“Petey’s tough. She plays football.”

I’m not sure how they did it but the three women got me stood up then lying again on the examining table with folded blankets under head and foot while Granny again took my vitals.

Dr. Verre was apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Miss Hunter. I had information I wanted to give you but I wasn’t properly recognizing the emotional impact this would have on you.”

I blinked at her, not sure just how I felt about what had happened. Once in a junior league soccer game after heading the ball for a goal, I had to sit down on the grass. This felt a bit like that but without the headache. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “I’m okay.”

Megan stood to one side, spreading another white cotton blanket over me while Granny worked the blood pressure cuff on my arm and listened to my pulse. Dr. Verre had already looked in my eyes with her tiny flashlight and now stood near the foot end of the table.

Megan gave my hand a squeeze and spoke up. “Petey’s tough. He plays football.” It would have sounded more commendatory if she hadn’t giggled after saying it and if I were sure she had said ‘he’.

“Hmm,” said Dr. Verre. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” She moved closer to the table and continued. “Miss Hunter, reach across with your right hand and grasp your left wrist.”

I glanced at Granny. “Um, it’s in use right now?”

Granny flashed an amazing amount of teeth at me and let go of my hand. “I’m done,” she said. “I can confirm that you are completely with us now.”

I shook off the blanket covering my arms and reached across to close my right hand grip around my left wrist.

“Does the long finger of your right hand touch your thumb?”

I held both hands up where I could see them. “Uh? Yes?”

“Do they overlap? And by how much?”

Dr. Verre could plainly see my hands and my odd grip, but I answered the questions anyway.

“Yes, they touch, maybe overlap just a bit. A fingernail, maybe?.”

“Mm-hmm,” she agreed. “That means you have a light frame, a skeleton that is thinner and lighter than average. If they just touched or almost touched, that would be a medium frame. Not touching at all with a gap would mean you had a heavy frame.”

She tapped my hands with a finger and I let my grip fall apart. “You have a light frame,” she repeated then turned to my girlfriend. “Megan, try the same thing.”

Megan looked at me, her eyes wide, but I didn’t say anything. She did the gesture, grabbing her left wrist with her right hand. We all could see the result, but Megan said it anyway. “They almost, barely, sort of touch, no overlap.”

“Medium frame, or medium light,” said Dr. Verre. “Megan has a heavier frame and bigger bones than you do, Miss Hunter.” She said bluntly. “Do you want her playing football?”

I frowned. “Megan doesn’t have my muscles,” I pointed out, flexing my arms.

“Mmphm!” said the doctor. “How long do you think you’re going to keep those muscles with your ovaries putting out estrogen?”

I blinked, my eyes felt hot. I stared at her. Why was she saying these things to me? Was I going to start crying? What the heck!

“I showed you your insides and you fainted,” she said and I flinched. “You’re not a man, Miss Hunter, you’re not even a boy. You’re a woman. And women do not play football for many good reasons. Your bones are lighter, your insides are arranged differently, more vulnerable with less internal padding.”

She sighed and gave me a sour look. “Really, no one should play football. It’s a barbaric holdover from the Roman arena, a kind of artificial war. You’re not a gladiator, Miss Hunter.” She wiped her eyes. Megan handed me a tissue and I wiped mine, too.

“I could stop you from playing,” Dr. Verre said.

Ice shot up my spine.

“I could tell the school about your condition. They almost certainly would not let you play.” She paused and I held my breath. “But I won’t do that. You’re a grown woman, you can make your own decisions.”

“Ahh,” I could breathe again and something occurred to me. “You could maybe give me something. Male hormones to make it easier to keep my strength….”

She glared at me. “You know I’m not going to do that.”

I shrugged. “It was worth asking.”

Megan squeezed my hand and gave me a look, one third empathy, one third reproach, and one third amusement.

“This isn’t East Germany,” said Dr. Verre. “We don’t poison people so they can win athletic contests.”

She went to her desk and sat down. “I will give you a prescription for some birth control pills. They will help make your period a little more bearable but we will probably have to adjust the dosage as things happen.” She pulled out a pad, and started writing. “As a bonus, they likely will keep you from getting pregnant should you decide to…experiment.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I said firmly, ignoring Megan’s giggle.

She passed the form she had filled out to me and I looked at it. It was made out for the patient name ‘Jill Hunter’. I asked, “Where can I get this filled?”

“Any pharmacy in town will fill it. You won’t need an ID.”

The idea of going in with a prescription for birth control pills to fill made my hand shake. And where did she get the name Jill?

“I’ll write a renewal for yours too, Megan,” said the doctor, working on another sheet from the pad. “You can be the one to get both of them filled if you go to different pharmacies, in case Miss Hunter chickens out.”

She cocked her head and looked at me. “Just don’t faint again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed, turning red.

“I have to see my next patient,” she added. “You can get dressed in here and leave by my private door. Granny will show you.” She came around her desk and took both my hands in hers. “Good luck,” she said. “Rah, Lions!” And she grinned at me!

I mumbled “Friendly Pride!” and shook her hands, both at once. My eyes were burning again. She knew how much playing football meant to me. I guess she had to try to talk me out of it, but she knew.

Granny had brought my clothes from the other room, then left to help get the next patient ready, I supposed.

I got dressed quickly. Everything had been a bit unreal to me and I was struggling with the idea that maybe I didn’t have to play football. Not play football? I sighed. It wasn’t just playing, I had to win—for Jake and the other guys.

Megan read the two prescriptions again before putting them into her purse. “Should I start calling you ‘Jill’?” she teased.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned and she giggled. “Let’s get out of here.”

I led the way to the back door which had its own little alcove off the main hall but then neither of us could figure out how to get it open. It had a push bar like most doors in big buildings but it wouldn’t budge.

“Stupid,” I was just saying as Granny came up behind us, reached over Megan, flicked the lock located high up on the door, and opened it for us.

Megan paused to trade hugs and I said, “Thanks, Mrs. Duquesne,” remembering that it was pronounced DuShane.

“I told you before, just call me Granny, everyone does,” she said, giving me my own hug as she pressed her face up against mine. She smelled of sandalwood and cherries. Cherries?

I laughed and held the door open for Megan as we left, but Granny handed Megan a small bag before waving goodbye, saying, “Take care of your girlfriend, don’t let her go crazy or think she’s dying!” Then she laughed.

That made me blush again when I realized that she meant me as Megan’s girlfriend. Okay, that did not need thinking about at the moment. Still, why would I think I was dying?

But I saw Megan looking in the bag when we headed to the truck and I distracted myself by asking, “What’s in it?”

Megan laughed. “Stuff you might need.”

I had a bad feeling as I unlocked the door and helped her into the cab on the driver’s side. “Like?” I asked.

“Napkins,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Sanitary napkins, you know, Kotex. Also some panty liners, tampons, a bottle of Midol.” She grinned at me. “And a bunch of those pamphlets doctors hand out to twelve-year-old girls.”

She pulled one out and showed me. The title read, “So you’re having your first period?”

My face burned, but I was already in overload. Even so, I had to ask. “What’s Midol?”