Out of desperation, she decided to cut the middleman and just go straight to the source. She took a bunch of disposable rags, doused them in perfume, and plugged them deep inside her in the hopes that the sweet smell would cancel out the fishy smell. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could think of under pressure. Already, her parents were knocking on her door, wondering why she was taking longer than usual, and what was that awful smell?
Actually, all they’d said was “What’s - ”, but she got the gist of it before they could finish, and opened the door, confident in having swept away all traces of her experience from last night.
“I didn’t do it, you can’t prove anything!” she said, further bolstering her well-crafted alibi.
“No - ”
“Well, look at the time, I’m gonna be late! Gotta run!” If she’d stayed a little longer, they would’ve asked, “No one accused you of anything”, but she wasn’t going to give them the chance to grill her before she was ready. The best way to absolve yourself of any guilt was to beat others to the punch and proclaim your innocence in advance. As long as no questions were asked, you couldn’t be implicated of anything. Surely this would all blow over in a few hours, right?
As she walked out, then sprinted, then slowed again, it became obvious that her stopgap measure wasn’t working as well as she’d expected. The rags hadn’t been folded properly, having been hastily assembled in a hurry, and were now threatening to slip out, despite her best intent to keep her insides clenched. But she couldn’t do that And maintain constant running speed.
On top of which, the exotic aromas wasn’t much help either. Turns out that canceling out a fishy smell with cologne only causes it to smell like fish With cologne. She decided to take a slight detour.
Getting to school was always a chore in itself. The route was normally straightforward, but due to forced mandatory roundabouts, she had to go in a large sweeping zig-zagging path that did nothing but aggravate her and waste valuable time that could be better spent doing more important stuff like sleeping. What should’ve taken a good five minutes took upwards of half an hour or more. She could swear that they made these routes difficult just to personally annoy her on purpose. Her only solace was that there were other students whose routes were even worse than hers.
Skipping even further outside the main path (which changed daily), she sauntered on until she came across a row of booths for people who were too paranoid to have a bathroom inside their place of residence. She stood outside one of the doors, and looked around, looking for the slightest pretense of movement. Once she was certain there was no one around or nearby to see her, she snuck inside to do her business.
In these minimalist stalls, there were all the basic necessary functions required for doing bathroom stuff, save for plumbing. She didn’t want to stay in this place longer than absolutely necessary, but also needed to do the job properly. This needed to be done covertly and carefully. Sitting down, she pulled her underwear down, and regretted it instantly. The smell was even more potent than she’d remembered. She ripped out the offending rags that were now soaked in a watery residue that was pungent to the touch, and dumped them inside a bag she’d brought with her. She’d throw it away in one of the trashbins later. She then took a roll of disposable papers off the nearby wall, and inserted a single thin bar of heavily perfumed soap in the middle, then proceeded to roll it up in a single tight cylinder that would fit more snugly.
Inserting the more comfortable replacement package inside her, she noticed that the smell still lingered, but wasn’t as strong as before. She had no idea how long that brief window of relief would last, but would figure out how to handle things from there later. She opened the door, and was surprised to see a crowd of impatient people standing in front of the stall she was occupying.
“Careful”, she said to the visibly upset guy whose turn was next. “The last guy left quite a stink.” she said, trying to avert the crowd’s piercing gazes, even as an audible “UGH!!” could be heard within the confines of the thick stall walls. She left the throng and strode forward, content with having gotten one over these poor schlubs. Then, once she turned the corner, she dumped her bag of smelly waste in the trash bin in one of the trashier parts of town, which made a particularly pleasing squelching sound to her ears.
With so many self-imposed delays, she wearily made her way forward, certain that she’d be late for class.
She turned out to be half an hour early.
Apparently, she’d woken up earlier than usual. That was fine with her. That’d give her more time to talk to the Clique of girls whose only function seemed to be doing nothing but gossip about inconsequential things, current events, and constantly one-upping themselves by demeaning others at every opportunity.
She needed to time her integration into their intricate conversation properly. Too soon, and suspicion would be cast on her part. Too late, and she’d look like she was pandering. The subject as always, seemed to diverge wildly, skipping from topic to topic like a stone across water. In this instance, they were talking about somebody not within their vicinity, purchasing material goods and whether they’d studied for the latest test.
Sooner or later, their conversation would diverge into the realm she was most interested in. But even then, she needed to hold herself back, so as not to appear too overeager. And sure enough, they started talking about boy’s anatomies.
But since they were still sensitive about the issue, they skirted about the subject, talking about their muscles, hair and facial structure rather than their lower body parts, which was what really mattered, more than how “cute” they were.
At this point, she subtly edged herself forward, simultaneously hoping not to be noticed, and also be noticed. If the Clique saw that their conversation was attracting an audience worthy of attention that’d be spread across the school. All the better if certain parties were made aware of who was interested in who. Not that any of these girls were really interested in any specific boys. All that mattered was the power struggle of stealing boyfriends from whoever they despised at any given moment.
But she wasn’t interested in School Politics, which were much too dramatic for her. For the moment, one of the girls finally started talking about penises. Or rather, artificial penises. This was probably the closest she’d ever get to broaching her intended enquiry, so she decided to take the initiative there and then.
“Yeah, but you still only have control over what, two max? I suppose that’s an improvement over boys, who only have one each?”
The group turned and stared hostilely at this outsider who dared to hijack their tightly-knitted impersonal conversation. Sensing the tide was turning against her, she rapidly changed tacks.
“They’re probably not that great, compared to the ONEs who’re capable of mindbreaking a simple girl into wanton lust!”
Moving back into familiar territory, the Clique relaxed somewhat, and started going into multiple segues, alluding to the experiences they’d all heard about. After a few rounds of this, she interjected again:
“I dunno, I heard from someone who was somewhat dissatisfied with the whole experience.”
They all stared skeptically at her. “Where’d you hear that from?”
“From a girl two schools over. She said while these newfangled ONEs had multiple appendages, somehow, she was expecting something more. Since you had so much experience with those things, I thought maybe you’d have a few things to say to her.”
“Are you kidding?? I wouldn’t touch one of those things if they paid me to!”
She stared at the Head Clique in confusion. “I thought you said - ”
“I was just talking big!”
“You too??”
“Well, that’s a surprise!”
“Am I the only one who’s actually been with one of those??”
To clarify, that last sentence was uttered by one of the girls in the Clique, not the actual Girl, who tried to hide her exasperation and expectation.
“Okay, no, I was just following the conversation, and didn’t want to feel left out. But she...” she said, gesturing with her head towards the Girl.
The Clique all turned their heads towards this outsider Girl whose presence, once mysterious, suddenly became clear.
Staring incredulously, the Head Clique asked, “You actually went and saw one? You didn't really believe what we were saying, did you?”
“Of course not! What kind of idiot do you take me for??”, she shouted with an air of indignation, and then left in a huff before they could say anything more, leaving the unanswered question lingering in the air along with a waffling stench of soapy seafood.
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