First of all, let me apologize for this taking so long. I've just been super busy, and I'm sorry for that. But here's Tina; I hope you like it!

Wrecking

Tina

"Anxiety is the space between the "now" and the "then."" – Richard Abell

Tina glances up at the clock nervously, sitting straight up in the plastic chair. It's been forty-five minutes. Everyone else has finished the test. Can't he grade any faster?

The classroom for Driver's Ed at the community center is cramped, to say the least. The eleven of them barely fit into the room. She shares a table with a blonde girl who wears the same purple sweatshirt to every class, and a boy with a tattoo of a lion on his left forearm. She can't remember their names, since she usually falls asleep in class. Even if she knew their names, she wouldn't talk to them.

This is the final exam. The last class. Once she completes her driving hours with Tim, she'll be free. Except she's been putting of scheduling the appointments because of the last disaster. She just doesn't want to freak out again. That's a reasonable fear, isn't it?

Her parents don't get it. They think she's being dramatic. They think she's just being antisocial. She's not. She wishes she could talk to people. She dreams about having friends and laughing like a normal person. She just can't and she doesn't know why.

Why does it have to be her fault? How can it be her fault?

"Okay!" Rich says from his desk, "Good news, everybody! You all passed!"

No one says anything. That's generally how it goes.

"Now if you're done with your driving hours, stick around and we'll fill out your permit. If not, you're free, and Tim will have your permit ready once your done. Have a great summer!"

She practically leaps from her chair, slinging her bag over her shoulder and finding her mom in the parking lot. The car's idling and as soon as she climbs in, her mother thrusts a stack of papers at her.

"What's this?"

"Your application for counseling at camp, remember? We cleared it with Marcy last year, I just totally spaced and it's due next week! We've got to get it in the mail today, honey!"

"But I never said-"

"You'll be fine," she smiles, "You love singing and dancing. You'll be working with kids and music, it'll be great!"

Tina goes to camp every year, but never as a counselor. Her parents had been talking about her becoming one now that she's older. She could still go to camp and get paid, which would be nice, but she never knew they actually decided she was, you know, doing it.

"I… now?"

"Yes. Now," she hands her a pen and starts to drive.

She knows her mom means well, but sometimes she wishes she'd listen.

They reach the post office just as Tina's signing her name and stamping the envelope. She climbs out of the car to place it in the blue mailbox when she spots a familiar face.

"Hey, Tina!" Mike Chang grins, pearly whites shining, "What's up?"

"Oh. Um… hi, Mike," she tries to smile, but it probably looks terrifying. What a freak. Ugh, "I'm just gonna be a counselor this year at camp, so I'm sending the application in…"

"No way, so am I! That's awesome!"

Tina's been going to camp with Mike since they were kids, but they never really talked. He hung out with the boys and outgoing girls. She was always with a smaller group of girls who liked to read and paint. Their paths never crossed much, until glee club.

She attempts to smile again and reaches for the handle to the mailbox. So does he, and their hands brush against each other.

"Sorry!"

"It's alright," he chuckles, holding open the flap for her. She deposits her letter and so does he, "I guess I'll be seeing you, then."

"Yeah," she says, watching him walk off towards his car. From the drivers seat, her mother gives her a look, "What?"

"He's cute."

"Maybe. So?"

She grins.

"Mom. It's one boy-"

"Oh, just get in the car."

…

They return home after grocery shopping, and once Tina helps her mother by bringing all the frozen foods to the basement and shoving them in the freezer, she notices she has a missed call from Mercedes and decides she ought to call her back. It's polite.

"Hey girlie," Mercedes says as soon as she picks up the phone, "How are you today?"

"I'm… fine. I passed the written test."

"Awesome! Pretty soon and you'll be driving around… with parental supervision. Course, Kurt can always give us rides."

"Yeah, I know," she agrees, even though she doesn't feel like going anywhere ever, "So why did you call?"

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed really…off the other day at Kurt's house."

Great. She wasn't supposed to notice. Why does she have to notice? It's not like there isn't enough going on in their lives. Rachel's sick, and Brittany's sick now too, and Quinn tried to kill herself or something, no one's really sure, but she won't talk to anyone and why do they have to care about her.

"I wasn't feeling well. I'm okay now."

Mercedes blows a stream of air into the phone, "Not trying to pry, but I've noticed how you get really nervous and everything. Maybe… have you ever tried to talk to anyone about it?"

"… no."

"My cousin had social anxiety, really bad. She like couldn't use public bathrooms or talk and she'd break down when someone asked her a question. She got panic attacks a lot, but she goes to therapy now and she's a lot better. I thought maybe…"

"I don't… I mean, I never…"

"I'm not trying to offend you, really. I'm just worried."

Worried. Since when are people worried?

But she's not really thinking about that. She's thinking about how she can't use public bathrooms either, and maybe she gets panic attacks, and maybe she needs therapy. Doesn't that make her crazy?

"I just… I don't know."

"We don't have to talk about it. I just want you to know I'm here. Maybe you should talk to your parents?"

"Maybe…"

"Just a suggestion."

How can she tell her parents that? They'll be disappointed. Everyone will be disappointed. They'll think she's a freak. Like…

"Thanks, Mercedes, but I really have to go."

"Um, okay. Call me later?"

"Sure."

She hangs up the phone and shoves her face into a pillow, trying to stop the breaths.

Calm. Down.

Artie saw her panic once. They were on a date, just hanging out at his house since it was wheelchair accessible and everything, and all of a sudden she just embarrassed herself in front of his mom and then they were watching a movie and she just couldn't breathe. As hard as she tried, she couldn't control it.

And he just looked at her. He gave that look, like: Are you serious? Really? You're really doing this right now? Annoyed. Pissed.

He asked why she was freaking out. She said she didn't know.

"You don't know?" he asked, baffled, "What do you mean? You have to have a reason."

"I don't..."

"Well just stop it."

Stop it. As if it had an off switch. If only it had an off switch…

They stopped talking after that and he never understood why. She didn't feel the need to explain it.

Tina lifts her face up for air, heart beating far too fast, and stares at her clock ticking by. Waiting to calm down. Waiting for the panic to fade. Waiting to breathe.

She's always waiting. Maybe she should tell her parents? Maybe it would help?

But how? She can't talk to anyone, including her family. She can't function like a normal person. How, exactly, do you cure the dysfunctional?