Chapter Text
God, this place smells like hand sanitizer and lies,” Brooke muttered, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands.
Emily smiled tightly beside her. “Think of it this way: they’re finally running the right test.”
“Or they’ll say I’m overreacting when I pass out on cue,” Brooke said, her voice laced with that now-familiar venom: sarcasm soaked in exhaustion.
Emily glanced at her. “Let me handle that.”
Brooke didn’t reply, but she shifted slightly closer.
Prepping for the Tilt Table Test
A nurse clipped monitors to Brooke’s chest and finger while she lay flat on the motorized table, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Her legs shook slightly, though she pretended not to notice.
“Fifteen minutes lying down, then we tilt you upright for up to forty-five minutes. If anything changes — dizziness, heart racing, nausea — you tell us, okay?”
Brooke nodded once. “Cool. Let’s make gravity regret ever meeting me.”
The nurse chuckled politely.
Emily, standing off to the side with arms crossed and sharp eyes, didn’t laugh.
She was watching everything.
Within three minutes of being tilted upright, Brooke’s heart rate shot from 78 to 133. Her breathing quickened. She blinked repeatedly, pale, trying to stay still even as sweat dotted her temples.
“Feeling okay?” the nurse asked.
“No,” Brooke whispered. “I feel—”
Her head lolled slightly. The monitor beeped faster. Her legs trembled.
“I’m gonna pass out,” she murmured.
“Lowering the table,” the nurse said quickly.
By the time they got her horizontal again, her heart rate dropped—but her body stayed trembling, like it was stuck between panic and paralysis.
Emily stepped forward. “That’s not stress.”
The nurse hesitated. “We’ll let the doctor review it.”
“No.” Emily’s voice was ice. “You don’t need a review to see what’s happening. Her heart rate jumped nearly sixty points. Her body crashed. This isn’t some vague teenage mood swing. This is real. And it’s not new.”
The nurse gave her a careful look. “The doctor will speak to you shortly.”
“Good,” Emily said, jaw tight. “Because we’re not leaving without answers.”
Brooke sat curled up in the chair, hoodie sleeves over her fingers, head against the wall.
“I’m not crazy,” she whispered. “I didn’t make that happen.”
Emily sat beside her and took her hand. “No, you didn’t. You never were crazy. They just didn’t know what they were looking for.”
The doctor entered a moment later, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable.
“We reviewed the results. Brooke’s heart rate increased by more than 50 bpm within a few minutes of being upright. She exhibited symptoms consistent with orthostatic intolerance, and—”
“Is it POTS?” Brooke asked flatly.
The doctor paused, then nodded. “Yes. Based on today’s findings and your history, you meet the criteria for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome.”
Brooke’s body went completely still.
Then:
“…You believe me.”
Emily reached over, brushing a hand down her arm. “They believe you.”
Brooke’s eyes filled, but she didn’t cry.
She just said, with a voice barely above a whisper:
“I told them.”
“Whatever you want,” Emily said. “It’s a diagnosis day. That’s basically a birthday.”
“Venti pink drink with light ice,” Brooke said. “And a chocolate croissant. And I want you to say ‘I was right’ three times.”
Emily gave her a look. “I’d rather eat glass.”
Brooke smiled — a real one, small but bright. “You came with me.”
“Always.”
“No offense,” Brooke said, sipping her drink as they pulled away, “but I’m kind of glad Dad didn’t come. He would’ve hovered like a drone and tried to explain everything.”
Emily smirked. “You just wanted someone who’d let you throw sarcasm at the nurses.”
“Obviously.”
There was a pause, then Brooke added:
“I don’t feel better. But I finally feel heard. That’s something.”
“It’s everything,” Emily said softly. “And it’s the start.”
Aaron looked up as Brooke walked in the door. She didn’t say anything right away, just dropped her bag and stared at him for a second.
Then:
“It’s POTS.”
His eyes widened slightly. “You got a diagnosis?”
She nodded. “Emily made them listen.”
Aaron walked over and gently pulled her into a hug. She didn’t resist.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You didn’t stop pushing.”
Brooke whispered against his chest, “I thought maybe it was all in my head.”
Aaron’s voice cracked just a little. “I never thought that.”
“I know. But it’s nice to hear.”