The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Ten

A/N: Sorry, it took me a bit to update. I went through some writer's block, and even now I feel my writing is suffering. Though, I did complete a whole entire outline for the story. It will get so dark. Thank you all for your support. 

Grace kneeled between Amelia's legs on the cool bathroom stall floor. She took a roll of toilet paper and rolled it around her hands. "It's not so bad," she said kindly, and placed the pad of tissue on the girl's underwear. "There, see? And when we get home, I will help you get something." Amelia wiped at her eyes, just having a small moment of panic. It wasn't unusual for young girls who played sports to have a delay in menstruation. "Had your mother never prepared you for such things?" Grace looked up at her, a small smile peeking from a mountain of concern. "I mean, it's all very, very normal, and it would definitely explain some of your irritability. If you ask, I think Tommy has some chocolate in his coat."

She shook her head, "no, no." Amelia attempted to sniffle away the snot that had started to run down her nose from crying. She'd been completely humiliated. How long had she walked around with that blob on her skirt? Grace made her wear it backwards as she dabbed out the specks of blood. Now, it was just an orange sun-like spot surrounded by wetness. "My mother didn't teach me much-I mean, obviously, I know about it, but I was told by my doctor that I most likely wouldn't have to deal with it. Cause I'm so active?" she said as if she was unsure herself. Doctors weren't so bright concerning female anatomy then.

And the other part concerning her mother? It was true in most aspects. Her mother never taught her much, if anything at all. Especially once Micheal died in Ireland, fighting for a cause his parents moved to avoid. For most of her childhood, her mother barricaded herself behind a door and cried for hours, claiming it was more of a keen. Cry or keen, Amelia only knew the feeling of maternal rejection.

Grace finished cleaning the disheveled girl up. Meanwhile in the bleachers, Tommy was nursing another drink. "It explains it. Girl was a massive cunt this week-"

"She's fifteen," John said, finally relaxing and taking a seat next to his brother. "And she's under more stress than most fifteen year olds. Probably had a moment." He eyed his older brother's drink, noting that he is usually much more composed than such. "Feeling yourself today, Tommy?" The older Shelby snorted, shaking his head as he took a final swig. Tommy looked over to Finn, who was pale from the experience, not wanting to hear anymore of it. He didn't care how they code named it; monthlies, period, menstruation, flow, the bleed. It was all still gross.

"Oi!" Tommy whacked his brother's shoulder. "What is your issue, eh?"

He turned to his brother shaking his head, "nothing-"

"Shit," he replied, not believing his brother. "It's all normal...natural-"

"Tommy," John sighed, not wanting to hear about a woman's period, either. It made him just as queasy, and the man was on his way to his 6th fucking child!