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It's been an hour.
Well, more like forty-three minutes. But forty-three minutes is essentially forty-five, and forty-five can be rounded up to fifty, and fifty minutes is practically an hour.
Or maybe it just feels that way.
14:01. The battery percentage on Maya's phone clings to the digits on the clock in the corner of the screen, pixelated numbers reading 8%
She probably shouldn't have wasted so much of it on YouTube and music, but, well, how was she supposed to know she'd end up stranded here?
Maya's butt is sore. Her back aches, the fault of poor posture, no doubt, but sitting here hasn't helped.
She stands. For the fifteenth, sixteenth, or seventeenth time (she lost track around the eleventh, or something like that), she tries the stall door. It unlocks, it creaks, it bends to her body and the beating of her aching fists, but it still doesn't budge.
Forty-four minutes.
She sits on the toilet seat again, and half-heartedly kicks the door. The bottom of her worn Converse leave a black smudge on the metal.
A sour thought settles on her tongue. If she had lunch with Coco and Coco's friends, then she wouldn't have drained her battery.
Another. If she had been with Coco and Coco's friends, she wouldn't have ended up here in the first place.
But, then, Maya had woken up today with the strange feeling that she had to make her last day of school count, that she had to make it mean something, that eight hours could somehow make up for twelve years of misery…
And pity-invites from Coco and Coco's girlfriends were not a part of the plan. Spending time with the band would just make her feel like a little kid begging an older sibling to have a turn on the Xbox, and Maya hated feeling like Coco's younger sister more than anything else in the entire world.
Maya was the older one, after all.
Even if she didn't feel like it.
But, still. Being treated like a three-legged rescue dog by Coco and co. is better than being stuck in a hot, humid bathroom on the last day of school.
Maya grits her teeth. What is she going to tell everyone? She could try to lie, and say she ran off to catch up with friends (that don't exist), or say that she ditched class, but her sisters and parents would see through that in a second, and she would still reek of sweat and tile cleaner. And she would get in trouble for worrying them. If they even noticed she was gone.
Someone will, she assures herself, impulsively checking her phone again. 7%
Maya is too proud, or too arrogant, to call anyone for help. Her parents are still at work, and her grandparents are old and shouldn't be bothered with things like this, which leaves Mymy (unreliable, probably buying illegal fireworks somewhere for the after-school celebration), and Coco (who would bring her whole band to bust Maya out of the bathroom, and then coo over her like she's a little kid).
Both equally unpromising options.
6%
She powers off her phone. Even if she texts her dad, he won't be out of work until tonight, and she's not sure she wants to wait that long. Her mom would just tell her to call Coco and Mymy.
Maya kicks the door again, as if it's somehow at fault for all of her familial problems. It creaks under the weight of her heel, but doesn't burst open and spit her out like she was hoping. She's still stuck in the belly of the beast.
And with hours to kill. How long until someone- Mymy or Coco or a classmate or even a teacher, useless as they are- notices that she's missing? Her sisters know where to find her by now, so if anyone raised any alarm, an army would be formed and marched straight to the bathroom door.
The thought makes Maya queasy. And she hasn't even eaten today.
No, wait. She had some of Mymy's ontbijtkoek for breakfast. A little taste of normalcy for her last day of school- she thought she'd treat herself to a knockoff Kapitein Koek recipe her sister had been meticulously crafting for the past six months.
Her stomach lurches, and she can't even muster the energy to be mad at Mymy's culinary lab experiment. Her fault for eating it in the first place…
But she won't throw up. Maya bites her tongue and forces the bile back down, burning her throat raw. Throwing up in the school bathroom on the last day of her high school career is pathetic, even for her. And she doesn't want to start her adult life with foul breath and a vomit-crusted hoodie.
Cough, cough. 5%
She sighs, and sits back on the toilet seat, counting the cracks in the concrete for a fourth time, praying that the school would explode, or get taken over by terrorists(/pirates/Mymy on caffeine), so she wouldn't have to text her sisters.
