Ritual I

You, eleven years old and 5 foot four with two cornrows, thick as the grandma's hands that greased them down, nice and neat felt line up to go back to classes when samuel snyder taps you on the shoulder, not to tell you how pretty you hair is, but to point at a darkened circle that has grown the size of a softball on your butt. He laughs and yells that you've peed yourself. And you think that you actually might have peed yourself. You tell everybody that asks, that asks by asking, that asks by staring ,that you sat in a puddle. You think people believe you. The nurse does not. She hands you underwear with loose elastic band left behind from one year and baggy jean pants. She sends you back to class. The teacher notices your change and asks.. You tell her that you sat in a puddle and that makes everyone laugh. You didn't mean to be funny, but you'll take it. Your table partner thinks you smell funny, she scoots far to the left and whispers to another kid. Your stomach feels large, but you aren't pregnant. You know that babies don't get pregnant, even though you aren't a baby. Your large stomach gurgles and you tell everyone that asks by asking and everyone that asks by staring that you skipped lunch. You pretend not to hear it when someone wonder aloud how someone can be so fat is they skip lunch.

At home the people are sympathetic, but they do not waste time. They hand you a pad, and you think about stickers. You think pads are supposed to stick to people. The pad sticks to you and you panic. You are alone now, squatting over a toilet, with a very sticky sticker, attached to your privates. You try to pull it off, quickly, like a band-aid, but too many hairs are involved. You cry a little bit, but you aren't pregnant. Inch by inch, the pad is peeled off. You throw it away. It is a defective pad. You decide not to use them. You spend two hours in the shower, trying to get clean. Your sister tells you that she thinks you were masturbating, but you don't really know what that is. You look it up later on the computer and delete your entire internet history.

Tomorrow will be Saturday and you will spend most of the time lying down and clutching your stomach. You will be surprised at the blood on every trip to the bathroom. You will be surprised with blood on every awakening. Every night before bed will be a guessing game until you decide to wear layer upon layer of underwear, leggings and socks. You wear socks because you think of them as blood caps. When the white sheets remain white the next morning, you will have convinced yourself of your idea. You will share with your sister and she will call you stupid.

You will share with your mom and she will tell you that you smell.