She picked her way to the shoreline and sat down in the damp sand at the water’s edge. In the shallows was a flotilla of bobbing toddlers in water wings. Farther out, by the buoys, the lake was still, showing back the treeline and the sky in dark, upside-down perfection. She could imagine monsters out there, lurking just below the sleek green surface. The air smelled of burgers grilling and Dee made her yeeeugh face. Her thing at the moment was to despise food. It seemed important to maintain it, even if only to herself. Ballerinas don’t eat burgers.
‘Hi.’ Something loomed over her, throwing a tall shadow. Then it sat down, scuffing sand, and became human-sized. It was a guy. He was thin, yellow-headed. She could see swirls of white lotion on his pale skin.
‘Hi,’ said Dee. He had to be at least nineteen. She was suddenly aware that her palms were sweating and her heart was beating nervous and light. What would they talk about?
‘I’m Trevor,’ he said, and offered a hand to shake, which was very dorky and made Dee smirk. But she was also relieved because it made him seem familiar, what her mother would call ‘raised right’.
Dee lifted one eyebrow, something she had just learned to do. ‘How’s it hanging?’ She didn’t take his hand.
Trevor blushed. ‘OK,’ he said, wiping his hand on his shorts as if that was what he meant to do all along. ‘Are you here with your folks?’
Dee shrugged. ‘I managed to lose them,’ she said.
He smiled, like he appreciated the joke. ‘Where are they?’
‘All the way over by the lifeguard stand,’ she said, pointing. ‘They were sleeping and I was bored.’
‘Your parents?’
‘And my little sister.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Six,’ Dee said. She didn’t want to talk about her family any more. ‘Where do you go to school?’
‘UW,’ he said.
‘Cool.’ So he was in college. ‘I go to Pacific,’ she said. It was nearly true.
‘Cool,’ he said, and she saw the interest warm his eyes. Guys liked ballerinas, she had discovered. They were feminine and mysterious. ‘You want to go get some ice cream?’ Trevor said.
Dee considered, shrugged, got up and dusted the sand off.
Trevor got up too then said, ‘Um, you have a thing on you. On the back of your shorts.’
Dee twisted her head round to look. There was a dark stain on the white denim. Dee said, ‘Oh, I must have sat on something.’ She took her T-shirt off and tied it round her waist. ‘You go ahead. I’ll meet you there.’
She hurried to the women’s restrooms, where there was a queue. People were taking their little kids into the stall with them, sometimes three at a time, and then they all had to go. It was taking a really long time. Dee could feel everything getting worse as she waited. She felt a snail of blood crawl down her inner thigh. She pulled out fistfuls of paper towel and swabbed at it. Eventually she said to the big, sweating woman in front of her, ‘Um, do you by any chance have a sanitary pad?’
The woman stared at her. ‘There’s a machine,’ she said. ‘Right there on the wall.’
Dee left her place in line and went to the machine. It only took quarters. She had a dollar and some dimes. ‘Does anyone have change for a dollar?’
A woman with a red-faced baby on her shoulder said, ‘Where’s your mom? She should be taking care of you.’
‘Does anyone here have change, please?’ Dee made her tone sarcastic and a little angry, so that they wouldn’t see that she was literally about to cry.
A lady with a blonde bob gave her four quarters. But the machine was broken and the quarters tinkled back into the slot again and again. Blinking back tears, Dee returned them to the lady.
She cleaned herself up as best she could. The women in line watched as Dee rinsed her shorts in the sink. Jesus, she was just in her bathing suit like everyone else. She kept the T-shirt round her waist. It hid everything, so that was OK. She joined the line again and waited.
When she got to the ice-cream place Trevor wasn’t there. She gave it a few minutes, but she knew he wasn’t coming. Maybe she took too long in the restroom and he gave up. But probably he didn’t want to buy ice cream for a girl who didn’t even know when her period was coming.
She left the T-shirt on the shore and waded out, past the toddlers in water wings, knee-deep, then to her thighs, then her waist. She felt safer right away – hidden. In the heat of the day the cool lake water was like a sudden plummet, a shock that sent pinpricks up her spine. She trailed her fingertips on the broken mirrored surface, the skin of the water. The lake moved about her like a slow beast. She went deeper until the water lapped her chin and the gentle swell threatened to lift her feet from the stony bottom. Her cramps were almost pleasurable, now, with the cold water and the sunshine and the distant roar of the summer crowd on the shore, the sound travelling eerie across the water. It didn’t matter, suddenly, that the boy hadn’t come back. Her body seemed like enough company. Lately its moods fascinated her. It behaved in new and surprising ways, like a friend she didn’t know well yet.
