Sometimes when I’m writing, I get really frustrated with the character and want to kill them all off. Morbid, I know. Grace and Miles have died many times when I hit a rut and just start writing wild things that I would never publish.

But other times I’ll close out of the Mirror Series and work on another book. I have about fifteen books I’ve started since finishing Mirror. Most are only the first five chapters, then I get a new idea and start another story. Sometimes one of those stories will stay with me until I finish it. I think aside from the Mirror Series, I’ve finished three books. I’m not sure if I’ll ever publish them, but I love them all.

This is a picture of just one of my folders. There are other folders with more stories. I have issues.

Because I’ve been so focused on getting Home ready, I haven’t had time to write on the side. But last night I opened up my book folder and saw this story I finished about a year ago, and I remember how much I loved it.

If you’re a girl, you’ll appreciate this. If you’re a boy, (all two of you–sorry Dad and Beeg), you don’t need to read about the following unless you want to read about Mother Nature visiting teenage girls for the first time.

This is from All the Lives I’ve Lived, which may or may not make it to print. This excerpt is in the fifth chapter, so you won’t know the storyline, but you’ll go along with Emmy for a bit while she learns about tampons ;).

PS-Ignore any grammatical errors you find. This is a first draft of the story.

 

December 6, 2010

This is awful. No, it’s horrific. No, mortifying. It’s . . . what’s worse than mortifying? Because that word is what I’m feeling right now.

I look in the mirror, trying to find pieces of me that are different. I still look like me, but I know I’m not. I’ve changed, and I hate that I don’t know what’s happening. Yeah, they told me about this in sixth grade, but I was too embarrassed to listen closely. Especially because a parent had to come, which meant Asher was sitting next to me shifting uncomfortably anytime they said “tampon” or “hormones.” He was so embarrassed to be there I can’t imagine what I’m going to say when I go downstairs. Do I ask him to go buy me something? Or do I ask for money to buy it myself? I don’t want to buy it myself. What if I run into someone from school at the store? I can’t. I just can’t. What if—

“Em? You okay in there?” Asher knocks on the door, his voice a little wary.

“Um . . . yeah. Just brushing my teeth before school.” I splash some cold water on my face and wonder if I can get by with toilet paper for the rest of the day. This is one of the times I wish so much that Mom was here.

“Well, I have a call I have to get on. Jen said she’d take you and Dax to school today because of the snow. She’ll be here any minute.” As if on cue, a double honk comes from outside. “That’s you,” Asher calls through the door. By the way his voice mumbles, he sounds like he’s pressed up right against the wood.

I open the door and laugh when he almost falls through the doorway. “You’ll be here after school?” I ask, just like I do every morning.

“Right here.” He smiles, just like he does every morning.

I grab my backpack, a banana from the table (since the smell of burning was probably my breakfast), and race to Jen’s car. The second I’m sitting in the back of her mini van, my eyes involuntarily water. It smells like roses in here. It smells like a girl—a girl who will know what I’m going through. A girl who will help me.

“Hey, Emmy!” Dax pulls my backpack from my lap, getting ready to throw it over his shoulder once we’re out of the car. “Yesterday, I studied for an hour for our math test. I’m so going to get a better score than you this time, and then you’ll owe me a candy bar. Hey, are you crying?”

Jen’s eyes immediately dart to the rear view mirror, and right when we lock eyes, I hope she can see how much I need her. If eyes could talk, mine are screaming, HELP ME!

She pulls up to the curb by the school, and turns around to me. “Honey, are you feeling okay?” She feels my forehead, and her eyebrows shoot up. “I’m going to take you back home. You’re burning up.” I just nod, feeling a tear run down my cold cheek. “Dax, go on inside.”

Dax puts my backpack on the ground, and puts his hand on mine. “Is Gabe home today? I can come back and help. I’m good at making soup.”

Jen shakes her head. “Go on, Dax. I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

Dax looks back and forth between his mom and me, his eyes disappearing further when his eyebrows scrunch down. “I’ll call you when I get home.” He pats my hand and slips out of the door. “Feel better.”

I’m silent as Jen drops Ryan and Adam off at the elementary school. After they file out, I open my mouth to tell her not to take me home. If I go home, I have to face Asher. If I have to face Asher, that means I have to tell him to get me tampons because I have hormones. I shudder at the thought of seeing his face turn as red as mine.

Jen doesn’t take me home. A few blocks away from the elementary, she pulls over and puts the car in park. “Come on up here, Emmy.” She pats the front passenger seat. I crawl over the middle console, and the second I’m sitting by her, I lose it. Tears pour out of my eyes, and it’s a little scary because I can’t stop them. Maybe it’s the hormones.

