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Thankfully, he complied and shifted away from me.
Weak and mortified, I remained exactly where I was on my hands and knees, just staring at the floor as a wave of utter humiliation washed through me.
“Shannon?” he said in a soft tone, hand on my back once more. “Are you okay?”
Nodding weakly, I pulled back to a kneeling position, hands on my lap, gaze cast downward.
“Wait here, okay?” Johnny ordered as he pulled himself up to a standing position. “I’ll go get the caretaker.”
“No, no,” I strangled out, mortified. “I’ll clean it.”
“No, you won’t,” he argued. “It’s okay. Just wait here for me and I’ll be right back.”
The moment I heard his footsteps retreating, I scrambled to my feet, grabbed my schoolbag, and bolted into the nearest bathroom on this wing of the school.
Hurrying inside, I went straight to the sink, unzipped the front pocket of my schoolbag, and retrieved the travel-sized toothbrush and paste I religiously carried around with me.
I was an anxious person and my anxiety made me sick. It happened in the most inappropriate and inconvenient places, usually at school, like today, so I was always prepared.
Trembling from head to toe, and with tears burning my eyes, I quickly brushed my teeth, gagging when the brush poked the back of my throat. When I was finished cleaning my mouth, I rinsed off the toothbrush and tucked it back inside the small ziplock bag with the paste before packing it back into my schoolbag.
You’re okay, I mentally coaxed myself as I washed my hands and splashed water on my face. Everything is going to be okay.
I knew I wasn’t, though. No matter how much I tried to lie to myself, nothing was okay about my life.
Sniffling, I strapped my schoolbag to my back, pushed open one of the toilet cubicle doors, and grabbed a bottle of disinfectant tucked away behind the cistern.
Walking back to the sink, I pulled a couple dozen paper towels out of the dispenser and headed back to the crime scene. But it was gone. Erased by the caretaker wandering back down the hall with a mop and bucket trailing after him.
“I told you to wait for me.” A familiar voice came from close by.
Swinging around, I found Johnny leaning against the lockers.
“I had to brush my teeth,” I blurted out, sniffling.
He arched a brow. “At school?”
“It happens a lot,” I strangled out.
He frowned, watching me with those intense blue eyes. “Are you feeling better now?”
I nodded, mortified. “I’m okay.”
“Good.” Pushing off the lockers, Johnny walked over to where I was standing and took the disinfectant and paper towels out of my hands.
Reeling, I watched as he opened the girls’ bathroom door and tossed the disinfectant and paper towels back inside.
“I’m taking you home now,” he said as he slid my schoolbag off my shoulders and slung it over his left shoulder.
My eyes widened. “No, no, you don’t have—”
“I’m taking you home,” he repeated, blue eyes locked on mine. “Let’s go.”
“Why?” I croaked out.
Johnny frowned. “Why what?”
“Why are you helping me?”
