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Oh, god. Is this a heart attack? Am I dying?

“Ez, go get her some ice water,” Yenn barks, and Ezra hurries away from me and into the kitchen.

Yenn shifts beside me on the couch, rubbing circles into my back. “Shae, honey, breathe. Just breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I try.

I try so hard.

But everything’s too loud. Too big. My thoughts slam into each other like bumper cars.

Storm. Harvard. Daddy. Mama. Bambi.Storm.

Ezra reappears and presses a cold glass to my hand. I try to hold it, but my fingers shake too badly.

“Got it,” he says gently, holding it to my lips for me. “Take a sip. Just a little.”

I manage two gulps. The water grounds me. Just a bit.

“Sorry, guys,” I rasp, my throat feeling like it’s on fire. “I don’t…I don’t know what that was.”

“Panic attack,” Yenn says, and I look at her for the first time since this spell started. “Ever had one? I have them often enough.”

My eyebrows come down. I never knew she had anxiety like that. Yenn seems so carefree and happy all the time.

“When? For how long? I?—”

“Nope,” Yenn cuts me off. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Right, Ez?”

“Right,” Ezra says, taking the glass from my hands and placing it on top of a coaster on the coffee table.

Yenn squeezes my hand.

“What is it, Shae? Talk to us.”

“I—” My voice cracks. What is it? What is it really? Is it that things are moving so quickly with Storm?

Is it that I don’t trust my feelings for him?

Is it that I’ve been lying to myself for weeks? Months? Longer.

“I don’t want to go to Harvard,” I blurt out.

The room freezes.

Yenn pulls back like I just said I committed a felony. “What?”

“I said,” I repeat, my voice gaining strength through the hoarseness, “I don’t want to go to Harvard.”

Ezra is the one who speaks next. “Okay…so then don’t.”

Yenn whips her head toward him. “Are youseriousright now?”

Ezra shrugs. “I mean, it’s her life. Why should she do something she doesn’t want to do?”

“Shut up,” she snaps at Ezra, and he shrugs off the barb. Yenn turns to me, wide-eyed. “Shae. Babe. You’vedreamedof Harvard forever, since you were ten years old and wore that little crimson hoodie around school like a badge of honor. Remember? You showed me the picture!”

I nod. “I know. I thought it was the dream. Istillthink it might be…for someone else. For my dad, maybe. But not for me. It isn’t right anymore. I don’t know exactly what the hell I want to do, but I know what I don’t…and that’s going to Harvard.”