There was screaming, and then silence. Frowns, and then grins. Storms, and then rainbows. I was in the storm, holding up my sign alongside the protestors who were on my side. I held that sign up constantly, and high as I could. It wasn’t beautiful or anything, just a board with red paint strokes on it. So long as it was legible, I couldn’t have cared less. As long as people read the “We weren’t born yesterday. Were you?” on it.

“It would drastically change student’s grades and test scores for the better.” That’s what my principal had said to us. And there was something similar to that sentence on the flyers that were sent home. He even said it to us right there, on the spot where we all spent days ranting and raving at the stone stairs that led up to the front doors of the giant concrete brick of a school. “By eliminating bathroom breaks and a distracting element from the classroom, students would be presented with more of an opportunity to focus in class and attain the knowledge they will need for later.” Principal Henn. His face and bald head were pale white. While the parts of his face that had hair, (Starting at the sides of his head, running down and taking a detour over the lip before ending with the narrow-ish, half a foot-long beard.) was snowy white. I saw a picture of a guy in my science textbook, Charles Darwin, that I thought was him at first because their facial hair was so similar. If I had to guess, I’d say he hasn’t bothered to even trim his bushy face in years. “This isn’t some ridiculous shot in the dark. The daring, Fate High-School in South Dakota was in desperate need for better results from their students, even more than we are now. They took a chance, and it helped them more than it hurt them. We’ve tried several other tactics. But we have observed no linking signs of improvement. We are trying to make sure your kids have futures. Why would you want to stop that?” Unlike Charles Darwin however, Principal Henn didn’t have much evidence for his claim. All he had was one other school to reference and a plea for cooperation. He’d need more than that if he really wanted to make diapers part of the new dress code like he said he did.

I was more shocked when I heard about Principal Henn’s plan than I was to find my younger brother setting fire to the carpet. I couldn’t believe the school board was serious about their agreement. Who would believe it? I assumed it was some joke. Or even some motivational tactic, to get kids to study and work harder so they could show they didn’t need the alternative. It wasn’t though. This was real. I wished I could just transfer to a new school, everyone wanted to. But it wasn’t that simple, being in a small town with only one high school. That fact didn’t stop some families from leaving. A handful of kids have been pulled from Greenlee High already, and are packed and ready to move over to the next town over. The rest of us were here, standing in the same place where we heard the principal give his oral announcement a week and a half later in the scorching sun at 2 PM.

Some people were drifting away from the crowd at this time for whatever reason. I didn’t ask, and just assumed they were getting lunch. It was right after the school bell rang and only twenty students came out that an older woman followed. She had a dark-red suit on; her light-red hair was up in a ball behind her head and she wore these tiny librarian glasses that looked so small I still believe they’re almost useless.
“Attention students and parents!…” She shouted, not having any microphone or wheeled in mini speakers as the principal did. “As of today, being part of this “shouting-fest” that you call a protest will no longer be an acceptable excuse for skipping class.” She had a venous sensation escaping her lips. It was if she wanted to rant, rave, and insult each and every one of us personally. Other than intimidating, she was also younger than I would have expected of someone who was working for this school dressed like that. “Any student that does not attend class tomorrow, and has no excuse more urgent than a small emergency, will be given a zero for their attendance grade for that day. This will also be the case for all remaining days of the school year.” Most of the crowd acted like you’d expect them to. Yelling, cursing, and making threats to inform the media. Not much of a threat, since they had most likely already done that. I just stood there with my sign in the air. I knew making a fuss wouldn’t solve anything at the moment. Besides, my sign said everything for me.

