She mumbles something I can't quite make out, "[something something] futa [something]," then, abruptly, in a bubbly tone, "Your turn!"
"Hmm. What is your favor--" I feel warm liquid burst out through my slit. It's not lube. Blood drains from my face, aptly, considering it's also draining from my vagina.
"What's wrong, Babes?" Her face etches with sudden concern.
I'm flustered and beyond embarrassed. Why had I never considered I would get a period? I knew I had ovaries, and it's been a month since I first grew them. "I think I just had my first period."
To my surprise, Gabi's expression softens. "Oh! I'm guessing this was unexpected?" I nod uncomfortably. She rummages in her purse. "Here, let's head to the bathroom. I've got pads and...." She pauses as she digs a bit more. "Yep! I have a tampon if you'd prefer. And some aspirin for the discomfort."
"Thanks, Gabi. I just...."
"What?"
"I'm pretty sure it soaked into my skirt."
"Hon, that has happened to every single one of us girls. No one can predict when they'll have their first period, and few of us are lucky enough to have it in private. Here," she says, pulling off her jacket, "wrap this around your waist."
I do, and the two of us shuffle to the restroom. I feel every single patron's eyes on me, their x-ray vision aimed directly through Gabi's jacket to what I assume is a massive dark spot on my bright Sounder Blue skirt. We enter, and close the door. I untie Gabi's jacket from me.
"Oh, that's hardly noticeable at all," Gabi says. "Tampon or pad?"
"Whichever is easier, I guess. I don't have any experience."
"Pad it is!" She pulls one out of her purse and hands it to me. "Know how to use one of these?" I could probably figure it out, but I shake my head. "Okay, let me show you." It's beyond awkward, even humiliating, to pull my soaked panties down and let my girlfriend show me how to attach a pad, but Gabi doesn't look the least bit embarrassed or judgmental. Bless her. "There you go!" she says, cheerfully. "Depending on how heavy your flow is--and it looks like this one is a little lighter than my average--you'll need to replace the pad a few times a day." She pulls out two more pads from her purse and hands them to me. "We'll purchase you some more, later, but this should do for tonight, and I have more in our room."
I look at her in disbelief, as if seeing her for the first time.
"What?" she asks, hesitantly.
"You're-- Thank you, Gabi. I know I say it a lot, but I've never meant it so much: You are a peach."
She blushes. "Why, thank you kindly," she says with her drawl, tipping an imaginary cowgirl hat.
"I mean it. It's almost hard for me to believe that I was unsure you would be closed off or distant walking through a crisis with me. Thank you, Gabi."
Her blush fades into a soft smile. "You're welcome, Sarah.
"I'm guessing you would rather not go get Mexican now?" she asks. Blood drains from my face again. She chuckles. "I thought not. You stay here. I'll go bus our drinks, and then be right back."
As she leaves the room, I lock the door after her so no one else walks in on me. I examine myself. Some blood has run down my leg, but most has been absorbed by the fabric of my panties and skirt. I wad some toilet paper and clean myself up.
This could have gone much worse,
I think.
I'm really lucky that I was with Gabi when this happened.
There's a knock on the door followed by Gabi's voice. "Babes?" I unlock the door and hastily usher her in. She pulls out her phone and types out a quick text message to Beatrix. I catch a glance at the message: "Red alert. Need emergency transport to quarters, two to beam up."
Wait, is Gabi a trekkie?
A moment later, we're in our room. "Red alert?" I ask with a smirk.
"It seemed appropriate," she says grinning at her pun. Her stomach rumbles. "I suppose we need to make other dinner plans, huh? Do you want to go to the dining hall?"
I don't, but I don't see what other option we have. She must read it on my face; before I can say anything, she says, "How about I go back and get us some Mexican. What do you want?" She dials before I can answer.
"Are you sure? At least let me pay for it," I say, reaching into my purse.
She swats my hand away. "Hi, yes, I'd like to make an order for take-out," she says to the phone. "What do you want?" she whispers to me.
"Enchiladas rojas, no beans or rice. Salad if they'll let me substitute."
She repeats my order. "What kind of meat?" she asks, passing on the question from the phone.
"One ground beef, the other picadillo."
She orders for herself, as well as some chips and salsa--the true measure of any Mexican restaurant.
"Thank you so much," I say. "Are you sure you won't let me pay?"
"My treat. In celebration of you entering womanhood," she says formally.
I snort. "How are you going to get there? Bus again?"
"I'd planned on asking Beatrix." Her face contorts in confusion. "Will that not work?"
"I don't know. We'd need to make sure you'd appear at a spot where no one can see you. I know that Bea can see places with her ability, but I don't know if she'll be able to see everyone around without their consent."
"Well, it doesn't hurt to ask," she says confidently. She texts Beatrix. "Looks like she can do this. I'll be back with our food when it's ready. You get yourself into more comfortable clothes." I nod gratefully and she disappears.
I hastily change out of my bloodied undergarment and skirt, using one of the two pads Gabi gave me to protect another pair of panties, then throw on some sweats. I leave on my black tank and lightweight purple cardigan. Not knowing what else to do while I wait, I sit at my desk and scroll through TikTok. I briefly consider asking Bea to summon me a bouquet of thank-you flowers for my date, but discard the idea. I get lost in thought, not even noticing the app I'm scrolling through.
Gabi appears, carrying two plastic to-go bags. She invites me to sit on her bed, and we have ourselves a traditional Valentine's Day take-out feast.