Maya half-heartedly kicks the door again, the bitter stench of defeat (and sweat) filling the room. With a sigh, she tilts her head back, and-
crrrrrEEEak.
That was the bathroom door. Maya chokes on her own hot, spice-flavored spit, and sits up straight as a few vaguely familiar female voices take up space. Not Coco, not Mymy. She recognizes Ilse, and… Roos, maybe. Tryn? Eh, who cares. They're chatting about comics and music, though the mainstream and lame things that Maya would have nothing to do with, and then there's the sound of a phone recording, and the faint shuffling of feet.
Oh, God.
They're filming a video in here.
Though Maya isn't visible, she still feels vulnerable, as if exposed to the elements, and she pulls her knees to her chest and her hoodie over her face as the girls giggle and shove each other.
Why her? Why herrr? Now, there's no way anyone will find her buried behind the others, and there's no chance of her slipping out undetected. And she can't even throw up about it.
Annoying e-thots, she thinks, simmering from her porcelain throne. Who do they think they're impressing?
Maya feels a sense of serene calm, suddenly thankful that Coco was too technologically inept to navigate social media. She's pretty sure that Mymy is co-hosting some sort of propaganda podcast (or that she spends hours talking to herself and laughing at her own jokes in her room like a maniac, which is equally as likely), but at least she doesn't bother anyone in the house about it.
Maya sighs, leaning until the back of her skull hits the wall. If God hated her so much, shouldn't he just kill her? It's the merciful thing to do…
The door suddenly bursts open, and the sound of a gravelly female voice shoots through the room faster than a reusable Nerf bullet. The girls squeal and collect their phones as Vera herds them back to class. Phew.
Maya sits up again, resting her elbows on her knees. She gives the door another half-hearted shove. She probably should've called for Vera when she had the chance, but she wasn't about to draw attention to herself, especially when the old teacher was in a bad mood…
…What does she have to be angry about, anyway? It's the last day of school. And she'll never have to deal with Mymy trying to siege her history class ever again! Maya will probably have to deal with that FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE!
4%. The door creaks open a few minutes later, and there's some middling conversation about AFC Ajax, and Maya immediately knows it's Cato. How anyone can stand that is beyond her.
Maya does not consider herself an annoying person, perhaps even pleasant, to some extent, once you get to know her, and she has lots of interesting things to talk about if anyone would bother asking (read: opinions on manga and video games), and yet the fact that she was friendless while insufferable football fans could make connections with ease, was yet another reminder that whatever was wrong with her went much deeper than her interests or conversational skills (or lack thereof).
The other girl, whom she had entered the bathroom with, responded, and Maya knew it was Kiki. Not because of her voice, but because of the clinking of pirate costume jewelry that punctuated every sentence. Typical…
The talk turns to who would win in a football match, the entire AFC, or Laurens de Graaf and his fleet, and Maya began wanting to tear her hair out. Luckily, the conversation devolved into arguing very quickly (she could suddenly understand why Mymy had been friends with both of these girls at some point or another), and they part ways.
No one had asked about her yet. Not that Maya really thought they would, but not a single of the six or so people who had been in the bathroom had so much as mentioned that Maya was missing. Vera hadn't even called for her.
3%
Maya slips her phone back in her pocket and stands, rolling up her sleeves (more to hype herself up than anything) and pushing on the door. It creaks and groans and cries, but it does not give. It doesn't even budge, this time.
It's almost like the more she dooms about it, the harder it gets to open.
Well, shit. Then she's going to be stuck in here forever.
The sound of the big door follows, and she quickly sits again, hoping that no one had heard her grunting and panting as if she had just run a marathon.
It's Coco's band, but no Coco. This one, she knows without even having to hear them speak. Mostly because Yfke reeks of pot.
Maya inches closer, pressing her ear against the door and listening for her name in their conversation. Maybe Coco noticed she had gone missing, and sent her friends out to look for her…?
