The second bite was easier. So was the third. My new teacher stopped eyeballing me, satisfied that I was being good. The adrenaline and panic of being noticed had suppressed much of my hunger, but adrenaline and panic could only go so far before basic needs had to be met.
On the fourth bite, my guts gurgled and I felt another cramp. Oh yeah. I hadn’t pooped last night and it was catching up to me, now. I had nearly forgotten about it, but just as with hunger, adrenaline and panic could only go so far before basic needs had to be met.
I sat up as best I could and clenched my cheeks together. That didn’t alleviate any of the pain as the next cramp wracked me. I let out a low groan and stuffed my mouth with more sub-par food. I’d imagined myself making it to at least naptime after lunch before I’d need changing. On average, I was able to make it till lunch without a bathroom break so it stood to reason the same would apply. I’d fantasized about somehow managing to get to use a toilet. But making it till Lunch wasn’t going to be in the cards.
I pictured myself hiding in the corner like my nephew did. Maybe I could vomit and relieve some of the pressure that way. Wasn’t vomiting an automatic ticket home sick? Given the choice between Janet’s house and Oakshire Elementary, I had my preferences just then. But then, I might not get to see Cassie…
Teeth gritted, I started to lean forward. I might not be able to make it that long.
“Hi Mrs. Beouf,” an Amazon girl said. She had glasses and strawberry blonde hair and an almost birdlike boniness. Girls tended to hit their growth spurts earlier than boys. “Is that Mr. Gibson?” Hyacinth. One of my former students. One of Janet’s too.
Beouf turned in her seat and regarded the girl. “Miss Grange adopted him, so his last name isn’t Gibson anymore.” She spoke with a matter of fact tone about it, neither good nor bad.
“Is he a baby?” Leave it to a kid to cut right to the chase. I felt my face turn hot. I bowed my head and crossed my arms, retreating into myself. It helped the cramps a bit…not much…but a bit.
Beouf grabbed a baby wipe and ran it over the mouth of a woman in her late twenties wearing a Nora the Discoverer toddler shirt. “He is now.”
The girl shuffled a bit, seeming uncomfortable. “Was he always a baby?”
Beouf shook her head. “No. Not always. He grew up. But Clark is a Little, and sometimes Littles will grow back down.” I said nothing, knowing it wouldn’t help my case. “So I get to be his teacher, now.”
The fourth-grader wiped her brow cartoonishly. “That’s a relief,” she said. Her nose wrinkled a bit. “I was afraid that I’d been taught to read by a baby.” The word was almost a swear coming out of the girl’s mouth. “But if he just turned into a baby, that’s okay I guess.”
The giant woman nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Now quit stallin’ and get to class. If you wanna play with the babies, you gotta graduate, first.”
“Yes ma’am,” Hyacinth giggled and started off. Before she left, she caught herself and looked right at me. “Bye, Clark. Have a good day at school! Thanks for being my teacher when you were an adult. I hope you have fun being a baby!”
I stopped eating. I clenched my cheeks even harder. I didn’t care how hungry I was. I wouldn’t debase myself in such a way. I wouldn’t prove them right anymore than I had to.
“Clark?” Beouf said. “You stopped eating, hun.” My plate was still about half full while the rest of the prisoners had cleaned theirs. The two giants were grabbing fistfuls of wipes and getting at everyone else’s mouths and fingers “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I pouted. Another cramp made me wince. Damnit.
There was another key difference to Beouf’s breakfast cart. The bottom rung of what used to be “my cart” was stocked with milk cartons. No cartons for us. Just bottles of milk. “Here ya go,” they said to each Little. All of them took the milk and started chugging away. “Both hands, Shauna. Both hands, Billy. Good girl, Ivy.” There’s very little one can do to look dignified or ‘grown-up’ when drinking a baby bottle full of milk.
And that was assuming that there was only milk in those bottles…my mouth went dry thinking about that.
“Pinkies in, Chaz.” I heard Zoge say.
“Clark, if you want some milk you’re going to have to finish your toast.”
“I don’t want to finish my toast,” I said simply. “I don’t want milk, either.”
It must have come off as more whiny than I had intended; must’ve been the cramps. That or just as likely Beouf was looking for something that wasn’t there. “Clark,” her tone took on an edge of warning. “I know your Mommy would be awfully sad to hear about you being a fussy eater.”
There were no more cramps by this point. My entire abdomen was just one sharp ache punctuated occasionally by sharper aches. Despite that, I tried to think through the pain and reason with Beouf, try to rebuttal in some way that wouldn’t activate her crazy. Amazons, even typical ones, could be fairly reasonable as long as you didn’t poke at the center of their unreasoning.
But when I opened my mouth, I accidentally looked over her shoulder. My blood ran cold at what I saw next. Toddling out of the breakfast line, last out of all the students and being escorted by Tracy, were the preschoolers.
My kids. My students. The four-year-olds that I’d already had a year with. The three-year- olds I’d just started to teach.
