She sighs. “Delaney.”
I’m starting to regret my emboldened decision. Mostly, I’vefound it’s easier to try to do what I’m told because, more often than not, others have always known what’s best for me.
But right now? I’m distinctlynotdoing that.
“Mrs.Faustino also reported you skipped class on Tuesday. It’s only the first week of school. Is this really how you want to start your senior year?”
It’s not a real question because the answer she wants isno. I didn’t skip history Tuesday morning as an act of defiance. I did it because my period is ruining my life.
My menstrual cycles turned irregular during my first year at Ivernia. My cramps became unbearable. Then came the dizziness. The nausea. Sometimes I’d have to stop what I was doing and lie down when the intense sharpness migrated all the way down my legs. But when I’d finally talked to a doctor, I was told it was most likely stress-related and that going on birth control could help alleviate the pain.
Except it didn’t. Not really. My periods became heavier than before, not to mention my moods were off the charts. I tried switching to the pill I’m on now, which helped marginally, but every month the pain is still hit or miss.
Up until Tuesday, I would drag myself to class despite the agony because it’s what I’m supposed to do. But when I woke up in pain a few days ago, I was done pretending. I wasn’t thinking about my absence or the coursework I was missing. I was thinking of myself.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” I say, because it’s the truth. I don’twant to get into the details. I’ve tried before with other instructors who didn’t get it.
“And”—her eyes flick back to me—“you didn’t take the A&P entrance exam over the summer. The class is already full.”
I can’t recall at what point I began agreeing with my parents when they told me I’d become a dentist one day, which then evolved into practicing orthodontia. It may have started with the dental playset I got for Christmas when I was seven. Or when I’d written to the tooth fairy asking for all my teeth back, whichsurelydidn’t disturb my family. It could have been my stellar grades in science that solidified it. Talk of going to dental school followed me like a shadow. It all seemed premeditated.This is who you are, so this is who you’ll become.
I’d intended on taking Ivernia’s anatomy and physiology placement exam over the summer. I’d even ordered a used anatomy textbook and told myself I could learn enough to pass, but memorizing nervous systems and skeletal structures proved to be overwhelmingly difficult. I was miserable. And as the days crept closer to the deadline, the bigger my dread grew.
Instead of taking the test despite all this, I just…didn’t.
Like I didn’t go to class on Tuesday.
Like I didn’t follow the rules when I broke into Segner.
“I’ll try for spring semester,” I offer. There. A simple fix.
She leans back in her seat. “I think I know what’s happening here.”
I tense, sensing what’s coming next, and it makes me want to shrivel up inside myself.
“Delaney, I was so sorry to hear about your father. Believe me, the faculty is aware of the sensitivity of your situation, and we feel deeply for you.”
A tightness winds its way around my heart. Because they can’t truly know. They have no idea.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with that,” I say, ending this conversation before it can begin. “How long is my detention? A week? A month?”
There’s a shift in her gaze. “I’m not going to assign you detention.”
The tension releases. I’m getting off with a warning. Maybe this is what happens when people feel sorry for you because you lost the one person who understood you better than anyone.
I assume we’re done here, so I start to stand. “Thank you—”
“Hold on.”
I fall back into the seat.
She riffles through a file. “Ah, here we go.”
The big unveiling is a flyer printed on bright magenta paper. My heart drops to my toes as I read the heading:
Ladies of Polite Society
“I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through, Delaney, but I do think structure will help right now,” she says gently. “You’ll attend meetings and participate in the presentation ball at the end of the year.”
