Read Online Paper Aeroplanes by Dawn O'Porter - Free Book Online Page B

some.’
    ‘Don’t you lie to me, Renée Sargent. A girl of your age can buy her own protection. No one steals sanitary towels unless it is to sell them to make money to spend on things like cigarettes or alcohol. Is that why you never come to hockey training? Drink? Hurry up and put those back. We’re going to see Miss Grut,’ she screams, winding herself up into a melodramatic frenzy.
    She leads me down the corridor, pushing my elbow like a gear stick. I sit outside and wait for half an hour. Then the unthinkable happens. Pop walks in.
    We sit in silence in Miss Grut’s office. Miss Grut, Miss Trunks, Miss Anthony, Pop and me. Pop and I sit on two separate chairs in front of Miss Grut’s massive desk. Miss Trunks, who is wearing over-stretched sports gear, and Miss Anthony, who is in a pretty high-necked flowery dress, share a two-seater sofa to the right of us. Miss Anthony looks a bit squashed.
    ‘Renée has been caught stealing school property. Sanitary towels. The
school’s
sanitary towels,’ says Miss Trunks to break the silence.
    ‘Yes, Miss Trunks,’ says Miss Grut, ‘we all know why we are here, thank you. And thank you for coming in so promptly, Mr Fletcher. Renée, have you been stealing from the school?’
    It feels strange being asked a question directly by the headmistress. She doesn’t have much to do with us on a one-to-one level. She’s a bit like the Queen. Everyone stands up when she walks in or leaves a room, and if you see her walking towards you in the corridor the natural reaction is to stand still until she has passed. Being asked a question by her feels part privilege, part the scariest thing I have ever experienced. Pop is sitting next to me breathing really loudly, and there’s a giant pile of panty pads on her desk, deliberately positioned by Miss Trunks to remind us why we are all there.
    ‘Not stealing, miss, borrowing.’ I don’t know why I say this. I obviously was stealing them.
    ‘Why were you in the sick room?’ asks Miss Grut, trying to piece the story together.
    ‘I sent her down there,’ says Miss Anthony. ‘Renée had terrible cramps this morning.’
    Pop shuffles uncomfortably in his chair.
    ‘I sent her to the sick room to lie down with a hot water bottle,’ Miss Anthony continues.
    ‘And THAT is when I found her stuffing her bra with the
school’s
Always Ultra,’ barks Miss Trunks.
    ‘That is quite enough, Miss Trunks. We can take this from here. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.’ Miss Grut’s eyes fix hard on the door. The horrible fat cow leaves.
    ‘Mr Fletcher,’ continues Miss Grut. ‘Do you know why Renée might feel the need to steal sanitary equipment from the school?’
    Sanitary
equipment
? Adults are so weird sometimes. A minute’s silence nearly deafens me. I stare at the pen pot on Miss Grut’s desk to distract myself from how hideously mortified I am.
    ‘Well, Renée is a girl, isn’t she?’ Pop rubs his nose and does a fake cough.
    ‘She is, yes,’ agrees Miss Anthony.
    ‘Well, then. Girls need them things for stuff I don’t know about, but you know more than me, I’m sure.’
    Never have I wanted the earth to swallow me up so much. Pop trying to explain what I might use a panty pad for is as bad as the time I farted when I sneezed during prayers in assembly. At least that was funny. There is nothing funny about this. Through pure fear of him being asked to elaborate, I start to speak.
    ‘I know it sounds stupid but I’m too embarrassed to buy them in shops, Miss Grut. So every few months I go into the sick room and take what I need because . . .’ I mumble, ‘. . . I don’t like strangers knowing I have my . . .’
    ‘Period,’ offers Miss Anthony.
    ‘Yes, that.’ I nod.
    ‘Periods are nothing to be ashamed of, Renée. You are a woman,’ says Miss Grut.
    If one more person says the word period or panty pad in front of Pop I am going to have to jump out of the window, run to the sea and swim to