Wallflower Blush hoped that when morning came, a cleaning lady would find her and help her out. But when the rays of light finally illuminated the gym, all the doors on the tribunes opened and the students started pouring in.
“Somebody, please help me out of these pantyhoses!”
The students, many of whom she knew, reacted as if by instinct. Almost in no time at all, there were just as many cell phones in the air as there were students. The glaring devices with their devious red lights were all pointed at her.
She begged and twirled and cried, but they all just stared at her from the tribunes as if she were a victim about to be thrown to the lions at the Colosseum.
The entire school filled the tribunes before Celestia finally came to open up the event. She walked to the mess on the floor and helped her on the slippery feet.
“Thank you,” Wallflower said, glad that her ordeal was finally over. At least that’s what she thought.
“You can’t be here, missy!” Celestia scolded her. “Go back to the tribunes.” With a hand, she pointed at the stairs.
Still stuck in the many layers of pantyhoses, Wallflower Blush ascended the stairs as best she could.
When she came face to face with her schoolmates, she yelled, “Does anybody have scissors?”
Only red lights drew closer in response.
“Aaa!” she pushed through the crowd for what it seemed like an eternity since the exit door was on the very edge of the tribune. They saw her. She hoped she’d get free before the event so that nobody would see her like that, but the exact opposite had happened.
Alas, not all saw her. Not yet. There were still some stragglers running the hallways of the school.
They all stopped and stared at her as she passed them in the hallways.
Wallflower kept looking at the floor, trying to avoid the painful gazes. She would have covered her face with her palms if they weren’t still stuck in the many layers of pantyhoses.
But when she came out of school, her ordeal was not yet over. She still had to get home. Yet she couldn’t pay for a bus without money or hands. Nor could she call a taxi.
She sighed and walked in a direct route to her home through the main street of her town.
It was still morning and people were going to their workplaces.
She didn’t have to look at them because she already knew. The cars slowed down to a crawl when they drove past her. The chatter of the bystanders suddenly cut to silence.
They were all staring at her.
It was a long walk, and the sun didn’t help. She would have been sweating in the many layers of pantyhoses even if it was winter, but it was summer.
She craved water, but at the same time had trouble holding liquid inside. The irony of her predicament escaped her. Her bladder was full, and it being squeezed from all sides with tremendous pressure didn’t help at all. The mind was in turmoil almost as much as her body. Behind her was a sleepless night full of struggle and strife.
But the clarity of her situation dawned on her as bright as a nuclear explosion when she bumped her head on the locked door of her house. The fact was as clear as the skies above her: she forgot the keys to her house in the pants she left in the gym - on the opposite end of town.
It was time to backtrack.
She had to pass all the people who stared at her before and new ones as well.
The hallways in school were the easier part since they were mostly empty. The exact opposite was true with the tribunes that were packed.
Again she was greeted by the piercing red lights.
And when she walked the stairs to the gym floor, the band suddenly stopped playing.
In the silence, in front of the whole school, she walked to her stuff on the floor. She dropped to her knees and booped for keys in the pocket of her pants.
All the while, she had to be careful not to fall forward, because if that happened, she wouldn’t be able to get up again.
After many failed attempts, she finally managed to snatch at the keys with her teeth.
She couldn’t get up without risking falling in the slippery pantyhoses. Instead, she crawled on her knees across the floor of the gym to the nearest wall.
Hitting against the wall with her head again and again, she helped herself to climb up as if she were a growing wallflower.
And once more, the long journey past her schoolmates on the tribunes and the heart-piercing red lights.
Like a déjà vu, roaming through the main street past the watchful crowds to the door of her house.
Her bladder felt like it was about to burst. Yet the key didn’t want to align with the keyhole even after a dozen tries.
And when it finally did, it was time to rotate it.
It was then that she realized that it would be impossible for her to turn the key. Between the door handle and the wall, there was simply not enough space for her big head to grasp the key firmly with her mouth.
She banged her head against the door in utter defeat.
“Excuse me, miss,” came a sound from behind her. “Are you the one they call Pantyhose Warrior?”