Chapter 15 by Jobs

What's next?

Dash into the janitors closet

Katie’s eyes locked onto the dark rectangle of the open janitor's closet door just as the first wave of morning students rounded the far corner. It was salvation—a small, musty cave offering immediate cover from the hundred or so sets of eyes about to flood the hall. It was also the locker room's worst-case scenario: a janitor's closet. This meant ammonia, mops, buckets, and—most terrifyingly—the chance of running straight into Mr. Henderson, the custodian who never seemed to take a break.

With a final, **** surge of adrenaline, she launched herself toward the opening. Her bare foot caught the rubber lip of a discarded floor mat just inside the doorway, sending her careening forward. She didn't just walk in; she performed a spectacular, flailing belly-flop across the threshold. Instead of landing gracefully on the cool tile, however, she landed directly in something.

SPLOOSH.

She landed face-first in a bucket—a half-full bucket, thankfully, but still containing murky, slightly soapy water used for mopping. The bucket tipped, water splashed out, and she ended up crouched awkwardly on the floor, her head and shoulders momentarily submerged. The mop handle, a heavy, wet, stringy nightmare, bounced off her ear as she thrashed.

She hauled her drenched, shivering body the rest of the way into the dark closet, slamming the flimsy door shut just as the first cluster of loud, laughing students strode past her hiding place, completely unaware of the naked, mop-water-soaked catastrophe lurking three feet away.

Katie remained there, frozen and gasping, her lungs full of panic and the sickly-sweet scent of industrial floor cleaner. She was hidden, but now she was not just wet; she was coated in used mop water, shivering violently, and holding her breath to avoid making a sound as the hallway filled with the confident thud of normal, fully-clothed people heading to class.