Page 82 of Open Water

“Fucking hell, Max,” she shouted, as I lobbed her one across her chest.Yeah. Nice.I know not to hit girls, but my head apparently isn’t connected to my brain when the panic hits and I was trying to get away from her. Which didn’t work.

Hedda is fucking strong, and bloody determined when she wants to be. And now, I made her mad. Mad Hedda was not to be fucked with apparently, because she was holding me down with my head squashed against her boobs and that’s when the real fun started.

Yeah. Welcome to my life. I hate my fucking boyfriend.

“I promised Matteo to look after you and not let anything happen to you. He also said he would put a link to my fanfiction Tumblr on the school Facebook site if I let you have a panic attack on your own.Ever. I have a reputation, Max, so fucking lie still for a minute and let me help you.”

“You. Not. Helping,” I gritted out between my teeth as she fought my arms. Which was ridiculous. It never happened like this. My panic attacks have to sort themselves out. I have to calm down. Then, I calm down and things get better, but here I was in the throes of one, and funnily enough, my body wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. And now, there were a couple of Year 1 kids beside us, filming on a mobile whilst Hedda had me pinned to the floor like we were making out or something. Or fighting. Or whatever.

“What the hell?” Yeah. More people.Great.Then I freeze up, because that is definitely Tilda. I know Tilda. Masses of red hair, big boobs and legs that go on for days. I mean, I have seen her around. I know who she is and now, she is hurling abuse at the Year 1 kids, who all seriously look like they are about to piss their pants. I’m kind of proud. She is right in their faces screaming at them and waving her mobile around in the air hurling some serious abuse at them. Shouting about having some common decency when someone is obviously unwell, and to get help, rather than fucking film something that will never see the light of day, because they are deleting that footage right here. Right now.

Then, there is some blond dude screaming at the kids too, and he’s grabbing one of their phones and they are all shouting in each other’s faces, and I kind of want to freeze up with fear, but Hedda’s boobs are in my face and she is kind of clumsily patting my hair and all I can do is stutter out something like, “Can’t breathe,” trying not to laugh.

“Don’t punch me,” she hisses at me as she gingerly eases off my chest. “It fucking hurt.”

“Sorry,” I kind of pant out.

Then, Tilda is on her knees next to me with her phone to her ear shouting, “Hey du Arsch, wieso hebst du nicht ab? Geht’s noch, Alter? Wieso gehst du nicht an dein Scheiß Handy?” in my face, looking kind of concerned. Feeling my forehead and patting my cheek like some nurse and Hedda is still straddling me, bouncing up and down on my crotch which is really uncomfortable, but when I try to sit up she just pushes me down and tells me to stay still. I don’t want to stay still. I want to get up. I want to run away and hide, not sit here getting freaking molested by girls… and some dude I have never seen before who is now lifting my shoulders up, so he can lay my head in his lap. I am lying in some strange dude’s lap. Fuck me…No, don’t.

I should be totally freaking out, but instead I kind of spurt out some more ill-advised laughter trying to get Hedda to get off me, as she gives me a stern look and tells me she’s staying right here until I feel better.

“I would feel much better if you weren’t crushing my legs,” I squeal.

“You look better, there is a bit of colour in your cheeks. Here. My mum usually has one of these when she’s had a panic attack. They are just fruit sugar. To get some energy in you, because she says she always feels really exhausted after she has had one.”

That’s the blond dude, who is now trying to put something between my lips. Sweet. Sickly so, but I am too shocked to protest and just accept it, and stare at him with the thing slowly fizzing on my tongue.

“I’m Sverre,” the dude says, and tries to shake my hand, which from his angle above my head is awkward as hell, but whatever.

“Max,” I croak out, drooling sugar from the side of my mouth. Charming.

“You’re in Year 3,” Hedda says.

“Yeah, and you are?” Sverre reaches out and shakes her hand. Smiling whilst Hedda squirms and kind of blushes.

“Hedda. I’m Max’s friend. Well, I am supposed to look after him, his boyfriend told me not to leave him alone, but he keeps trying to run away from me, so I’ll just have to sit on him until Matteo gets here. Tilda, where the hell is Matteo?”

Tilda just shrugs her shoulders and pats my cheek again. Like I am an infant.

I try to protest again and get up but now it’s this Sverre dude who pushes me back down and tells me to chill and Tilda is still screaming in what I am assuming is German down the phone.

“Do you have some water? Do you want water? I have a bottle in my bag?” Sverre tries, but I just shake my head.

“You look better. You are breathing, which is good.” Hedda nods appreciatively. “You have French with me next, so I can go with you.”

“I’m breathing, because I am not dead, Hedda, and now I need to pee,” I try. I just want to get away. Be on my own. Get myself back under control without all these crazies around me.

“I can go with you,” Sverre offers.

“Are you gay too?” Hedda almost squeals. Clapping her hands with joy.

“What?No.” Sverre laughs. “Not gay. But my Auntie is a lesbian. Does that count?”

“Count for what?” I snarl. They are ridiculous. All of them.

“You could join our Queer group! Like in support of your Aunt. It’s really fun. We do all kinds of things. Watch videos. Talk. Read stuff.”

“I don’t think my Aunt needs any support. She’s the toughest woman I know. You know, she works for the Fire Service and runs triathlons and stuff.” Sverre looks a bit confused and bless him, I kind of try not to laugh and Hedda smiles like it’s nothing.

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