My hand fell away from her, surprised at the irritation that came off her in obvious waves. “I need to use the bathroom,” I whispered, tilting my head close to hers so only she could hear.
Sarah wrinkled her nose, like the thought of using the bathroom disgusted her when she’d been complaining of the same exact thing right after lunch. What, she gets around boys and suddenly she doesn’t have bodily functions?
“The line is long,” she reassured me, waving at the people ahead of us. “I doubt we’ll move too much while you go to the bathroom.”
Thanks. Advertise it to everyone, why don’t you. “But my parents don’t want us to separate,” I reminded her.
She shrugged. “It’ll only be what? Five minutes? The bathroom is just right over there.” She pointed and I looked in the direction she was indicating.
I did a little dance, but really I was trying to ward off the urge to pee. “I don’t know . . .” My voice drifted and she gave me a look. One that told me I was being pathetic. I’d seen that look before.
But not usually directed at me.
“Don’t be such a baby,” she practically hissed, flicking her head. “Go. I’ll hold your place.” When I hesitated, an impatient sigh escaped her. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Katie. Just go.”
“Want me to walk with you?” one of the boys piped up. The youngest one. There was a hopeful look in his gaze and when I caught his eye, he smiled, revealing a mouthful of braces.
He was being nice, but jeez. I didn’t need an escort. Sarah was right. It was just the bathroom and it was right over there. “I’m okay.” I smiled shyly, hating that I could feel the blush heating my cheeks. “Thanks, though.”
“Your loss,” Sarah muttered, and I knew then she thought I was stupid for not taking the boy up on his offer.
Whatever.
Maybe I should have. Then I wouldn’t have to go alone, but . . . I didn’t feel right going with him. Besides, I could handle this. On my own. I was no baby.
“I’ll be right back,” I said firmly, holding the chain down that roped off the line and stepping over it as agilely as I could, which was really pretty awkward. I ended up hopping on one foot, practically tripping over myself, and I prayed I wouldn’t pee my pants in front of everyone.
Sarah would have killed me.
“Don’t get lost,” Sarah said, making the boys crack up.
Practically making me cry.
Willing the tears away, I stormed off, infuriated at her. More so at my reaction to her cattiness. She was right. The bathroom wasn’t that far. They were all painted a hideous bright blue, a spot of recognizable color on the primary spectrum, and I came to a stop when I saw the long line to get inside.
Great. It looked almost as long as the one for the roller coaster.
But it moved fast. Next thing I knew I was in a dirty stall, untying my sweatshirt from around my waist and hanging it on the hook on the stall door. There were no more seat liners, so I grabbed some toilet paper and draped it over the seat before I took what felt like the longest pee of my life.
By the time I’d finished washing my hands, I was sure Sarah and her new friends would be at the head of the line, just about ready to get on the roller coaster. I needed to hurry before I lost them. Sarah was the one with the cellphone. If I got separated from her, my parents would kill me. I’d be stuck following after them everywhere we went until I graduated high school.
That was the last thing I wanted. I yearned for independence. I didn’t even like thinking of myself as twelve. I’d already moved on to thirteen. It sounded so much older, more mature. Twelve is a little girl.
Thirteen is practically a woman.
Once I exited the bathroom, I tied my sweatshirt sloppily around my waist and started back toward the roller coaster, pushing my way through the crowd that somehow had grown thicker over the last few minutes. A man kept yelling behind me, his voice friendly but insistent, saying, “Hey, hey you!” again and again.
No way could he have been talking to me.
“Hey.” A big hand clamped over my shoulder, pulling me to a complete stop, and I turned around slowly to find a man standing before me. His face was expressive and his smile was nice. He looked like every other dad wandering around the place, with neatly trimmed brown hair and a slightly wild look in his eye, like he’d rather be anywhere but there.
It was the wild look that filled me with both curiosity and caution.
“You dropped your sweatshirt.” He held it out toward me, the obnoxious red fabric bunched in his fingers, and I stared at his hand as if it were a snake preparing to strike out and bite me at any given moment. “It fell off right after you came out of the bathroom.”