What Mandy Busyman Did

Hiking Boots (Part 1)

Jenna

I turned toward Stacia carefully as she bent over, her hand grazing the mucky floors of the helpless bathroom. I watched her struggle, her small grunts echoing against the walls as I heard a teacher yell at their students in a few rooms over.

"Stacia! Let me out!"

"No!" she demanded boastfully as if she were going to get the key. She slapped her hand against the tile a few more times before I bent down to her level.

"Stacia. It's no use for you. Let me try," I pleaded as she stared sharply on the space underneath the door.

"Oh, so I'm not good enough?" she challenged, barely making eye contact.

"Oh please. You know that's not what I said. Now let me try."

"And let you get the key in a few minutes when I had to try for days? Absolutely not!" she finalized as she continued her determined search.

"Fine then," I sighed as I rolled my eyes. I had skipped class so many times this year, and she was eating away my education by taking so long. Her face squished into a confused blob as she absently stuck her hand around.

"Oh for god's sake, let me try!" I yelled fiercely as she halted and turned on her heels toward me. She stayed frozen as I shoved her aside and began searching for the key.

I was only looking for a few moments before I felt the gritty texture of the key. Finally. I pulled it out and raised it towards the sky like it was Simba.

"Ughhh! This isn't fair!" Stacia grumbled as the light shone like it was a fairy left over it.

"At least we have the key!" I reasoned with her as she crossed her arms.

"Last time I'll ever let anyone help me!" she complained as we stood up.

I pushed the key forcefully into the lock, a clicking sound being made as I opened the door. An ancient smell wafted in my nose, with notes of dust and pee.

I looked around hopefully, hoping to see something, someone, anything that would help me find Mandy. But there wasn't anything. 

"Ughh, what's the point? There's nothing here. It was probably a joke."

Stacia rolls her eyes and crosses her arms stubbornly as I evaluate the bathroom again. There's literally nothing except seasoned stalls and specks of dust. 

"Oh my god, I can't-"

I was overtaken by enraged and irritated feelings. Hot tears wanted so badly to drip like fire over my cheeks. 

"I did this all for nothing!" I screamed helplessly. 

I whimpered and stomped my foot. It was all a joke. It was all a joke. 

"What? were you really expecting there to be something?" Stacia replied weakly, faintly as if she wanted there to really be something. 

"I can't believe this!" I yelled again. I didn't care who heard me. I was in pain. 

Stacia stood eerily quiet. I turned around to face her as her face went slack.

"Stac-"

"SHH! Be quiet! I hear someone coming!" she whisper-yelled as she shoved me into a stall. 

"Who?"

"SHH! Oh my god, you're impossible!!"

"Me? Impossible? Pshh, please."

That's when I heard the footsteps. They whipped against the carpet at 90 miles an hour. My heart was beating fast as Stacia pushed me farther into the stall and crammed me in the corner. 

"Stay here," she motioned anxiously as she locked the stall and walked out, her wedges clomping against the tile. I stayed motionless and afraid as Stacia walked out accordingly, her bajillion bracelets  clinking against others as she walked back and out again. 

I heard her sugary sweet voice talking to a tough man, his voice hoarse and rough, signaling he did not care who she was or why she was there. 

"Just--ah--going to the bathroom, Dad."

Dad? What was he doing out of nowhere?

"Stacia, you come home this instant!"

"But Dad, my stuff!"

"I don't care! We're leaving. Now." 

I heard her bracelets clank as if he had grabbed her wrist. No, she couldn't leave me here! 

"Daddy, stooooppp! I have to get somethinggg!" she whined quite annoyingly as her voice got further and further away. 

"Stacia! Stop whining!"

That was it. I heard her no more, and my feet were aching from sitting on them. The small cubicle surrounded me, pushing my small problem of claustrophobia. The tile beckoned me, and the whole room seemed to whisper to me. That's when I knew I was trapped. 

*__*

Stacia

My dad tugged me along, my wrist red as his grip around my fragile bones tightened and squeezed. 

"Dad! Oh my god, stop!"

"And let you run off again? I think not, little lady!"

I frowned at him and noted how he said "little lady", which he hadn't called me since I was six. I let him drag me for quite some time before I tried to pull free of his grip. My writs barely made a movement under his hand, and I gave up on going back. 

"We're going home, now. Don't even think about it," he said as if he had read my mind. 

I grunted softly as I twisted my wrist under his hand.