Free Camp Confidential 09 - Best (Boy)friend Ever by Melissa J. Morgan

silence for a few moments. “Do you know if the grapefruit is a person?” Jordan asked.
    Priya laughed. “I’m pretty sure there isn’t an elephant of any kind in the whole thing. It’s symbolic. I think it might represent a country. Or maybe a circus.”
    “Or possibly people with big ears,” Jordan suggested.
    “Or big noses,” Priya shot back.
    “Or wrinkly skin.” Jordan spun his chair around on its wheels. “That’s it! I’m a genius. Grapefruits have weird skin, too. Not wrinkly, but sort of, I don’t know . . .”
    “Almost pimply,” Priya said.
    “Yeah, or at least acne-pitted,” Jordan answered. “That’s it. We’ve cracked it. It’s a play about the problems of bad skin.”
    We’re back. Me and Jordan. Jordan and me , Priya thought. But for how long?
    “You are a genius. And you know what else?” Priya asked. “Suddenly, I really want a candy bar. A big, chocolaty candy bar.” Priya closed her eyes. “And maybe a bag of really greasy potato chips.”
    “So you’re saying you want to join the people with bad skin. You want zits,” Jordan teased. He grinned again. He looked extra cute when he grinned. Wait. Where did that come from? Priya thought.
    “So many zits,” Priya agreed, glad that Jordan couldn’t really read her mind, even though sometimes it seemed like he could, in that best friend kind of way. “You want some, too? There’s a vending machine.”
    “Get me a big bucketload of pimples with some blackheads on the side,” Jordan told her, digging in his pockets for money. Then the smile slid off his face. “Better not,” he said. “Gorgeous was on Brynn’s list, remember?”
    “Well, I’m still going,” Priya said. “I’ll get you some nice breath mints.” Oh, ewww. He better not use them for any kind of impressing-Brynn prep, she thought . “I’ll be back in a minute. Find something intelligent to say tomorrow. Because the horrors-of-bad-skin interpretation isn’t going to cut it with Brynn.”
    Priya hurried toward the little alcove where she’d spotted the vending machine when they’d checked in. She hesitated when she felt something on the inside of her thigh. Something . . . drippy. Warm.
    She spotted a ladies’ room and made a detour. The pink and turquoise room was empty. Priya ducked into the closest of the three stalls, and got her shorts down as fast as she could. She perched on the edge of the toilet seat. Her stomach did a slow roll as she saw the streak of blood on her leg and the red stain on her underpants.
    It took her a second to realize she’d gotten her period. Even though she’d had The Talk with her mom. And they’d discussed it in health class. And she and her bunkmakes had just been talking about period stuff during the “I Never” game.
    But at first Priya had just thought— something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.
    Then it clicked, and she pulled her underwear to the side and checked her shorts. A couple of tiny spots of blood, but nothing that anyone would notice. Nothing Jordan would have noticed. Okay, okay. Good.
    Her underwear was ruined. She had to toss it. But not until she got upstairs and put on a new pair. She’d find a bag and throw this pair away somewhere outside the hotel room so no one would see it in the bathroom trash. She didn’t need everyone talking about her. Looking at her. She could deal with this on her own.
    So, the first step in dealing was getting a pad. She couldn’t just stay in the stall all night bleeding on herself. Priya cleaned herself up as well as she could with some toilet paper, then she hiked up her shorts and stepped out of the stall. There was no vending machine for pads. Great. Her mother had sent some stuff with her to camp—just in case. But Priya hadn’t brought any of it on the trip.
    She slammed the door stall door shut. Toilet seat covers , she decided. She could make a pad out of toilet seat covers. Priya pulled out about ten of the covers and folded them into a