Young Writers Society

Surely it’s here, I thought, not slowing down even as doubt annexed my mind.Then it clicked: it had to be snuggled on one side or the other. Little more had I come to that conclusion when I overshot the portion scooped out of the wall. As I sought to turn on a dime, uninformed about the remainder of gunk attached to my footwear, it was all squeals and car wrecks from there. First I bounced on my butt, then rolled towards the white bathroom door, audaciously reaching out as I skidded past it. The second move earned me a scuffed cheek. How ironic.

Maybe I should’ve just sectioned off a corner to my liking and hosed it down. It wouldn’t have been pretty, but it would have resolved the immediate problem. But if you had done that, you’d create a whole new complication. Peachy.

Bear crawl was my next weapon of choice. A silver plate occupied the space where a handle normally would. It was a swinging door. I didn’t so much politely shove it open as barrel into it with my shoulder, sprawling through the doorway onto the linoleum tiles like a wild animal on hands and knees in hot pursuit of the kill--the urinal.

Lighting upon the heavenly target, I waddled over to it, tugging furiously at the knotted strings holding my baggy pants in place. Unable to wedge a decent gap between the wet strings with my fingers, it occurred to me that I might unleash the stream before the pants were removed from the line of fire. I was freaking out, hopping about, hands toiling, hope waning. Just preceding the point of no return, I succeeded in unfastening the final rat nest and thrust the front of the waistband down in the same movement. This allowed a breach only a fraction of an inch wide. That was all that was required.

“Aaaaaahhh,” I breathed.

It was divine. For some reason it felt like I had been holding my breath along with my bladder. Eyes closed in bliss, I launched into a random tune. I stared into the recesses of the unorthodox tinkling box, humming ludicrously. Empty space yawned where the urine should have pooled. It splashed along the backboard and was absorbed by the cavity as it trickled down into the swamp. A constant pitter-patter faintly sounded from below.

“Do you always hum ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ while you do your business?” tweeted a girl’s voice.

When she spoke, it jostled my entire body. I ground my teeth in efforts to keep a steady aim and simultaneously defy the urge that told me to catapult roofward. Still, it swerved and I couldn’t stifle my fright enough to maintain my bearings in all purity.

I nearly fell into the pit hollering the first thing that came to mind, “YOUR BRANCHES!” and caught myself with a shoulder against the wall.

Awkwardly angled and leaning over the urinal, I finished up the job with my back to the speaker.

She cut short a snort and pleaded, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Really sorry.”

My face was probably glowing more than the surface of the sun in humiliation as I swiveled to find Pheonix seated comfortably next to the sink with a hand pressed to her mouth. Beside it rested a regular toilet made out of porcelain, the seat, unlike the majority of objects in the building, was not of wood (nobody was too fond of catching splinters with their rear).

“No no,” I waved a hand through the air, “go ahead and mess with me. That’s just what I need when I’m already on edge. Thanks for crucifying the most enjoyable thing I've done so far today.”

Mortified to be in a bathroom with a girl, a girl who just watched me whiz, who I had a favorable crush on no less, I was blushing like a ripe tomato and my sarcasm lacked real bite.

At that, her demeanor changed back to her serious and assertive self. Hand dropping she stated, “Honestly, no matter how I might’ve approached you, it would’ve ended badly.”

“But seriously,” I contested, “All you had to do was at least wait until I was done. Did you have to meddle with me during my, umm, affairs?”

I was uneasy about challenging her, period. Although I spent some time with her two brothers, Tezer and Rocky, she was not exactly someone I was all that close to. From what I could tell she was fierce, and I did not think it was a risk-free idea to try and evaluate if that was just a mask to shield her true identity. Certainly not pain-free.

But nobody humiliates me and walks away scot-free.

“Honestly,” she repeated, eyes lowered to her twiddling thumbs, “it just made me feel more secure to put a jolt into somebody. But,” she stressed, “I’m not scared of that ugly bird.”

Riiight. Thinking intently I implored, “So how did you get in here anyway?” What I meant by that was: how did she sneak up on me so well.

“Same as you, through the door,” she remarked.

Thus I got a wise crack answer. With a shake of my head that stirred my dirty-blond hair, I quickly redefined my search, “Let me rephrase that. How come I didn’t notice when you came in?”

Pheonix blew a frizzy, Dorito colored lock of hair out of her face and shrugged. “Maybe I was here first, ever think of that?” and cast her gaze back to her lap.

Odd, eye contact is a thing for her, but she’s ducked away twice now. I decided to change the subject a bit.

“Gutterson should install separate bathrooms for ladies and men.” I feigned a laugh. It all came off real dry.

Her eyes narrowed. “There is a lock on the door.” she noted. “You’re stalling.”

“Stalling?” I recited. “What makes you think that?” Oh yeah, the lock on the door and my lame attempt to change the subject. Before she could say something further I tried to back out with a sincere complaint, “I came in here for a quick pit-stop, alright. Who knows how long we have until we are forced to fend off that spook. We really need to head back to discuss things and get prepared.”

