CHAIR

I sat in the diminutive blue chair, the tan desk attached to it, and I squeezed my eyes together, hoping that by doing so, the time would fly by.  Yet when I opened my eyes, the clock seemed stuck, moving so slowly that I didn't even register its movement.  I glanced to the front of the room, where a large lady, Mrs. Gates, stood at the front of the class.  She was a substitute in my second grade class, one I had seen once or twice, but whom I did not know very well.  Moments earlier, I had seen her reprimand Jeff Hall as he asked her if he could use the bathroom.  She told him he needed to sit down and wait until recess.  This crushed my spirits, because I had to go to the bathroom so badly, yet I was now terrified to ask Mrs. Gates for permission.  I assumed that since Jeff was denied a chance to use the restroom, I would receive a similar denial.  I forgot that Jeff was one of those kids who was always looking to leave the classroom, often attempting to pull something over on an unsuspecting substitute (and Mrs. Gates had been around enough as a substitute to know that Jeff was this kind of kid).  But all I could think was that she would tell me no, and I hated to be a bother or be rejected, so I continued to sit squeamishly in my chair.  All of a sudden, a warm puddle formed on my chair.  I couldn't believe it.  I had just peed my seat. Mortified, I tried to sit really still, but the puddle spread and slowly dripped off the sides of the blue seat.  At that point, classmates started turning and looking at the growing moisture surrounding my chair.  I tentatively raised my hand.  "Mrs Gates....I peed my chair." Mrs. Gates looked at me, her face agast.  "Julie, why didn't you ask to go to the bathroom?!"