OK. This is sort of a long story, so I am going to post it in two parts. This is part one.
I was 15 at the time. My little sister Janie was 11 and was about to host a slumber party for the very first time. She was very excited and looking forward to playing hostess. But a week beforehand we learned a distant relative, who neither Janie nor I knew, had died. My parents had been out of touch with him for years, but still felt an obligation to go to the funeral. Unfortunately that would take them out of town the weekend of my sister’s slumber party.
Janie tried to come up with all sorts of ideas on how to not cancel the party. Nothing seemed reasonable. It was suggested having the party at another girl’s house, but then it would not be Janie’s party. Seeing there was no way to save the party, Janie began to cry.
Now I hate seeing my sister sad, and I hate it more when she cries. I have doted on her since the day she was born, and she is very important to me. So as her big brother, it was up to me to save the day. I told my parents that I could supervise the party. After all, they always said I was the most responsible 15-year-old boy they know, and besides I knew all the girls. They were good girls, well behaved who did what they were told. My parents said leaving me in charge of my sister over the weekend is one thing, but being in charge of six additional girls is a bit much even for me. I pointed out one of the girls lives across the street and if anything happens which I cannot control, I can call her parents.
All this time, Janie is pleading with her puppy dog eyes. Finally my parents said they would call the girls’ parents and if they had no objections it would be alright for me to take care of the girls. Janie is happy again and is jumping off the walls. All the parents know me and think I can handle their daughters, so the party is back on.
So it is the evening of the party. Janie and I are in the house alone. We are getting things ready. The girls arrive one by one, go up to Janie’s room to change into their pajamas, nighties and nightgowns. They then come downstairs to help get all the pizzas, popcorn, mini-hot dogs and all the other junk food ready. When everything is set up, I tell them they have full use of the living room and Janie’s room. I ask them not to make too much of a mess. If they need me, I will be in my room. Then I tell them to have fun.
So I am in my room doing some schoolwork or reading. I leave the door slightly open so I can hear any crashes or sounds of disaster. Around 11:00, there is a knock on my door. My sister and two of her friends ask if they can come in. I ask what’s wrong. My sister says, “Brenda isn’t feeling well.”
I follow the girls to my sister’s room. Brenda is in her nighty curled up on top of her sleeping bag. I ask her what’s wrong and she says she has a tummy ache. I smiled and said she probably had too much junk food. Brenda nods yes. I go out and get some liquid antacid, and give Brenda two spoonsful. I tell her to just rest, and then I ask the girls to keep the party downstairs so not to disturb Brenda.
About a quarter to one in the morning, the girls start to drag themselves upstairs to sleep. I figure it is time for me to sleep as well. I brush my teeth, go back into my room, strip down to my underwear and went to bed.
At two in the morning, I wake up as someone is shaking me. It’s Janie. I was what’s wrong, and she says, “Brenda just had her first period.”
End of Part One.