Not Pretty Enough (12 page)

CHAPTER 21

October.

I don’t wear a skirt to school very often. In fact I only
have the one because I’m more comfortable in trousers, and it’s pretty rare
that I have to wear it. Only when Mum gets way behind on the washing and there
are no clean trousers.

That day is today and there are
two problems.

One: I hate my legs. The tan
from the summer has faded and they are back to being glow-in-the-dark pale.

Two: I have my period.

I’m always nervous about leakage
at this time of the month, but wearing a skirt makes it even more troublesome.

Wearing a skirt is not good at
the best of times. I just know that people like Leigh will immediately notice
and invite the whole class to perv on my overly wide legs. She knows all my
insecurities and takes sublime pleasure in pointing them out to everybody.

But I’m hoping I’ll be okay. I
just have to be very ladylike and keep my legs together at all times, and be
extra careful when sitting down or getting up. I’ve even been practising that
part. I’m ninety-five percent sure that I’ll be able to sit at a desk without
flashing my knickers.

At least I’ve got a note from my
mother to get out of swimming today.

Swimming is such an embarrassing
lesson that it should be banned at all costs. I think the school curriculum
should be more considerate of women’s problems. Every week at least one girl is
sitting out because it’s that time of the month. Everybody in class knows that
any girl sitting on the poolside watching instead of swimming has her period.
We all go through it every month. Afterwards the boys avoid you like a leper
for a few days. Because they all
know
. Teachers
just don’t realise that we don’t want to sit by the side of the pool. We may as
well be holding a big sign that reads, “
I have my
period. Laugh at me
.”

By the time I get to school I’ve
realised that the skirt thing may not be entirely bad. I feel really
self-conscious, but so far I’ve managed to sit daintily on the bus and I’m trying
to be all elegant and ladylike instead of all tomboyish and clunky like I
usually am.

I’ve even got a couple of
appreciative glances from immature year sevens. At first I thought that I
might’ve had toilet paper trailing out of my knickers, but Debs assured me that
they were appreciative glances, and there was a possible wolf whistle from a
bloke on some scaffolding as we walked to the bus stop this morning, which I
thought was flattering but Debs said was an owl.

So I’m thinking that I might be
able to swing this to my advantage. Skirt wearing could even become a regular
thing. I’m going to try sashaying past Lloyd Layton appealingly, and maybe
he’ll realise that I am actually a female of the variety that he is generally
attracted to, and not just some completely asexual object like a coffee table.

It’s Monday morning so we have
English first lesson. Lloyd is already sitting at his desk and deep in
conversation with Darren when I get to class, so it’s a little pointless
sashaying anywhere. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this year it’s that when
boys start talking about the football match that was on this weekend, you may
as well not exist.

In fact, Lloyd doesn’t look up
from his book all lesson, and as we leave after the buzzer has gone, he and
Darren resume their conversation and Lloyd doesn’t so much as glance in my
direction.

Oh well. He’ll notice me next
lesson, because it’s swimming, and I’ll be sitting on the side of the pool with
the other girls who obviously have their period this week.

When we get into the changing
rooms, I go through the usual monthly routine of grabbing Miss Raine when she’s
not talking to anyone else and handing her the note that says I have my period
and can’t partake in swimming this week.

“That’s fine, Chessie,” Miss Raine
says. “You can help me instead.”

“Okay.” Wait…
help
her? That’s not sitting in a chair on the side of
the pool with my legs crossed gracefully. That’s, well, I don’t know what that
is, but it probably involves moving. And that can’t be good.

I’ve had to take my shoes and
socks off, and wait at the side of the pool. Once everyone else is in the
water, Miss Raine makes me come and stand next to her. “Right everyone,” she
yells. She’s another one who will never require the use of a loudspeaker.
“Chessie is going to be my assistant today.” She turns to me. “Hand these out.
Make sure everyone has one.”

She practically throws a pile of
foam floats at me and I flounder to catch them. “The rest are in the supply
closet, please get them quickly.”

