said. “Anyway, you have to sign up for the session.” She went back to her apple pie.
“Hot-water bottle for me,” Carol said.
Georgina looked at her. “And you’re the practical one?
What’s she supposed to do in school? Sit with a hot-water bottle?” She turned to me. “I’ve got Midol with me if you want some.”
My cramps weren’t of lasting interest. They talked on about the SAT session—they’d all signed up and assumed I would—then summer vacation plans and college sororities Georgina had heard about from her brother. I murmured something now and then; most of the time I was silent due to “cramps.”
“Do you want to take some Midol for later?” Georgina asked.
“Midol?” For a moment I’d forgotten. “Sure, that’d be great.”
I wrapped the pills in a napkin. We left the caf as the first bell rang. Ten minutes to class.
I had a calendar pasted on the inside of my locker door. It was the only way I could keep track of my schedule. Chemistry now. My bag was behind the chem book. I reached to put the pills away. Nice of Georgina. She didn’t have many left. I glanced at the calendar. When’s my article due?
127
Due? DUE!
I’d been so focused on making it through each day, I hadn’t noticed. I turned back to last month. The page tore but I held the edges together. I always make a small inked-in triangle on the date I get my period. Upper right-hand corner. I’m not exactly regular, but always within three or four days. I never have missed. Where was the last triangle? I flipped the pages. There it was. Forward. Two months plus late? No! Please, no!
I opened the door of the main office. The assistant behind the desk looked up.
“Yes?”
“Is Nurse Barclay in?”
“Name?”
“Jamie Morse.”
She pointed to the bench. “Wait.” She disappeared into the inner sanctum.
The door opened and she motioned to me. Nurse Barclay was behind her desk at the end of the room. She was typing and didn’t look up.
“The problem?”
“Can I have a pass to go home? I’ve got really bad cramps,” I said. “They’re making me nauseous, and they’re getting worse.” I rubbed my stomach.
“Better cramps than not,” she said, continuing to type.
128
23.
No one was home when I unlocked the front door. The calendar in my room—I looked for the last triangle. How did so much time pass since . . . and I didn’t notice?
I tapped my heart as I counted the days. This cannot be right. I couldn’t be. Please-tap-No-tap-Please-tap-No-tap-Please-NO!
Grandma was at the Bronx Symphony Orchestra’s free concert. She’d talked about it all morning. I ran to her room, the farthest from the front door. A hundred miles farther would have been good. A hundred miles underground even better. A hundred miles anywhere. Please-tap-No!
Grandma’s phone sat on the night table next to her bed, dust-free. She hated dust. She took it as a personal challenge that it came back every few days. And then I started shaking.
129
I knew Lois’s number by heart. AG 3-1940. My nail scraped the bottom as I turned the dial. Lois had laughed when I told her it was easy to remember. AGGRAVATION, and 3-1940 is my birthday.
Rings into infinity.
“Lois? It’s me. Jamie. Yeah, I . . . no . . . yes, I did get the . . . no, I . . . yes . . . she told me you’d called . . . see, but, . . . Him? No, he wouldn’t . . . you didn’t give him my number? . . . sure I believe . . . no, you see . . .” She kept saying I should have called, I should have done this, I should have done that. I should have, I should have, I should have . . .
“You knew him. You’re my cousin! He . . . he raped me . . . and I . . . I missed my period.” Simple, horrible sentences.
I heard her breathing.
“Jamie, what are you saying? You . . . he . . . why didn’t you tell me?”
I stared at the phone.
Her voice cracked. “You don’t have too much time.”
“What do you mean?”
“To get it done. Under three months.
“Hot-water bottle for me,” Carol said.
Georgina looked at her. “And you’re the practical one?
What’s she supposed to do in school? Sit with a hot-water bottle?” She turned to me. “I’ve got Midol with me if you want some.”
My cramps weren’t of lasting interest. They talked on about the SAT session—they’d all signed up and assumed I would—then summer vacation plans and college sororities Georgina had heard about from her brother. I murmured something now and then; most of the time I was silent due to “cramps.”
“Do you want to take some Midol for later?” Georgina asked.
“Midol?” For a moment I’d forgotten. “Sure, that’d be great.”
I wrapped the pills in a napkin. We left the caf as the first bell rang. Ten minutes to class.
I had a calendar pasted on the inside of my locker door. It was the only way I could keep track of my schedule. Chemistry now. My bag was behind the chem book. I reached to put the pills away. Nice of Georgina. She didn’t have many left. I glanced at the calendar. When’s my article due?
127
Due? DUE!
I’d been so focused on making it through each day, I hadn’t noticed. I turned back to last month. The page tore but I held the edges together. I always make a small inked-in triangle on the date I get my period. Upper right-hand corner. I’m not exactly regular, but always within three or four days. I never have missed. Where was the last triangle? I flipped the pages. There it was. Forward. Two months plus late? No! Please, no!
I opened the door of the main office. The assistant behind the desk looked up.
“Yes?”
“Is Nurse Barclay in?”
“Name?”
“Jamie Morse.”
She pointed to the bench. “Wait.” She disappeared into the inner sanctum.
The door opened and she motioned to me. Nurse Barclay was behind her desk at the end of the room. She was typing and didn’t look up.
“The problem?”
“Can I have a pass to go home? I’ve got really bad cramps,” I said. “They’re making me nauseous, and they’re getting worse.” I rubbed my stomach.
“Better cramps than not,” she said, continuing to type.
128
23.
No one was home when I unlocked the front door. The calendar in my room—I looked for the last triangle. How did so much time pass since . . . and I didn’t notice?
I tapped my heart as I counted the days. This cannot be right. I couldn’t be. Please-tap-No-tap-Please-tap-No-tap-Please-NO!
Grandma was at the Bronx Symphony Orchestra’s free concert. She’d talked about it all morning. I ran to her room, the farthest from the front door. A hundred miles farther would have been good. A hundred miles underground even better. A hundred miles anywhere. Please-tap-No!
Grandma’s phone sat on the night table next to her bed, dust-free. She hated dust. She took it as a personal challenge that it came back every few days. And then I started shaking.
129
I knew Lois’s number by heart. AG 3-1940. My nail scraped the bottom as I turned the dial. Lois had laughed when I told her it was easy to remember. AGGRAVATION, and 3-1940 is my birthday.
Rings into infinity.
“Lois? It’s me. Jamie. Yeah, I . . . no . . . yes, I did get the . . . no, I . . . yes . . . she told me you’d called . . . see, but, . . . Him? No, he wouldn’t . . . you didn’t give him my number? . . . sure I believe . . . no, you see . . .” She kept saying I should have called, I should have done this, I should have done that. I should have, I should have, I should have . . .
“You knew him. You’re my cousin! He . . . he raped me . . . and I . . . I missed my period.” Simple, horrible sentences.
I heard her breathing.
“Jamie, what are you saying? You . . . he . . . why didn’t you tell me?”
I stared at the phone.
Her voice cracked. “You don’t have too much time.”
“What do you mean?”
“To get it done. Under three months.
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