the Thompson twins and Niles, otherwise I would have been embarrassed to death. Without any warning, I was suddenly gripped with a terrible cramp. The pain was so severe, I clutched my stomach and bent over.
Emily, annoyed that she had to pause, spun around and grimaced with disgust as I squatted on a patch of grass and moaned. She took a few steps toward me and put her hands on her knobby hips, her elbows bent so sharply against her thin skin, I thought the bones would tear through.
"What's wrong with you?" she demanded.
"I don't know, Emily. It hurts so much." Another spasm came sharply and I moaned again.
"Stop that!" Emily cried. "You're acting like a butchered pig."
"I can't help it," I moaned, the tears streaming down my face. Emily grimaced unsympathetically.
"Get up and walk," she commanded. I tried to straighten myself up, but I couldn't.
"I can't."
"I'll just leave you here," she threatened. She thought a moment. "It's probably something you ate. Did you take a bite of Niles Thompson's green apple as usual?" she asked. I always sensed Emily was watching Niles and me during lunch recess.
"No, not today," I said.
"I'm sure you're lying as usual. Well," she said, starting to turn, "I can't . . ."
I felt between my legs because there was a strange, warm wetness there and brought my fingers up to see the blood. This time, my howl could surely have been heard by the workers on The Meadows, even though we still had the best part of a mile to go.
"Something terrible is happening to me!" I cried, and turned my palm so Emily could see the blood. She stared a moment, her eyes growing wider and wider, her long, thin mouth twisting like a rubber band into her cheek.
"You're having your time!" she screamed, realizing where my hand had been and why I had such pain. She pointed her finger at me accusingly. "You're having your time."
I shook my head. I had no idea what she meant, nor why that made her so angry.
"It's too soon." She backed away from me as if I had come down with scarlet fever or the measles. "It's too soon," she repeated. "You're a daughter of Satan, for sure."
"No, I'm not. Emily, please, stop . . ."
She shook her head with disgust and turned away from me, mumbling one of her prayers as she started to walk on, taking longer and faster strides and leaving me terrified. I began to cry. When I checked again, the blood was still coming. I could see it streaming down the inside of my leg. I howled with fear. The pain in my stomach hadn't eased any, but the sight of the blood took my mind off it long enough for me to stand. Sobbing hysterically, my body caught up in a tremor of shudders, one after the other, I took a step forward and then another and another. I never looked down at my leg, although I felt the blood slip into my stocking. Instead, I walked on, clutching my stomach. It wasn't until I was nearly at the house that I remembered I had left all my books and notebooks on the grass. That made me cry even harder.
Emily hadn't forewarned anyone. As usual, she had marched into the house and up the stairs to her room. Mamma didn't even realize I wasn't behind her. She was listening to the music on her wind-up Victrola and reading her newest novel when I opened the front door and wailed. It took a few moments for her to hear me and then she came rushing out.
"What is it now?" she cried. "I was just in the middle of a good part and . . ."
"Mamma," I wailed, "something's terrible wrong with me! It happened on the road. I got terrible cramps and then I started to bleed, but Emily ran off and left me there. I left all my books there, too!" I moaned.
Mamma came closer and saw the blood trickling down my leg.
"Oh dear me, dear me," she said, her right palm on her cheek. "You're having your time already."
I looked up at her in shock, my heart pounding.
"That's what Emily said." I rubbed the tears off my cheeks. "What does it mean?"
"It means," Mamma said with a sigh, "you're going to be a woman sooner
Emily, annoyed that she had to pause, spun around and grimaced with disgust as I squatted on a patch of grass and moaned. She took a few steps toward me and put her hands on her knobby hips, her elbows bent so sharply against her thin skin, I thought the bones would tear through.
"What's wrong with you?" she demanded.
"I don't know, Emily. It hurts so much." Another spasm came sharply and I moaned again.
"Stop that!" Emily cried. "You're acting like a butchered pig."
"I can't help it," I moaned, the tears streaming down my face. Emily grimaced unsympathetically.
"Get up and walk," she commanded. I tried to straighten myself up, but I couldn't.
"I can't."
"I'll just leave you here," she threatened. She thought a moment. "It's probably something you ate. Did you take a bite of Niles Thompson's green apple as usual?" she asked. I always sensed Emily was watching Niles and me during lunch recess.
"No, not today," I said.
"I'm sure you're lying as usual. Well," she said, starting to turn, "I can't . . ."
I felt between my legs because there was a strange, warm wetness there and brought my fingers up to see the blood. This time, my howl could surely have been heard by the workers on The Meadows, even though we still had the best part of a mile to go.
"Something terrible is happening to me!" I cried, and turned my palm so Emily could see the blood. She stared a moment, her eyes growing wider and wider, her long, thin mouth twisting like a rubber band into her cheek.
"You're having your time!" she screamed, realizing where my hand had been and why I had such pain. She pointed her finger at me accusingly. "You're having your time."
I shook my head. I had no idea what she meant, nor why that made her so angry.
"It's too soon." She backed away from me as if I had come down with scarlet fever or the measles. "It's too soon," she repeated. "You're a daughter of Satan, for sure."
"No, I'm not. Emily, please, stop . . ."
She shook her head with disgust and turned away from me, mumbling one of her prayers as she started to walk on, taking longer and faster strides and leaving me terrified. I began to cry. When I checked again, the blood was still coming. I could see it streaming down the inside of my leg. I howled with fear. The pain in my stomach hadn't eased any, but the sight of the blood took my mind off it long enough for me to stand. Sobbing hysterically, my body caught up in a tremor of shudders, one after the other, I took a step forward and then another and another. I never looked down at my leg, although I felt the blood slip into my stocking. Instead, I walked on, clutching my stomach. It wasn't until I was nearly at the house that I remembered I had left all my books and notebooks on the grass. That made me cry even harder.
Emily hadn't forewarned anyone. As usual, she had marched into the house and up the stairs to her room. Mamma didn't even realize I wasn't behind her. She was listening to the music on her wind-up Victrola and reading her newest novel when I opened the front door and wailed. It took a few moments for her to hear me and then she came rushing out.
"What is it now?" she cried. "I was just in the middle of a good part and . . ."
"Mamma," I wailed, "something's terrible wrong with me! It happened on the road. I got terrible cramps and then I started to bleed, but Emily ran off and left me there. I left all my books there, too!" I moaned.
Mamma came closer and saw the blood trickling down my leg.
"Oh dear me, dear me," she said, her right palm on her cheek. "You're having your time already."
I looked up at her in shock, my heart pounding.
"That's what Emily said." I rubbed the tears off my cheeks. "What does it mean?"
"It means," Mamma said with a sigh, "you're going to be a woman sooner