AVALINE 🤍
I had my head down on my desk, cheek pressed against the cool wood, hoping the ache in my stomach would magically fade if I just stayed very, very still. It didn't. It throbbed and clenched like something inside me was twisting on purpose, cruel and deliberate.
At first, I told myself it was just hunger or maybe nerves — but then, there it was: that unmistakable damp, heavy drop from between my legs that made my whole body tense.
No. Not now. Please, not here.
I wasn't prepared. I never was. My "monthly deal," as Bella always called it, never followed a schedule. Some girls could count days, circle calendars, carry little kits. Me? It always felt like a sneak attack, and this time, it had struck me down in the middle of art class.
My skirt was dark, thank God, but I could feel it, and the more I sat there, the more uncomfortable I became. My face was burning with the thought that maybe—just maybe—someone around me could smell the faint iron in the air. My stomach knotted harder, a cold sweat breaking at the back of my neck.
"Miss frost?"
I jerked my head up. My teacher was looking at me with concern. The whole class turned to follow her gaze, and suddenly I was the center of attention — the very thing I hated.
I forced myself to sit up straighter, clutching my stomach under the desk, my voice tiny. "I'm sorry, ma," I whispered, my throat tight. "But may I be excused?"
Her brows softened immediately. She nodded once, almost gently. "Go on, Avaline."
I breathed out, relief flooding me, and gathered my bag. I tried to move casually, but every step made me more aware of the wetness spreading, of how badly I just needed to disappear. I bent slightly at the waist, like that would ease the pain in my abdomen, and hurried out the door with my head down, the quiet giggles of some classmates prickling at the back of my ears.
The hallway felt endless. By the time I reached my locker, I was shaking, both from the cramps and from the embarrassment that threatened to drown me. I leaned against the cold metal, clutching my stomach with one hand, willing myself not to cry. I couldn't cry in the middle of the hall like a little kid.
Think, Ava. Think.
The school store. They sold everything there — pens, notebooks, snacks… pads. I had seen them before, stacked neatly behind the counter. My hope rose just enough for me to grab my bag tighter and hurry toward it.
"Ma," I said softly when I reached the counter, my voice barely audible. "Can I… can I get a pad?"
The woman behind the counter gave me a kind smile and nodded. She turned away, heading into the back, while I bent to rummage in my bag for money. My hands trembled as I searched, my vision blurry with pain. This had to work. It had to.
But when she came back, her face said everything before her words did.
"I'm so sorry, dear," she said, shaking her head sadly. "We've run out. I forgot to tell the school to restock."
The world tilted. My heart sank straight to my shoes. "Oh," I whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. My eyes burned, tears threatening. "It's okay. I'll… I'll find something else."
I gave her a weak smile, even though I wanted to sink into the floor, and walked back out.
By the time I reached my locker again, I couldn't hold the tears anymore. They slipped hot and silent down my cheeks as I leaned against the cold metal, bending over slightly, clutching my stomach. I hated this. Hated how weak I felt, how helpless.
And then it hit me.
Bella.
Bella always carried pads. She called it her "just-in-case kit," and she'd even teased me before about being careless. My best friend had to have one today. She just had to.
I wiped my face quickly and pushed myself upright, ignoring how heavy and wet my skirt felt. The science block was across the hallway, and I knew Bella would be there with Josh. My whole body screamed not to go in — not to face an entire classroom staring at me, whispering about why l was interrupting their lesson. But what choice did I have?
Taking a shaky breath, I stepped inside.
The room smelled like chalk and disinfectant. The teacher's voice filled the space, explaining some formula I didn't understand. Heads turned as I walked in — some curious, some indifferent. My cheeks burned.
"Excuse me, sir," I whispered, approaching the teacher's desk, clutching my stomach with one hand. "I'm so sorry to disturb, but… could I have a word with Bella?"
His eyes studied me for a moment. Maybe he saw how pale I was, how my shoulders curled in on themselves. He gave a short nod. "Go on."
Relief washed over me.
Bella was already staring, wide-eyed, as if she knew something was wrong. Josh beside her looked just as confused, his pencil frozen mid-note.
I leaned over Bella's desk, my voice so quiet it was barely a breath. "I'm in trouble," I whispered. "I got my period unexpectedly. I don't have anything. Nothing."
