The bell mercifully releases the class from the droning tones of the elderly teacher. John is one of the last to leave, carrying the weight of Teage's gaze with her as she leaves. First up is Social Studies. She passes the girls bathroom as she goes and eyes it incredulously. She has to go She didn't have time in the morning, and now it was coming back to bite her. She passes by for the moment, opting to delay the inevitable.
She's the last to sit down in Social Studies, instead waiting to see which desks are open. There's still three available when Coach Dunning gregariously asks her. "Ms. Allison, are you going to join us today?" He gestures towards her seat, and gratefully she plops herself into the correct desk. She offers a curt smile which he reciprocates to the class.
"Good morning everybody." Despite his booming voice, he speaks with a certain levity. "How's all of your mornings been?" A few murmured responses fill the room. The coach just nods in response, letting the silence hang in the air. "Mr.Blakely!" His voice gets loud quite suddenly.
"Yes sir?"
"Did you get your geometry done last night?"
"Yes sir" the boy nods His nod slowly turns into a shake. "No sir "
A few of the students laughs.
"And why not?"
"My paw had a barbecue night so we didn't... really... do... our homework."
"I heard. Slate's in my homeroom he told me all about it."
The boy nods.
"Slate got his homework done." The coaches eye's narrow. "You know you can't play next fall if you don't pass."
"Yes sir "
"Go ahead, get it done."
The kid nods and shuffles to the back and begins to sort through his book bag. The coach was known for his meandering sort of conversations, and at least trying to get to know the students. In some ways it was endearing.
"Ms.Madison. How about you? Are you caught up in algebra?"
John's heart rate spikes.
"Or did you spend the afternoon with Ryder again?"
He was also known for butting into people's business. Coach likely saw himself as a father figure, especially for those without dads. It didn't make the encounter any less awkward. John bit her lip in annoyance at the coach as much as worry over who Ryder was. She concluded that this was a worry for another time. After all, by the end of the day it wouldn't matter.
"I uhh. I didn't spend it with Ryder."
"But you didn't get caught up?"
"N-no."
He shakes his head. "You know Ms.Bittle has a study hall every morning if you need help?"
"Yes sir."
"I'd be happy to help! But math's not my strong suite." He makes an exaggerated show of counting on his fingers then holds up his hands. "I can go about this far, plus my feet, so twelve." He smiles. "But I still graduated."
"I can do it!" John retorts "I'll finish it in study hall!"
He nods. "Alright." The word carries a methodical rural drawl to it. "I'm serious. If you want me to help I will "
John offers a curt smile, which he returns before turning his attention elsewhere. "Anybody have anything interesting they'd like to share, maybe something from the news?"
One of the students John recognizes from Ms. Teage's home room raises their hand. "Our school board approved a yearly art thing in the old school building." Apparently someone actually listened to the old hag.
Coach beams his approval and begins to ramble about his opinion on modern art before starting the class.
It's a simple class. They discuss very broad brush concepts about the civil rights movement, and basically pass the time talking about current events. Coach hands out a short worksheet to be turned in by the end of class. Before long the bell rings, and John is on her way to the next class.
Time and again she prolongs the inevitable bathroom trip until at last her study hall period begins. The halls empty out, and the bell rings, leaving John alone, standing before the strangely ominous door. It's one thing to explore her body in the privacy of her own home, but to be exposed in public, even if it's in a bathroom, feels almost threatening. She takes a deep breath and sighs. She can't hold it any longer, and to top it of she's been feeling bloated since the morning. She sums up her courage and enters the room.
Surprisingly, It's almost exactly like the men's bathroom. The walls are a different shade of pastel, each stall has its own little trashcan, and obviously there are no urinals but otherwise it's not nearly as different as John expected... Not that she was expecting things to be very different anyway. She goes about her business swiftly, then stands before the mirror to examine herself.
Her hair has been falling in her face all day, but she couldn't find a scrunchy to hold it back in a pony tail. It had become an almost obsessive ritual to brush it out of her eyes and behind her ear, only to have it fall back in her face the next time she looked down. It wasn't all bad of course. In a way it was nice to have hair to play with. It was a novel experience to have the silky strand brush across her face and shoulders as she moved, and the wind actually felt pretty nice as it flowed through her locks, especially compared to her usual short messy tufts.
The no bra thing on the other hand had no silver lining. She was not a modestly sized girl, and every step she took reminded her of that fact. It certainly didn't help that more than once she caught a boy staring or a girl giggling at her mistake. It didn't hurt exactly, but it certainly didn't feel nice to have those jello mounds jiggling about her chest all day. She cupped them, and lifted them up a little, wondering what it would feel like to have them supported only to have another girl walk in behind her. She drops her hands and scurries out with a soft blush growing on her face. She should finish her algebra homework
