Page 8 of Pocketful of You

"What?" she screamed, hands moving to her butt. "No, I mean, I don’t think so. I didn’t feel anything bite me –" Her words broke off when she caught sight of her bloodstained bikini bottoms. "Omigod, Sketch, I'm dying!"

"No, I ain't gonna let you die," I promised, while internally losing my goddamn mind. Grabbing my bike from its perch against the tree, I hurried back to her. "Come on, Ro. Hop on my seat. I can pedal real fast."

Forty-five minutes later, we were sitting side by side in the treatment room of Pocketful's lone doctor's office, both barefoot, both still in our swimsuits.

"And then it just started coming out of her butt," I said, having given Dr. Berry a detailed run-down of my best friend's near-death experience. "I got her here as fast as I could, sir," I added, breathing hard and fast, still completely freaked out. "Is she gonna make it?"

Dr. Berry, an ageing man in his mid-sixties, asked, "Bleeding from her back passage, you say, Holden?"

"Yes, sir," I replied honestly. "It was so gross."

"So, so gross," Romi agreed with a sniffle, still clutching my hand. "And it's still coming."

"Yep." I nodded solemnly and then leaned over and blocked Romi's ears before whispering, "And I think it's coming out of her, uh, front butt, too."

A choked noise tore from Romi's throat at the same time Dr. Berry began to cough profusely.

"And you're, what, ten-years-old now, Ramona?"

"Ten and a half," Romi sobbed. "I'll be eleven in the fall."

"Yeah, it's her birthday first," I agreed. "I'm younger."

"I see," Dr. Berry said with a sympathetic smile ghosting his lips.

"Oh god, Sketch," Romi wailed, throwing her arms around my neck. "Iamdying!"

"No, you ain't," I vowed, hugging her back as tight as I could. "Right, doc?"

Dr. Berry cleared his throat and wiped each lens on his glasses before speaking. "Has anyone spoken to you two about the facts of life? Your mothers, perhaps?"

"She ain't got one," I told him, feeling defensive. "And I ain't…my mama…well, she –"

"He doesn’t have one, either," Romi sniffled.

"So, neither one of you have any clear understanding of the human reproductive organs?" he asked kindly. "Or the body's transition into puberty?"

Confused, Romi and I stared blankly at each other before facing the doctor and shaking our heads in unison.

"What about the female menstrual cycle?"

"You mean like a bike trail or something?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You asked if we knew anything about the female and men's-trail cycle," I reminded him. "Is it near Pocketful?"

"Oh, lord," Dr. Berry said with a weary sigh. "I don’t get paid enough for this…"

"Come on, kid. Stay with us!" someone shouted in what felt like my ear, and just like that, I was, once again, ripped away from Romi.

The son of a bitch stuck me with another bolt of lightning, sending me spinning into another memory. This time, an ugly one…

"Angel?" I whispered, staring at the tiny fingers poking through the crack under the door. "You were gone a long time."

"Sorry," a little voice called back. "But I gots you a cookie."

Moments later, a cookie slid under the crack in the door. "You like cookies?"

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