Page 54 of Switching Skates

Repositioning myself on the bed, I stretch out, lying flat on my back, and I wait.

Nothing happens for another minute, but then—fuck—it’s back.

Oh God, did I accidentally eat something I shouldn’t have? Is the gluten attacking me?

My panic skyrockets as the pain lingers longer and longer each time. I take controlled breaths in and out, and the pain deepens somehow, feeling like an earthquake happening inside of me. Now my lower back even hurts too.

Holy shit, I think her body is shutting down.

My eyes start watering, and I wonder if I’m going crazy since that’s the only reasonable explanation. Her body is malfunctioning and producing tears.

I know I’m frustrated, but the lump in my throat and tears on my cheeks seem excessive.

Ripping my phone from my pocket, I call Daphne, and she answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

I whisper-shout into the phone, “Get up here right now. I think I’m dying!”

“What?” She scoffs and walks away from the sound of loud conversation. “I’m coming.”

She ends the call, and I hold my lower abdomen, breathing carefully and holding the stuffed skunk, Pepper, from her bed for my sudden need for emotional support.

The door bursts open, and Daphne rushes inside, quickly shutting the door behind her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m dying. I think my organs are shutting down.” I sniffle, the tears not slowing. “And your eyes are watering like crazy.” My voice cracks, and I don’t think this could get more humiliating.

Until she bursts out laughing, her head tipping back and hand flying to her chest. “Oh, this is great.”

With my voice soft, I yell at her, “What is the matter with you? Fix this!”

With her hand covering her shit-eating-grin, she walks over to the side of the bed and sits down, planting a gentle hand on my leg. “I didn’t think I was going to have to have this talk with you, Mason.”

“I’m so goddamn confused,” I mutter breathlessly.

She giggles. “You’re not dying. I promise.” She presses her lips together, fighting back a laugh. “You’re getting your period. I’m guessing the pain you’re feeling is just little warm-up cramps that I get a couple of days before my actual period comes.”

The world fucking stops.

There’s no way.

There is no way that she goes through this?—

My brain finally registers what she said. “Hold the fuck up. Did you saywarm-up cramps? They get worse thanthis?”

“Is this the first time you’ve noticed that pain, or has it happened before?”

“This is the first time.” I rub my stomach, trying to soothe the ache.

“Then, yeah, those are little pregame cramps. The real ones will start in a couple of days, give or take.”

“Nope, nope,nope. We’re not doing that.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “Oh, dear God, make this stop.”

She giggles again, and even though I wish I were making her laugh some other way, I’m glad that this pain is worthwhile for something.

“It’ll go away. They usually come in sporadic waves. This will pass.” She walks over to her nightstand and grabs a bottle of pills. “Here, take two of these. It’ll help.” She grabs a tissue and hands that to me too. “However, the pills won’t help with the hormone spikes. You’ll have to manage those on your own.”

The world seems heavier than before with this newfound knowledge.