
Someone knelt down behind me. Though my eyesight was hazy, I could see it was Laura Abel. She gently stroked my hair, and then took hold of my trembling hand, grimacing at my cold and clammy skin.
“Maggie,” Laura said, touching my rash-covered face. “You stay strong, okay? Help is coming.” Laura’s voice broke as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Each of my labored breaths sounded to me like a final gasp. The rapid pace of my skittering heart thundered in my chest.
“Laura—Laura.” I squeaked out her name through my swollen lips.
“We’re here. We’re all here,” Laura said, and I could tell she was struggling to stay calm. “It’s going to be all right.”
Time slowed to an excruciating crawl. I shut my eyes tightly and saw my father’s face flash before me, but I knew he wasn’t going to get here in time to save me.
As people gathered around, closing the circle tighter, I could feel my throat continue to swell.
“The rash is all over her neck, face, and arms,” Laura said, now cradling my head in her lap. Ben looked on, helpless as could be, my backpack splayed open on the floor beside him.
“I’m scared,” I said, barely managing to get out the words.