Page 37 of Maid of Dishonor

Carter’s glare tells me this isn’t the first time he and Mariah have had this conversation, but it’s the first time I’m hearing about it. Like a match being lit, something hot and angry begins burning in the pit of my stomach at her words.

There’s no way Carter would be a terrible boyfriend. Granted, we’ve never dated, but I know him better than any girlfriend ever would have, and I’m absolutely positive that he would have been incredible.

Which must be why my next words spill out of my mouth.

“Actually,” I say, my tone hard and icy, “he’s a fantastic boyfriend.”

I can see Carter’s head whip my direction from the corner of my eye, but I’m focused solely on Mariah—who I am now certain has been inhabited by a sea witch. Her perfect eyebrows arch impressively, reminding me of two spindly spider legs.

“So it’s true?” she says, her eyes wide. “You really are his—”

“Girlfriend,” I cut her off, folding my arms. “Yes. I’m his girlfriend, and he’s an excellent boyfriend. We were just shopping together.” I reach blindly toward the shelf at my right and grab a box without looking. I shove it at Carter, who takes it, looking confused.

When I see what I’ve given him, though, I want to hide behind our shopping cart and never come out.

Tampons. It’s a box of tampons. And not just any tampons, either—no, I had to go and grab the super duper kind, the ones made for women who’ve already had like ten kids.Maximum absorbency to eliminate leakage from a heavy flow, the box reads.

Excellent. Carter is holding a box that references heavy flow and leaking body fluids.Myheavy flow and leaking body fluids.

But there’s no way out now. I’m in too deep, and Mariah is looking way too smug for me to stop. So I turn back to the shelf and grab another box—pads this time. Thankfully I at least have the presence of mind not to grab the overnight ones.

“Well, sweetie?” I say, holding up the box to Carter. “Pads or tampons? What do you think?”

Carter—who I’ve never called “sweetie” in my life—gives me a look that quite clearly saysPlease don’t make me have this conversation.

But it’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience—I can see what’s happening, I can hear what I’m saying, but I’m powerless to stop it. All I can think about is how much I dislike this spider-eyebrowed sea monster in front of me, how jealous I am that she got to be with Carter in a way I never will, and the ugly word vomit just keeps going. A second later, I’m speaking again.

“The tampons are more comfortable, and they’re better for things like running and baseball, but I always forget to take them out,” I say.

Oh, no, my out-of-body self thinks.Don’t go there, Sam. Don’t go there—

“And toxic shock syndrome is no joke,” I hear myself babble on. “I read a story one time about a girl who forgot she had a tampon in, and so she put in another one—”

Make it stop!out-of-body Sam says, panicking now.For the love of absolutely everything good and holy, just SHUT UP!

“—and she almost died.” I finally clamp my hands over my mouth, my fingers digging into my cheeks. It’s literally the only thing I can think to do. Then, without another word—thankheavens—I yank the tampon box out of Carter’s hands, chuck it in the shopping cart, and hightail it out of there like I’m being chased.

Which I am. By the tattered remains of my dignity.

RIP Smooth Samantha, that pinnacle of batting cage flirtation. Because she is very much gone now. She lies dead in pharmacy aisle three, murdered by talk of leakage and body fluids.

There’s no coming back from leakage. There’s just not. Any and all progress Smooth Samantha made at the batting cages has been undone in one fell swoop.

By the time I get out to the car, I’m ready to bang my head against the steering wheel for a good long time. And by the timeCartergets out to the car, I’m ready to cry. I’m not sure when I last felt this mortified. If it were just Carter who witnessed that little blip in my sanity, I’d be okay. But it wasn’t just him.

And what’s worse, I’m not just feeling mortified. I’m feeling ashamed. Because I feel jealous, sure, but I’ve never acted this petty about it. I’ve never let myself be so overcome by that feeling.

“So,” Carter says, looking over at me once he’s in the car. “Want to tell me what that was all about? I got the tampons, by the way. I didn’t know if you actually wanted them, so I just went ahead and bought them.”

“Thank you,” I say miserably. I scrub one hand down my face while Carter waits patiently in silence. “She just—ugh. She just made me so mad!” I finally say, the words exploding out of me. “And she was standing there looking all perfect talking about how you were a bad boyfriend, and I just…”

“Lost your mind,” Carter says, nodding. “Got it.”

I groan, resting my head on the steering wheel. “Completely. I completely lost it.”

The car is quiet for another second, and then Carter speaks. “We broke up because she kept trying to get in between you and me,” he says. His voice is heavy, resigned.

I turn to him, my eyes widening. “What?”

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