Mom Im Not Your Trophy

When school let out, my eighteen-year-old sister Sarah whispered the news to Mom, her face burning with shame. She thought she might have started her period.

Mom's eyes went wide. Incredulous. Then her voice climbed to a shriek that cut through the afternoon air.

"How is that possible? Didn't I make you take progesterone to delay it?"

"You're about to take the college entrance exam! If this thing comes now, won't it ruin your study schedule again?"

Heads turned. Classmates passing by slowed their steps, casting sidelong glances, whispering behind cupped hands.