Popshot Magazine

THE CHANGE

It started a little before my fourteenth birthday. The day was hot and I lay in the shade, close to the river, sweating as I turned the pages of a steamy paperback. Aches throbbed like tiny punctures up my back and thighs. Every so often those aches burst into pain. When that happened I screwed my eyes shut. The black words burned in my head, transforming into insects that crawled around and around until I was sick and dizzy.

“You’re meant to be playing with me,” Hannah said, and I groaned. She’d found my hiding place again. “You can’t just laze around reading all summer.”

The pain passed. I rolled onto my side.

“I can if I want to. Besides, I’m too old for all that.”

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re a numbskull.”

“You’re not to use curse words. I’ll tell.”

“Numbskull isn’t swearing.” I shifted my hips, trying to get comfortable. Then the aches exploded. I cried out. “Shit in hell.”

“That was a bad word.”

I rolled onto my front. “Not as bad as––" Pain raked my thighs. “–Jesus fuck.”

I sucked in my breath. My fingernails clawed the grass. I tried to look at Hannah, but she was a fog of orange hair and green cotton.

I curled myself up, panting. Perhaps if I made myself smaller the pain would also shrink. But it didn’t.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hannah asked, warily, as if this was a practical joke.

“You stupid little bitch.” I spat the words onto the grass. “Just get away. Or I’ll… I’ll…” I howled.

When I looked again, Hannah had gone. I couldn’t care. Pain

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