Chapter 1

The Number on the Stall

It was MY stall.

Who cares if it was all written over with names of sluts, 'I love ?'s and other scrabble? This was -and is- MY stall- the place where, everyday, I sit and relax. Just relax. Nothing else. Occassionally, I would bring a sappy romance and read while I kicked back for some much needed R&R, but today, the library was out of romances. You're probably wondering 'Why a bathroom stall?' Well, it's simple really: The one place where people won't bust in on you.

Anyways, when they're nothing else to do or I need some relaxing, I read and daydream about what my life would be like if it was a romance. I would be in a man's arms as he makes passionate love to me and I would reveal my feelings for him, he in return would do the same and we would be wading in the pool of love...

But then again, fairytales are fairytales. And my daydream is SURELY a fairytale. I'm sure I'm the only girl in the 11th grade with no boyfriend.

I heard someone come in. Jade Manzer, the most evil girl in the history of this school and her cult- Lynette, Valerie and Alexandria, also known as the Generation RB- Riches for the Bitches. My brother, Kane, who's my twin, gave them that name after all three girls totaled their new '06 Mustangs over the summer. All they did was whine to Daddy and a new one was there for their use the next morning.

"We shall call them Generation RB!" Kane declared one day at lunch while I munched on my turkey, avocado, and bacon club sandwich from Louie's.

"Generation...RB?" I asked slowly, watching my brother curiously. The grey eyes he and I shared lit up when I asked.

"Generation Riches for the Bitches!" He cried loudly, slamming down his chemistry book on the ground and standing one foot on it, puffing out his chest. "We'll rebel against them and their new Mustangs!"

"Kane, as much as I would love to do that," I said, laughing. "I don't think that's a very nice name to call them."

"So you say, big sister." Kane sat back down. Technically, I am older than my brother by 6 minutes 34 seconds, and 55 milliseconds...but who's counting? "But still," Kane continued, picking up his chemistry book from the ground. "We should at LEAST call them Generation RB." I sighed.

"Fine, if it'll make you happy."

Back to me in the stall with Generation RB in radar.

"You know, I just can't understand him sometimes." I heard Jade say, turning on the sink. "One minute, he likes me and the next, he likes some exotic girl from Egypt." She scoffed. "I SO do not need that."

"No, you don't, Jade." Recited the rest of Generation RB in unison. I bit my hand to keep from screaming 'ROBOTS!!!' on impulse.

"Well, who cares? I just don't..." The conversation faded, the door slammed and I was alone again. Why should I care about Jade and her Generation RB bull? I was still in need of my R&R and picked up my headphones for my CD player to listen to some cleansing AC/DC...

But the bell rang for 4th period right then.

Shit.

I grabbed my books as fast as I could and stood up fast...a little too fast, I might add. I wobbled and fell back, hitting my head against the front of the toliet seat. Ouch...

"Dammit." I muttered, sitting up, holding my head and closing my eyes to recover for a few minutes. When I thought I could see again after that bump to the head, I opened my eyes and looked at the wall. There was something written here...

Need a boyfreind?

Call: 341-0941

Someone doesn't know how to spell 'boyfriend', but how interesting...however, I was late and I knew Mr. Lamar was gonna kick my ass if I didn't get to Art NOW, so I didn't have time to place the culprit of the ridiculous message. I gathered my books and took a glance at the wall and number again. This had to be a hoax. What idiot in their right mind would put their number on a bathroom stall just because they need a girlfriend? I don't know, but whoever did needs to get a life. I walked out the stall and onto Art.

---

After school, while traveling to Kane's car- A silver '05 Monte Carlo- I told him about the number on the stall.

He laughed. "Oh, come on, Wendy, you REALLY don't think that the number is real?" I shrugged. To be kinda honest, after I got to Art and Mr. Lamar yelled at me, I thought about that number and truely wished it was real. But I can't let Kane know this. I mean, come on, he's my brother.

"No." I said. "I was just kinda curious, that's all."

"Bathroom stalls for stupid messages are like light for moths. I wouldn't believe it." We climbed in. "Like I said, big sis," Kane continued, starting the car. "Don't believe it. You'll get a boyfriend, don't worry."

"Kane-" I started, but he interrupted.

"You're beautiful, Wendy. And do you know how I know?"

"...No?" I answered. He smiled and backed out of the parking space. "Because I'M beautiful." I laughed.

"Egoistic."

---

Don't ask me why, but I memorized the number.

And I'm calling it.

OK, you're probably asking why. Here goes: I WANT to see if the number's real. So, when Kane and I got home, I went right up to my room and dialed. It rang twice before someone answered.

"Hello?" It was...a geeky boy. Did this kid even go to our school?

"Hello?" I breathed before I could even stop myself. I heard his shriek of triumph.

"IT WORKED!!!!" I held the phone from my ear as he screamed so more about the 'plan' with the girls' bathroom stall worked. He finally came back.

"Sorry about that." He said happily. "So what's your name? Where can I meet you-" What I did next was the only thing I COULD do.

I hung up and slammed my head on the desk, groaning in agony. The number WAS real and I was dumb enough to CALL it!

Shit, shit, shit, shit shit...

I heard Kane by the door. "Oh, Wendy!" I fought to control the shaking of complete idioticy in my voice.

"Yeah?"

"May I borrow your lappy-toppy?"

"Yeah." I closed down my laptop and unhooked it from the wall. Kane was waiting eagerly at the door when I opened it to give it to him.

"Thank you very much, big sis!"

"Yeah..." I don't think he noticed my glazed-over voice as he walked back to his room and I was glad, too.

The last thing I needed was to have my brother find out I called the dreaded 'Bathroom Stall Number'.

NOTE: Zup, my homies? I wrote a new story- spur of the moment. Hope you like.

Black Feather Quill