The next morning, I showered and dressed for school. My mother didn’t want me to go, but sensible dear ol’ dad and I agreed I didn’t have a choice with all my past absences. One or two more and I would’ve in trouble. In my bathroom, I stared at my mirror once I was more or less ready to face the day. My short, blonde hair was the first thing I focused on. It wasn’t short-short, but short for a girl. I saw my same green eyes, and used them to glance lower. Only instead of pouting at my small breasts like every other morning, I looked all over my hips and upper thighs. They looked normal. But I couldn’t help but wonder what they’d look like if the school succeeded, and I’d have an “Education-Enhancing-Pad” as they called it under my jeans. The model that was shown in class looked thicker than I would have preferred it to be.
“Terri! Your breakfast is getting cold!” My mom shouted from the kitchen.
“One second!” I grabbed my bag and stuffed my mouth with the waffles that were waiting for me. On my way out the door with half a waffle hanging out of my mouth, I felt more determined than ever to fight tooth and nail for the right to wear my panties instead of those embarrassing things.

Chapter 2: Old Moley

I arrived to class a half a second late. And despite my bargaining to my History Teacher, that half a second made me tardy. Apparently half a second late is the same as half an hour late to these people. I tried to blame the protesting parents in the front of the school, but it didn’t work. The parents weren’t even there today. All I could do was take the hit to my record and go to my little desk in the second row, right next to the window. Whenever I’m bored in this class or need to think, I just look to my left out the window and at this behemoth of a tree, and that’s probably why I stared out of it most of the class. Truth is, I wasn’t late because of the protestors. I was late because on my walk to school my mind drifted on the question of how to prevent the school’s plan. And I guess I ended up walking slower while daydreaming. Wouldn’t be the first time. At least I didn’t walk into traffic again. Looking at that tree, I didn’t get any ideas. I did get to see this little squirrel that sometimes comes out. Lucky little bastard, having no need to worry about school, or parents, or weird tactics to boost the learning experience when in reality the students just need to get off their butts and actually put in some effort.

“Miss Prairie! Are you focusing on the lesson?” Said my teacher, Mrs…. What was her name?… I can’t remember. I paid so little attention in that class I don’t remember hearing her name or calling her by her name. I remember she had a mole, right where the nose is connected to the face, under her left eye. It was impossible not to look at when speaking to her or glancing in her general direction. I think that’s how I started looking directly away and out the window to begin with.
“Um… Yes! Yes I am.” I lied with a straight face.
“Really? Then you should know why America chose not to get involved with World War II until we were attacked by the Japanese. Shouldn’t you? Tell us, why didn’t America want to get involved?” I just said the first thing that came to mind.
“Uh… It wasn’t our problem?” My teacher, let’s just call her “Old Moley”, displayed a devious looking smirk at her question. But it slowly faded after I gave my guess.
“Well… I suppose that is technically true. My apologies, Miss Prairie. Now class, when we have our test, remember to answer-” Old Moley was interrupted by the intercom at the top of the front wall.

“Good morning students.” Said principal Henn, through the speaker. “For today’s morning announcements, I have something very important to share, so stop what you’re doing and listen up. I’m sure you’re all aware of the school’s consideration to make a change to the school’s dress-code. Because of the conflicts between School Board Directors and concerned parents, it’s been impossible for either side of this argument to make any progress. However, the group of parents who were usually found in front of the school, as well as the Directors, has agreed to put it to a vote. Now, because the parents can be biased towards what their children want, and because the School Board can be biased towards what boosts scores, or what has a chance of boosting scores rather, the only ones who will be allowed to vote are the teachers. Every teacher that interacts with students on a daily basis and knows their academic potential will be allowed one vote to cast for either side of the argument today at lunch. Teachers, this is a matter of great importance. So I hereby, strongly recommend you all give your students a study-day to catch up on missed work, so you can all spend time thinking about your decision. If you cannot, for whatever reason, make a choice by lunch time then you will not be able to cast a vote, period. Please meet in the teacher’s lounge for the voting. And student, have a wonderful day.” I didn’t know what to say or how to react at any of that. This vote would be our life preserver or our anchor.

