To Pee or Not to Pee (Short Story)

To Pee or Not to Pee

I have on my favorite pair of yellow, convertible pants today. The kind that transforms with ease from pants into shorts by zipping off the bottom half. They're all the rage in the fifth grade, and I'm sure more girls started to talk to me because they finally realized how cool I was. Today I'm sitting at my desk, writing out subtraction problems when I begin to wiggle back and forth in my chair.  I need to pee. I quietly stand up in the middle of silent work time and slowly meandered over to Mrs. McCoy.

"Mrs. McCoy, can I please go to the bathroom?" I whispered.

"May you?" She corrected me in that condescending tone all teachers seem to adapt after getting their Bachelor's degree. I withheld from rolling my eyes. I said please, what more does this lady want?!

"May I go to the bathroom," I huffed. She quickly glanced in my direction before returning her eyes to her computer screen, scrolling through Facebook.

"Yes Jackson, you may go," She answered while simultaneously typing on her keyboard. I walked across the classroom to the door, attempting to not draw attention to myself as I opened, and then shut the classroom door as I left. I marched down the hallway at a fast pace, eager to get to the restroom. I should not have drank that whole bottle of blue gatorade at lunch, I had to go the bathroom, BAD. Finally, I rounded the corner and the boy's bathroom was in view. My pace quickened. I probably looked like one of those middle aged moms who go speed walking with weights on Saturday afternoons. At a running pace, I reached for the bathroom handle, and pulled, relieved to have made it in time. I definitely wasn't ready for what was behind the door.

"BOO!" Zach Meatloaf, the school bad boy, jumped out from behind the opened door and screamed in my face. To say I was startled would be an understatement. I jumped back and made a sound that neither classified as a scream nor a squeal, followed by a string of curse words. The whole school probably heard my fear induced yell. Making that god awful distress call would have been embarrassing enough, but then I felt it. That warm, wet sensation that I thought I would never feel again after passing the age of five. I had peed myself. At the age of eleven. In front of the coolest boy in school. Oh shit. How ironic, I thought to myself. I'm wearing yellow pants.

"What the hell?" Zach's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth formed a small "O". "Dude, did you just piss yourself?" A hint of amusement crept into his voice. I looked down at my favorite pair of convertible pants, which now reeked of urine.

"No," I lied in attempt to retain my masculinity. Zach snorted, which quickly turned into full scale laughter. I heard chuckling coming from deeper in the bathroom and peered over Zach's shoulder to see his two best friend's, James and Elliot, leaning against the wall by the sinks. I almost turned around and ran out of the bathroom, when I suddenly saw what the three havoc reckers did to the bathroom. Toilet paper covered every square inch, and the mirrors were streaked with sticky brown stuff. I really hope that's mud, I prayed. Peering into one of the stalls from where I was standing, I could see that the toilet was purposefully clogged with paper towels and a shoe. Where did they get a shoe? I quickly glanced at their feet in attempt to solve the mystery. Elliot's left foot was shoeless. Gross.

"You're not gunna' tell a teacher are you, Jackson?" Zach hovered over me, taking advantage of our slight height difference.

"Or..." James pushed off the wall and walked over to stand beside Zach, "do you want the whole school to find out you pissed your stupid convertible pants, Jacky?" I frowned, my pants aren't stupid, I first thought, but then it hit me. Currently, these three jackass' were performing a mental wedgie on my pee soaked brain. For years, school warns students about peer pressure and succumbing to harassment of others, but do they ever warn you about being pressured into not telling the truth? Eh, what harm could it do? I'm not one to tattle. Leave that to the prissy girls who only care about creating drama.