Chapter 18 - The Second Restroom
Near the end of sophomore year, Sarah walked into the same second-floor restroom alone.
She stopped immediately.
Her body remembered before her mind did.
The third stall.
The gray tile.
The sinks.
A trash bin beside the door.
For months she had used the first-floor restroom instead.
She had never consciously decided to avoid this one.
She simply did.
Now the first-floor restroom was closed for plumbing repairs.
So here she was.
Her heart accelerated.
The room was empty.
Sarah stood by the sinks.
Nothing happened.
She almost laughed.
Then the door opened.
A freshman girl entered crying.
Sarah moved aside.
The girl went directly into a stall.
Sarah washed her hands.
She could leave.
Then she heard quiet sobbing.
She hesitated.
“Hey.”
Silence.
“I’m Sarah.”
Still nothing.
“That probably sounded weird.”
The girl sniffed.
“I know who you are.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
Of course.
Trash-video girl.
Design girl.
Bullying-policy girl.
People knew versions of her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
Sarah waited.
The stall opened.
The girl was maybe fourteen.
Mascara streaked beneath her eyes.
“Some girls made a fake account about me.”
Sarah’s stomach tightened.
“What account?”
“They keep posting pictures.”
“Have you told someone?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“They’ll say I’m dramatic.”
Sarah looked at the trash bin.
Then back at the girl.
“I filed a report once and didn’t put names.”
“What happened?”
“It got closed.”
The freshman’s face fell.
Sarah continued.
“That system changed.”
She explained the new reporting process.
The tracking number.
The option to request a staff contact.
The ability to attach screenshots.
The girl listened.
“What if they don’t believe me?”
“Then keep the screenshots.”
“What if the account deletes them?”
“Save them first.”
Sarah heard Mrs. Reyes in her own voice.
Sometimes throwing things away removed the proof.
“Will you come with me?”
The question surprised her.
Sarah did not want responsibility for another student’s entire problem.
She remembered Elena.
Helping was not the same as carrying everything.
“I’ll walk you to counseling.”
The girl nodded.
They left together.
Mrs. Reyes happened to be in the hallway.
She looked from Sarah to the crying freshman.
Understood enough.
“Everything okay?”
Sarah answered:
“It will be handled.”
Mrs. Reyes smiled.
No secret recording needed.
No running footsteps.
No door opening dramatically.
A student spoke.
Another student listened.
An adult became involved before escalation.
Boring.
Exactly as it should have been.
That afternoon Principal Hart called Sarah.
“The freshman you brought in gave permission for me to tell you we received her report.”
“Is she okay?”
“I can’t discuss details.”
“Right.”
Hart paused.
“You did well.”
“I walked her downstairs.”
“That was enough.”
Sarah smiled.
Enough.
That word mattered.
At home, Elena was hemming a prom gown.
Sarah told her what happened.
“You went back into that restroom?”
“Yes.”
“How did it feel?”
“Bad.”
“Then?”
“Normal.”
Elena looked up.
“Good.”
Sarah picked up the silver shears Mrs. Reyes had given her.
She trimmed loose threads from a fellowship project.
“You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I used to think getting better meant I’d stop remembering.”
Elena nodded.
“And?”
“I remembered everything.”
Sarah cut another thread.
“It just didn’t decide what happened next.”
Elena smiled.
“That sounds like something you should write down.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Too symbolic.”
“Coward.”
Sarah laughed.
May you like
For once, the restroom was simply a room she had walked out of on her own terms.
---