Her mouth dropped. "Seriously? Oh God, Avi." Her voice was low, but the panic in it matched mine.
"I know." My throat tightened. "I just need… do you have one? A pad?"
Bella's expression twisted with guilt. She shook her head frantically. "Jesus, Avaline. I don't. I don't have any pads today. I'm so sorry."
My heart plummeted again. I lowered my head onto the edge of her desk, fighting the tears stinging my eyes. I couldn't lose control here, not in front of everyone. Not over this.
Josh leaned closer, whispering, "Ava, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
I forced a weak smile, even as my stomach clenched. "I'm fine," I whispered back, though my voice cracked.
Bella, always the quick thinker, spun in her seat and tapped the shoulder of the girl behind her. She whispered something frantically. The girl blinked, nodded, and started digging in her bag.
I sat there frozen, my mind drifting to the worst possible thought: If I can't even handle this, if Dawson thinks I can't even show up prepared for the project… am I really going to lose my scholarship because of Alexander Worthington and my own stubborn mind?
My eyes lifted almost instinctively — and there he was. Alex. Sitting across the room, gaze fixed on me, not even pretending otherwise.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I quickly looked away, cursing silently. I pray I don't lose this scholarship all because of this idiot.
Bella squeezed my arm, dragging me back. The girl behind her handed over a book, slipping something discreetly inside. Bella mouthed a thank you, and I mouthed one too, even though my voice wouldn't come out.
Then Bella stood, lifting her hand. "Sir? Please, can I be excused for a moment? My friend really needs help."
The teacher glanced between us, his face softening. He nodded. "Go on. But be quick."
I didn't wait another second. I mouthed "thanks" to the girl again, and Bella grabbed my arm, practically tugging me out of the room before I collapsed from equal parts pain and humiliation.
The hallway air hit my face like relief, but my stomach cramped again. I bent forward slightly, clutching Bella's hand, and let her guide me away.
I stared down at the mess on my skirt and let out the kind of groan that belonged in a dramatic play. "Worst day of the week," I muttered, as if saying it out loud would undo the red blotch staining the fabric. Spoiler: it didn't.
Bella, of course, didn't flinch. She just tossed me a pair of disposable panties like she was handing out candy. "Here. Emergency kit, courtesy of me. You're welcome."
I held them like they were some alien object. "You just… carry these around?"
"Baby, I'm always prepared," she said, strutting over to grab a pad for me too. "You think these hips come without high-maintenance issues? Please."
"But not pads"
She winked, and I couldn't help but laugh even though my stomach was twisting itself into knots. Groaning, I took everything into the bathroom stall, cleaned myself up as best as I could, and slipped into the fresh disposable panties with the pad stuck in. It hurt a little bending down, and I couldn't hold back a quiet groan.
From outside, Bella called, "You sound like you're auditioning for a soap opera in there."
I laughed, even through the cramp. "Shut up, Bella."
When I finally stepped out, it was just me in my shirt and those flimsy disposable panties, holding my bloody skirt and underwear awkwardly. Bella turned, took one look at me, and burst out laughing.
"Big bum in sight!" she announced like it was breaking news.
"Bella!" I squeaked, heat rising to my cheeks. I covered myself with the skirt, even though it was already ruined. It wasn't like she hadn't seen me in shorts before, but somehow this felt… different.
"What?" she smirked, totally unbothered. "We're both girls. It's normal. Periods are normal. Bodies are normal. Don't act like you're dying of embarrassment. It's not like you've got a third leg growing back there."
I shook my head, but I couldn't help giggling. "How do I even clean this?" I asked, holding up my stained skirt like it was evidence of a crime.
Bella leaned against the counter, arms folded. "Ugh, periods are evil. Honestly, men should experience this for at least one week. Then maybe they'd stop acting like we're dramatic when we complain."
"They wouldn't last a day," I said, chuckling even though my stomach cramped again.
"Exactly! They'd cry at the first twinge. Meanwhile, we're out here bleeding and still going to school, working, smiling. Queens."
I rolled my eyes but smiled. "I hate it too. I'm dying of stomach ache."
"I know, babe." She softened for a second, reaching over to pat my shoulder. "But hey, disposable panties save lives. And you? You're still cute, even with death cramps."