I walk down the edge of the
pool, lobbing the floats in the direction of everyone. Lloyd doesn’t even look
up when I throw one to him. I have to do another two journeys to get the rest
of the floats. I’m on my way back up for the third lot when disaster strikes.
I’m not really concentrating on where I’m going. Lloyd is in the far corner of
the swimming pool, surrounded by his usual gang of boy mates, and he’s showing
off his skills and cute bum by repeatedly diving down to the bottom of the pool
and coming back up looking all sexy with wet hair in his eyes and flushed
cheeks. Of course, he’s also wearing nothing but swimming shorts. It’s very
distracting.

And then Miss Raine blows her
whistle. “Chessie!”

It makes me jump, and I slip on
the wet tiles.

I fall into the pool.

My skirt ends up around my ears.

I come up from under the water,
sputtering and gasping for air. I can’t believe I just did that in front of
Lloyd Layton.

“Chessie, are you all right?”
Miss Raine is yelling in her megaphone voice.

I’m just about to tell her that
I’m fine when I notice something.

There are bubbles coming up near
me, and when I look down, I can see something red under the water. I feel my
head, thinking that my hairband must have come off or something, but there is
white on the thing too.

It rises up to the surface and
floats.

Suddenly Leigh lets out a shriek
and everybody around me starts clambering and swimming and pushing to get to
the other end of the pool. What the hell is going on?

I look around, expecting to see
a giant spider has entered the water or something equally scary to cause such
mass panic.

And then I realise. The thing in
the water.

It is my sanitary towel.

My red, bloody, sanitary towel
has detached itself from my knickers and is currently floating away from me, in
–
OH GOD
– Lloyd’s direction.

Oh. My.
God
.

“Everybody calm down!” Miss
Raine is yelling.

I stay frozen in the water, too
embarrassed to move. What do I do?
What do I do
?

All I can do is look at Lloyd,
who has climbed out of the pool and is standing on the side with his mates,
looking on in horror.

“Chessie.” Miss Raine is
crouched down on the poolside and is holding her hand out to me. “Come on, get
out,” she says in the kindest voice I’ve ever heard her use.

I stare at the sanitary towel
for a moment longer. I can’t believe this happened to me. Of all the improbable
things to happen, it had to be this. It had to happen to me. And it had to
happen directly in front of Lloyd Layton.

“Chessie,” Miss Raine prompts.

I grab at the towel and clench
it in my fist, trying to curl it up into a ball in my hand so that no one sees
it again. Of course, the damn thing has expanded with the water, and this just
serves to squeeze more blood out of it, which seeps into the water.

Reluctantly I take Miss Raine’s
hand and pull myself out of the water.

“Go and wait in the changing
room,” she says to me quietly. “There’s a spare towel in the supply closet, dry
yourself off and I’ll be with you in a minute.”

I walk as quickly and quietly as
possible out of the pool with my head down so I won’t have to make eye contact
with anyone, but my wet sloppy clothes are making smacking noises as they cling
to me and I know the entire class has their eyes fixed on me. Eventually I hear
a giggle, and once one person giggles, it’s a matter of mere seconds before the
entire class is rolling up in fits of laughter.

“Enough!” Miss Raine yells.
“Everybody back in the water, NOW!”

“I’m not getting in there,” I
hear Leigh say. “It has her blood in it. Who knows what we could catch.”

I hear a few murmurs of
agreement go through the class, but I don’t want to hear anymore. I run into
the changing room to get away from them.

I’m still clinging to the
sanitary towel, which is leaking slightly pink water everywhere. I dump it in
the bin and push it down as hard as I can. Stupid, stupid thing.

I lock myself in one of the
toilet cubicles and sit on the closed lid, shivering in my wet clothes and
wondering how hard it would be to climb out of the window and run away, just so
I never have to see anyone from my class again.

“Chessie?” Miss Raine knocks on
the door. “Are you okay?”

“Go away,” I say, not even
caring that you get in serious trouble for talking to teachers like that.

