Tampon Stories

I was sitting in what Laura called detention, writing lines, in her make-believe classroom. And I had just let my stool scrape over the wooden floor, making a dreadful sound, not unlike fingernails scratching on a blackboard. Instantly, I knew I had done wrong. I had violated one of Laura's—Miss Smith's—school rules. She put her book down with a thud, walked over to me, grim-faced, and smashed the tawse onto the desk in f...