Most of the class did know how to react, however: In the most idiotic way possible. Kids everywhere were holding their arms up and going “Woo-Hoo!” because of the mention of a study-day.
“Class!” Old Moley shouted while banging a textbook to the surface of her desk. “Calm down! It is RECOMMENDED that I give you a study-day. But we won’t be having one in this classroom.” As anyone could have expected, almost everyone moaned and groaned at her claim.
“But why not?” Someone asked, someone guy in the back row.
“Because we’re already behind on our schedule for the school year. We need to get caught up before the end of this semester’s quarter.” She replied with a condescending tone, as if it was our fault we were behind. We weren’t the ones who called in a substitute that wouldn’t know how to pour soup out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. “Besides, I already know what side I’m going to vote for.”

I went wide-eyed and couldn’t resist speaking up.
“What? Which one?”
“I don’t know if I should answer that. Let’s all just ret-”
“You’re not gonna vote to put us in those things, are you?” Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have lashed out so viciously like that.
“Miss Prairie! Calm down, and let us get back to the lesson. Now class, who can tell me-” My head went straight out the window again. Ideas or no ideas, it was better than looking anywhere else. I could never pay attention to what Moley said because that thing on her face distracted me. And none of the kids were worth checking out either. I couldn’t even talk to anyone. No one sat in front of me since Billy was pulled by his parents, even if he wasn’t I wouldn’t be able to talk to the guy without making it obvious that he was doing it. Same reason I couldn’t talk to the guy behind me. Then to my right, there was this girl, Cynthia. I didn’t really know her at the time, and she was always looking around herself at random times like she was afraid someone was watching her. I figured she was paranoid, or had this thing called “Imaginary Audience Syndrome.” Either way, my best friend, Mr. Tree, and I were on our own.

Algebra and Spanish class both participated in the principal’s study-day suggestion. I was actually caught up in those classes, more or less. All I did was sit and think. I thought about a lot of stuff: What I’d do if a crazed gunman suddenly kicked down the door and fired his weapon, how much fun I’d have if I had the ability to freeze time and move around in this classroom, wondering if the teachers would be upset if I ordered a pizza to class. But my mind kept coming back to Old Moley. I decided I absolutely had to talk to her before she voted. She seemed determined in her choice, and it’s only one vote. But every little bit helped, and odds were she was going to vote for the change. Why else would she refuse to say what her vote would be?

Once the bell rang, ending my third period, I rushed to the front of the teacher’s lounge and waited next to the door for some time. More than once I considered running off to get some food and come back. But with my luck I knew I’d miss Moley. Several teachers walked in and out of the lounge, but I didn’t say anything to them except “Hi” or “Hello”. I didn’t know what to say. I figured if I tried to persuade them I’d just look like a badgering idiot to a bunch of teachers who didn’t know me. Finally, Old Moley showed her face. I straightened my back and faced directly at her.
“Excuse me?” She already had her hand on the doorknob when I spoke.
“Yes? Oh, miss Prairie. How can I help you?”
“I want to talk to you about the vote.” She turned her head away, towards the door and started to pull it open.
“I don’t want to talk about that with you. My mind is made up.” I slammed my palm against the door and pushed it closed.
“I know you made your choice. But please listen to me. We can’t wear those things. They wouldn’t help at all. They would just be embarrassing. And wouldn’t sitting in a soaked dia-…“Education-Enhancing-pad” be even more distracting? No part of this idea makes any sense!” I just let it all out at her. Old Moley looked at me and just shook her head at me.
“I know it doesn’t. That’s why my vote will be a no. Now please move aside.” I blinked a few times out of habit, and just froze there for a second. “Miss Prairie, please.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes Ma’am. Go right ahead.” I took a step back and waved my flat hand towards the door before she went inside. I felt so confident, so safe, and so hungry. But in this good mood, I felt as though I could race to the cafeteria before the bell rang. I felt wrong.