Not that Maya particularly wants to be found by these people, but, well, it would be nice to know that someone was at least trying. After all, what if she had been kidnapped? Or fell in an open sewer and broke both her legs? Or threw herself off the roof and was now bleeding out in the school garden?
…Not that she thinks Coco and Mymy would've jumped to those assumptions right away. Overthinking is more of a Maya thing.
"No, no, we have a gig on Friday, you can't miss it," that's Cleo.
"And by "gig" you don't mean playing for your mom again, do you?" That's Zoey (bitch).
"Hey, she says we can play for her coworkers next! We just need to get our name out there!"
"Well, can you ask your mom if we can come on Saturday instead? It's kind of an important surgery,"
"…Fine," Cleo concedes with a sigh. "Someone text Coco."
"Got it," Yfke says, or laughs, really, with a cough. Maya rolls her eyes.
"Where is Coco, anyway?" Good question! She thinks, leaning in to press her ear to the door again. With Mymy, looking for their loser sister…?
"Getting everything ready for later," Cleo says. Of course. Typical. Some post-graduate get together than Maya would be too cowardly to attend, if she was invited at all.
2%
Maya sighs, perhaps a little too loud, because the three girls suddenly go quiet. She stiffens, feeling her muscles tighten as she looks to the W.C. door, watching, waiting-
The bathroom door creaks, and then slams.
And then she's alone again.
Maybe they really hadn't heard her, after all. Maya tries to console herself with the fantasy of being invisible, an unknowable thing that no one can see or perceive or have opinions on…
She's not entirely successful. Instead, she finally opens her phone, her thumb hovering over the messaging app, noticing a new notification (spam, probably), hesitating, heart pounding in her chest as if she were about to leap off a cliff, and then-
"AAAND another thing, sir Prime Minister!"
The voice comes before the sound of the door hitting the wall so hard, Maya was sure it had left a dent in the brick. She would recognize Mymy's enthusiasm anywhere.
"An addition to the DTN isn't enough! The KOZP should be under strict surveillance on all devices at all times! A threat to the heritage cannot be underestimated!! Who knows what lengths those maniacs will go to!"
Maya rolls her eyes. She supposes that answers the question of whether or not Mymy just spends hours talking to herself as if she were a guest on a podcast…
She should say something.
Mymy might make fun of her, or roll her eyes and drag her feet, but she would still at least get someone to jack the door open and let Maya out of the sardine can she'd been stuffed in. It was a lot better of an option than the other ones she'd had…
"And don't forget the motor blockade!"
Maya opened her mouth, her lips peeling apart with a dull, dry pop, as if she hadn't spoken in days… which she supposed she really hadn't. Her voice trembled, crawling from the depths of her stomach, up the walls of her throat, before the door opens (gently, this time) and Maya's mouth slams shut.
"Mymy," that's Coco.
1%
Maya cups her ear to the door, listening to their conversation through the walls of her prison. Surely, they must be looking for her.
"Cato and Kiki are looking for you. They say you have to settle a debate for them…?"
Her heart sinks. Her fingers go limp around her phone, and she drops it back in her pocket. Of course. She should have guessed.
"Oh, and!"
Maya's eyes widen, and she leans into the door. And…?
"We should get ready to go. Everyone's going to hang their school bags up, and it would be a shame for you to miss out!"
…
Mymy snorts. "As if I would miss it. I was only getting ready,"
The creak of the sink faucet, the sound of running water, and a pop of contact solution as Mymy wets her eyes and readjust her colored lenses before following Coco to the door. Maya feels sick- though not nauseous, not this time. Her mouth is dry, her stomach feels empty, and her head…
"Hey, where's Maya?" Mymy asks, with only a twinge of passing curiosity.
Coco's voice is nearly cut off by the closing door. Maya only manages to catch a little of it.
"I texted her, but she hasn't responded yet,"
0%