My students.
My kids.
My children.
My babies.
My successor had chosen to do away with eating breakfast in her classroom, and she brought up the back of the line, snarling and shooing the children to the nearest table. “I know this is new,” I heard Tracy say. “But new can be fun!” I imagine that her eyes gave away the lie in that statement, but I could only see the back of my aide’s head. I only heard her because the majority of kids had already been pushed ahead to their class.
The roar was gone, being replaced by the quiet echoes of garbage being tossed, opened mouthed smacking, and a kitchen staff starting to clean.
“Finish your breakfast, Clark,” Beouf said to my gobsmacked silence. “Be a good boy and eat it all up.” Then she tacked on, “If you don’t, me and you will just sit here until you do. Mrs. Zoge will take everyone else to class without us.” A quick glance to her aide and a nod confirmed it.
I did my own scan of the table. My new classmates had a look that told me she was serious. Ivy looked as though I’d been threatened with the death penalty, (as opposed to just cruel and unusual punishment).
I felt something inside me push. My dangling feet flailed in panic. It wouldn’t be long now. “Okay, okay,” I said, terror tinging my voice. “I’ll eat. I’ll eat. But please…” I crooked my finger and beckoned her. “Can I please…please…” I whispered when she leaned in, ”just this once…go to the bathroom?”
I hadn’t whispered quietly enough.
“YEAH!” Billy yelled. “I GOTTA GO POTTY TOO!”
“ME TOO!” Annie yelled. “I’M A BIG GIRL WHO USES THE POTTY ALL DAY LONG!”
A few more cries of “BIG BOY” “BIG GIRL” and “POTTY” rang out at the other table, making us seem like clucking hens…or small children who just wanted to hear themselves babble.
“I-BIG-GOTTA-BIG-GO-BOY-GIRL-POTTY!”
The preschoolers turned around, completely engrossed in the unfolding calamity. Tracy had to yank one down from the chair he was standing in.
I saw a pair of wicked smiles to my right. I didn’t know if Annie and Billy were purposefully using such childish vocabulary or whether it had just been coded into them, but I guessed at their intent. They were trying to hurt my credibility by association.
“I know that’s a big old fib,” Beouf said to the pair. “Billy, you pooped a few minutes ago, or did you think I didn’t notice you leaning forward and smiling like you do?” The Little man in the gray onesie turned beet red at being called out. “And Annie you were wet when I picked you up and put you in there.” Annie turned pale and slinked down. “Mrs. B. checks. Mrs. B. knows. Everybody here at the table needs changing except for maybe Shauna.”
“And me…” I said, trying to keep my composure. This was a losing battle. The only thing keeping the back of my diaper clean was gravity and the hard plastic of the bucket seat. Toilet or no, something was going to come out…and soon. I’d still rather soil myself in private.
I saw my “teacher” work her jaw and mull it over for a moment. I grit my teeth. I didn’t have many moments left. She looked to Zoge. “What do you think? Is he stalling?”
Zoge nodded, and in her oddly musical cadence said, “Most definitely. He thought he was wet before the buses. Dry as a bone. I don’t think he knows the difference.”
“Thought so.” Beouf grabbed a piece of toast and held it out to me. “Come on baby. Eat up.”
Out of time.
Too much pain. Too many muscles involuntary spasming. My palms slapped the table. My body leaned forward. “Ah.” Beouf read that as an invitation to push the piece into my mouth.
She pushed.
My body pushed.
The mess poured out of me into the back of my pants. I kept my mouth open, panting as the hot mess spread, pressing up against the diaper before being smeared across my backside. I didn’t will it. I didn’t push it. My body had just betrayed me. I felt the lump grow and grow and the cramps lessen and lessen. In the back of my ear, like chewing a potato chip, I heard a nearly inaudible hiss as my bladder got in on the act and the soft crinkle as my Monkeez ballooned and expanded. Finally, my strength gave out and I leaned back, squishing the lump in my shorts.
The whole act took less than thirty seconds. Not quite ten, I imagine. But for those ten seconds of agony, all eyes were on me. Beouf. Zoge. The other Littles. My replacement. My students. Only Tracy pretended to look away.
“It’s okay, baby,” Beouf cooed at me, not a trace of guilt or embarrassment in her voice. “Finish your breakfast and we’ll change you when we get back to our classroom.”
The preschoolers turned around and started eating their breakfast. The few straggling older kids threw their garbage away and ran to class. Nothing to see here. A Little made poopy in his pants; it’s what Littles did as far as everyone was concerned.
So I ate.
I finished my Frantz Toast bites.
I got my mouth and hands wiped.
I drank my bottle of milk as fast as I could.
I got my bib taken off and then lifted out of the bucket seat.
I held hands with Ivy and Billy and reformed the line.
I walked out of the cafeteria and back to Beouf’s classroom.
All for the lie that it was okay and the promise of a clean diaper.