11 Jan 2019, 00:48
Two Good Things About Trouble
tenth january 2019
midday, girls' lavatory
Rushing to the restroom was the strangest feeling Finley had felt so far at the school. Surprisingly, it beat out many other awkward notions, such as greeting someone you saw only once or twice, or even being the only person to cast a spell wrong in a class of geniuses. Yes, Finley had experienced all of those in a matter of months, and still, the strange lavatory situation won overall.
Moments ago, Finley had kept awake in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but when the droning began and the points of interest faded into mere, lame points of bleakness. When she peered around the room, she had bet that even the Ravenclaws' brains had collapsed in on themselves. In response, she threw her hand in the air; it quivered with anticipation. Yes, she truly had to go. It wasn't as if she was skipping class or anything, but every class was somewhat of a game of strategy. Hold it in until it grew boring and pupils began to doze, then ask the question, then run for your life. Finley found this game funny, and it especially kicked in with Defence Against the Dark Arts for some odd reason.
At first, Finley sprinted down the hall, but then she slowed down once she realized that she was running. Finley McGill? Running down the halls? Shame on her! She shouldn't race down the hall, after all, a Prefect could catch her, and she wouldn't go to the bathroom! Instead, she'd go straight to detention, and then pee her pants, and then...
She took a breath. It was alright. She was walking down the hall at a well-thought pace until she finally reached the Girls' Lavatory. With a breath of relief, she tossed off her robe and rushed into a stall. Finley, despite the clean freak within her, had forced herself to ignore the obvious impurities of the restroom. Her foot tapped methodically to help break the strange silence of the room, that is, besides that one leaky faucet dripping beyond compare. Her foot and the faucet were in the same rhythm, and that seemed to please Finley.
Once she was done, she sighed to herself. It had felt good for her body, but at the same time, she escaped class, and class was almost done! This was the best day ever.
Humming to herself, she rinsed her hands until other footsteps erupted and broke her solitude. Shutting off the rust-drenched faucet and wiping her hands on a towel, she turned toward the girl. "Oh, well...hello!" One thing she hated more than untidy, broken-mirrored bathrooms was the tense air of blank space, void of conversation. Sadly, Finley realized she would have to tolerate one irk to vanquish the other.