Detour. by Marita. 1/15/99.

The men's bathroom. For some reason it was more appealing than the women's bathroom. There were many toilets. I was embarassed to be using the men's room, but then I saw two more girls come in, so it was okay. Then something happened across from us in the women's toom. Police were arresting a homeless girl who lived in (behind?) the bathroom. Someone was murdered earlier in the restroom, and so the poor homeless girl was the only suspect. I personally thought the police were too lazy to find out who the real killer was. They surrounded her, putting her in a hole below ground. Her information could not be released because she was still a minor. Then the girl's mother showed up, and she talked to us. She showed us the jewelry her daughter wore. It was a fingernail piercing. A chain pierced on the front was connected to a silver star hidden behind the nail. When the star was brought out, it clicked into the frontal nail design...I was on a field trip. I lied about a serial killer in my school bathroom. They noticed some inconsistencies, bit never made note that it was me who was fibbing. I had to wear a Chinese jumpsuit that was almost see-through with sunlight, but did not matter much because I was going out in the dark night. I lost my slipper, my blue cotton ones, as well as my red socks. I was going crazy trying to find them, since I had to walk with my bare feet. I saw my slippers in the middle of an intersection, and one sock at another. I waited for the light and then retrieved them. Though I was missing one sock, I was just happy to have my shoes back. Then the trip was over; we were on a bus ride home. We stopped by a convenience store. We realized we had left a classmate way back there, misplaced her, even. I bought some Cheetos in a Planters can and purple bread (and a mysterious bag containing whatever), much more than what anyone else had bought. At the checkout counter, there was some kind a roller coaster ride my classmates were on, singing songs to reassure me that everything was going to be okay.

(c) 1999 Marita.