Sorry I got this last one out so late.
Here are the previous chapters:
Life and Death Choices Made Casually: Day Six
by Write And Left
Bridget climbed onto the bus and looked for Lia. As she walked down the aisle to claim her usual spot behind her, Lia didn’t pick up her bag off the seat to let Bridget sit down.
“Still mad at me about my college pick?” she asked.
“I got you a gift for your birthday.” She held up the giftbag with the Vandals t-shirt.
Lia moved her bag so Bridget could sit down. She opened the package and pulled out her gift. “Oh, a Vandals t-shirt. Thank you.” She folded up the shirt and put in her backpack. “I’m sorry I was mad at you. Still, why did you choose Washington State over University of Idaho?”
Bridget looked at Lia. “It’s complicated.” What was she supposed to tell her: that she possessed her best friend and was actually Bridget Addison? That would get her nowhere. If Lia repeated that to someone else it might get her locked up in a mental hospital.
“Tell me,” Lia said.
“I don’t know,” Bridget said. She stalled a bit. “I guess it is just where I feel I belong. Besides, most everyone else in our class is going to Idaho State or University of Idaho. I don’t really want my toilet problems to follow me to college.”
Lia looked down. “Oh, I never thought of that.”
The bus pulled up to the school and Bridget and Lia got out and walked to Physics class. The class assignment was to build a circuit by copying the schematic from the whiteboard. She couldn’t believe they actually had to build a real circuit on a breadboard and everything. It took the entire class period to finish it and then have it checked by the Ben Stein lookalike teacher.
Finally class ended and they went to pre-calculus. “Ready for the test?” asked Lia.
“I think so.” Bridget sat down and waited while the teacher passed out tests. Bridget looked it over. She was glad she had brushed done her Calculus homework the past couple of days. She sat down and begin answering the questions. By the time the test was over, she really had to pee. She turned in her test and asked the teacher, “May I run to the restroom.”
He nodded and Bridget left the classroom to go pee. She had to go so bad, she didn’t know what she would have done if he refused. No, she knew what she would have done. She would have been changing a wet pull-up in the busy bathroom between classes: that is if it didn’t leak.
Once in the bathroom, she pulled down her pants and pull-up and peed just as she heard the door open and shut. Someone else was in there with her. She was glad once again that her mother got her pull-ups instead of her plan to wear diapers all day. She knew the diapers would have been crinkling as she changed them. At least the pull-ups were relatively silent.
When she finished and left the stall, she ran right into Julia Grass.
“Watch it, Miss Pee-pee Pants.” Julia set her purse on the bathroom sink. “Any luck finding a date for prom?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I didn’t think you did. No one wants a prom date that leaves a trail.”
“Shut up and leave me alone, Julia,” said Bridget. “I was humiliated enough the first time, and you got my ex-boyfriend already. What more do you want? To make me feel horrible about myself? Well you got your wish.” Bridget turned and walked out of the bathroom back to class.
English was boring as usual, but as promised Mrs. Miller picked up the papers at the beginning of class. She spent the rest of the class period passing out copies of the last book they had to read before the semester ended: the Scarlet Letter. Bridget flipped through it while the Mrs. Miller droned on about Nathanial Hawthorne for the rest of the class period.
“Was it just me or was Grosstree especially boring today?” asked Lia.
“Especially boring,” said David Krouse, one of their classmates. “I mean, who cares about a bunch of Puritans.”
“I always liked that story,” Bridget admitted.
“You would,” said Lia. She turned to David. “You should see her bedroom. It is filled with trashy romance novels. That is all she reads.”
“I read other things,” said Bridget.
“Name the last book you read and you can’t count the 1984 or Brave New World,” said Lia.
“Fire Upon the Deep,” said Bridget and stuck out her tongue.
“Really,” said Lia. She looked shocked because she never expected Bridget to know the name of a science fiction book, much less read one. She forgot about that problem as she saw David walking away. She pulled him back by his backpack. “Ask her,” she hissed at him.
David suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Um,” he said. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not going to ask Angela to the prom. Everyone will make fun of me.”
“You’re a jerk, David,” said Lia. “Go away.”
“It’s alright, David,” said Bridget. “Don’t worry about it.” She turned to Lia. “Thank you anyway. But don’t worry about prom.” Bridget had been to her own prom. It was at a hotel ballroom. Here at the school Angela attended, the prom was going to be in the school gym. That really didn’t excite her much, but she didn’t care.
“It was still jerky to say that.”
“You put him on the spot, Lia,” Bridget answered. “I’m not exactly prime prom material. Who wants a prom date that leaves a trail?”
“Aren’t you wearing one of your…?”
“Yes, but I’m not advertising it and that won’t get me a prom date either. Let’s just eat lunch.”
Lunch was better than usually. Today it was Frito Pie again. Bridget sat down with her tray and enjoyed her meal. Maybe today was looking up. She hoped Spanish would go well. It should. She and Lia had practiced it enough.
“Let’s go over our conversation one more time, Angela,” suggested Lia.
Bridget nodded in agreement. “¿usted habla español?”
“Si” answered Lia. They ran through their conversation one last time before the bell rang.
Computer class was non-eventful. They were just giving their next assignments and told to start them on the computers. Bridget didn’t even get a quarter of the way done. She supposed she would do it at home that evening. She had the Spanish conversation on her mind. She worried that the teacher might ask her some questions in Spanish that she hadn’t rehearsed. She looked over at Lia. She was typing away oblivious. Bridget envied her calm.
Finally, the bell rang. Lia touched her shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay,” she said. “You practiced this.” They walked out of the hall to class.
In the hall, Julia Grass bumped into them. “So, Accident Girl,” Julia sneered, “I heard you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel and ask David Krouse to prom.”
