Girl (In Real Life) Page 3

  The door swung open and Hallie called, “Eva? You okay? Are you sick?”

  I opened the cubicle door and checked no one else was in there. “I got my period.”

  “Oh my God! Finally!” Hallie said, and hugged me so hard my feet practically lifted off the floor. She’d started hers in Year Six, and I’d been waiting for mine ever since. I’d been with her when she started, in Mr Eliot’s class, and now she was with me. Just us two. Like when we used to make dens in her back garden out of branches and bed sheets. No one else from school. No camera watching me. No followers. It felt kind of nice.

  Suddenly, Hallie let me go and said, “OH NO, EVA!”

  “What?” I said, looking around, thinking someone must have walked in without me noticing.

  “I just realized.” Hallie looked me dead in the eyes. “You started your period in the CREEP CABIN!”

  And I’m pretty sure the entire cafe heard our laughter.

  “Mum!” I called as soon as I got home. I ran upstairs and searched through the bathroom cupboard. Reusable make-up wipes, chemical-free shampoo, clay face masks, organic cotton flannels. But nothing whatsoever to deal with the period emergency that was happening right now. “Mum!” I called again, then I heard Dad coming upstairs.

  “Everything okay, Eva?” he asked. “Jen’s on the phone.” He always called Mum “Jen”. I know it’s her name and everything, but it was one of those things that they did for the channel, and I found it kind of annoying. “Can I get you something?”

  I could feel my cheeks flushing red even though I was behind a locked door. The words “period” and “Dad” do not belong in the same sentence. “I need Mum, okay? It’s kind of an emergency.” Dad muttered something under his breath, then he went back downstairs.

  A few minutes later, Mum’s voice drifted through the door. “Everything all right, sweetie? Has something happened?”

  I undid the lock and slowly opened the door, making sure Dad wasn’t hiding behind the laundry basket with a camera. You never know with my parents. “I got my period,” I whispered.

  “OH MY GOD!” Mum hugged me so tight I almost suffocated. “EVA! THIS IS AMAZING!”

  “Shh!” I said. “Dad will hear!” When she finally let me go there were tears in her eyes. “Mum…are you actually crying?”

  “Oh, it’s silly, I know!” She sniffed then wiped her eyes with a reusable facial wipe.

  “Everything okay?” Dad called.

  “Don’t say anything,” I said, deadly serious.

  “Oh, Eva, don’t be silly. He’s your dad! He’ll want to celebrate too!”

  “Celebrate?” I said. “I don’t want to tell anyone. I just need some, you know, erm, products.”

  Mum squeezed my hand. “Wait right here.” She disappeared for a minute then came back holding a large red box in one hand and a camera in the other. “So, I’ve had this for a while and I just want to say, I am so proud of you.”

  “Mum, can you stop filming?” Mum lowered the camera, but didn’t put it away. “I mean it, Mum. Don’t film this!”

  “Eva!” she said in a jokey voice. “This is a major milestone! I know you’ll want to give our subscribers a little peek…”

  “No way.” I pushed the box away and folded my arms.

  “Okay,” Mum sighed. She put the camera down and pushed the box back towards me. “Please open it.”

  Inside the box were sanitary pads, tampons, a hot water bottle, an eye mask, a massive bar of chocolate, underwear with sparkly unicorns on, tissues, a teddy. And even a book called Don’t Ovary Act! How to Survive your First Period. “Mum,” I said, “this is—”

  “I know! You think it’s totally embarrassing! But this is a big deal to me, Eva. I never thought I’d be able to have a baby. And now look.” She dabbed her eyes with the facial wipe again. “You’re growing up.”

  I reached over and hugged her. “It’s really nice, Mum. Thanks.” Then I must have leaned on something because suddenly a confetti bomb exploded, sending millions of tiny silver tampons hurtling into the air.

  We both jumped. “I’d forgotten about that! I got it specially made,” Mum said, laughing, as she picked bits of tampon confetti out of my hair. “And tomorrow we’ll have a proper celebration!”

  “I thought this was the celebration.”