The next day in History, most people were anticipating the results of the vote. I say most, because a few people here and there were confident that they already knew what the result was going to be.
“Attention students.” Principal Henn said through the intercom. “All thirty-two votes have been counted.” Everyone stared up at the speaker, and I myself bit down on my lower lip. “And the end result is: The new dress-code WILL be enforced as of next week.”
“WHAT!!” I screamed when my legs just jolted me up and out of my seat.
“As you already know, this new dress-code will be mandatory. Instructions and policy information will be given by your teachers in two days, on Friday morning. Have a wonderful day, students.” The skin to the right of my right eye began to twitch. I just wanted to find out who voted for this and kick their teeth in.
“No no no. This is a joke. How could the majority of teachers vote for this?” Old Moley turned to me and gave us all a sigh.
“I don’t know. But what’s done is done. I’m very sorry, all of you. But rules are rules, and you don’t want to break them. Not the ones about wearing these at least. From what I’ve heard there will be “special consequences” for students who don’t follow this part of the dress-code.” I was too enraged and befuddled to ask what these consequences could be. I planted my face into the surface of my desk and kept it there for as long as I could. I didn’t want to even look at anyone. I had to do something. Something before we all go around wasting our time acting like worthless babies.

Chapter 3: Help me

It was all so strange. None of it made sense. I couldn’t possibly imagine why anyone would think that this was a good idea, especially the school board. How would making this change to the school improve anything? And why was no one asking questions? After the vote results came in, I felt so defeated. Tomorrow, everyone (including me) would have to walk around in one of those pointless, ridiculous, and humiliating things! I felt I had to do something, but what? The principal’s mind was set, and the voting had declared that the majority of teachers felt it best to go along with the insane idea. It seemed hopeless and was. But none the less, I thought and planned to where I didn’t focus in class at all. I couldn’t come up with a thing though. For every idea that my brain devised, a harsh fact of my dilemma would make its presence know in a harsh manner. I heard from other kids talking in the halls that they were planning on skipping school as a form of protest. That’s probably what I would have done too, if I didn’t find that note in my locker.

It was a torn off page from a college-ruled note book. It didn’t say who it was from or what it was for. It just said: “I want to help you. Side building cafeteria entrance.” on one side, and “8 PM. Plan to be out for long.” on the other. I probably should have felt skeptical and worried that some stranger decided to anonymously invite me to a dark and secluded place without mention as to why or who. But I didn’t. Instead, I was overjoyed that someone was actually on my side and agreed that this whole plan was a retarded, bastardized roll of the dice for higher test scores. I thought about whom the person was, that left the note. But as far as I knew, it could have been anyone. Everyone in the school knew my strong opinion on the matter. The only person I asked was my friend Sarah that shared the same biology teacher with me. A minute before the bell rang and my last class of the day begun, I asked her while everyone else waited for the teacher to arrive. Her skin was slightly darker than tan, and her brown hair with a perm in it made hugging her a nightmare if you were taller than her like I was.
“Hey Sarah, did you slip something in my locker?”
“Nnnnnno. Why?” She answered, a tad quizzical.
“No reason.” I turned around and walked toward my seat at the end of a long table, but she spoke up again.
“Wait. Someone put something in your locker? Was it a love letter!?” She seemed pretty happy when that thought crossed her mind. Sarah had always wanted a more girly friend to gossip and talk about boys with.
“No no. It wasn’t a letter from anyone who likes me. At least I hope it wasn’t.” Sarah was the only person I felt comfortable asking. The odds of it being anyone else at random must’ve been 300 to 1. I guess I could only go to the spot and wait then. “Hey Sarah, can you do me a favor?”
“Hm?”
“I want to go somewhere tonight, but my parents can’t know. Can I tell them I’m staying over at your house and if they ask you play along?”
“Oooooo, where are you going?” She asked with a cocky smile.
“I can’t say. Can you please just do this for me?”
“Bleh, fine. Wherever you’re going, I hope you find a man. Don’t you get lonely?” I had actually never considered getting a boy friend of my own up until that point. I just never saw a reason. Looking around the room, I saw a couple guys belching and laughing immediately after.
“Not THAT lonely.” I walked to my seat and thought about the encounter I would soon be having, all throughout the class period. All this daydreaming and spacing, I’m surprised I haven’t flunked out of school already.