“Here’s the towel,” she says.
“I’m going to throw it over the top of the door, okay?”

I grab the towel as she flings
it.

“Thanks,” I mumble, wrapping
myself in it.

“I don’t suppose you have any
spare clothes with you?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m going to go up to the
lost and found box and find you a spare uniform to wear. Sit tight, okay? And
take your wet clothes off before you catch a cold.”

I do as she says while I wait
for her to come back. I stand in my wet bra and knickers, attempting to wring
the water out of my hair when Miss Raine knocks on the door again.

“Here,” she says. “There’s a
boys polo shirt and a pair of trousers that will probably fit you.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought you another sanitary
towel in case you didn’t have a spare.”

Her arm comes under the door and
hands it to me. I blush bright red at the sight of it, but take it off her
anyway.

“I’m sorry I can’t find you any
underwear,” she says. “But if you come up to the staff room, I have a
hairdryer. You could try drying yours with that.”

I don’t say anything for a
while.

“It’s going to be breaktime in
ten minutes, Chessie,” Miss Raine says. “Why don’t you put the shirt and
trousers on, grab your stuff and come with me now, then you can dry off before
you have to go back to class?”

Bollocks. I really am going to
have to go back to class today, aren’t I?

“Okay.” I dress as quickly as I
can. The trousers Miss Raine found me are a little snug and not flared at all
so my bum looks the size of Stonehenge in them, and the shirt is completely
shapeless and like a sack. But I suppose it beats being wet and bloody.

I emerge from the toilet cubicle
holding my wet clothes in my hand. Miss Raine gives me a carrier bag to put
them in.

“Thanks,” I say to her.

“You’re welcome.”

She must feel really sorry for
me because I’ve never known her be this nice to anyone before.

I take my bag out of the locker
and follow Miss Raine across the yard to the staff room, a few floors up in the
main building.

She roots around in one of the
metal cabinets and eventually pulls out a hairdryer. “Look, there’s a bathroom at
the back there with a lock on the door. Strip off and try to dry your
underwear, otherwise you’ll be uncomfortable all day.”

Does she really think I’m not
going to be uncomfortable all day anyway?

“Thanks.” I nod, still too
mortifyingly embarrassed to communicate in full sentences.

“I’ll wait for you out here, and
I’ll write you a note to explain why you’re not in uniform today.”

I go into the bathroom and lock
the door.

I’ve never been in here before.
It’s not that posh actually. I always thought the teachers had, like, golden
quarters and that their toilet seats were probably made of platinum, but
they’re actually just the same grungy old white plastic that we have to use
ourselves.

I plug the dryer in and take off
the old trousers and shirt. Both smell a little musty, like they’ve been in
storage for a long while, and thinking about it, they probably have. The lost
and found is a cardboard box in the secretary’s office.

I squirt them with half a bottle
of bodyspray, before stripping out of my underwear and laying it flat on the
sink. I turn the hairdryer on them and wonder if I could stay here all day,
pretending they wouldn’t dry so I couldn’t possibly go back to class.

After about twenty minutes, I
decide that I’m dry enough and go back out into the staff room. Miss Raine is
still there, and now she has been joined by Mr Hursh, the boys’ gym teacher,
and someone else who I think is a substitute.

“Thank you.” I hand the dryer
back.

“You’re welcome.”

I take the note she hands me and
read it.

“
Francesca
Clemenfield is permitted not to wear uniform today due to a little accident
with the swimming pool this morning, signed Miss R. Raine
.”

“Are you okay, Chessie?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Thanks.”

Actually, I’m feeling anything
but fine as I make my way down the stairs to face the rest of the class. The
next lesson is Welsh, then lunchtime and double technology this afternoon. All
classes with Lloyd. All classes where people will be laughing at me.

Why is it too much to ask that
we have a giant earthquake and the ground opens up to swallow me whole?

Debs is waiting for me when I
get to the bottom of the stairs.

“Miss Raine told me where you
were,” she says. “Are you okay? That was sooo embarrassing.”