I followed the carpeted path that led to the less than pleasant smelling toilets, the air was saturated with the scent of overpowering floral perfume, human excrements of all kinds and the chemically smell of bleach. Finding the whole place empty, I headed straight for the disabled toilet. Larger than the rest with a half descent little seat to perch myself on, I called it home.
I was sure I was meant to feel ashamed, I'd been in school less than an hour and already I had given up. But really, what I felt was relief.
Smartly, Dad had packed me a book.Thicky and heavy in the bottom of my half empty bag, I retrieved it, comforted by the feel of the pages between my fingers. Dogeared with yellow pages, it was a favourite of mine, the characters like old friends returning from faraway adventures. I pushed away the thought that I could happily sit here all day, telling myself I would move once the next lesson began.
I lay my new blazer out over the toilet seat, resting my basically empty backpack over the back of the toilet. I created a makeshift chair out of it. I folded my legs up, hiding myself fully from whoever might think to look under the abnormally large gap under the door, I was comfortable; invisible.
Half an hour passed in perfectly slow silence before a set of feet shuffled onto the gritty linoleum, the noise breaking me from my reverie. Self consciously, I folded my legs and shuffled back as far as I could onto my seat, forcing myself to stop breathing. Imagining a teacher looking to rat out students, whoever it was pushed open every stall door with a sharp bang, gradually making their way towards me. It was like something out of a horror film. Anxiety made an erratic drum beat out of my heart.
The footsteps paused just before they got to my door, a shadow fell beneath the door. A few minutes of someone's heavy breathing a pair of thick soled boots appeared in the gap under the door.
The voice that spoke afterwards was gruff and decidedly northern.
"Ello?" it said, the angry creature. I couldn't actually tell if it was a man or woman. I hoped for women.
I second guessed the idea when the boots fell back only to rear forward, something hard, antlers I thought perhaps, came crashing into the door. The plastic door rattled against the fragile lock.
I stood up out of panic, my body telling me to be ready for a fight. My book fell from my hands and skidded out the floor.
"Oi!" I shouted, my voice bursting out of me before I could stop it. The thing stopped moving, its feet remaining close but still. "What's the password?"
The thing sighed loudly, "Just let me in."
Rolling my eyes I moved to slide the lock back, standing close to the door so that this thing couldn't just barge in on my new home. I felt like a troll protecting its treasure.
I opened the door to reveal a punkish woman, girl? Her dark head was shaved to the scalp, sharp looking spikes of hair poking up through the skin, her eyes were heavily eyeliner. Classic angry teen, I thought, stereotypically. I wondered if she looked angry on purpose. I must've looked like a child to her.
She looked shocked to see me standing there, dark eyebrows shot upwards into harsh triangles.
"Who're you?" she hissed, barging past me so firmly I flew against the back wall.
"Who're you?" I parroted back, pulling myself into the most casual lean against the sink I could manage, a lean that said I hadn't smacked my spine against the hand bar.
This girl raised one heavy eyebrow at me, "Beth," she tells me, eyeing my mess of books on the floor with disdain. She bends down to pick up the book I'd brought. Seeing her holding my favourite book was equivalent to her breathing down my soul, or seeing me naked.
I felt my face flush before I snatched the book back off her.