“David’s not the bottom of the barrel,” said Lia. “He is pretty smart too.”
“Yeah, he was smart enough to reject Pee-girl,” said Julia.
“Stop it,” said Bridget. She grabbed Lia’s arm. “Let’s go.”
When Julia was out of sight Lia said, “You should have slapped her. She is such a ho.”
“Yeah, and then I might have knocked loose her brain cell and then gotten in trouble.” Bridget smiled. “Besides Julia is going to have to go to community college because they won’t take her in a real college.”
“You’re right, I guess.” They walked in the Spanish classroom and waited.
As soon as class started the Spanish teacher said something totally incomprehensible to Bridget and Lia. Bridget had to look around before she realized Lia had gone up to the front of the classroom. She got up and stood beside her. She looked at all the students in the classroom just staring at her and froze. She would never get this conversation done. She would fail Spanish and have to stay at this school forever. She suddenly had to go to the bathroom bad. She looked at Lia.
Lia just mouthed the words, “You’ll do fine. Start.”
Bridget knew this. They rehearsed so many times. Bridget let a few nervous dribbles out and was grateful for the pull-up. She said her first line in Spanish. She hated speaking in frontof the class. Still she waited and then Lia gave her line. Bridget did her next line. She was slow at first and stuttered through her recitation. She kept her eyes off the class and on Lia and the next thing she knew she was reading through the conversation like a champ. Before she knew it they were done.
“Adios,” said Lia.
“Adios,” repeated Bridget.
Lia smiled at the Senorita Faust. Bridget stood nervously twisting her hair around a finger. She looked pleadingly at the teacher and hoped she would say they could sit down."
Instead Senorita Faust said something in Spanish and handed Lia a piece of paper. Finally Lia went to her seat and Bridget sat in the seat next to her. She didn’t even look at Lia. She knew they did awfully and that the teacher probably marked her way down for stumbling over, “Hablo español bien.” Bridget looked down at her crotch and felt the bottoms of her jeans to make sure she was dry. She felt damp and couldn’t wait until class ended to check the damage. She felt no wetness on her clothes; the only damage must be safely concealed in her pull-up.
She looked as the next couple groups gave their conversations seemingly perfect, although a couple of times Senorita Faust rolled her eyes or shook her head before writing something down on a paper. When the conversation finished she gave the paper to one of the group members. They took their seat and the next group came up. Three groups, including Lia and herself, gave their conversations before the bell rang. Bridget fled toward the bathroom.
She still had to pee, even though she leaked a bit. She entered a stall and sat down and went. As she peed she checked the wetness of the pull-up. The crotch was a bit yellowed, but it wasn’t soaked like the one she wet the bed in. If she hadn’t been wearing it there would have been a largish wet spot on her pants, but it wasn’t so bad that she would have been standing in a puddle. There were students in the other stalls and making noises in the bathroom. There was no way she could carry a wet pull-up to the trash. She pulled the damp thing back up and pulled up her jeans. It wasn’t that wet, but since she had pulled it down, the peed had cooled and was cold and irritating to her skin.
She left the bathroom and went to study hall. At least here, she could work on homework. She needed to do something and studying would have to do. She worked on Physics and read some of the Scarlett Letter. She wondered what letter she would have to wear if she was treated like Hester Prynne. She didn’t know if it would be a yellow letter P for having accidents or a green letter T for Terrorist since she had been blamed when she couldn’t stop the terrorist from crashing her truck into the school. Probably the T. She felt guilty about that. The P was not something to be guilty about. They were caused by the first. She would have to bring the owl-tattooed terrorist to justice to make her guilt go away: that and the accidents. They should go away too when she made the terrorist pay.
After school she beat Lia to the bus. She still wore the damp pull-up, but the coast wasn’t clear to change it in the bathroom. As embarrassed as she was by her daytime accidents, she would be more embarrassed if someone, especial Julia Grass, discovered her pull-ups.
“Hi,” said Lia as she sat beside her.
“Sorry about the conversation,” said Bridget, “I was really nervous.”
“What?” said Lia, “We got an A. We got the five bonus points for going first. You already got an A in almost everything in Spanish.”
“I’m still worried about the final,” Bridget admitted.
“Seniors are exempt from finals in classes where they have an A,” said Lia. “I probably only have to take my Calculus and Physics final. You would have to really mess up to need to take a final in any class. Maybe in English though. Grosstree hates you.”
At least she didn’t have to worry about finals. That only left a few more weeks to worry about. The bus stopped at her house before she knew it. “Get my homework assignments for me tomorrow. I will miss morning classes.” She got off the bus and went home.
“So how was your day?” ask her mother. “Did you stay dry okay?”
“Mother,” Bridget said.
“Well if you’re not you need to tell the doctor tomorrow.”
“No, I’m dry.” The wetness in her pull-up was just from being nervous. “I’m going upstairs to do homework,” she said.
Upstairs she changed clothes and put on a new pull-up. She only had homework in Physics and English tonight and English was just a reading assignment. She worked on the last two questions in Physics and read more of the Scarlett Letter. She only came down for dinner.
After dinner, this time she made sure to shower and put on a diaper before going to sleep. She certainly did not want a repeat of the night before.
The terrorist and the truck was back. This time the terrorist had a green T at his collar. She looked down at her body. Her pajama top was unbuttoned and at her breast was a greenish T-shaped mark on her chest like a festering wound. She screamed and woke up. She felt her diaper. She was wet again. She turned on the light and opened her pajama top: no mark on her chest.
It was still early: only one o’clock. Bridget tried to go back to sleep. How could she enjoy reading ever again if she incorporated everything she read into her dreams. That would not work and it would have to stop. She tried to think of happier times. Maybe that is what it would take to finally fall asleep.