Chai

Chapter 2: Panic, Friends, and an Invitation

The hall was dead. Not a whisper of gossip or rustle of shirt breached the radio silence. My bones longed for another skeleton to converse with, but not even a limb nor strand of hair greeted my lonely frame. I stared out the window of my dorm when a hesitant and shaky knock stirred me. "Chai? Are you sure this is her room?"

Jonathin yipped, "Oh yeah, hundred percent! I heard from Dylan, who heard from Kate, who heard it from her boyfriend..." A long-exaggerated sigh shook my nerves.

Mystery Jock chirped, mocking and sarcastic, "Oh yeah, I heard from my shark that heard from his turd nugget..."

Jon interrupted, slamming someone against the door, "Insult Minnie again, and you'll wear this."

Mystery Jock grunts, my poor door rattling as he pushed Jon, "It's called a joke. Damn, when did you get so tense?" I stumbled from my perch and poked my head out the door. The two "grown" men outside my door were locked in a staring contest like a pair of Bantam Roosters, ready and willing to draw blood. My allergies flared up in that moment, and I coughed so hard I leaned on the door frame. A flurry of feathers had fallen to the floor, an annoying symptom of my allergy medication. Fingers made of lava gripped my shoulders. "How long have you been sick?"

Chills racked me.

My wings tried to create a barrier between us, but instead created a barrier between us and the world. If only we could've stayed in there forever.

His voice was crisp as he groaned, "How many people are on this hall... Jon, put the damn doughnuts away!" I closed my eyes as the dizziness took over. "Can you... Chai, could you... Your wings are kinda in the way, as we were sent to check on you, but we can't with..." Something brushed my wing, but before I could tell what it was, Mystery Jock ripped from between my wings and pinned Jon to the wall. Flashes of past pains crossed my mind, and I threw myself back into my room.

Something cold wrapped around my right wrist.

My heart began to race.

The world spun as I lay spread across my floor.

Breakfast tried to claw out of my stomach.

Invisible, past tormentors taunted me with every breath and thought.

Warmth escaped me.

My wings wrapped around me in a cocoon of safety. I closed my eyes. The seething sounds of animals fighting had filled the hall. I never understood what happened that day, until now.

*

The boys broke up the fight, but they'd ripped their clothes and Mystery Jock had a scar from hairline to brow forever after. It's hot, not going to lie...

Anyways, Mystery Jock hauled me towards the nurse, insisting that my panic attack was something that needed to be looked at.

He prodded as he glanced around with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, "So, why are you here? What's your major?" I stared at him in confusion. Is Mr. Mysterious Snarky Fox-Man being friendly? He slicked back his fluffy blue hair as he tried to hide his pinned ears.

I replied, swinging my arms casually, "The Study of International Affairs." His face dropped. His lip curled. His piercings accentuated his deep frown. I scrambled as I realized the joke flopped. That one usually goes well, as it's regarded as a degree for people forced into college by parents with high expectations. I blurted, "Hahaha, just kidding, um... That was meant to be a joke! A funny haha, a meme-aroni and cheese. I'm a Music Major with minor in Therapy." His eyes, ever questioning and as magnetic as a leading note, scanned my face with silent intent. He nodded and broke eye contact. My lungs ached. When had I held my breath? I shook it off as anxiety. His ears slowly began to creep forward as we got closer to the nurse. His ears were still out sideways when we got to the nurse station.

He looked like an upset neko manga character. His lips were pulled into a worried frown, which looked an awful lot like a pout. It was cute, but also not a look fitting a six-foot-tall man with at least five piercings and Kool-Aid hair.

The nurse laughed. She managed to stifle it quickly, but it furthered his pout. She exclaimed, clapping her hands, "My beautiful boy has returned, and he has brought back a beautiful girl!" The jocks' face dropped and turned scarlet. The nurse had beautiful black hair that was pulled into a military bun. Her skin was the colour of the night sky, and her face beamed with mischief. Her ears were speckled like a cheetah, as was her long, slender tail that twitched behind her. She chirped, approaching me with a grin, "Who is this, Gizmo?" I turned to Gizmo, the Mysterious Scar-Faced Sarcastic Fox-Man.

Gizmo frowned and stared at his shoes as he muttered, "Mrs. Donner, this is..." She smacked him on the arm.

She tutted, frowning as she folded her arms, "I am your mother, don't Misses Donner me. Reminds me of my foster family in the old country." She trotted into the nurses' office. I was still slack jawed. This woman looked a year or two older than Gizmo. How was she, his mother?

Gizmo mumbled, gesturing me into the room, "Chai, after you." I stepped forward, shoving my hands in my pockets. Gizmo shut the door behind us. Chills jolted down my spine. I took a deep breath and sat on the cheap cot.

Mrs. Donner chitters, tail quirked as she rifled through papers on her desk, "So, what brings you to my office today?"

Gizmo shot me a hard look and declared, "She fainted and had a panic attack."

Mrs. Donner questions, frozen at her desk, "Oh? Now, I don't remember what happened to your face. Miss, what happened? Was it a panic attack?" Gizmo loped to the mirror and gaped at the large gash on his face. How he never felt it is beyond me.

I mumbled as I swung my legs back and forth like a scolded child, "No, I had an anxiety attack, not a panic attack." Mrs. Donner put a stethoscope against my chest and stilled my legs. She nodded to acknowledge what I said. Her hair, which was about a foot from my face, smelt like pine needles and hand sanitizer.

She dug as she gestured for me to turn and face the other way, "What caused it?"

I spun around and mumbled, "I dunno." She let out a chuckle. I wriggled as the cold stethoscope pressed against my back.

She ordered, "Gizmo. Out." The door opened and closed. She chirped, "Now, turn around and tell me what happened?"

*

Gizmo was waiting outside the door with a scowl. He had his hood up, and he was staring at his phone. He cussed, shoulders tense as he leaned on the door, "Why am I so horrible at calculus?"

His mother tapped his shoulder with a clipboard and chided, "If you studied more and used the brain you were given instead of gaming all day, you might be good at maths." He jumped a foot out of his skin. His ears flattened and he reached down to his left hip as he landed in a fight position. His mother hissed in response. He relaxed and his hands went straight to his pockets. His eyes were wide and wild behind his rectangular glasses.

He muttered, while he stared at the floor, "Sorry." She ushers him inside with a sharp frown. I flopped down in a chair, examining my wings. They'd lost some muscle since I got to college, which was irritating. Oh well, tomorrow was supposed to be the perfect day for a flight.