The next morning at breakfast, my mother asked me about the stain. I nearly choked on my orange juice.

“Oh, yeah. I fell asleep on the couch last night and started my period,” I lied. “I tried to clean it up, but it wouldn’t come out. I’m sorry.” Mom eyed me skeptically, but then she softened.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said. “Not your fault. I’ll have to call someone in to clean it.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I apologized again.

“Don’t worry about ...