That seemed like a really bad idea.
And she wasn’t sure what to do with the pad, either. She’d unwrapped it, but did it matter which end went in the front? And there were flaps on the side that had already gotten stuck to the underside of the pad. Zoey didn’t think that was supposed to happen. She wished desperately that she could ask Mami what to do, or even her abuela, but Abuela was gone too. And knowing she didn’t have any female relatives to call hurt worse than cramps. Zoey was about to dissolve into a big, sobbing mess when the door creaked open.
Zoey heard footsteps. A splinter of hope cut through her misery. Maybe the lady who’d just walked in was a store employee, or even a mom with kids around Zoey’s age who wouldn’t mind reviewing a few basics woman-to-woman.
“Um, excuse me,” Zoey called from inside her stall, pulling up her underwear and shorts. “I, uh, I just got my first period, and I don’t know what to do. Could you please help me?”
Zoey unlocked the stall door. But the person staring curiously back at her in the mirror over the sinks was no friendly mom or cashier. She was a girl around Zoey’s age. And she was rocking the best cosmetics aisle nine had to offer. Sparkly blue nail polish. Matching sky blue eye shadow. False eyelashes or killer mascara. Purple highlights in her hair. Indigo fit-and-flare dress patterned in daisies. Zoey’s cheeks flushed in humiliation.
“It’s okay. I know what to do,” Fashion Girl said confidently. “Do you need a tampon?”
“No, uh,” Zoey mumbled, glancing down at the pad in her hand. “I have a pad. But um, there’s blood on my underwear and shorts. And I was just wondering if I should clean it off first. But then, like, if I do that, my clothes will be wet and gross.…” She trailed off as Fashion Girl looked Zoey carefully up and down. Zoey felt even more self-conscious in her old, faded outfit.
“That shirt is pretty long,” Fashion Girl said finally, still staring at Zoey’s midsection. “It goes almost all the way down to your knees, so I don’t think you need to worry about anyone seeing the stains on your shorts.”
Phew. Zoey felt better—until Fashion Girl pursed her lips, appraising Zoey again in a way that made her glance down to make sure a river of blood hadn’t just gushed down her leg.
“Actually, can you turn around for a second? Just do a quick spin?”
Zoey turned in a slow circle.
“Okay good, the blood didn’t get on your shirt.” Fashion Girl grinned. “So, if I was you, I’d just wipe my shorts and underwear in the stall with a dry paper towel or some toilet paper, put on the pad, and then wait to throw everything in the washing machine at home.”
Fashion Girl waved a hand under the automatic paper towel dispenser and held out a couple of sheets. Zoey felt like an idiot for not thinking of this obvious solution on her own, but she gratefully accepted the paper towels. Fashion Girl smiled again. The purple and blue rubber bands on her braces matched her outfit.
“Do you know how to put that on?” she asked.
Zoey looked down at the unwrapped pad in her hand.
“I mean, like, I know the sticky side is the one that goes on the underwear. But does it matter which part goes in the front?”
“I don’t think so. If you fold it in half, the pad is pretty symmetrical,” Fashion Girl said, sounding pensive.
“When I took off the adhesive strip the wings got stuck to the bottom. Does that matter?” asked Zoey.
“Nah,” Fashion Girl said. “Not unless you have such a heavy flow that you really need the wings to hold the pad exactly in place to prevent a leak. But I didn’t need the wings the first time I got mine.” She shrugged.
“Okay,” said Zoey, feeling slightly better.
“Go put it on and I’ll wait out here in case you have other questions.”
Zoey went back in the stall and stuck the pad to her underwear. It wasn’t that complicated, really, she thought as she pulled up her pants. But then a new fear struck. Would everyone be able to see the outline of her pad through the denim of her shorts? Did she look like she was wearing a bulky diaper? You could always tell babies were wearing puffy diapers beneath their onesies. Zoey stepped out of the stall.
“Better?” Fashion Girl asked. Zoey avoided eye contact in the mirror.
“Sort of.…” Zoey hesitated, then figured if she’d asked this many awkward questions already, she may as well ask a few more. “Can you tell I’m wearing a pad? I feel like it’s showing through my clothes, and everyone will be able to tell I have my period.”
“I know! I felt that way too when I first got my period,” Fashion Girl said sympathetically. “But no one can tell. Believe me. I used pads the first six months before switching to tampons, and no one could ever tell I was wearing one. But if you want, lift up your long shirt a little and spin around again, and I’ll tell you if I can see anything on your shorts.”
Holding her breath, Zoey did as directed under Fashion Girl’s appraising stare.
“Didn’t see anything,” she said finally, with the same authority as a doctor delivering a favorable diagnosis.
Zoey exhaled and stretched her shirt down as far as it would go.
“Do you have any other questions?” Fashion Girl asked gently.
“No, I’m good. Thank you though. For everything,” Zoey said, quickly washing her hands and drying them on the hem of her shirt.
“Happy I could help,” Fashion Girl chirped, flashing Zoey one last grin before stepping past her into the empty stall. “Sorry, I really need to pee.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry to make you hold it so long. Thanks again for explaining everything!” Zoey said. She wished again that Mami was still alive and had been the one to walk her through La Tia Rojita’s first visit.
Faster than she’d ever hustled down a soccer field, Zoey sped out of the bathroom. She nearly knocked over José, who stood leaning against the wall, playing a game on his phone and whistling along to the game’s cheesy theme song. The opened box of pads sat at the top of the pile in the cart in front of him, pointedly waiting for them to pay.
“Are you okay, Zo?” José asked. “You were in there for twenty minutes. I was starting to wonder if you needed me to go in there to help—”
“I’m okay,” Zoey said quickly, brushing past him, heading toward the opposite side of the store. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Fashion Girl as possible. She had been nice, but she probably secretly thought Zoey was a total freak.
“Chocolate helps with cramps, right?” José asked.
Zoey paused long enough to look over her shoulder. “I think so, but my cramps aren’t that bad.”
“I have sympathy cramps. You’re going to have to share some candy with me.” José grinned, turning down the snack foods aisle.
Zoey laughed, feeling a hundred times better than she had all day. She followed him and waited while he grabbed a humongous bag of miniature assorted chocolates that included Snickers, her favorite. The bag was so big it could have fed at least three hours worth of trick-or-treaters on Halloween.
“All right,” José said, glancing inside the cart. “Pads? Check. Chocolate? Check. You’re all set, Zo. Now let’s go get a dry erase board to put on my door so people in my dorm can leave me notes,” José said, sounding excited.