She doesn’t snag her skirt; I do.

It was at that moment that the bell rang.

“Ah damn,” Naomi said, “we’re late. Come on!” Naomi motioned for me to follow as she took off down the hallway, just fast enough to slow down in time in case a teacher caught her running.

“Hold on a second!” I shouted after her, hurriedly stuffing the last of my things in my bag and zipping it up. She had nearly rounded the corner to the next hallway, and I put on a burst of speed to follow her.

As it turned out, the tile floors one sees in a school have the potential to be rather slippery, especially if recently waxed, as they would have been over a weekend. As I caught up to her, I put my foot forward to try and slow myself, but just kept going. Seeing what was happening, Naomi turned and stuck an arm out to keep me from falling backwards, but it wasn’t her hand I wound up grabbing...

ssssssshhripppppp!

“Ed! What the hell!?” As I lay there on my back, dazed from a moment of impact, I looked up and saw Naomi standing over me, long dark legs leading up to just a strip of white fabric covering the space between her legs. Her skirt, torn almost clean in half but for a few black strings, was firmly in my hand.

“Uh... whoops?”