Just the thought of it made my heart start beating faster. People can’t usually make judgments about what they think my gender is. I wear men’s and women’s clothes, I keep my already pretty flat chest bound down, sometimes I pack, sometimes I don’t, I don’t shave the mustache on my upper lip that some people pin as male and some as female, I keep my voice pretty neutral. People have a hard time knowing what to think, which is exactly what I want them to think, which is really what I am, you know? This kinda in-between, masc-femme, genderless, genderfuck, person. But the minute Makyala heard about my period, she would always think girl from then on. She would start forgetting and using “she” instead of “they” when she talked about me, even if she didn’t mean to, even if she had every intention of continuing to think of me the way I really am. Then other people would do it, too.

I walked back to the building feeling kind of dazed. I went up to Makayla’s apartment and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” she said, opening it. She looked like reheated shit. Her hair was all over the place, she’d lost even more weight, and her eyes were sunken. For a minute I stopped worrying about the period thing and started thinking, holy shit, this girl really needs help.

“I . . . um . . . I was wondering if there are any supplies . . . I mean, like, I’m bleeding, and . . .”

“Bleeding from where?” she asked, suddenly sounding panicked and looking me up and down.

“I’m not hurt or anything, I just . . . I got my period and I need tampons,” I said. I could feel the heat rising up my cheeks, making my face red, embarrassing me even further.

“Shit, girl,” she said. Girl. There it was, second word into the conversation. She stopped herself. “Sorry, sorry. I mean, I thought you were hurt. I was relieved. I didn’t mean . . . yes, they’re in the supply closet. I’ll get you some.”

We walked back down to the lobby. She didn’t say much, and neither did I. My heart was going fast again, this time from being misgendered. All the adrenaline from this day was killing my buzz, and I would have to take another Vicodin when I got back upstairs.

Makayla opened the closet door and handed me a box of tampons. I stuffed them in my bag. She sighed.

“There’s not a lot left, but this is where they are if you need them. There’s not a lot of anything, really.” She stepped back from the door and let me look in. There were a few boxes left, but the room was mostly empty. “The Red Cross connection is drying up, and God knows there isn’t much left in the stores. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I worry about it every day.”