Mrs. Lokter's underwear was showing from underneath her desk. I noticed this as I began to fall asleep while trying to read my copy of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. Not that I'm a complete dyke or anything, I just needed some sort of unneccesary distraction to keep myself awake. They were bright pink, with two white flaps on the crotch to indicate that someone was riding the crimson flow.
They should really build some sort of exterior at the front of Mrs. Lokter's desk, I'm getting tired of this distraction. Yes, it's become more of a distraction now. Dammit, now that the brightness of that pink has woken me up to a side of Lokter that I did not want to see, I want to concentrate.
Five more minutes of class. This torture should end soon. Well, not really torture. I sort of enjoy English class, despite the fact that Mrs. Lokter is the most boring teacher in all of our High School.
Four minutes left... man I have to take a piss. I can't stand the torture. I can feel the liquid wanting to push out from between my legs. I'm going to give birth from my urthera soon.
Three minutes. Piss. Pee. Water running. Ahhhh. Turn the faucet off. I need to turn that damn faucet off. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Two minutes. Tick. Close the book, Lokter isn't looking. She's too immersed in her computer screen... or is she sleeping? Tock. One minute. I look around the classroom to see if anyone else is going through my same torture. It appears that about seven students are already asleep, four are heavily entranced by their books, and eight already have their books closed.
RRRIIINNNGGGG!!!!
Oh thank god!
I gather my books together. I make sure my smallest book is on top of the pile, largest on the bottom. Everything needs to be in perfect order, which is quite useless as they are going to get screwed up in my locker anyway. I walk towards the classroom door, my feet shuffling in a manner to which I am most comfortable with the urine birth I want to give in the bathroom.
Students are hurrying out of their fifth period classes, the class right before lunch. I suppose everyone is eager to get a piece of greasy pizza today. In the halls I spot my friend, Grelle. She looks pissed off. I wave to her and call her name in the rustling crowd of eager adolescents.
She turns as she hears my voice, and stops in a sort of manner in which an animal such as a cat would suddenly burst up in suprise at a sudden noise. I give her a sign of recognition. I wave the indecent middle finger above the crowd. Grelle smiles, and gives me the "wait 1 minute" finger and disappears back into the swarming crowd.
I head to the top floor of the school, which is where my locker resides, amoung the insane Sophmores, which I will not deny; I am one of them. The carpet oddly smells of banana-vomit today. I plug my nose with my thumb and forefinger and hold my breath as I head towards my locker.
I look at my wrist, which is covered in various notes from various places... 10, 13, 7... my combination. It's one month into the school year and I'm still retracing the numbers onto the view of my veins, keeping it there for a reference which I am in no use of. I suppose I just look there for reassurance. I'm suprised I didn't actually write my locker number down.
My locker springs open and a folded note falls out, along with toy doll parts which must have fallen off of the strings which were taped to the roof of my locker. I pick them off the floor and randomly throw them at a few random people's backs. They turn and look around to see what hit them, then go back to what they were doing, totally oblivious to my trying to keep my laughter inside, snorting.
I hear a sneeze followed by laughter. I pick the note off of the ground. On the front of it are the words scrambled there: To Em, Frm Thom.
Oh shit, I think. Not Thom. Thom and I broke up five fucking months ago, he better not be crawling back to get some sex, because my virginity had to have been the worst birthday gift I could have given anyone. By anyone I mean anyone. Even if it is a "true love" or something of that nature. If there is one thing I wish I could have kept sacred forever, it would have to be my virginity. I was able to keep it with me for so long, but once I finally got a taste of the sexual sensations, it was like I was addicted. I wasn't just having sex with Thom, I was having sex with anyone who would want to fuck me. That included three others which, of course, I all regret. Damn me, damn me.
I put the note in my pocket, put my books away (carefully), and head to the bathroom, which is inconvieniently crowded by a group of giggling girls right in front of the doorway.
"Hey! Excuse me." I say to them in all their girly gigglishness. All their heads turn and at first I think that they're all clones... but no, it's just the Norman twins I spot first. I actually look around and see three other girls. Ashley, Marie, Ariel, and the Norman twins are Haley and Nellie. They make weird noises which would be somewhere between a tut and a snort.
"Ooookaaayy..." I say in an awkward voice as I pass through. Each head looks at me accusingly. I smile as I catch a last glance at all of their faces, and then I make a breath of exhaustion as I pass through the unsturdy wooden door labeled, 'Gurls'. (A month ago someone chipped off 'Women' and replaced it with 'Gurls'. Oddly enough, nothing was done to change this.)
I mumble about the annoying Norman twins (they're Morman as well... the Morman Normans) as I head to the nearest stall, but then I see a floating piece of poo in the toliet, and immediately I make a face of disgust and go to the next stall, which by comparison is quite normal. I unbutton and unzip my black jeans and sit down on the toliet. I wonder if there is anything worth reading on the stall walls today. I look around me. Nothing new. I remember that I have a Sharpie permanent marker in my back pocket. I pull it out and began writing in huge letters that are alien to my own handwriting the words THOM IS A BAD LAY. I put it back in my pocket with a smirk to the sound of my piss streaming into the toliet water.
Looking down at the biege tiles, still waiting to finish, I wonder what Thom wrote in the note. I suppose I should open it when I meet with Grelle so the both of us can have a first reaction together. The last time Thom gave me a note was two weeks ago, yet again asking for sex when he obviously couldn't get any. I laughed to myself and at his stupidity, then I looked back at the wall which I wrote on and blinked.
The writing was gone. I panicked.
"What!?" I said to myself rhetorically as my hands automatically began to search the wall, as if it would find the source, some sort of suction which enveloped the words. I blinked again, suddenly the words were there. I blinked a few more times and they were still there.
Might have just blanked out for a second, I thought to myself. I finished and wiped, then went out to wash my hands. As I was drying them on a paper towel and mumbling about how a high percentage of people don't wash their hands regularly, Grelle came into the bathroom, with a razor in her hand.
"Hey Emma." She said to me in a monotone voice. "I'll be in the second stall from the left." She headed towards the stall I just came out of. The instant she entered she burst out in laughter. I heard the clang of the razor as it hit the ground.