  “Eva! I think we can do better than a confetti bomb in the bathroom.” She kissed me on the head then pulled off a bit of confetti stuck to her lip. “Something special.”

  I woke up late the next morning. The house was weirdly quiet. I sat up in bed and looked at my phone. I already had three messages from Hallie. She always got up early on Sundays to go to church. It’s the exact reason I’m glad my parents aren’t religious.

  Hope you’re okay?

  Making my gran’s Guyanese lime cookies to

  celebrate your P Day at school tomo!

  Told Mum it’s for a bake sale in the library

  she said leave out the rum lol.

  A photo popped up of Hallie with a wooden spoon in her hand and a gigantic smile on her face.

  I messaged back:

  OMG you’re amazing, THANK YOU

  There was a tap on my bedroom door and Mum’s face appeared. “How are you feeling, sweetie pie? Want me to run you a bath?” I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “Oh, don’t rub your skin like that, sweetie, it blotches.” Mum opened the curtains and I squinted at the light. “I’ve sent your dad on an all-day bike ride, so we can have a girlie day!” I tried so hard not to roll my eyes it was physically painful. “Wait until you see downstairs!”

  “What’s downstairs?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Get washed and dressed first!” Mum opened my wardrobe and examined the contents, then pulled out a T-shirt and dungaree dress. She placed them on my bed then hugged me until there was no oxygen left in my lungs. “I’m so excited!”

  “Mum,” I said, wriggling free, “it’s just my period.”

  “Oh, come on! I only get to throw a period party for you once.”

  “A period party? Mum, I hope you haven’t invited half the—”

  “Don’t be silly! I haven’t invited anyone.”

  “Good,” I said. “And especially do not say anything about this to Spud.”

  Spud has been my next-door neighbour since for ever. There’s a gap in the hedge between our back gardens that you can climb through. His real name’s Euan, but he’s always been Spud to me and everyone who knows him. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother. Mum says when we were little, we used to say we’d get married and have a hundred babies. Now, I can think of a hundred reasons why that will never happen. Number one being that he once got his head stuck in our cat flap.

  “Don’t worry,” Mum said. “It’s just us. And Netflix. I mean, what period party would be complete without a movie marathon?”

  I noticed a sticky note on my desk in Dad’s handwriting:

  REVISE PHYSICS TODAY!

  I groaned. “I’m supposed to be revising.”

  Mum read the note, sighed and dropped it in the bin. “Eva, there will be other physics tests. You only start your period once. Besides, you revised yesterday with Hallie. You don’t want to over-prepare for these things.”

  “Oh yeah.” I didn’t mention that I’d barely even glanced at Hallie’s revision cards.

  “Now get ready. There are more important things in life than physics,” Mum said, and closed the door.

  I wondered if she’d write that in a note for Mr Jacobs tomorrow.

  I put the clothes Mum had selected back in my wardrobe and pulled on leggings and a hoodie. Wearing a sanitary pad felt kind of strange. I wondered how I would get through three to eight days of this without someone noticing.

  Downstairs, music was playing and Mum had written on the chalkboard in the kitchen:

  HAPPY FIRST PERIOD, EVA!

  A bunch of red helium balloons floated above the table, and red pompoms and fairy lights dangled from the walls. It took me about t
hree seconds to figure out what she was doing. I stood at the bottom of the stairs with my arms folded.

  “Don’t mention it.” Mum beamed from behind the camera. “You’re worth it!” And she exploded a confetti bomb, showering me in shiny bits of red paper.

  I shook the confetti out of my hair. “You can’t film this.”

  “Oh, Eva, don’t start this now,” Mum said. “Not after I’ve gone to all this effort.”

  “I’m serious, Mum,” I said. “If you’re putting this on All About Eva then I’m going back to my room and revising physics.”

