Daisy put her goggles around her wrist like a bracelet and floated her legs behind her. Her cap was rucking up, pulling her hair and giving her a headache. She couldn’t see who Poppy was talking to, because the water aerobics ladies were now huddled by the ladder for their class, but whoever it was wore street clothes. And was a guy. Of course Poppy would just stand there, perfect and dripping wet, talking to a guy like it was natural; she had done the same thing when they arrived, chatting with Perry, her body proud as a morning glory opening in the sun, while Daisy stood with her arms crossed over herself, despairing of how her toenail polish had rubbed off and looked trashy. Daisy had been friends with Perry’s younger sister, Gretel, since sixth grade and going to their huge house on the west side of Hogestyn always meant hoping to sneak a few looks at Perry as he did homework under the chandelier at their dining room table or played video games on the enormous TV in their luxurious finished basement. Gretel had been on vacation with her cousins in Colorado most of June. She wasn’t due home until August and she was terrible at keeping in touch, sending dumb texts and funny pictures of dogs skateboarding or kids wiping out on trampolines instead of any real information. Though she missed Gretel, Daisy couldn’t figure out a way to announce Guess what, I finally got my period in that context.
Daisy pulled her cap from her ear to drain water; the tampon pinched again. The whole workout, she had imagined a red plume streaming behind her as she struggled behind Poppy through the various sets: two hundred freestyle, four fifty-meter breaststroke sprints, a series of IMs. She shifted and the pinching did, too. The morning sun splintered through the high windows of the pool, making jagged stripes on the red bleachers, and then the water aerobics ladies were in the water and she could finally see who her sister had been making her wait for: Wade Dunedin in his Day-Glo road-crew vest and work clothes. He looked sweaty and unhappy. Poppy was edging him toward the exit; Perry Coughlin was the kind of guy who would freak about someone wearing boots on the pool deck. Daisy pulled herself out of the water.
Wade was not budging. Just as the water aerobics music started up with a club mix of “It’s Raining Men,” Daisy approached.
“Jesus Christ,” Wade was saying. “You think I’m some kind of fucking asshole? I was just looking out for her.”
“What’s going on?” Daisy asked. Across the pool next to the lifeguard chair, Perry stood with his hands on his hips and stared at them.
“Does she know, too?” Wade asked, nodding at Daisy.
“Know what?”
“Never mind,” Poppy said, her eyes on Perry, and then Daisy. “Wade, we have to go.”
“Will you talk to her, though?” Wade asked. “Just tell her . . .”
“Yes, for fuck’s sake,” Poppy said. “I already told you!”
He clutched Poppy’s elbow. “I’m not trying to be a dick,” he said. “I know she’s had some stuff going on.”
Poppy’s eyes flamed up in the familiar way that always made Daisy flinch, and she recoiled, but Wade, oblivious to what that look meant, put his hand on her older sister’s wrist and repeated his request. Daisy stopped breathing for a second. She watched her sister pause, too. Poppy had particular reactions to people touching her, telling her what to do.
“Poppy,” Daisy started, unsure what to say.
“Hey, guys?” Perry Coughlin, walking toward them, his Adidas slides smacking the tiles.
“Hey, Perry,” Poppy said. Her voice was annoyed, but she still smiled.
“Why don’t you, you know? Maybe have your conversation out in the lobby?” Perry said, staring directly at Wade, whose face instantly bloomed red.
“Why don’t you, you know, maybe go jack off a bobcat?” Wade said, letting go of Poppy.
“Hey!”
“Come on,” Poppy said, pushing Wade toward the exit.
“Mind your business, dickhead,” Wade said over his shoulder.
“We’re leaving, Perry, I’m sorry,” Poppy said. “Come on, Daisy.”
“Tell her what I said,” Wade called as he pushed his way out to the lobby, Perry standing back, whipping his whistle around his knuckles.
Poppy nodded, aggravated. “Daisy, would you move! Jesus Christ.”
Her sister’s hand on her, prodding her forward, Daisy rushed through the locker room door.
“Daisy, what the fuck . . .” She stopped, and Poppy pointed. There was a trickle of blood curling around the back of her thigh.
“Did you finally get your period?” Poppy asked.
“Shut up!” Daisy hissed, though the shower area was empty. Poppy laughed roughly, and Daisy darted into the bathroom stall. Poppy was right behind her, pushing the door open before she could latch it.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Nobody was really around.”
“Are you wearing a tampon? Or just nothing?”
“A tampon,” she said. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Well, what size is it?”
“I don’t know! Get out of here!”
“You idiot!” Poppy said. “Why didn’t you say something!”
“It hurts enough,” Daisy said. “I don’t need to be yelled at!”
She sat down on the toilet with a thud.
“It shouldn’t hurt,” Poppy whispered. “Maybe you didn’t get it in far enough.”
“I did, though. It’s all the way in there.”
Poppy put her hands on her hips. “Did you . . . Okay, take it out, will you? Let me see what it looks like.”
“No!”
“I won’t look at you, I just want to look at it,” she said. “Come on. We gotta bring the car back for my mom.”
Daisy waited until Poppy looked up and away, and then reached down between her thighs, her hand just an inch over the cold toilet water, her fingers pruney and soft, fishing out the tampon.
“Jesus!” Poppy said, a little loud. “No wonder it hurt!” She spun the toilet paper roll with a slap and then lowered her voice. “You didn’t take out the applicator. You only use that part to help put it in,” Poppy added.
“What do you do with it?” Daisy mumbled, her eyes opening to see the bloody mess flash from her sister’s fist, wrapped in toilet paper, to the little silver tin bolted to the stall’s wall.
“You just throw it away,” Poppy said. “Some of them don’t come with an applicator. Those are the kind that my mom uses; you basically jam it there yourself with your fingers. But it’s kind of . . . well. Never mind. Do you have any more pads or whatever? I’m guessing you found the stuff at home?”