White out Doesn't Work (2)

White Out

I just wanted to pee.
I put my backpack on the right corner of the stall. I sat on the toilet. I wanted to do my business and go to my next class. But there they were, some in the corners, some in list form, some that were spur-of-the-moment and others cowardly waiting at the bottom of the door. It seemed like they always were there.

On the bottom right corner of the door:
Julia is a stupid BITCH.

The white-out woman.
“Do you think it was nice to write these things?”
“No Ms. Kubasak, we don’t. I don’t know why they did that. I don’t know why we started doing it either.”
“I think it is because it is a tradition.”
“Okay, well we should just stop this before it gets out of hand.”
“I agree.”
”I think the easiest way to get rid of it is…”
She picked up two full bottles of white out. Our teacher liked white out.

Rachel and I headed to the girl’s bathroom White Out in hand. We pushed open the bathroom door that separated Baker Elementary School from National Louis University. She looked back as I stepped into the dimly-lit mirrored room. I think she was checking for teachers. The off white door’s paint was chipping off, but the memories still held firm. We opened the handicap stall, the last stall on the right hand side. We looked, stared, and stood completely still, ready to destroy it.

New addition to comment on bottom of door:
Julia is a stupid BITCH SLUT

Do you know her?
Do you know a girl named Julia? No. Well I don’t either.

3rd edition of comment on the door:
Julia is a stupid BITCH SLUT à I agree
Tyler and Shannon together… always

My thoughts on the comment:
Does Julia have relationship problems? Has she not found the right guy yet? How is her family life? Is she missing the presence of a male role model in her life? How long have Tyler and Shannon been together? Do they really love each other?
My thoughts on my thoughts of the comment:
Didn’t Tyler and Shannon break up already?

Don’t want to close that door.
Entering bathroom, another day of school. I just want to pee. Please don’t stare. Please don’t tempt me. I don’t want to look at any of you anymore. I don’t know you. I don’t know your lives or your friends. Okay. I am going to close the stall door now, promise you won’t pull me in. Promise. Shut door. I sit. Instantly I am drawn to reading the current updates. Why me? Does this happen to every girl that enters a stall? Is it just me? I read all of them… again. This stall is a different story. A different girl. A different couple. A different phrasing of the same thing over and over again. It’s my own Gossip Girl. It’s my own The Hills. It’s my own personal soap opera show scratched and carved into the wood and plastic.
It is impossible to forget that all of those marks are still there.

Comment 4:
Julia is a stupid BITCH SLUT I agree Me too!

Emily
Tyler and Shannon together… always

Emily is a skank. Ya she is.

White Out woman approaches.
I dip the spongy tip into the bottle. Why are we doing this? Couldn’t the janitors or someone else? I begin at the top, because I am taller than Rachel. One straight line across the cement mortar, right through the sentence written in dark purple pen. We observe. There is still obvious evidence. She paints another coat. Gone.
The door opens and we turn. She is standing there.
“How is the white-outing going?”
“Fine.” We chorus.
Don’t get involved.
“You know, this is the first time since the beginning of high school you look really happy. I mean seriously it seems like you have really relaxed and just… grown. You kind of let everything go.”
I give her a sideways glare.
The scary part:
She is completely right. Well, except that I don’t let everything go. I remember stuff. I actually remember all of it.

Since the beginning.
Freshman year was hard. I was close-friends with a few girls walking into the Northfield campus. By the end of the year, those close friends were no longer close. Forced to find a better fit.
Sophomore year. Close group. Finally, a perfect match. Then it started, she likes him, he hates him, she hates him, she hates her. She loves her? She told me this, well really he said this, okay well I am going to listen to you. I told you not to say that to her. Everyone arguing.
Junior year. New group. Busy. Really busy. Almost too busy for all of that business.
Senior year. Find tranquility. Keep to yourself. Be relaxed. Learn from those past years. Don’t let anyone influence you. Don’t listen to what they say. Don’t listen to them, listen to you.

My mom says:
Just think of all of this as another experience to learn from.
My response:
I sarcastically question, really?

White Out woman leaves.
Only three more comments to white out.
5 minutes after White Out woman leaves.
Every single comment gone. No remains of those secrets except for the White Out messily dripping from the mortar and onto the bricks. We had officially destroyed the rumor wall.
Everything I had ever written was gone. Everything anyone in the entire school had written was erased. Our slate was clean. Behind the White Out though I could see some letters.

The last white out.
As I erased the last comment “Taylor + Quinn,” part of me felt erased. I didn’t want to forget what was there. I wanted to remember 1st through 3rd grade. It was still a part of me.

The end of fourth grade.
The white out started to chip off. People were beginning to write over it.

Voicemail received summer of senior year:
Hey, I think we just need to let all of this go. I am sorry about everything that has happened between us. Can we just move on? I am sorry. Call me back.
2 days later, text sent back summer of senior year:
I can forgive you. But I can’t promise I will forget.

Decided not to pee.
I didn’t go to the girl’s bathroom today.
Eventually though, I will go back.