  I don’t even know why I was disappointed. They’d invited some of their “most loyal” subscribers – the For-Evas – to my tenth birthday party. The “Ten Years of All About Eva” party, I mean. Farmor was upset when she found out they’d invited subscribers, so she didn’t come. She said it wasn’t safe to invite “internet people” to our house. Maybe she thought one of them would kidnap me or something. But actually, most of them were pretty nice. Although one of them had knitted her own “Eva doll”, and read out a bunch of poems she’d written about me. She didn’t try to kidnap me or anything. But my parents didn’t invite any For-Evas to stuff after that.

  “I’m sorry you don’t like it,” Mum said, putting down the camera and fiddling with a set of red fairy lights. “I honestly just want today to be special for you.”

  I glanced around the room, taking everything in. It must have taken her hours. I had no idea where she got the inflatable womb at such short notice.

  “I do like it, Mum,” I said. “It looks amazing. I just don’t want it to be on the channel, okay?”

  Mum smiled. “Fine. Understood.”

  “You promise?” Mum nodded as she hugged me. I noticed a giant cardboard box in the corner. “Dad’s not hiding in there, is he?”

  “Ha!” she said. “Don’t be silly. I ordered some special balloons and stuff ready for us hitting half a million subscribers. I know it’s probably a bit early. I mean, we’ve technically only just passed 400,000, but it’s best to be prepared for these things. Subs are creeping up every day! Exciting, huh!”

  My heart deflated like a balloon. Thousands more people watching me every day did not feel like something to celebrate.

  An hour later, we were drinking red berry smoothies and watching a film on the projector screen when Mum started fiddling with my hair. “I was listening to this podcast a while ago,” she said. “And they were saying that periods shouldn’t be this big secret thing, you know? Period parties are becoming a massive trend because, actually, girls should—”

  “Nope,” I said, not taking my eyes off the screen. “I’m not making a vlog about my period.”

  Mum was quiet for a minute, then she said, “I’m just saying, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “Mum, I already told you. Don’t put anything on the channel about my period, okay. If people at school find out I will literally die.”

  Mum looked at me. “It’s just…I think we have an opportunity to change the narrative surrounding girls’ and women’s bodies. You know, considering we have such a big platform.”

  “Mum!” I shouted, sitting up. “I don’t want my period on a platform!” I slammed my smoothie down and a blob of red gloop landed on the coffee table.

  “Okay, okay,” Mum said. “I’ll just take some pictures to show Lars later then. He was a little upset he wasn’t invited.”

  “So, you told Dad?”

  “It’s a natural part of growing up, Eva,” Mum said. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I wished I could have normal parents who were embarrassed about stuff like this. “I’ve been having periods for over thirty years now,” Mum continued despite me squirming, “Lars is more than used to them.”

  “Gross.”

  “Eva, the whole point I’m making is that it’s not gross. We could use the channel to show people that periods are—”

  “I know what they are, Mum! I don’t want your subscribers commenting on mine.” I crossed my arms, and shook my head when Mum tried to hand me my drink.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, putting her arm around me. “Forget about the channel. Let’s just eat cake and enjoy celebrating.” Mum held up her glass to do “cheers”. I reluctantly took my glass and clinked it against hers. “Welcome to womanhood, sweetie. And I promise – all of this is for you.” She took a sip then straightened out my hair at the front. “Unless I can get a sponsorship deal with one of those period tracking apps, or a big tampon brand, now that would be cool.” I glared at her. “Relax, I’m joking!” She hugged me and I felt her warm breath through my hair. “My little Eva’s growing up.”

  Even after all of that, I didn’t think Mum would break her promise. I blew out the red candles and ate cake and unwrapped the presents she’d bought me. I even stuck womb-shaped stickers on my face. Happy First Period, Eva. Get ready for the worst day of your life.

  The next morning, I was wearing special period pants and a sanitary towel just in case. I still felt totally self-conscious. I checked my reflection about a million times in my room, and again in the patio doors downstairs. For the first time ever I was grateful our school made us wear pleated skirts. I quietly pulled my homework diary out of my bag, but Dad must have super-sensitive hearing because he looked over straight away. Maybe being tall means you get extra sound waves.