Jen grabs me, cradling me against her. “Shh, Emmy. You’re okay.” She rocks back and forth gently, holding me a little stronger every time a sob comes out louder than the others. It feels nice to be held by a woman. I love Asher, but he’d never understand what I’m going through, and I’m so embarrassed for the moment when I have to tell him.

“Do you want me to take you home? Is Gabriel there?” Jen whispers, still swaying with me in her arms.

“Yes, he’s there, but I don’t want to go home,” I cry.

“Did you two get into a fight?” she asks cautiously.

“No. It’s nothing like that. I just . . . I can’t . . . Jen . . .” And then the sobs turn uncontrollable. In my head I know I’m being irrational, maybe even a little crazy. But for the life of me I cannot stop crying. It’s like the hormones set up camp inside me and are overthrowing the normal and sane transmitters from my brain to my body.

“Hey, sweetie, you’re going to be fine.” Her voice goes up an octave. She’s probably terrified of the reason I’m wailing into her arms.

I have no pride left, so I find whatever courage is in me and mumble through the next part. “Jen, will you take me to the store?” I look up at her, grateful she still has her arms around me.

She pushes the hair out of my face. “Of course. What do you need?”

I feel my face ignite. Looking down so I can’t see her face, I wrap my arms back around her waist and whisper, “Tampons.”

Jen tenses for only a moment, and then she pushes me away. I peer out of one eye to see her face, and when I see her smiling, my shoulders practically fall to the floor in relief.

“Oh, sweetie.” She pats my cheek and continues to smile. “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t as horrifying as I thought. She picked out the things I needed while I tried to look interested in bottles of shampoo. She told me how to use them and waited for me outside the store bathroom to make sure I was okay. On the way back to school, she tried explaining what was happening to me. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but imagine if I had to do that with Asher. A gun aimed at me, and he’d jump in front of me in a heartbeat. But ask him to explain what’s going on in a teenage girl’s body? I think he’d prefer the bullet.

“Put a few in your backpack,” she tells me, shoving three tampons into a small clutch she bought me at the store. I slip the pink clutch into my backpack, but don’t move to get out of the car.

I reach for her slowly, and then grip the back of her shirt like I’m going to drown if I ever let her go. “Thank you, Jen,” I say through shaky sobs. “Oh no, I’m crying again.”

Jen laughs as she wipes away my tears. “It’s normal. You’ll feel emotional and crazy and unstable for a few days, but then it goes away.” Her hands stay on my cheeks so I can’t look away. I don’t think she’s ever been as beautiful as she is now with no makeup, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, and an old holey sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big. “You’re still Emmy, and will always be Emmy. Now you’re Emmy with a Woman Card.”

My mouth hitches up on the side. “A Woman Card? I don’t think I want it.”

“No one does, but someone has to. Boys are too weak to have to endure this.”

I laugh at the thought of boys crying irrationally and complaining about cramps. I hear the school bell and let out a sigh, then open the door and climb out. Before I leave, I turn around to face her. “Jen, I don’t think you’ll ever know what you’ve done for me today.” I step back and grab the door. I look at her, and maybe it’s the stupid hormones, but my chest feels like it’s swelling. The bigger it gets, the warmer it becomes. “I love you.”

Jen’s tears fall two at a time, rolling over her smiling cheeks. “Oh Emmy, I love you very much. You don’t know what you’ve done for me today. A house full of stinky, out-of-control boys will never give me the opportunity to pass down some of the wisdom I’ve learned over the years about being a girl. If you ever need anything, please come to me.”

I kick at some loose gravel, avoiding her eyes. First, because I’m crying. Again. Second, because I feel stupid asking. “Well, maybe when you buy some stuff for you, can you can buy some for me?” I look up, grateful I have an ally against the hormones. “I should probably tell Gabe, and that’s going to be really uncomfortable, but if I tell him he doesn’t have to buy anything, then maybe it won’t be so bad.”

Jen leans across the car and squeezes my hand. “Anytime I buy something for me, I’ll buy two for you so you’ll never have to worry about it again.” I nod, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “No get inside and beat Dax on the math test. He’s been bragging for days he’s going to beat you. If you win, I have to take him to get a candy bar for you, which means I get a candy bar for me. So go win the math test for both of us.”

I watch her drive away, and when she disappears around the corner, I turn for the school. I feel much stronger than I did this morning. Maybe the hormones aren’t so strong after all.

 

I love this story, because while the main character is seventeen, you get to go on flashbacks to when she’s twelve-fifteen, and it makes me remember all those times I thought the world was ending when I was that age.

I’ll post a Home spoiler later on in the week when I get to a point I feel I can share something that won’t spoil the story.