The pain was so bad I could hardly focus on my school work, and I didn’t have the girls to distract me from it because Claire was at that away game with the girl's hockey team, and Lizzie hadn't shown up for school today.
Knowing my luck, Lizzie was out sick with a vomiting bug and I was brewing the same.
Going through the motions, I went to all my classes, sat by myself, tried to blend in with the wallpaper, and prayed not to pass out.
By the time big break rolled around, I'd had quite enough of school for one day, and was prepared to do some morally questionable things for a couple of paracetamol and a glass of water.
However, my day took a predominant turn for the worst when a girl from sixth year pulled me aside in the hallway and uttered the words every teenage girl on the face of the planet dreaded hearing at school. "Excuse me, Hun, but I think you're leaking."
Because I was me, it took my brain several seconds to comprehend what she was saying, and several more before I gathered her meaning.
The minute I did, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Scratch that; I wanted to burst into flames and disintegrate into thin air because having a sixth-year girl point out the fact that you were leaking in the middle of a school hallway had that effect on a girl.
Mortified, I dashed into the girls' bathroom to investigate.
Thankfully the bathroom was empty when I barreled inside.
Ditching my schoolbag on the floor, I stood with my back to the mirror and craned my head around.
"Oh, god, no!" I sob/gasped when my gaze landed on the blood stain on the back of my grey school skirt.
It wasn’t a small patch either.
Of course it wasn’t.
This was me we were talking about, and I never did embarrassment and shame by halves.
So, this was it.
Today was the day mother nature decided to pay me a visit.
Nine days after my sixteenth birthday.
Better late than never.
In the middle of school.
Oh, dear Jesus.
Well, at least the excruciating stomach cramps made sense now.
In my defense, how the hell was I supposed to know?
Never in my life had I encountered such gut-wrenching pelvic stabbing.
Because this was my first proper period.
Grabbing my schoolbag and a handful of paper towels, I bolted into one of the stalls and locked the door behind me.
Shimmying out of my skirt, I yanked off my tights and knickers, crying when blood smeared my legs.
Oh, god.
Don’t panic, Shannon.
Don’t freak out.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I quickly set to work on cleaning myself up with only one thought in my mind.
Running away.
As soon as I was reasonably respectable looking, I was going straight home to bury my head under my blankets and die of shame in peace.
Pulling out my phone, I sent a freebie call me to Joey because, like usual, I didn’t have any damn credit, and also like usual, I needed him to come save me.
He didn’t respond.
Digging inside of my bag, I hunted for the tampon I knew I wouldn’t find because why the hell would I find one?
It was like mother nature had decided to grace me with three years' worth of period pains and shame in this very moment.
God.
Grunting out a harsh breath, I clutched my stomach and held still, hoping I would find some relief.
I didn’t.
I also rooted for the money I didn’t have so I could buy sanitary towels I couldn’t afford in the machine in the bathroom.
Two euro.
All I needed was a pathetic two-euro coin and I didn’t even have that.
Thankfully, I did find a spare pair of underwear so I made a makeshift sanitary pad out of paper towels while tears streamed down my cheeks.
I was well aware that I didn’t need to be crying over this.
It was perfectly normal.
But I was upset, embarrassed, and unprepared.
For once in my life, I wished things could go smoothly for me.
I was so tired of my life railroading.
I needed a reprieve.
I cleaned my skirt as best I could before slipping it back on.
Then I yanked my jumper off and tied it around my waist to conceal the stain of shame.
My legs were bare, my arms sleeveless, and I looked entirely out of place for March weather.
Sniffling, I rummaged around in my bag aimlessly, my fingers hovering over the plastic bag that contained Johnny's jacket.
Pulling the jacket out of the plastic bag, I quickly stuffed my tights and underwear inside the bag and buried them at the bottom of my schoolbag.
Letting myself out of the stall, I shuffled over to the sink, dropped my schoolbag and the jacket on the floor, and scrubbed my hands raw with a profligate amount of soap, unable to stop the stupid tears dripping down my cheeks.
"Are you okay?" a female voice asked, startling me.
Sniffling, I turned to see a girl in a matching uniform step out of the toilet cubicle at the end of the bathroom – the one with the out of order sign.
A thick cloud of smoke wafted around her, undetected by the unassembled smoke alarm on the ceiling.
I had been so caught up in my personal breakdown that I didn’t realize there was anyone else in here.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn’t know anyone else was in here."
"It's still pelting down outside," she announced, shaking a cigarette box in front of her. "I didn’t fancy standing outside in the rain for a smoke."
My uniform was the only thing I had in common with the girl standing in front of me.
She was much older than me – and much more beautiful.
Her black hair was cut up in one of those classy bob style haircuts that all the celebrities were currently sporting and her face was flawless.
She was tall and had a killer hourglass figure with huge boobs bulging against the fabric of her navy jumper.
She walked over to where I was standing and leaned against the sink next to mine.
"Why were you crying?"
"Oh, I'm okay," I quickly deflected. "It was nothing."
"It didn’t sound like nothing," she mused, light blue eyes locked on mine. "You were bawling like a baby in there."
I shrugged, feeling my face flame with embarrassment.
"Bad day?"
More like bad life...
I exhaled heavily. "You could say that."
"I've had a few of those," she replied.
I doubted it.
She looked too perfect to have seen a bad day in her life.
She tilted her head to one side, studying my face. "You're the new girl."
I nodded.
"From the public school?"
My heart sank.
Fear prickled across my skin.
But I managed to nod and remain impassive.
"What's your name again?"
"Um, it's Shannon," I replied, voice small. "Shannon Lynch."
"Shannon." Recognition flashed in her eyes, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Feeling uncomfortable, I stepped around her and moved for the heater and gave my hands a three second dry off before reaching for my stuff.
"I'm Bella," she announced, pushing off the sink. "And that –" she snatched the jacket out of my hands. "Does not belong to you."
My heart dropped into my ass.
"How did you get this?" she asked. Her tone was still light but her expression was thunderous. "Did Johnny give it to you?"
"Oh, no, I'm sorry," I replied lamely, adjusting my schoolbag onto my shoulders. "I must have grabbed it off the coat rack by mistake."
"Don’t lie," she warned. "How did you get his jacket?"
"He gave it to me," I whispered as a slight tremor racked through my body.
She arched a finely tweezed brow. "Johnny just gave you his jacket?"
I nodded and swallowed deeply.
"When?" she demanded.
"Yesterday."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"It was raining."
"So? It's Ireland." She placed a hand on her hip and glared down at me. "It's always raining."
I shifted uncomfortably. "He was just being nice."
"Johnny isn’t nice and especially not to random strangers," she spat.
Shrugging, I moved to slip past her but she held out a hand, blocking my path.
I shrunk away.
"Wait," she commanded, gaze flickering from the jacket in her hand to my face. "I'm not done talking to you."
If she hits you, then hit her back, Shannon, I mentally chanted my brother's advice in my head over and over. You are nobody’s punching bag. Don’t let anyone push you around.
"A little bird told me that you've been spinning around in his car with him."