A little girl starts her period for the first time.
The part-time nurse asks, “Has your mom talked to you about this at all?”
The girl nods.  Yes.
The part-time nurse says, “Is your stomach hurting?”
The girl nods again. Yes.
The part-time nurse asks, “Is there anyone that can come pick you up?”
A third nod. Yes. “My sister,” she says in her thick Spanish accent.
The phone is dialed; the sister answers.
“What’s wrong?” she wants to know, noting how unusual it is for the little girl to call home sick during the school day.
“Oh,” says the girl, “You know.”
“No,” the sister explains, she doesn’t know.
Then the little girl musters up the courage to say the one sentence that she needs to say.  Hand cupped over the receiver, a nervous glance around the room.  Then she says into the phone, “I got ‘the dot.’”