When I came home, I told my mother that I was going to Sarah’s house for the night and that I would ride to school with her the next morning. She just nodded and carried on with her Dr. Phil rerun. When it was close to half past seven I walked out the front door. “Bye mom.” I shouted as I left. I turned right to go to the school, and it was lucky for me, no one was looking out the window, or they would’ve seen me walking the wrong way. It took around twenty minutes to get there, same as always, and when I came to the door that entered into the cafeteria I tried to open it, but it was locked. I waited around the door for over twenty minutes hoping someone would come, and checking the clock I could see through the tiny window on the door every now and then. I told myself that maybe someone was just pulling a prank on me and wanted to make me stand here all night. Just as I said to myself: “I’ll give ’em five more minutes.” the door opened. I couldn’t see exactly who it was. I saw right away that is was girl though
“Terri?”
“Y…yeah…”
“Come inside.” She stepped out and held the door open for me. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I still couldn’t figure out who it was. I walked inside the well lit hallway and heard a loud slam from the door behind me. That door must’ve been one of those thick and heavy ones that close themselves with their own weight. I turned once I heard the door to see Cynthia, the quiet little paranoid girl who sat beside me in History Class. She had her hands behind her back and she was smiling sweetly. “Hi Jamie.”
“Uh, hi…. So you were the one who put that note in my locker?”
“Yes. That was me. I saw how you reacted in class when you heard the results of the vote and I want to help you.” I was caught a little off guard by her comment. Some stranger who barely knew me wanted to help?
“So I take it you hate the new policy with a fiery rage too?” She began to walk towards and then past me.
“Let’s just get going. ” I followed her steps, staying right behind her.
“Get going, where? What are we even doing in the school?”
“What do you mean? This is where everything is happening. This is where the policy is being enforced, where the people who proposed the new policy work…. And it’s also where they keep all those “Education-Enhancing-Pads”” She said using her fingers as air quotes for that last part.
“So…. We’re here to get rid of the diapers?” She took a left turn into a different hallway, passing our History class.
“That’s the plan. But we need the key to where they’re keeping them. I think they’re holding them in the storage room where all the Gym class equipment is, but I’m not sure. I’ve been looking for the key for a while, but I haven’t had much luck I’m afraid.” Cynthia giggled at the end of her sentence. She walked calmly and with little tapping noises echoing through the halls that would have been much quieter in a less open building. “When I didn’t find it in the Coach’s desk I thought maybe the principal had some sort of master key in his. But it’s when I found that out that I saw the clock and realized you must have been waiting outside all this time. I’m so sorry about that, by the way.” I could see the big red door to the principal’s office ahead and on my right. That dreadful room with four completely filled bookshelves against the wall and one of those Newton ball clacker things sat. I was sent to that office so many times, I ended up counting the books while getting lectured. I got to 63 when Mr. Henn realized I wasn’t paying attention and shouted at me. If you ask me, he never actually read any of those books and just has them up for show.

Cynthia reached for the door to the principal’s office and turned it. “Oh good, it’s unlocked. Let’s hurry and leave before some janitor finds us.” I walked in blindly and immediately walked up to the desk. As I faintly saw the headings on a few pieces of paper, I was suddenly grabbed from behind with a moist cloth against my nose. I heard Cynthia whisper in my ear as my vision became fuzzy and my legs became wobbly. “Ssssshhhhh.” I fell backwards, onto Cynthia who held me up and gently set my body down. Before I passed out I faintly saw Cynthia crouching over me with that same sweet little smile, along with someone else standing beside her. “We just want to help.” Cynthia said softly and sweetly like a mother taking her child in for a flu shot at the hospital. All the while she stroked my head. And I was out.