Page 32 of Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

“Maybe you caught something.” Ricky tossed the wet towels into the trash and took out her make-up bag. “How long has it been going on?”

“Not long,” Emily said, but then she realized it had been going on for a while. At least three days, maybe even a week.

“You remember Paula from art class?” Ricky used her lighter to warm up the end of her eyeliner pencil. “She kept puking during third period and you know what happened to her.”

Emily looked at herself in the mirror, watching the color drain from her face.

“Of course, you’d actually have to get your cherry popped for that to happen.” Ricky freshened up the dark lines under her eyes. “Did you lose your virginity without telling me? Oh, shit—”

She was looking at Emily closely, reading the worst into her shocked expression.

Ricky’s throat worked as she swallowed. “Em, you’re not …?”

“No.” Emily leaned down to the other sink and splashed cold water onto her face. Her hands were shaking. Her body was shaking. “Don’t be stupid. You know I would never do that. I mean, I would, but I would tell you when it happened.”

“But if you did …” Ricky let her voice trail off again. “Shit, Em, are you sure?”

“Am I sure I’m still a virgin?” She went back to the puke sink and ran some water into the bowl to help it wash down the drain. “I think I would remember if I’d had sex, Rick. I mean, it’s kind of a big deal.”

Ricky said nothing.

Emily looked at her oldest friend’s reflection in the mirror. The silence between them reverberated around the tiny, tiled space like the echo of a cannon.

The Party.

Emily said, “I got my period last Friday.”

“Oh, fuck.” Ricky huffed out a relieved laugh. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Because I told you when it happened,” Emily said. “I started right in the middle of PE. I told you I had to go back to the locker room to change shorts.”

“Oh, right, right.” Ricky kept nodding until she had convinced herself it was the truth. “Sorry. That’s probably why you’re sick. Cramps suck so bad.”

Emily nodded. “Probably.”

“Crisis avoided.” Ricky rolled her eyes. “I should go take Nardo his precious milkshake.”

“Rick?” Emily said. “Don’t tell the boys I threw up, okay? This is embarrassing, and you know Nardo will make fish jokes or something gross.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ricky zipped her fingers across her lips and feigned tossing away the key, though Emily could already see the chain reaction—Blake to Nardo to Clay.

“I’ll clean this up.” Emily gestured toward the mess in the sink, but Ricky was already walking out the door.

Emily heard the latch click.

Slowly, she turned to look at herself in the mirror.

Her periods had always been erratic, following a schedule she couldn’t predict. Emily was usually late or early or perhaps she was really bad at keeping up with her cycles because she had never had sex and Ricky always carried Tampax so why should Emily bother with tracking something that was a nuisance rather than a warning?

Her eyelids fluttered as they closed. She saw herself walking up the concrete stairs to Nardo’s front door. Sticking out her tongue so that Clay would place a tab of acid in her mouth. Waking up on the floor beside her grandmother’s bed. Feeling hungover and clammy and panicked because for some reason, for some very unknown reason, her dress was on inside out and she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Emily’s eyes opened. In the mirror, she watched tears roll down her face. Her stomach was still clenching but she felt ravenously hungry. She was tired, but somehow invigorated. The color had returned to her face. Her skin was practically glowing.

And she was a liar.

She hadn’t had her period last week.

She hadn’t had her period in the last four weeks.

Not since The Party.