It is the middle of the 8th grade and all seems to be going fine. I have finally learned the ways of controlling my menstrual cycle. Starting my period at the 8th grader's camp was just one of the highlights of my year. From that day onwards I have been referred to as 'Bloody Mary'. An alcoholic drink or a haunting ghost is not something you want to be associated with as a teenager starting her teen years with a downward bang. Being teased is not something anyone enjoys and leads to having a low self-image and constant anxiety and feeling like everyone is always watching you, laughing at you and waiting for you to mess up.
There is no need for me to be sitting awkwardly in a chair with my legs crossed to stop the blood from overflowing on my chair and making it down to the floor. No man-made dam can stop this natural river from flowing. Or sometimes I would try to almost sit on a chair like I am going to miraculously levitate. You might be curious to why I would do this but if you have had as many lady accidents as I have had, you would want to lie on your side to avoid it.
I don't always have to wear a jersey around my waist and get shouted by Ms. Harp, my geography teacher for wearing a diaper. Every time she saw me she would want me to take it off, I would defend that jersey with my life. This would then lead to threats of detention if I did not remove it at once. I took those threats seriously because I had a clean record and did not want to taint it as much as I could. So what I would end up doing is a fake illness to end up in the sickroom to avoid the wrath of Ms. Harp right before her class. It is a good thing Ms. Collins, English teacher, was before Ms. Harp's class because she was a kind lady and let me go to the sickroom because I attended school every day even when I am sick. This is because my mother took absenteeism seriously and she says the only way I would stay home sick is if the school sent me home.
Most girls would ask why I did not wear tampons because there is less leakage. I feel like I can't depend on a twig to hold a river current back. Most of them would wear tampons with sanitary pads which I felt defeats the purpose of a tampon. My mother does not believe in them, virginity issues. She feels tampons are too closely linked to sex. I have a fear of a tampon being stuck in my crotch and having to embarrassingly go to the hospital to get it removed, which I feel would be traumatising.
Blood stain accidents are a problem but an even bigger problem than a heavy flow is definitely the cramps. The ripping or tearing of the uterus is unbearable. You never know what to do to make yourself comfortable. All you want to do is cry but you know it won't help with anything. Painkillers almost don't work anymore because I have taken too many of them and they are not efficient for a class situation because all you want to do is sleep. Once I was balancing my head with the palm of my hand trying to stay awake. The next thing I knew my head went overboard and I hit my forehead on the table. The aftermath was that I was left with a horizontal slash mark across my forehead and awake to see everyone making fun of me. It is another thing to add to my embarrassment in my school years list.
I am finally wearing real bras, I am glad I have stopped wearing the training bras. I feel like a woman now, except when we have physical training, and then the training bras are a real blessing. Breasts flopping all around the show are not attractive at all. It is not that a padded bra makes your boobs look floppy; the bra raises your boobs to heaven. It is just the force of running or being active makes your breasts so eager that they get out of the bra and greet everyone. Then half of your breast is hanging out for everyone to see and it is awkward having to put your breast in its place because people think you are just showing off your big tits.
My grades are good. I am managing to pass all my subjects. As long as I am not failing anything, life is beautiful. One minor thing is that I am developing a few pimples, but it is all part of growing up. People are slowly slowing down on the Bloody Mary jokes. What more could a 13-year-old girl want in life? Nothing! All she wants is to carry on with her life and stop being embarrassed for the rest of the year. I can't say forever because even I know I am a clumsy klutz. Being invisible was the ultimate goal. Then Lincoln does the unspeakable of admitting his feelings for me. We are the best of buds and I do love him but like a brother. I also thought he might be secretly gay. So when he wanted to talk to me about something I really thought he was coming out of the closet.
I am really smitten for the Spanish school hottie, Raphael Rodrigo. His foreign self-has a special place in my heart. The boy is talented. He is a musical god and looks like one too, he puts Picasso's Michelangelo to shame. Dark haired, Spanish accent, singing and guitar sensation. When he speaks Spanish, I just die. He is in 10th grade, so an older guy, we have finally connected and I really see a future for us.
I don't know how to break it to Lincoln. He knows I like Raphael. Shame, the boy looks so fragile, his braces filled teeth with so much hope, so I decide the best thing to do is to run away. Not knowing it would be the last time I see him conscious. I do not think my conscience could ever recover goodness in me again. Maybe if I said something things could have turned out differently.
Three seconds really do make a difference between life and death. Because of a major accident, Lincoln is now in a hospital even though I am not the one who knocked him into this state, I feel really guilty because I rejected him. I could not face him or bring myself to go visit him in the hospital. He is in ICU and I am pretty sure the hospital does not want a lot of people there because of the 'family only' policy or that is at least that is what I have heard in movies. So I did the best thing I could do at that time, ignore and forget about him. Clearly, he did not deserve me as a friend and I did not want to be there if he woke up and realised it.
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Not Seeing The Obvious (NSTO)
RomanceImagine this: Have you ever met someone who keeps staring at you? You always wondered what his problem is, only to find out that he has so much admiration for you. So he looks at you with his hypnotized eyes and he can't help himself be...
Prologue
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