“Ohmigod!” I scream as they literally come barging in. I rush past them and try to close the door but the bolt is ripped free. Which means the door won’t stay shut. Which means we’re gonna die!
Great. Just freaking great! Could this day get any worse?!
I walk over and shove him in his stupid furry chest. “You broke the damn door!”
“Well, YOU wouldn’t open it.” He pushes me aside and heads to a stall.
“We are in a freaking lockdown! Tell him, Alice!” I look at her for her rule-following support but she’s too busy trying to calm down her weirdo brother.
“Where the hell did he come from?” I ask, but no one answers. For all I know, he could be the one the cops are after.
I look back at Hogan, who has not gone into the stall but instead has grabbed the door by the top and side and is literally trying to rip it off.
“So you just go around breaking doors for fun now?” I say. “Is that it?”
The metal groans and shrieks as he twists and pulls. Is he serious right now? I glance back through the open doorway down the hall. He’s gonna get us killed.
I shout over the noise, “Why don’t you just put up a sign that says, HEY, PSYCHO, WE’RE IN HERE!?”
“Who needs a sign,” he snaps, “when we’ve got you screaming it at the top of your lungs?”
I cover my mouth.
With a metallic shriek the door rips free. I didn’t think he could do it. But now that he has, I have no idea why. Hogan carries it to the entrance.
“That metal door is too small to fit there,” I say. But that isn’t his plan. Instead, he shuts the wooden door and, holding the metal one parallel to the floor, rams it against the wood, wedging it in between the door and the edge of the sink. Smart. Well, at least until he starts pounding on it with his thick fists.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you make, like, more noise?”
Alice cuts in, “How about we all make less?” She looks a bit frazzled. With a brother like that, who wouldn’t? He’s dribbling and moaning like he’s in pain, rocking and bobbing in the corner like a one-man boxing match. A head taller than Alice, but just as skinny. Same blond hair under his goofy orange hat, same blue eyes. Only his are totally spaced out.
Hogan stops and looks at me. “No one gets in,” he turns to Alice, “or out.”
“Fine,” I say. “But how the hell are the police supposed to get in? Ever think of that?”
“Our plan right now,” he says, “is to keep quiet. As long as that crazy guy out there doesn’t know we’re here, we’re good.”
Then the spazzy brother turns and, I kid you not, strips. He, like, totally pulls down his track pants and underwear—all the way to his ankles—and starts peeing in a urinal. Right in front of me.
“Ew.” I turn away and cover my eyes. “Seriously?! Does he have to do that here?”
“It’s a men’s washroom, Izzy,” Hogan says, like I don’t already know. “Where else is he gonna go?”
The sound stops. But when I look back all I see is his hairy butt as he bends over to pull up his pants. “Ugh! Totally gross.”
Click.
“Oh, come on, Xander!” I turn towards him still sitting on the floor. “Why? WHY?”
“Dude,” Hogan shakes his head. “It’s a butt.”
“No,” Xander corrects him, “it’s a wide-angle candid of you all discussing his butt.”
“This!” I gesture at him with both hands. “THIS is the kind of insane crap he was giving me for the yearbook. Can you believe it?”
“I already told you.” Xander shrugs. “I don’t choose. I just shoot. The Tank sees what it sees. It doesn’t lie.”
“Who is Tank?” Hogan asks.
“His dumb camera!” I say, rolling my eyes for emphasis. How idiotic. I mean, who names a camera? Even if you have no friends.
Think about it, loser. Maybe that’s why you don’t.