Margaret tossed and turned. She hated the summer for its heat, its endless days, and her yearly "time". She rubbed her legs against each other like a cricket, laying on top of bare sheets, the feeling of the fabric catching on her skin unbearable.
As a little girl, she remembered her mother and grandmother going through it. They kept it away from her for a long time, thinking it might have skipped a generation. She knew her mom would be sick for a day or two every summer, locking herself up in the bedroom. There was always some excuse that little Maggie bought pretty easily. But then there was the summer between middle school and high school. And her disastrous first kiss with Tom Miller.
They were in his basement, watching a scary movie. They could sit on the couch together, but no blankets. And the door had to stay open. His parents were watching their own movie, maybe making little flirty movements like Maggie and Tom were.
Maggie thought the girl in the movie was so grown up. Her skin didn't have big red boils. She had boobs, a boyfriend. She was wrapped in a towel as she stepped from the shower. When she wiped the steam from the mirror, she saw the big man with a knife and a creepy mask standing in the corner. Maggie's shriek mixed with the girl in the movie, and she grabbed Tom's hand. And then they kept holding hands.
Tom leaned across the mile-wide couch cushion between them and she did the same. He closed his eyes so she did too. They barely brushed their lips together. Maggie's heart was pounding. And then suddenly her hand hurt. Tom felt something too, their look of true love after their first kiss turning to confusion. Then disgust.
Tom's hand was inside Maggie's. Her skin was translucent, and in the glow of the TV she could see his hand beneath it. Tommy tugged his hand away and tore Maggie's skin. Soon, they and the girl on TV, and Tom's parents were all screaming.
"No, Robin, I swear," her mom said into the phone, exasperated. The cigarette in her hand that was rubbing her temple had nearly burnt down to the filter, a column of ash falling off of it. Maggie sat at the kitchen table, a bag of frozen peas on top of a towel laid over her hand. It still burned and itched. Maggie tried to cry as quietly as she could.
"It's nothing contagious," her mom said. "Just a skin condition." Her mom was mad, losing her patience. "Then take him to the doctor and get him checked out, Robin!" she said. She took a deep breath. "No, I understand," she said, rolling her eyes. "Yes. Exactly. You just want him to be safe. I know." Her mom hadn't looked at her the whole time she had been on the phone. Maggie tried to see how much of her mom's anger was meant for her. "Okay. Yes, we'll see you on Sunday. Okay. Bye."
"Momma I'm so sorry," Maggie said, unable to hold her tears back any longer. Now she knew she was just a kid. Scared and embarrassed. But back then she thought she had done something unforgivable.
"Oh, honey," her mom said, kneeling down and wrapping her arms around Maggie. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I kissed him! And now my skin is gonna fall off!" Maggie screamed. She started to hyperventilate, shaking and sucking up snot.
"Listen to me," her mom said, pulling away. She wiped away Maggie's tears with her hand. "This didn't happen because of a kiss. God as my witness." Maggie tried to catch her breath. "You're probably gonna kiss a lot of people in your life, if you want to. You'll see."
"He thinks I'm a freak," Maggie said, sobbing. "What's wrong with me?"
"There is nothing wrong with you," her mom said sternly, but softly. "Don't ever let anyone make you feel like there is." She kissed Maggie on the top of her head. "You're just different. And I am too. And Nanny. Not different. Special."
That first shed was perhaps the worst. She was perpetually in the bath, trying to loosen her skin. She couldn't go out in the sun, because the skin that had fallen off left new, pink flesh underneath. She wore oven mitts to keep from hurting herself by scratching and picking. It took all summer to finally get it over with. Her mom tried to soothe her as she moved her hand beneath her back, gently trying to pull the skin it away.
Nanny kept a cool towel on Maggie's forehead. "It gets easier, darlin'," she said. Maggie cried and cried. Eventually her mom tugged in just the right way and the sheet of skin came off in one giant swatch. "There we go," Nanny cooed. "There we go."
When she went back to school, Maggie told everyone she had gotten sun poisoning. Tom didn't say anything. But he also didn't speak to her.
Some summers later, he asked her back to the basement. The fifth sequel to that first movie had come out on video. Maggie loved that about those kinds of movies. They just put a new coat of paint on the same piece over and over. And like a sequel, her and Tom had tried again. She shed again, but this time he wanted to understand. What they had didn't last, but it meant a lot, nevertheless.
Now, actually grown, she was tired and tired from reminiscing, feeling foolish. The skin of her legs finally caught and she was able to peel it away like a sock. She gingerly lifted it up off the sheets and draped it over the chair of her vanity. Like her other sheds from the last few years, it would go into an art piece. Something about summer. Hopefully another piece that was applauded for "unorthodox" materials. But for now, the breeze from the fan was cool against her soft new skin and she was finally able to fall asleep.