Read Online Paper Aeroplanes by Dawn O'Porter - Free Book Online
Authors: Dawn O'Porter
Tags: Contemporary, Young Adult
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become a full-time carer and my life will be awful. Why can’t Nell just shut up and deal with it? It doesn’t make sense that I’m the one who always gets called selfish in this house.
As I lie in bed thinking all of this over I can’t think of a single positive outcome of her saying that stuff. I just lie there, my heart jumping around in my chest, desperately trying to think of something, of something shallow and shiny to focus on to distract my thoughts, and then I remember.
Julian.
I listen to Nell’s breathing. It’s long and slow. She’s definitely asleep. I slide my hand down slowly. My duvet is suddenly very loud. On my back with my hand in place, I think about him. The curve of his top lip pressing against mine, his breath bitter but sweet. We’re in the living room, where I saw him last. He has me on the sofa. His hand is where mine is now, he’s kissing me and touching me and he feels so good. I’m totally transfixed by my fantasy, I must unknowingly jolt, make a noise, I don’t know – but Nell is now awake. She’s turned the light on, and she is telling me I am disgusting.
I don’t bother saying anything. It won’t make me feel any less humiliated to stand up for myself. I just roll over. She turns off the light and says, ‘You should always be alone, Renée.’
I fall asleep, my brain finally realising that being awake isn’t worth the hassle.
The next morning I wake up to hysteria. Nana is next to Nell’s bed with a bowl of water and a cloth. Nell is lying on her back with a tea towel stuffed up her nose. This has become normal. Nell’s nosebleeds are an everyday occurrence since she decided to torture herself by not eating. I go to get out of bed, knowing that offering my help will only get me told to GO AWAY, but as I move I feel a wetness between my legs that worries me. Is it already that time? I lift the covers and see that my pyjamas have a huge red stain creeping across them. I move myself to see if it had spread to the sheets but I’ve woken up just in time. Any wrong move will change that so I have to be careful. I roll onto my side and run to the bathroom. Pulling my PJs down as I go I just about make it to the toilet, but a dollop of blood falls onto the mat.
Why do periods have to start that way? This will be my fifteenth and I’m still not used to them. I can’t believe I have to have them until I’m fifty-something. How many pairs of pyjamas will I have ruined by then?
I clean myself up and stick a big wedge of loo roll between my legs. Holding it in place with my thighs I scrub the toilet mat until the stain comes off. After a shower I hold my pyjama bottoms between my thighs, wrap a towel around myself and waddle into the bedroom. Luckily I have one more sanitary towel in my gym bag, so I stick that in my pants, get dressed, hide the pyjamas in my bag and leave for school. Just at the end of our road there’s a row of bins. I throw my pyjama bottoms into the emptiest one and carry on along my way. As I walk, I think how weird it is that Nana has never even asked me if my periods have started. Maybe when you get that old you just forget about them.
At school, hell strikes. My tummy throbs like a wild animal trapped inside a cage. I sit on the toilet as I try to push out the pain. The registration bell rings, I crawl back to the classroom. My face can’t hide what I’m going through.
‘Get on your knees and put your head on the floor,’ insists Margaret, who is the self-confessed Queen of Periods, seeing as she started so long ago.
‘NO, don’t scrunch up. You lie on your back with your knees apart and feet together,’ says Charlotte as she tries to get me into that position.
‘I am not lying on the floor in my school skirt with my legs open,’ I say, jamming my thighs shut.
I assume Margaret’s position and continue to drop beads of sweat into the carpet tiles. Last month I didn’t get any pain at all – why now? I feel so faint. The dull ache is
As I lie in bed thinking all of this over I can’t think of a single positive outcome of her saying that stuff. I just lie there, my heart jumping around in my chest, desperately trying to think of something, of something shallow and shiny to focus on to distract my thoughts, and then I remember.
Julian.
I listen to Nell’s breathing. It’s long and slow. She’s definitely asleep. I slide my hand down slowly. My duvet is suddenly very loud. On my back with my hand in place, I think about him. The curve of his top lip pressing against mine, his breath bitter but sweet. We’re in the living room, where I saw him last. He has me on the sofa. His hand is where mine is now, he’s kissing me and touching me and he feels so good. I’m totally transfixed by my fantasy, I must unknowingly jolt, make a noise, I don’t know – but Nell is now awake. She’s turned the light on, and she is telling me I am disgusting.
I don’t bother saying anything. It won’t make me feel any less humiliated to stand up for myself. I just roll over. She turns off the light and says, ‘You should always be alone, Renée.’
I fall asleep, my brain finally realising that being awake isn’t worth the hassle.
The next morning I wake up to hysteria. Nana is next to Nell’s bed with a bowl of water and a cloth. Nell is lying on her back with a tea towel stuffed up her nose. This has become normal. Nell’s nosebleeds are an everyday occurrence since she decided to torture herself by not eating. I go to get out of bed, knowing that offering my help will only get me told to GO AWAY, but as I move I feel a wetness between my legs that worries me. Is it already that time? I lift the covers and see that my pyjamas have a huge red stain creeping across them. I move myself to see if it had spread to the sheets but I’ve woken up just in time. Any wrong move will change that so I have to be careful. I roll onto my side and run to the bathroom. Pulling my PJs down as I go I just about make it to the toilet, but a dollop of blood falls onto the mat.
Why do periods have to start that way? This will be my fifteenth and I’m still not used to them. I can’t believe I have to have them until I’m fifty-something. How many pairs of pyjamas will I have ruined by then?
I clean myself up and stick a big wedge of loo roll between my legs. Holding it in place with my thighs I scrub the toilet mat until the stain comes off. After a shower I hold my pyjama bottoms between my thighs, wrap a towel around myself and waddle into the bedroom. Luckily I have one more sanitary towel in my gym bag, so I stick that in my pants, get dressed, hide the pyjamas in my bag and leave for school. Just at the end of our road there’s a row of bins. I throw my pyjama bottoms into the emptiest one and carry on along my way. As I walk, I think how weird it is that Nana has never even asked me if my periods have started. Maybe when you get that old you just forget about them.
At school, hell strikes. My tummy throbs like a wild animal trapped inside a cage. I sit on the toilet as I try to push out the pain. The registration bell rings, I crawl back to the classroom. My face can’t hide what I’m going through.
‘Get on your knees and put your head on the floor,’ insists Margaret, who is the self-confessed Queen of Periods, seeing as she started so long ago.
‘NO, don’t scrunch up. You lie on your back with your knees apart and feet together,’ says Charlotte as she tries to get me into that position.
‘I am not lying on the floor in my school skirt with my legs open,’ I say, jamming my thighs shut.
I assume Margaret’s position and continue to drop beads of sweat into the carpet tiles. Last month I didn’t get any pain at all – why now? I feel so faint. The dull ache is
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