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Sensations wash over her like ocean waves, crashing against her and pushing her down over and over as she struggles to find any balance or any breath: a group of students crowded on a bench, talking over each other and laughing loud and free; another group out on the field beyond, shouting out, calling their shots as they kick a soccer ball back and forth; the chill bite of the wind, unseasonably cold and stinging against her cheeks, at odds to the burning brilliance of the sun against her eyes.
Cass leans away from the wall behind her, curling forward to bury her face against her knees instead. Even that press of her forehead against the itchy fabric of her uniform tights is another wave threatening to drown her, but it creates a pocket of darkness and stillness in the hunch of her body and allows her to take a few stuttering breaths.
A figure casts a shadow across her, blocking out some of the sun's heat and the wind's chill. "Hey." The voice is quiet and gentle, a ripple more than a wave. Cass still can't look up, can't answer, is stuck clenching and unclenching her hands where they wrap around her shins.
"Okay," the voice says. "I'm just gonna..." And then there's fabric draped across Cass' shoulders, warm, and soft, and a solid weight that blocks even more of the sun and the wind and drops the noise of the other students from a thunderous roar to a buzzing clamour. Cass pulls it tighter to herself, clutching the soft material over her head until it feels less like she's drowning and more like she's making a flailing attempt to swim.
She turns her head enough to draw in some fresher air, blinking open her eyes to take in the hoodie wrapped around her—faded purple and well worn in familiar ways. Her gaze finds Steph next, knelt close enough to catch the hoodie should it fall but not so close as to touch at any point. Cass waves a hand at her.
"A little better?" Steph asks, relaxing back onto her heels.
Cass nods, and then readjusts the hoodie so she can shove her arms through the sleeves and pull it around herself completely. She leans back against the wall once more, eyes closed, and counts her breaths.
"Still need some more time?"
Cass nods again.
"Alright." Steph smiles, and Cass catches it through barely open eyes. "I'll, uh—"
Whatever Steph's intentions, the words are cut short by the warning bell ringing across the school grounds. The shrill echo of it is like a current threatening to pull Cass under when she'd just found her footing, and she scrunches her face up again, curling forward instinctively. The commotion that follows is another rush of water: students shouting louder, bustling back towards the school buildings, coming far too close to the patch of stillness Cass had tried to carve out for herself.
Steph curses quietly. "Can you come with me somewhere?" she asks.
Cass hesitates for the length of a too-short breath; the idea of moving at all is not one she relishes, but she trusts Steph, and trusts that Steph has her best interests in mind. She nods once more.
"Do you want to hold hands?" Steph asks. "So I can guide you?"
Another breath and Cass uncurls her hand from where it's buried against her chest and holds it out towards Steph instead. Then Steph is pulling her upright, leading her through the sea of students—at which point Cass directs all her focus to putting one foot in front of the other and lets Steph guide her with a gentle pressure against her hand—and then past them, between two towering school buildings and into the shadow of the wall that marks the edge of the grounds.
Steph squeezes Cass' hand briefly before letting go, peering over her shoulder before turning back to Cass with a grin. "Don't tell your dad about this," she says. Cass thinks about asking don't tell Bruce what, but before the question can even fully form in her mind Steph is rummaging through her bag and drawing out a grapple gun with a familiar bat-shaped insignia emblazoned across it. Cass doubts Bruce would have given Steph permission to take it; she doubts Steph even tried asking.
The grapple releases with a quiet hiss, hooking easily over the wall before Steph turns to Cass. "Do you want to go first, or shall I?"
Cass worries her lip between her teeth, opens her mouth to speak and then closes it again in frustration. She lifts her hands instead, pushing the hoodie sleeves that had fallen around them up past her wrists so she can sign. "We're skipping?" she asks.
"Not if you don't want to," Steph says. "But we both know the teachers here don't give a crap about their students' mental wellbeing. I mean, did Tim ever tell you about the time he got detention for being—according to him—deliberately socially oblivious." She shrugs. "I figure this is a better alternative."
Cass chews her lip again, shifting weight from one foot to another. She could run back to her classroom, hope she can get there quick enough to avoid being late, and curl up against her desk whilst she waits to see if she'll sink or swim. Or...
The bell rings out across the space again, signalling it's too late to not be late and echoing around Cass' still frayed nerves. She brushes past Steph—aware the motion is a little brusque, but knowing Steph is aware enough not to care—and ignores the grapple line in favour of scanning the wall in front of them, easily finding the cracks and splits in the brickwork that she can use to scale the barrier, pausing only briefly at the top before dropping lightly on the other side.
Steph lands beside her with a heavier force—echoing the difference in their fighting styles with the thump of her boots against the tarmac—and huffs as she pushes her bangs back from her face. "Show off," she mutters, tucking the grapple gun back into her bag before holding her hand out to Cass once more.
Cass clutches it tightly. "Thank you," she says, the words quiet, trembling, almost sticking in her throat.
Steph squeezes back just as tightly. "Hey," she says, grinning. "What are best friends for?"