Short Story

Riley Pavelich
Short Story
Advanced Comp.
6 November 2007

The Bathroom Miracle

I woke up with a start from a good dream. The clock on my table read 5:30, so I snuggled back into bed to try to remember. I had been on one of those old school dating game shows, where there are three guys and the girl who gets to choose one of them. I was the girl, and the men from my dream all looked like the offspring of Brad Pitt, were deeply sensitive, and loved to clean. A perfect dream.

At a more reasonable hour I munched on my cornflakes and decided that my dream was an omen. Today was the day I was going to get a boyfriend. I dialed Jill and told her to meet me at the mall in an hour.

After a quick shower and seven different outfits, I was ready to go. My t-shirt covered my pudge but showed off my chest, and my thunder thighs were concealed in my favorite jeans. My face looked like a pepperoni pizza, but that’s something I’ve just learned to live with.

Jill was waiting for me at the entrance. I think she raided her grandma’s closet before she came. Her glasses were about an inch thick, and I kid you not, she had kittens on her sweater. No teenager in her right mind would wear kittens! But she’s such a sweetheart that it doesn’t even matter. We’ve been best friends since we were three.

“That’s a really nice sweater. Does your grandma mind that you’re wearing it?” I asked her.

Jill, ever oblivious, said, “It’s not Nana’s. It’s mine, but thanks.”

With that we walked into that teenage-hormone fest that is the mall. As I explained our mission to Jill, I was already busy scoping out prospects. We searched all afternoon, but it was a complete failure. Every guy we saw either had a girlfriend or was definitely not dating material. Eventually we gave up, but before we left we stopped at the food court to regain our strength.

Jill and I sat with our huge cinnamon rolls at a table near the center so we would have the best view. Two tables away a group of two guys sat down. They were both from my school, but I didn’t know much about them. One was a football jock and really cute; the other one with black hair was a good distance runner, and always got the lead in the school play. I was attempting to use all the tips I had ever gathered from 17 magazines to get John’s, the football jock’s, attention. I flicked my hair, licked my lips, and laughed loudly. He didn’t even notice. Jill of course was completely useless. “Why are you laughing so loud,” she asked me. “It’s really annoying.”

But then, just when I was about to give up, he looked over. He smiled at me and waved. I waved back. He motioned at me to come. I stood up eagerly and started to walk toward him. At that moment the head cheerleader rushed passed me and flew into John’s outstretched arms. They looked at me; I guess they thought it was weird that I was standing two feet away from them when they wanted to make out in peace. I pretended that I was going to get another cup of coffee.

Of course, I couldn’t walk away from the coffee place without anything to drink, but I had already spent my money on the cinnabon. I searched through my purse to try and find some extra change so I could salvage what little dignity I had left. My coffee was two dollars and all I had was thirty cents in pennies. I heard groans in the line behind me as the sales clerk started to count it out. But then, like some sort of knight in khaki pants, Mike, the runner, slapped two bucks on the counter.

I turned to thank him. He had thought I was moving away and had stepped closer to me. I head butted him right in the nose. He laid on the ground, groaning in pain, a pool of crimson blood accumulating on the floor. All sounds in the food court were silenced, even the crying baby in the corner. My cheeks reddened under the stares of the bystanders. I turned and ran.
My eyes were blurry with tears. I fled blindly into the bathroom and locked myself into a stall. The stench of disinfectant and Pinesol added to my misery. Thankfully there were no other women there. I sobbed and sobbed. I would never get a boyfriend. I was a clumsy, ugly ogre, whom everyone hated. After about five minutes of this I heard a tapping on the door. A man’s voice called out,

“Um... Excuse me miss. Can I help you?” Now insult had been added to injury. Not only had someone heard me pouring out my soul, but it was a guy. I tried to compose myself a little and opened the door.

Standing there in a janitor’s uniform and with mop in hand was that boy from my biology class. He looked as embarrassed as I felt. He stammered, “I, uh, was cleaning in here. Didn’t you see the sign on the door?” Of course I hadn’t. I had been a little more concerned about other recent catastrophes at the time. I just shook my head.

“Well, are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern. He was just so nice about it that my whole story came tumbling out. He winced at all the right places, and he told me that he was on the track team with Mike and that Mike’s nose bled all the time. I felt a lot better.
Then he started to blush and haltingly inquired, “Well, this might be the wrong time to ask, but what are you doing Saturday?”

By Riley Pavelich