Rest Rooms

Boys’ Bathroom, 1^st Floor

The bane of Mr. Anthony’s existence. No matter how many times he checks during his rounds, the floor is always wet, whether it’s (1) toilet-bowl-leaking-around-the-base wetness, (2) someone-missed-the-toilet wetness, (3) wetness from when he mopped it two hours ago, even though he left the windows open so it could air-dry, (4) rainy-day-wet-sneaker wetness with dirt tracked through it, (5) urinal-cake-fragments-stomped-on-and-ground-into-pee wetness, or (6) pink hand soap that dripped from the dispenser onto the floor, half dissolved in rainy-day-wet-sneaker wetness.

Girls’ Bathroom, 1^st Floor

It’s been years since anyone tried to use the ancient metal dispenser in the wall. By tenth grade, everyone who menstruates knows to ask Ms. Adelia in the front office if you can have a cookie. She’ll beckon you behind her desk to hand you a brown paper bag with a pink-plastic-wrapped maxi-pad inside.

The Only Gender Neutral Bathroom on Campus

A girl strolls out, red-faced, cocky, grinning. The door hasn’t yet closed all the way when it lurches back open, revealing a boy who awkwardly adjusts his t-shirt, glances around him, and rushes to catch up with the girl.

Girls’ Outdoor Bathroom (by the portables)

The mirror’s metal surface rippled slightly, making waves across her reflection. She washed the blood off her cheek. Just a shallow scratch. Strands of her long dark ponytail had been pulled loose. She drew out the rubber band and combed her fingers through her hair until it lay back. She had thought she’d feel victorious, after her solid punches and the way she’d slammed the other girl’s head into the stall door; but instead her mind was stuck on what her dad would say if he found out. “I’m posting the video,” said her friend with satisfaction. “No—” She grabbed the phone and hit “delete,” ignoring her friend’s sputtering complaints. 

Staff Bathroom, 1^st Floor

As a new teacher, he’s still waiting for a staff bathroom key. He can only borrow Mr. Simon’s key during the five-minute passing period. This makes him constantly, irrationally terrified of not making it to the bathroom on time. His shoes squeak on the tile as he bursts into the stall and slides the chipped bolt across the door. Relief floods through him.

Girls’ Bathroom, C Building

It was voted Best Place to Recover From A Panic Attack in a social media poll last year. It’s large enough for a couple of friends to go in with you and rub your back until your heart rate slows down and you stop feeling like you’re about to vomit. Anyway, today it’s locked again, for no apparent reason. It takes most of the day for the students’ grumbling to make it through a couple of layers of staff to Mr. Anthony’s walkie-talkie.

Boys’ Outdoor Bathroom (by the portables)

A crowd rushes in, giggling, phones held up with one hand while a few of the more foolhardy carry out the actual challenge. They pull soap dispensers out of the wall and unwind long streamers of toilet paper—an entire industrial roll, which is even more toilet paper than you’d expect, so eventually they get bored with unwinding and chuck the roll into the toilet bowl to sink slowly, waterlogged. Two boys hang on the stall door until one of the hinges comes undone and they half-fall, laughing in shock at their own strength.

Girls’ Bathroom, 2^nd Floor

She comes here to vape because the windows are stuck open. She likes the freezing cold, okay not literally freezing because this is Oakland, but it’s colder than LA (where she moved from when her dad sent her to live with her mom), and have you ever pulled down your pants to sit on a porcelain seat when it’s fifty degrees out? Yeah, that’s pretty fucking cold. She vapes in class sometimes too, taking a quick drag as she bends down to her backpack, the strawberry scent wafting so that her nearby classmates look at her, suspecting, and Mr. Simon lifts his nose slightly, not suspecting. But she likes vaping in the bathroom better. The cold wind and the nicotine buzz twine around each other down the center of her spine, grounding her.

Boys’ Locker Room Bathroom

Let’s not even talk about the time someone’s #2 clogged a toilet and it overflowed. Everyone figured Mr. Anthony got hazard pay or at least overtime for cleaning up that one. (He didn’t.) 

Girls’ Locker Room Bathroom

Even though the pregnancy test resting on top of a wad of paper towels in the garbage bin was negative, a pic of the discarded test was shared on social media yesterday and half the school has a theory about who left it there. Rumors have coalesced around one girl, a junior. The test wasn’t hers—she’d never be so stupid as to leave it on top of the bin—but she doesn’t bother confirming or denying the rumor. She knows either one will be taken as proof that it’s true. 

Boys’ Bathroom, C Building

For the first few months of the year, he had to hold his pee all day whenever the gender neutral bathroom was locked. He was never sure what reaction he’d get in the boys’ room. But one day Eden (a sophomore from the GSA) was walking with him and saw his face fall when he tried the handle. “Come on,” she said without missing a beat, and dragged him—protesting—down the hall to the boys’ room. She opened the door fearlessly and yelled “Is anybody in here?” Her voice echoed back. She motioned fiercely with her head: “I’ll guard the door.” As he took tentative steps inside and ducked into a stall, pulling the door closed, fumbling with his fly, he was blushing, trying to remember what color Eden’s eyes were.