Juncture 1.8

As soon as I left the room I headed toward the bathroom. I hadn’t gone since early this morning and I desperately needed to pee. Unfortunately, the closest bathroom was in the exact opposite direction of my next class, so I had to hurry.

I went right, against the wave of students filling the hallway, and pushed my way through to the bathroom door. I opened it and walked in. Almost immediately, the pungent smell of public school restrooms assaulted my nostrils, making me crinkle my nose in disgust. I attempted to breathe through my mouth, but I pictured the fumes coating my tongue, and I switched back to nose-breathing.

I quickly stalked my way to the urinal and did my business. Then I walked to the paper towel dispenser, ripped a sheet off, and held it as I pushed the little handle down on the urinal to make it flush. I tossed the paper towel and began to vigorously wash my hands. As I was doing so, I looked at the mirror above the sinks.

As with every time I was in the bathroom, I tried to evaluate my appearance. My hair, though messier than usual, didn’t look too bad. One or two strands were falling out of place from where I coaxed them toward this morning, but other than that it was okay.

I brought my eyes down to my clothes – or what I could see of them in the mirror. I was wearing a dark blue button down shirt. It was kind of rumpled, but that happened with most of my clothes, since they were usually pre-owned. Over that I was wearing a black thing that was like a cardigan, but it had a zipper instead of buttons. I didn’t see any obvious stains, so it all checked out.

I looked back up at my face. I grimaced, baring my teeth, and didn’t see any stuff in my teeth. There was nothing coming out of my nose either. I looked up at my eyes.

They looked tired. That was normal, but today was particularly bad. There were pronounced bags under both of my eyes – dark blue, black, and purple crevasses. My eyes themselves though – they looked a little different than they did normally. There was a silvery gleam ringing several times through my irises. It looked as though there was a reflection of something that I couldn’t see, some ethereal light coming at me from inside the mirror.

I blinked, and it was gone.

I finished washing my hands, dried them with what many people would probably consider to be too many paper towels. But they’ve never tried to dry their hands with this school’s towels.

I left the bathroom and began heading toward my next class. It was chemistry, which meant it was back toward the science wing of the school, closer to my math class than my English class. As I passed by the English classroom again I peeked inside. Mr. Fetter had left already.

I kept walking. I heard the bell, which meant I was late. Shit.

This had happened last time too. I came late to class, and the teacher got pissed at me. Luckily, she’s cooler than most of my other ones, so I didn’t get sent to the principal’s office for a third time today.

I made it to the door of the chemistry classroom, and grabbed the door handle.

Marc, how many times do I have to ask you not to be late?

Shit.

Unbidden, my hand turned the handle, and opened the door.

The class was already seated, with the teacher, Ms. Gladly, standing at the front of the room in full scientist attire. Lab coat, goggles, gloves, she was even holding up two test tubes filled with liquids. Both her and the entirety of the class looked at me.

Ms. Gladly sighed, carefully put the test tubes down on their wire bases, and pulled up her goggles. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, and said, “Marc, how many times do I have to ask you not to be late?”

"I’m sorry, I really had to go to the bathroom after English."

Shit. Why was this happening again?

I opened my mouth, and tried to say anything that wasn’t what I knew I was going to say. But the sensation returned in full force, and I couldn’t say anything else.

“I’m sorry, I really had to go to the bathroom after English.”

“Just sit down quietly, okay?”

“Just sit down quietly, okay?” Ms. Gladly asked, and pulled her goggles down over her eyes again, “Now, where was I? Oh, right, litmus tests…”

I zoned out as I found a seat in the middle of the room. Luckily, it was on the end of an aisle, so I didn’t have to climb over anybody.

Why had the sensations returned? Or, rather, why had they stopped earlier? I was distraught. I had such a short respite during English class, why had it ended now?

“Now, when you put this piece of paper in an acid, it’ll turn red, and blue if you put it in a base,” I heard Ms. Gladly say in my head, shaking me from my thoughts. The ghostly voices kept distracting me from my thoughts, which just added more probability to the “I’m going insane and I know it” theory.

I kept asking myself why this was happening. Was it stress? Was it some mental hang-up I’ve had since I was a kid showing up now for some reason? None of the answers I came up with sounded good.

I looked at my hand, the one with Josie’s drawings all over it. It was extremely intricate, and it managed to distract me from my inner dialogue. I tried following the lightning-like designs, and noticed that they all ended up pointing to the same area on my hand, near the inner palm.

Funny. I knew that my path also ended up pointing to the same event.

The car.