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What We’re Scared Of

Extract from What We’re Scared Of by Keren David, Chapter 2 (2021)
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I can't breathe.
I really can't. The other girls in the dance studio are all holding their noses and
complaining about the stink of the new paint job – but I can't breathe. My chest is
tight, my breath is coming in short gasps, I'm about to start wheezing… It's an
asthma attack.
‘Settle down, girls,’ says the supply teacher. ‘I know the smell’s bad, but we’ll
open all the windows and make the best of it.’
I stumble to my feet. ‘Lottie? Lottie, are you all right?’
It's a girl called Hannah, who sits behind me in maths. We've never even spoken
before. My friends Saffy, Topaz, Melanie, are all too busy squealing and flapping
their hands under their noses, hoping to delay the start of class, to notice that
anything is wrong.
Hannah grabs my bag and marches me to the door. ‘Miss! Lottie’s having an
asthma attack! I'm going to take her outside!’
The supply teacher doesn't know the protocol. She should be the one taking me to
the school nurse. ‘Are you sure?’ she wavers while Hannah picks up my bag,
opens the studio door, and pushes me gently into the corridor.
‘I'll take her to the school nurse’, she says firmly.
‘I could take her,’ I hear Saffy say, but we're already outside.
And then we’re out in the courtyard and she's guiding me to a bench.
‘Is your inhaler in your bag?’ she asks. She sounds so calm. No wonder the teacher
trusted her.
I can't speak, but I nod and gesture to the outer pocket. But I feel better already in
the fresh air. Hannah unzips the pocket, finds the inhaler, and hands it to me.
I inhale. My lungs feel like they are bursting, and I worry I haven't taken enough
in, but when I count to ten and let my breath out, I find that I can breathe again.
Gradually, I stop panicking. This is not the day I'm going to die. The medicine is
working. It's all OK.
Hannah is watching me carefully.

‘Thanks!’ I manage to gasp.

Hannah shakes her head. ‘Don't worry about it. If I'm honest, it’s good practice. I
mean, not that I have anything against dance. It's exercise, I suppose. But if you

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want to be a doctor one day… Well, I'm not going to cure anyone by pretending
to be a nymph or a lemon or whatever it is she had in mind for us today. Hey – are
you crying?’
I shake my head, no, and try and wipe away the tears. Hannah hands me a tissue
and says, ‘Don't be embarrassed,’ in a kind but brisk way, as though she spends
most days mopping up people’s tears.
We sit in silence for a bit. My tears stop. My breathing comes back to normal. At
last I can talk.
‘I'm sorry,’ I say. ‘I feel stupid crying. It's just… it's a bit scary when that happens.’
My sister and I were born early – twins often are. We were tiny, tiny babies and
my lungs hadn't developed properly. Over the years I’ve had to spend a long time
in hospitals with chest infections, watching Mum and Dad's worried faces, feeling
like every breath could be my last.
As a result, I worry about germs, chemicals, pollution. The doctors say my
asthma is only mild now, that I can keep it under control so long as I use the
inhalers properly. I shouldn't be scared. But it's hard to break the habit of a
lifetime.
‘I don't think we've ever talked before,’ says Hannah. ‘Which is strange, as we are
in all the same sets.’
Obviously I can't tell her why we haven't spoken. That my friends call her weird
and laugh at her short hair and round glasses and think she's a show-off because
last year in English she put Saffy right on a chapter of Jane Eyre that Saffy clearly
hadn't read. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘It is strange we've never spoken.’
As I say it, I despise myself for falling in so quickly with my friends’ judgements.
When I arrived at the school, I ended up making friends with anyone I could,
because I was scared of being alone. I was so relieved when Saffy, Topaz and
Melanie included me in their group. But a shared interest in tennis, plus all of us
looking alike – tall, fair hair, blue eyes – turned out not to be a great way of
meeting my soulmates. We’re like a matching set of suitcases from the outside –
with completely different contents.
‘At least we're talking now,’ I say. ‘Even if it’s a couple of years late.’
‘Year Nine is the best for getting to know people, my brother told me,’ she says.
She looks at her watch – she's got an old fashioned one with a black leather
strap. ‘Ten minutes to go. No point going back. No point going to the school
office either, unless you want them to call your parents. Did you do that history
essay?’

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And so we sit and chat, until the bell rings and the studio door opens and my
friends are upon us. ‘Are you OK?’ ‘Lottie, you genius, you missed the whole
thing!’ ‘Sorry you got stuck with that weirdo!’
I look around, worried that Hannah overheard. But she's gone.
What We’re Scared Of - Text © Keren David, 2021. Reproduced with the permission of Scholastic. All Rights Reserved.

Which of these key words/phrases do you think is most important in this extract?

friendship anxiety prejudice doing the right thing change

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