Wired by Francine Pascal Page B

circumstances in that case). Gaia’s just too…
Gaia
. It wouldn’t work between us. No way.
    Good thing I’ve got that straight.

date for the prom
    restored to red-blooded, daredevil, heartthrob status

Remedial Fear Management
    INEXPLICABLY, GAIA FELT AN overwhelming rush of relief on stepping through the automatic doors of St. Vincent’s and back out onto the street. The air was no fresher than it had been on her journey to the hospital, but at least she was outdoors. Her conversation with Ed had left her feeling panicky, like she was suffocating—a sensation that was fast becoming all too familiar. She inhaled deeply, reveling in the slight release of tension, hastily resuming normal breathing patterns once she realized, again, that a New York City street corner wasn’t exactly the great outdoors.
    She shrugged, turned on her heel, and started off in the direction of the boardinghouse. She glanced briefly at her watch. It wasn’t too late, actually; there might even be an hour or two of shopping left. She wondered fleetingly about calling Liz. Didn’t other girls give their friends a call whenever they felt like it, just to hang out? Couldn’t they manage simple, casual, teenage social graces? Gaia’s head spun. Logically, she knew she was wasting precious emotional energy obsessing about something mundane.
    But she couldn’t stop.
    She gritted her teeth. She had known that therewould be a downside to experiencing fear. She’d expected to feel more nervous, possibly more anxious, and of course a little more cautious in the face of battle. But what she
hadn’t
counted on was this all-consuming anxiety. Was this
really
what other people went through every day? Second guessing every gesture and action, no matter how inconsequential? She didn’t think so. Other people had years of practice managing their emotions, their insecurities. They had learned to prioritize the real concerns and rationalize those that were merely a hindrance to basic human functioning. Gaia, conversely, needed some sort of crash course. Remedial fear management. Ha. Did they offer that at the Learning Annex? Was she going to have to sign up for industrial-level therapy? The idea made her giggle nervously—she wasn’t sure it was such a joke. Or if it was a joke, she wasn’t sure how fuhny it was.
    Turning down a quiet side street, she was startled by the sound of breaking glass. Glancing to her right, she was shocked to see three thuggy-looking boys—she thought the oldest was no more than fifteen, max—swinging something heavy and blunt at the basement-level window of a brownstone.
    Having spent so many evenings in Washington Square Park, it was rare for the sight of petty crime to surprise Gaia, but this—obviously an attempt to breakinto a private residence—was new. This was amazingly ballsy. This was
broad daylight
. Yes, it was a slightly quieter side street of the West Village, and yes, there weren’t a ton of people out and about, but really. She literally couldn’t believe her eyes. Either the boys genuinely hadn’t noticed her or they had noticed her but didn’t find her to be a threat.
    Her heart jumped into her throat. A big part of her hoped that the boys hadn’t seen her, would just go about their business, not bothering her if she didn’t bother them. But another part of her—the part that actually remembered fearlessness—couldn’t just let this go. She had no idea what these boys were up to: it could be an intended burglary, or it could be something more benign—low-level vandalism, cheap thrills, or something…. But she found that she couldn’t walk away, despite the adrenaline coursing through her system at warp speed. She’d already survived one battle today. Heck, she’d more than survived—she’d triumphed. She knew, intellectually, that she could do this. It was mainly an issue of