Once inside, I found myself facing a painted brick wall. Heck, if I had been moving any faster when I leapt inside, I surely would have crashed right into the monolithic obstruction. I don’t think my brain was able to grasp the existence of this wall because it told my hand to reach out and touch it. It was cool to the touch and smoother than I had expected it to feel.

To my left—more painted brick, but to my right was another door. I opened it and surprise, another wall only it wasn’t brick.

“What is this, a labyrinth?” I mumbled to myself.

When I stepped through the door I saw that immediately to my left was a fully lit room, but a quick glance told me that it was vacant. However, I recognized what room it was by its furnishings; it was the school nurses office. I also noticed that there were two doors, one directly in front of me, which, if my internal sense of direction was functioning properly, lead out into the office hallway. The second door was to my right and though I had no clue where it lead, I knew that going through the door ahead had a significant risk factor for meeting up with a teacher or some other school staff member.

Now you have to remember all this was taking place within a fraction of a second, so there wasn’t a whole lot of contemplation going on. My brain told me door number one had a higher potential for badness so I went with door number two.

In the instant that I made the decision I heard someone coming in behind me. Though I’m sure I did, I don’t remember running to door number two or opening it. All I remember is being on the other side of it as I quickly pushing it closed while at the same time seeing that it had a pushbutton lock on the knob and pressing it.

It seemed like only seconds passed before the knob was jiggled from the other side and then a muffled voice said, “He must have gone out the other door. Come on!”

I can’t be sure, but I think that was BB who said it.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that if the nurse’s office had multiple doors then there was a chance that the room I’d just escaped into might have more than one door as well. I spun around to locate and make sure any other doors were locked; however, when I turned, all I was able to see at first was pink, pink, and more pink. I blinked several times and my hand was even moving toward my eyes to rub them when a memory popped into my head and I knew where I was. I was in that pink office that Stacks had brought me to when she’d seen that I was wearing wet pants. Needless to say, on that particular occasion, I hadn’t truly peed my pants, but that is inconsequential.

After maybe one and a half seconds, when the shock of all that pink had faded a bit, I realized that I wasn’t alone. Less than three feet from me was standing that same band member who I’d followed in; only he wasn’t just a band member, but the drummer. I hadn’t actually got a good look at him, but I’d caught enough of a glimpse that I could have picked him out of a lineup of spiky-haired gothic dudes. However that wasn’t the important piece of information… that spiky-haired band member also seemed to have a face that I knew all too well.

Now you might think I would have lost it right then and there, and I’d have to agree with you, had I not been witnessing what it was I was witnessing. Standing before me was Chris and I don’t mean a ghost or anything of the kind, I mean Chris, a real live flesh and blood dude just like me. Well not just like me, because he looked so much different than I had ever seen him before and lord knows I never looked as ridiculous as he did right then. In Lewiston, Maine he would have stuck out like a sore thumb, but back in Chula Vista, California he wouldn’t even have been noticed. He had enormously high spiked dark hair and a black sleeveless t-shirt. Though I didn’t make the connection for a good twenty seconds, it seems Chris had been the one I had followed through the door. Besides the insanely spiked hair, he was also wearing a lot of black eyeliner and I can only assume, black lipstick because those too were black.

While I was trying to get my mind around the fact that I had Chris figured all wrong, neither one of us so much as breathed. We just stood there like a couple of frightened statues.

Now, by any chance did you catch the fact that I didn’t say he was wearing those black elephant cargos? Those were draped over the pink metal desk. Chris stood frozen; his eyes locked on mine. In his hands was a wet disposable diaper which was hanging with the yellowed inside facing me.

I didn’t want to give Chris the impression that he should be embarrassed or anything. Come to think of it, this should be a perfectly natural attitude given the rooms’ current company. Still, I couldn’t help, but mentally compare this slim, half naked, body before me to that of the mirror image of myself I’d stood admiring in my bathroom at home. Minus Chris’s usual dark blue jersey and faded blue jeans there was something quite effeminate about him. Chris’s long brown hair stood erect above a horror twisted face that had soft edges and alarmed, but placid eyes. And if his lower half was anything to go by, his body was completely undeveloped and had no muscle definition what-so-ever. In fact, were it not for the small, but obvious male genitalia, he could easily pass for a girl. Then again, maybe it was just the eyeliner?

Chris looked as nervous as a person is capable of looking while caught changing his own pee drenched diaper. In a way, I wish I could have switched places with him, but only for a second so that I could see what my face looked like right then. I’m sure I had an equally terrified expression of my own.

Would you believe that Chris was the first to break the frozen gaze between us? He blinked, dropped the wet diaper and then quickly covered himself with his hands.

“Y-y-you ar-r-re n-not al-lowed i-i-in h-h-here!” he said.

I guess I wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t a ghost until he had spoken just then. Actually, when he started to speak I jumped backward and smacked the back of my head into the door.

“Damn!” I cussed, “Did you just speak?”

“G-g-g-get o-o-out!” He spoke again in what seemed a nearly normal tone, albeit laced with anger and fear and sprinkled with death.

“But I though you couldn’t speak!” I said totally ignoring what he had said.

His voice went high and grew in volume and venom, “G-g-g-get o-o-out n-now!”

I wish I hadn’t done what I did next, but I just couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. It started as a giggle, but soon grew into an uncontrollable laughing fit. I fell against the door and slid down to the floor all the while Chris kept saying, “G-g-g-get o-o-out! G-g-g-get o-o-out! G-g-g-get o-o-out!”

Eventually, he gave up trying to get me to leave and just stood there, covering himself and looking shameful. Enormous tears were flooding from his eyes, smearing his eyeliner and causing streaks of black down his cheeks.

Finally, what got me to stop laughing, well mostly, was when he said, “G-g-go ah-head a-and l-l-laugh l-like e-e-everybody else!”

“I am not laughing at you! I am laughing at myself.” I said and started laughing again.

“A-a-are y-you o-on dr-dr-d-rugs?” he asked almost pleadingly.

I shook my head and laughed, “Nooo!”