balked at walking too far and returned instead to make
her bed and clean the house. She claimed it was her
day for vacuuming, but lately every day was her day
for vacuuming.
"She grew panicky as soon as we were five hundred yards from our property. Doesn't she go for
walks at all anymore?" Brenda asked me.
"Not that I know, I'm in school most of the
day."
"She's become agoraphobic," Celia said. "What's that?" I asked quickly.
"She gets panic attacks, anxiety probably
stemming from deep depression. I learned about it in
my introduction to psych course last semester," she
added. "That's why she wasn't so upset last night
about our not going out after all."
Brenda nodded.
"What should we do?" I asked, developing
some panic myself. "She might need some
professional help. Brenda," Celia said.
"Yes. Before we return to school. I'll have a talk
with her and try to persuade her to see someone,"
Brenda said.
They went to her room to talk about it, leaving
me out as if I were too young to understand. I went to
make my own bed and straighten up my things.
Shortly afterward. Brenda pulled me aside and told
me I should personally thank Celia for helping me last
night. She practically pushed me in her direction. She
was sitting in the living room, flipping through a
magazine, and looked up when I entered.
"I want to thank you for helping me out and