Pivoting on one foot I intended to walk out, but was stopped cold in my tracks by her hushed appeal, “Don’t leave just yet.”

The torture in it was unmistakable.

My mind wasn’t that far removed. Do you want to dive into this sensitive side of her that you never thought existed? Will this behavior ever surface again? Fair trade for what she saw of me. I hesitated. Guess Pheonix views intimacy as a weakness or a threat of some sort. This must be her begging. But for what?

Should I now exit, it would be the second person for me to leave high and dry within a quarter of an hour. You just promised to change. Are you not even going to take the first small step? I frowned.

Stiff as a board, weighing option one and two, my back remained towards Pheonix while I half-teasingly asked, “You aren’t scared of that little chicken outside are you?”

There was no laughter in her answer. “Name me one person that could stand before it, fearless? But no, that’s beside the point.”

“Then what has got you so upset?” I whispered, wheeling to face her.

The picture was getting clearer.

Warring against distress, Pheonix dropped down from her perch, no longer employing the sink counter as a chair. The torches that frequently radiated from her eyes were reduced to embers, and underneath them puffy skin indicated that she’d been crying. She evicted each word with a tremble, “Dudley was taken.”

First-rate sleuthing, Sherlock. If she wore make up it would have been easy to detect that she was distraught. You goof! What else would she be doing in here with the door unlocked?

“I know what you mean.” I advanced. “The manner in which he was taken: so vicious, so sudden, so…” I didn’t want to remind myself of it. “helpless.” I terminated. My turn to look away.

“Nnot just that.” she stammered. “Where were we, Kevin? Where were we while he got slaughtered? While his blood seeped into the ground! Where were his protectors while he was our champion?”

Tears flowed unbroken. But the embers were reviving rapidly.

“It’s hard to accept, yes, but wasn’t that the tactic?” Unsure of what more to say I searched my heart. “We needed a hero and he was willing to undertake that. He knew, we knew, that without a way to retaliate none of us stood a chance. He saw it coming. Buck didn’t want us to fight on his behalf, or the group’s behalf; with his sacrifice he was fighting for ours.”

I Suddenly understood, having formed the sentences aloud, that I had been a couple of degrees too critical of myself. Pheonix was frankly going to undermine herself if she relentlessly evaluated our reactions to the incident with similar reproach.

“Oh, that’s some fine justification.” she spat with venom. “So admirable of us to surrender him up and hightail it to safety. He didn’t have a chance in hell. I…” she blubbered. And then it escalated into rage, “At least I could’ve used this confounded knife!”

Furiously she reached behind herself to snatch it from its resting place. I flipped out in stages. I raised my volume to cling to my last shreds of composure.

“Pheeenix…”

It didn’t appear I was getting through.

I cautioned, “Don’t make things worse.”

She pried the machete free. And pushed it toward my nose.

“Look at it!” she bellowed.

I couldn’t see anything except my thunderstruck expression badgering me from the smooth side of the blade. Broadside flashing at me, it was clear to be seen that she meant me no harm. I was mostly sure about that. “Yeah?” I tested growing cross.

“Think this could take a sizeable chunk off of that old eyesore?” she commanded.

Highly doubt it. That thought died in my throat. “Quite believably.”

“Then I definitely had an opportunity to salvage something. I could’ve rescued him. Instead,” her sword sagged, head drooped. “Instead I’m doomed to sit here and analyze why I couldn’t…”

“Overcome the fear?” I provided, nodding.

Steel slipped from her slack fingers and clattered next to my foot.

I sighed, “Because you’d need faith the size of a mustard seed. Minus the machete, the same thoughts ran through my head and I opted out. The others fled too. We’re all primarily the same.”

She reigned in a grin, but not before I saw it. “A mustard seed?” she joshed through a sniffle. “But yeah, I get it,” as she wiped at her face with a long grape colored sleeve.

Feeling I should make it more clear I elaborated, “It almost seemed there was a premeditated understanding to it all.” I recaptured Dudley’s emotions and grimaced. “He looked at me, you know. Right before the end. It’s very hard for me to describe, but I distinguished some things that lead me to believe that he considered us, possibly each individual, invaluable in comparison to himself. I bet Buck would have even done it had there only been one person with him.”

In a tone thick with disappointment Pheonix avowed, “I wish I could’ve seen what you did. Then I could make a more accurate judgment. Honestly though, I don’t know if it would ease my guilt.”

I recalled what I said to him, about the alligator ripping him apart. I winced. Even I felt treacherous, but what good could come if we dwelled on that? So I left that somewhat tacit and presented, “It hurts in more ways than one.”

I stooped down to gather up the sword, biting back tears again, but as I reached for it a great weight leveled me. The blow impacted me right under the rib cage. Stout, that was me: all the same, off guard and off balance, I took my second spill across the bathroom tiles.