The last hour and a half seems like a haze to you, one moment you're pulling away from a kiss with Amy, basking in the cheers of the crowd and the confetti that is falling all around you.
And then the next thing you know Amy's grip on your hand suddenly loosens and her breath begins to shorten, and she's getting all pale and sweaty and you have no idea what's going on. You're suddenly pushed away by Penelope who's gently lowering Amy to the ground. The auditorium suddenly goes deathly silent and you're still standing there like a deer caught in the headlights.
Your stomach churns as you watch Amy gasp for air and Penelope trying to tell her to take slow breathes and to focus on her, you finally snap out of your trance and drop down next to your best friend and grab her hand squeezing hard letting her know that you're there. Penelope has already called for an ambulance and all you can do is wait, and hope and wish and pray that Amy can keep breathing until they get here.
You notice the way her arms are beginning to redden and swell up certain places, and suddenly the dots finally connect in your head. You scramble across the stage on your hands and knees and tear open Amy's book bag pulling out a clear tube, quickly returning to Amy's side you remove the needle from its casing and uncap it. Swiftly raising the needle above your head you bring it down and stab Amy's outer thigh remembering to keep the needle at a 90 degree angle. After 10 seconds you pull it out and hear Amy gasp, suddenly taking in a huge breathe of air and coughing around each gulp she takes in. You massage the area you just injected with your left and take Amy's hand with your right holding on tightly as if she was going to slip away and turn into dust.
When the ambulance finally does come and hoists Amy up onto a stretcher you tell them that she had anaphylaxis (you remember how hard it was for you to remember that word) attack and you gave her a dose of epinephrine as they put different needles into Amy's arm and place an air mask on her face. You beg them to let you ride with them but they say only family is allowed so you make your way into the stands and find Liam, dragging him along as you basically sprint to the parking lot. He doesn't ask any questions as you both approach his car.
On the way to the hospital you call Amy's mom and tell her what happened, and then you call your own mom because Amy is like a second daughter to her.
Before Liam can even put the car in park you are out the door throwing a 'thanks' over your shoulder. When you get to the front desk the nurse informs you that Amy is in room 342 but it still being treated at the moment so you make your way to the third floor and camp out in front of her door until the doctors come out. When Amy's mom arrives, jaw set and strands of hair flying everywhere, eyes shining with worry and what looked like tears, the doctor finally exits the room. They both move to the side to talk and you feel a lump form in your throat as you anxiously wait for them to finish.
As soon as the doctor turns around your up off the floor invading Ms. Raudenfeld's personal space anxiety written all over my face as you wait for her to tell me what happened. But with each word out of her moth your heart sinks a little more and guilt begins to edge it way into your mind as you suddenly remember that peanut butter and jelly sandwich Liam gave you.
'This is my fault' you keep repeating to yourself, you almost lost your best friend because of a stupid lapse in judgment and ridiculous fight. Even if you didn't know you would end up locking lips with said best friend you still knew that just touching the sandwich was a big no-no.
The urge to see Amy suddenly increases tenfold, and you cut Ms. Raudenfeld and ask her if it's okay to go in to see her, she tells you yes but to quiet because Amy needs to rest. Thanking her profusely you quickly make your escape silently closing the door behind you.
The sight in front of you makes the lump in your throat increase and tears well up in your eyes, and that gnawing guilt to become more prominent in your mind. There was Amy, hooked up to an IV, her skin still looked red blotchy and swollen and an air mask on her face (her mom said that they wanted to wait until the swelling to go down before they let her breathe on her own). You mutely situate yourself to the chair next to her and grab her hand rubbing small circles into the back of her hand. Hot tears start to cascade down your cheek and you hold back a sob, you silently apologize over and over again, hoping to convey your regret to the sleeping blonde, and silently praying that she'll be okay.