I’m taking this opportunity to use the muse of another SOML member. That is the nice thing about this website. Memories are triggered by many stories that others are shamelessly opening up about.
I don’t remember how old I was. I do remember it was Junior High and I was in my science class on the third floor at the far end of the school property.
I thought I was sick. My stomach was hurting so badly. I felt this constant heat along with the pain. A dull but strong pain. Not sharp like a side ache. More like having the stomach flu and you’ve thrown up so much that the stomach is now tight and constricted.
I couldn’t wait for class to be over. The desk I was sitting at was a typical school desk where you have to slide in from the side and you have a little cubby under the desktop. I folded my arms across my stomach and pressed in. What is wrong with me?
The bell finally rang. Everyone piled out of the classroom. Me in the midst of it all.
My next class was in the basement at the total opposite end of the school. Three buildings away.
I could hear snickering and laughing behind me. No bother. Kids are always picking on someone. I moved along with the crowd like a herded calf to the slaughter.
I get to my Choir classroom and walked to my seat. My best friend, Heather was standing there waiting for me as usual.
“Go to the locker room NOW.” She said.
“What?” I was surprised by her forcefulness.
“JUST GO!” I looked up to my teacher, perplexed, and he just nodded to me in agreement.
I got to the girls locker room which was just down the hall a little ways. And then I saw a flash of red as I walked by the full length mirror.
“What the…?” Oh my God! My whole backside was covered in a deep maroon red. I was no dummy. I knew what happened. I just couldn’t believe it happened to me. Just then. In front of everybody in the whole school!
I sat down and cried for a few minutes and then stood up. Hormones kicking in already. I was pissed! At God. At everybody for laughing and snickering behind my back instead of being nice and telling me right away. Kids are so cruel.
Luckily, I had a sweatshirt in the girls locker room so I wrapped that around my waist and went back to the classroom. I had to pick up my books. Oh what joy!
I made it to the Principal’s office with my dignity intact and called my mother.
She wouldn’t pick me up! She said she was at work and couldn’t leave. I seriously doubt that. She could have locked up and put a note on the door to the Insurance office. But nooooooooooooo! What was I going to do? She suggested that I call her boyfriend, Jake.
Jake was a sweet old man. He was 68 years old. My mother was in her forties. How does that work? I don’t want to know. Anyways, he came and picked me up. Didn’t ask any questions and left it at that.
My angel of mercy.
It was very hard to go to school the next day. I sometimes wondered who sat in my seat after I left and if they noticed any blood or if they just sat down and got it on themselves. Actually, I secretly wished it on those kids that were so cruel.