I managed to clean my skirt at the sink with some water and soap Bella dug out of her drawer of random necessities, scrubbing at it until it looked at least passable. My underwear, though, was a lost cause. I washed it quickly, then stuffed it in one of Bella's disposable bags.
Finally, I slipped back into my skirt, still a little damp but wearable, and breathed out. "Crisis averted. Sort of."
Bella beamed at me through the mirror. "See? You survived. And now you've joined the club of girls who've had a full-on bathroom bonding session over period disasters."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Lucky me."
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ALEXANDER
The minute Dawson gave me that lecture about privilege and scholarships, I knew I'd end up seeing her again sooner rather than later.
Not because I wanted to. Because I had to.
So when I saw her in class earlier that day — her head down on the desk, pale as hell, like she was fighting some invisible battle — I caught myself staring longer than I should've. She didn't look fine. Not even close. But it wasn't my business. At least, that's what I told myself.
By break, I figured maybe I'd spot her in the cafeteria. She always sat with her friends. But the table was empty.
Weird.
I scanned the room again — nothing. Which meant only one thing: I had to look elsewhere.
The hallway was quieter, scattered with a few stragglers. That's when I saw Joshua — Number 20. Her best friend. Reliable hitter, solid at bat. I respected him enough.
We clasped hands in that easy handshake we always did.
"What's good, Worthington?" he said.
"Not much," I replied, keeping my tone cool. Then, straight to the point: "Where's your friend?"
Josh gave me a look. "Which one?"
"Frost." I didn't bother softening it. No point pretending.
His eyebrow twitched. "She's sick, man."
"Where is she though?"
"Her class." He said it simple, like it was obvious.
I nodded once. That was all I needed. Joshua fell into step with me as we walked down the hall, throwing out some dumb joke about how maybe I was finally learning how to be human. I shot back something dry, and he laughed like I'd just cracked the best joke in the world.
When we pushed into her classroom, I caught her before she noticed me. Avaline Frost, sitting with Bella Whitmore, a half-eaten burger and fries in front of her. She was bent slightly, clutching her stomach even as she tried to laugh at whatever Bella said. Her laugh sounded real, but her face told a different story — strained, pale.
Josh went right to her, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She let him. Of course she did. Then her eyes flicked to me. Surprise first. Then irritation, sharp as a blade.
I just stared back, blank. If it bothered her, good. If it didn't — still good.
Bella noticed me too. Rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Oh, look who decided to crawl in here," she muttered, then turned her back with a hiss like I was something rotten in the air. Cute.
I ignored her. Stepped forward until I was in front of Avaline.
"Can I see you for a second?"
She looked at me for a beat, clearly weighing whether I was worth the effort. Then she nodded. Respectful as always.
Bella jumped in immediately. "Can't you just say it here? She's not feeling fine, in case your brain missed that detail."
Avaline shook her head, her voice low. "It's fine, Bella."
I saw her try to stand — clutching her stomach tighter, bending slightly. Pain written all over her face. For a second, something sharp twisted in my chest. I moved first, cutting ahead of her so she could follow without too many eyes on her.
When we stopped in the hall, I leaned against the lockers and motioned to the table nearby. "Sit. You're about to fold in half."
She gave me that irritated look again. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," I said flatly. "But whatever."
She eased onto the edge of the table anyway, stubborn but not stupid. Her hand still pressed against her stomach.
"What do you want, Alex?" Her voice was tight, but steady.
"Just wanted to tell you," I said, arms crossed, "I'm ready for the project. Whenever you are."
Her head dropped a little, like the weight finally eased. "Thank God. Took you long enough."
I smirked faintly. "I'm just here to say I'm ready. That's all."
"Okay." She stood up, slower this time, like she was holding herself together by threads. I shifted, giving her space.
Before she walked off, she turned back. "Where should we meet? Not today."
"Same place. Tomorrow. Same time."
She nodded. "Fine."
She walked back toward the classroom, bent slightly, moving carefully. I stayed there for a second, watching her go.
Right before she disappeared inside, I heard Bella's voice, sharp as glass: "What the hell is he up to again?"
I didn't bother reacting. Just shoved my hands in my pockets and kept walking.
