What if your own body could suddenly spring a leak—at school—while everyone stared?

That question chased me from the cafeteria to my locker, and it didn’t get tired. Neither did my imagination. It sprinted ahead like a dog off a leash, dragging a parade of terrible ideas.

It started at the lunch table when I wasn’t even trying to listen.

“Once a month,” Talia whispered, leaning close to two other girls, “you bleed. Like, *a lot*.”

“Becoming a woman,” someone else said, as if they were talking about turning into a different species.

They giggled, but it was the nervous kind. The kind that makes a secret feel dangerous.

I pretended to open my applesauce, but my ears stayed open. Bleeding every month? My brain immediately pictured a calendar with red X’s, like warning signs, and my stomach flipped.

By the time the bell rang, the story in my head had grown teeth.

### Attempt One: The Hoodie Plan

At home, I marched straight to my room and pulled every dark hoodie I owned into a pile. If this “monthly bleeding” ambushed me, I would be ready. I practiced tying a sweatshirt around my waist like I’d seen older kids do, tugging the sleeves tight.

I even stuffed tissues in my pocket “just in case.”

The next day, I wore two hoodies even though it wasn’t cold. In gym, I ran laps feeling like a bundled-up bear. Sweat prickled under my collar. When I reached for my water bottle, the tissues spilled out like white flags.

“What’s with the tissues?” my friend Laila asked.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly.

Coach blew the whistle. “Hoodies off, everyone. Heat safety.”

My heart knocked against my ribs. I couldn’t take them off. My plan was my armor.

I stalled, tugging at the zipper, until Coach’s eyebrows arched into question marks.