Page 1 of Lie With Me
Prologue
LENNI
Age 10
Most girls my age would be happy about hitting puberty early.
For me, it’s a nightmare.
“It’s okay. It’s perfectly natural. You can stop back by before you go home if you need any more sanitary products,” Nurse Jackie tells me.
Because, of course, my period would start in the middle of a school day. When I sat down on the toilet and saw the blood, I freaked out. My lower stomach feels like it’s being torn to shreds by a velociraptor. I feel like I’m going to die.
Nurse Jackie reassures me I won’t.
It seems like just last week, I was a little twig, more than happy to stay in the background of life and not be noticed by anyone. Puberty will change everything, though.
Fourth grade is hard enough as it is.
Girls are mean to you, boys pick on you, and the teachers just don’t care enough to do anything about it.
My mother trades her body for drugs—the thought of what will happen to me now that I’m awomanhaunts me.
“My little valentine. You’re so beautiful. One day, you’ll use those looks to help your momma out, won’t you?”
When I was younger, she’d tell me how pretty I was all the time. The men who would come over to see her would always comment on my beauty. Back then, it made me feel good.
Wanted.
Seen.
But I was young and naive and didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t know what the men were there for. All I knew was that Momma took them into her room, and when they left, it was with a smile on their face, and she was in a good mood.
Now, I know exactly what is happening. And I’m terrified it will start happening to me, too.
“Momma?”
“In the kitchen, Valentina!”
She sounds like she’s in a good mood. I know her stash is running low, so maybe one of her men has already come by. Kicking off my shoes, the floor iscold beneath my holey socks as I dump my backpack by the front door and head into the small kitchen of our trailer.
Momma is at the stove, stirring something that smells expired in a pan. Her hair is up in rollers, and her face is painted. She’s in her robe. It’s pink and see-through and trimmed with fluffy fake fur.
“Are you going out tonight?” I ask, climbing onto the lone stool in front of a table tray that serves as our dining table.
“Yes! But first, we must celebrate!” she exclaims as she transfers whatever is in the pan to a plate.
Momma whirls around with a flourish. Her black eyes are rimmed with red, and they crinkle at the corners when she smiles a mouth full of half-rotted teeth at me. “Nurse Jackie called. My little girl isn’t so little anymore, is she?”
My heart drops into my stomach like it's a cannonball.
“Don’t worry, my little valentine. I’ll stop at the QuickMart and get you some tampons.” She sets the plate in front of me while taking a long drag from the Black and Mild between her fingers. “Cramps are a bitch, aren’t they? I’ll get you some Midol for those, too.”
I’ve heard girls at school talk about tampons. I’ve heard them say how it hurts to use them the first few times. Tears line my eyes as I stare at the slop on the cracked plate. They look like scrambled eggs, but there’s a weird brown color to them, and they smell even worse up close.
“Don’t cry, Valentina. I know this time of the month is emotional, but I can’t deal with your tears right now. Momma’s got enough going on. I can’t take your shit, too.”
“Can you get me pads instead, please? I don’t want to use tampons,” I whisper to the egg slop.