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AVALINE
When I got home, I went straight to the bathroom. First thing—freshen up. I changed my pad, washed my stained skirt and underwear in the sink, and left them hanging where Mom wouldn't see. My whole body felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my stomach, but of course my brain was craving sugar. Typical. Periods really are the worst—dying of pain one second, and then craving chocolate or sweet things the next.
I threw on my soft pink joggers and the matching cropped hoodie. The hoodie had a tiny embroidered heart at the corner, barely noticeable but one of my favorites. Cozy, warm, safe. I grabbed a bowl, poured myself some Honey Nut Cheerios, and drowned them in milk until the little rings were practically floating.
With my bowl in hand, I flopped onto the sofa, tucked my legs under me, and flicked on the TV. Some random comedy show was playing—three clueless roommates trying (and failing) to assemble a bunk bed without instructions. At one point, the top bunk collapsed on the guy still reading the manual upside-down, and I laughed so hard I almost dropped my spoon.
That's when the front door opened.
"Yo, what's up, sis?" Simon's voice filled the living room.
I barely lifted my head. "Fine, I guess," I mumbled, chewing.
Next thing I knew, he was right in front of me—snatching my cereal bowl.
I gasped. "What is your problem, Simon?"
"Chillax," he said, already scooping a spoonful into his mouth. "I'm not taking all."
I lunged, trying to grab the bowl back. "That's mine! You literally just got in. Go make your own."
He grinned around his spoon. "You look so sick though." His eyes narrowed at me, studying my face.
I sighed. "Got my period."
His hand froze mid-air, and then he slapped a palm dramatically over his mouth. "Ohhh. Sorry. That… blood thing, right?"
I gave him the deadliest glare. "Yes, that blood thing."
He immediately slid the bowl back into my hands like it was radioactive. "Here. Have it all. My bad."
I rolled my eyes but held onto my cereal protectively. He plopped down beside me, and the couch dipped under his weight.
"Don't sit beside me, Simon. You stink. Go freshen up. I might poke you if you don't."
He groaned, tossing his backpack on the floor along with his sneakers. "You're the worst. I don't stink."
"Yes, you do. Get away from me."
"Fine," he grumbled, dragging himself up. He stomped dramatically toward the stairs like a sulking cartoon character.
I burst out laughing as he disappeared. "Idiot."
Just then, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. When I saw the caller ID, my heart did this weird little flip. Noah. I didn't even realize I was smiling until I pressed the phone to my ear and slipped out the front door for some quiet.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, voice smooth and warm, like he knew exactly the effect he had.
I tucked my free hand into my hoodie pocket, trying not to sound giddy. "Hi, Noah."
"Just got back home. What about you?"
"I've been home for like… two, maybe three hours."
"Nice. Rough day?" he asked.
I let out a tiny laugh. "You could say that. School stuff. Cramps. Life."
He chuckled softly. "Ah, the glamorous side of being human. I get it."
"Very glamorous," I said dryly, swirling my spoon in my empty cereal bowl.
We fell into conversation so easily. He told me about his day, about some project he was working on for his college prep program. He somehow made studying for economics sound fun, which was insane. We compared notes on our favorite classes, complained about assignments, and laughed at how teachers always pretended group projects were good for bonding.
Then he said, "You know, the way you explain things—you make complicated stuff sound easy. You'd be an amazing tutor."
I froze for a second, warmth rushing to my cheeks. Thank goodness he couldn't see me. "I… uh… I doubt it."
"I don't," he replied, firm but playful. "Smart and pretty? Dangerous combo."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. My tone came out as casual as I could make it: "You're ridiculous."
Before I could think of something better to say, Simon's voice carried from inside. "Avaline! Come inside already!"
I groaned under my breath. "Shut up, Simon! I'm coming!"
"Everything okay?" Noah asked, amusement in his voice.
"Yeah," I said quickly. "Sorry, I have to go. My brother's being… himself."
"No worries. Greet him for me," he said lightly.
"I will." I smiled again, not even trying to fight it this time. "Bye, Noah."
"Bye, Avaline."
I slipped the phone into my pocket and went back inside, only to find Simon waiting in the hallway, smirking.
"Mom said you should make dinner," he announced, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "She's coming home late."
I groaned dramatically. "But I have cramps."
He shrugged, already moving toward the kitchen. "I'll assist. Don't worry."
And for once, I actually believed him
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