  “Eva!” Dad wiped his hands and picked up his camera. “Isn’t Monday morning a little late to be checking if you have homework?” He spoke in the jokey voice he always uses when he asks me stuff on camera. They only post a “family vlog” twice a week, but they film content pretty much all the time. And if something’s trending, they’ll post about that too. Then there’s the sponsored posts and special updates and the lives they do sometimes. Put it this way – I’ve lost count of how many times people have watched me eat breakfast. “You’ve had the whole weekend to get your homework done!” Dad said as I sat down.

  “Weekends are supposed to be a break from school,” I replied and smiled for exactly half a second.

  Dad turned the camera on himself and frowned. “Did you hear that? Eva thinks weekends should be a break!” Then he launched into a monologue about how hard he worked at school.

  I pretended I wasn’t listening and flicked through the pages of my homework diary. I’d completely forgotten about the history homework. “In that case, Dad, could you explain the multiple causes of the English Civil War? Like, briefly?” I flashed another fake smile.

  Dad let out an exaggerated sigh to the camera and handed me his iPad. “Anyone else have kids like this? Let us know in the comments!” He turned the camera back onto me and said, “Google King Charles the First.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Mrs Peters will appreciate it.”

  Dad rolled his eyes behind the camera. “Good to know at least your teachers take your schoolwork seriously!”

  “I guess it’s like Mum told me yesterday,” I said. “There are more important things in life than schoolwork.” And Dad almost choked on his smoothie.

  King Charles I’s Wikipedia page is the longest entry ever. It was typical of Mrs Peters to make us find out about someone this famous. I scrolled down for a few minutes, trying to find some good bits to copy-paste. I zoomed in on a picture of King Charles I. I liked his cape, but his pointy beard was kind of disturbing. There was a familiar knock and the front door swung open.

  “Hey, Spud,” I called. I didn’t even need to look up. “You know this Civil War thing – was Charles I the baddie?”

  “It certainly didn’t end well for him,” Spud said, waiting by the door. “You’re doing the history homework now?”

  “Kind of.” I air-dropped the Wikipedia link to my phone.

  “Have a good day, you two,” Dad said, handing me my lunch bag.

  “I’m considering cutting my hair like a Roundhead,” Spud said as I pulled on my school shoes. “What do you think? Mum’s against the idea.”

  “What’s a Rou
ndhead?” I asked.

  He grinned. “You really haven’t done the history homework, have you? They were the supporters of parliament. Look.” He held up a picture on his phone.

  “Erm, didn’t we talk about this when we were learning about the Romans?” I said.

  He thought for a moment. “That was a balaclava with a mohawk attached.”

  “Spud, I’m just saying, your life would be a lot easier if you didn’t make fashion statements based on stuff you learn from Mrs Peters.”

  “Hey, Spud!” Mum called as she opened the office door. “Did Lars get you some breakfast?”

  “It’s okay, Mrs Andersen,” Spud replied. “I had four Weetabixes at home.”

  “Four!” Mum said, eyes widening. “Gosh! I can barely manage one!” I went cross-eyed at Spud, who tried not to laugh. Mum liked only eating half of things. It was this weird kind of diet she always seemed to be on. “You got everything you need, sweetie?” she said, kissing me on the side of the head. My cheeks burned. She may as well have handed me a jumbo-sized pack of sanitary pads right there.

  “Let’s go,” I said quickly. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “Good to hear!” Dad called as we left.

  “And don’t be late home, Eva,” Mum said. “We’re shooting that ad straight after school, okay? No loitering.” The front door closed before I could answer.

  “I thought you didn’t want to do those ads any more,” Spud said as we walked up the hill.

  Spud was one of the real-life witnesses of the avocado costume. He’d even offered to wear it instead of me. He figured that people at school make fun of him already, so what difference could a giant avocado costume make? Mum didn’t go for it, but still, it proves he’s probably the best next-door neighbour on the planet.

  “You know what they’re like,” I replied, pulling on my gloves. “They don’t listen to me, do they? Anyway, they promised no more vegetable costumes, so…”

  “Avocado’s a fruit,” Spud said, grinning.

  “Whatever.” I hit his arm with my lunch bag. “It’s not like I have a choice.”