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Heartbeat: Childish Gambino
"V, you okay? You've been in there since your mom left." Mister Shue knocks on the door.
I sit on the toilet, holding my waist. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just experiencing my daily week of uterine shedding."
"Oh, um, uh, do you need-"
"Pads? Yes, please. They're in my room, the top drawer of my vanity. Hurry, please."
"Yeah, I'll—I'll be right back." He steps away.
"God." I grimace and my stomach churns. A wave of nausea then passes over me.
"Um..."
"Just slide it under."
"Yeah. O-Okay." He slides two pads under the crack of the door.
"Thank you." I pull up my pants and quickly grab them from the floor.
"Y-Yeah. Anytime. Do you need more, or-"
"No, two is what I use. I'll be out in a minute."
"No, no, take your time. And if you don't wanna go to school today-"
"No, I'm fine. I always take Midol anyway."
"Okay, good. Um, I'll wait in the car, alright?"
"Yeah, okay. Thanks." I clean myself up.
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"You alright?" Tyler asks as we sit in the choir room.
"Yeah. Just tired." I nod and discreetly hug my aching waist. I was rushing after getting dressed and I forgot to take my Midol, so fuck me.
"Alright, New Directions!" Mister Shue claps his hands as he enters. "Big news. As you all know, Vocal Adrenaline came in second last year at Nationals."
"The only good thing to come out of that lost weekend." Brandon quips and Rachel smacks his arm with a glare. "Besides us getting back together."
"Well, the boosters at Carmel don't donate tens of thousands of dollars every year to come in second. So they fired Dustin Goolsby."
"So handsome." Artie shakes his head in disbelief and I slouch down a little bit to see if it'll ease the aching in my waist.
"And they're having trouble finding a new coach. Seems that no one wants to take on that pressure cooker."
"That means they're vulnerable." Tina points out.
"Yes." Mister Shue points at her. "And if we work hard enough, we can beat them. Which is why I've realized that, um...I can't direct the musical this year."
