Curiosity and Sanitary Pads

Friday morning started with Leo doing something that nearly gave me a heart attack.

He asked me out.

Not officially. Not with the actual words "would you like to go on a date." But close enough that my brain started making dial-up internet noises.

"Hey Rika," he said, catching up to me before the first period. "I was wondering... would you want to study together this weekend? For the history exam?"

Study together. Alone. Just the two of us.

"I know you're really smart, and I'd like to spend more time with you. If that's okay."

The way he said it—shy but determined, like he'd been working up the courage all week—made my stomach do gymnastics routines.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Because the more he liked me, the stronger the connection got. And if we were spending extended time together, with me carrying a magical cotton bomb in my backpack.

What could possibly go wrong?

"Sure," I heard myself say. "I guess. If you want to. Whatever."

I'm doomed.

*****

The crisis struck during lunch period.

I was sitting at my usual table, having successfully navigated the morning without any doll-related incidents, when Kenji Nakamura decided today meant he was going to be a problem.

Kenji embodied what happened when you gave a seventeen-year-old the personality of a particularly aggressive honey badger. He'd been held back twice, towered over most of the teachers, and had the kind of dead eyes that suggested his future career options involved either professional wrestling or prison.

He'd also been watching me all week.

"Yo, Tanaka." He dropped into the seat across from me without invitation. "What's with the backpack thing?"

I clutched my bag closer to my chest. "What thing?"

"You've been protecting that bag like it's full of diamonds. Won't let anyone near it. Won't put it down. Hell, I heard you took it to the bathroom yesterday."

Stupid gossip network.

"It's just a bag."

"Right." Kenji's smile was all teeth and bad intentions. "So you won't mind if I take a look."

Before I could react, he lunged across the table and grabbed my backpack.

"Don't touch that!"

The words came out loud and high-pitched. Half the cafeteria turned to stare as I yanked my bag away from his reaching hands.

"Interesting." Kenji stood up, and I was reminded that he was approximately the size of a small building. "Really interesting. What you got in there, Tanaka? Drugs? Love letters? Someone's underwear?"

"None of your business."

"Come on, just a peek. I'm curious."

He reached for my bag again, and this time I scrambled backward so fast I knocked over my chair.

"I said, don't touch it!"

"Kenji, leave her alone."

Leo appeared out of nowhere, moving to stand between us. He wasn't nearly as big as Kenji, but there was something in his posture that said he wasn't backing down.

No, no, no, this is the opposite of what I need.

"Oh look," Kenji said. "Prince Charming to the rescue. This is cute."

"Just back off, okay? She said no."

"And I say I want to know what Little Miss Paranoid is hiding in that bag. Must be pretty important if she's willing to make a scene about it."

Kenji moved fast for someone his size. Before Leo could stop him, he darted around and made another grab for my backpack.

I had a choice: let him take it, or...Protect the doll at all costs.

I threw myself backward, clutching the bag to my chest, but Kenji already had a strap. We were locked in a tug-of-war, and I could feel the bag stretching between us.

Inside, the doll was getting crushed. Compressed. The careful bubble wrap protection meant nothing against this kind of force.

Leo. What's happening to Leo?

I risked a glance and saw him bent over slightly, hand pressed to his ribs, face pale.

The doll gets squeezed. Which means he gets squeezed.

"Let go!" I screamed at Kenji.

"Make me!"

More pressure. More crushing. Leo gasped and stumbled backward.

I did the only thing I could think of.

I abandoned all pretense and fought dirty.

"Stop! There are medical supplies in there! Private medical supplies! The kind you don't want to know about!"

Kenji paused, confused. "What?"

"Feminine hygiene products! Very... specific ones! With... applicators!"

It was the magic phrase. Ding, ding, ding!

Kenji's face went through several expressions before settling on disgusted resignation. He released my backpack like it was radioactive.

"Gross. Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because it's private!"

"Yeah, well, keep your private stuff to yourself then." He stalked away, muttering about girls being weird.

I clutched my backpack and immediately checked on Leo. He'd straightened up, but he still looked shaken.

"You okay?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, just... weird chest pain. Probably pulled something trying to help." He gave me a concerned look. "You all right? That was intense."

If you only knew.

"I'm fine. Thanks for... You know. Trying to help."

"Always." The way he said it, like it was a promise, made my heart do something complicated. "That guy's a jerk. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

The irony is killing me.

"It's fine. I can handle myself."

"I know you can. But you shouldn't have to."

*****

That night, I conducted a full inspection of the doll.

Under my desk lamp, the damage looked worse than I'd feared. The fabric was stretched in several places, and there was a small tear near the left shoulder where the stitching gave way. Some of the rice stuffing had shifted, making the doll even more lopsided than before.

But it was intact. Mostly.

I spent an hour carefully re-stuffing and re-stitching, using thread that was close to the original color. By the time I was done, the doll looked almost normal again.

Almost.

The problem wasn't the physical damage. The problem was what today revealed about my situation.

I couldn't keep this up forever. I couldn't fight off every potential threat to a cotton doll while maintaining any semblance of a normal life. And I definitely couldn't do it while Leo got more protective of me every day.

Because that's what happened today, wasn't it? He saw someone threatening me and immediately stepped in to help. Which meant his feelings were getting stronger, which meant the connection was getting stronger, which meant the doll became more dangerous every single day.

It was a feedback loop of doom.

The more he cared about me, the more I had to protect the doll. The more I protected the doll, the more suspicious I looked. The more suspicious I looked, the more he wanted to help and protect me.

And round and round we went.

I stared at the repaired doll sitting on my desk.

I thought about Leo. I wondered if he was thinking about today. About the weird chest pain that came out of nowhere. About the girl he was trying so hard to help, who kept acting like she was protecting state secrets.

If only he knew the truth.

His safety depended on a lumpy cotton doll that I had to guard with my life, and every day he liked me more meant another day the stakes got higher.

I carefully wrapped the doll in fresh bubble wrap and tucked it into its protective case. Tomorrow I'd have to figure out better security measures. A stronger case. A backup plan for when someone inevitably tried this again.

And next time, I might not be able to talk my way out of it with feminine hygiene products.