Chapter 2

Before Sally-Jean’s shrill cry even began to wane, I could see Miss Wanger and Miss Constance begin their run into the bathroom. From my desk, I could see right up the right-hand row of desks mine was in and into the bathroom portal. Miss Constance was second in and made the direct left turn into the boy’s side as Miss Wanger dashed down the girls side.

I could see Miss Constance run down the length of the three boy’s stalls, leaning into each one to find anyone who might be hiding there. I could also see Miss Wanger dashing down to the stall where Sally-Jean was still sitting, now crying her eyes out. Shuddering, she looked up to Miss Wanger. Then gulping a few stacatto breaths before wondering, “Why would a boy do that?”

Miss Constance looked over the head-height wall and softly told the pair, shaking her head, “There’s no one here.” Then in “Kilroy Style” settled against the wall with the fingers of her hands grasping over the top of the wall with little more than her nose and the top of her head showing.

It was then Miss Wanger knelt down in the stall before befroe the upset girl, handed her a wad of toilet paper and encouraged her to wipe herself,. Sally-Jean, her hand filled with the ball of paper, reached under her dress and quickly came out without the paper.

I chuckled to myself as she stood up in front of Miss Wanger revealing an interesting thing. Sally-Jean was color coordinated throughout. Around her ankles were her panties and they were yellow like her jumper and light sweater. My attention was brought there as Miss Wanger helped Sally-Jean work them up under her dress. Finishing the job herself, Sally-Jean did a little twist of a squat, resting her floral panties into a comfortable position.

Sally-Jean repeated the question as Miss Wanger took another wad of toilet paper and wiped the tears that had marked her face. “Why would a boy do that?” she asked her teacher.

Now I know I could have answered that one all by myself for her but I don’t think that my input would have been appreciated right then, right there. ‘Just simple curiosity,’ I silently offered to myself.

I’d been aware and been told many times, boys were different than girls, but little information was ever passed along with that truisim. In pre-school, there had been a mix of boys and girls from babies up to the pre-kindergarten age of 5. Accidents happened frequently to those who were new to toilet training. Hence, as accidents were cleaned up, personal privacy wasn’t as important as changing out the soiled clothing.

I’d never really thought much about the hidden differences between boys and girls, just that under clothing is where those differences lay concealed. I can’t say at what age I made that connection that boys and girls were very, very, different. I remember seeing a young boy after messing up with his little package like mine, right there and up-front. It was all, right there, in plain sight. At other times I remember seeing a little girl being cleaned up and on the other hand, there was nothing to see. There was just not a thing there to see at all.

I remember once asking my mother at bedtime, I guess sometime around when I was 4, why girls didn’t have anything down there between their legs where my Pee-Pee was. “It’s just hidden, that’s all” was her answer.

I’d wanted to ask her how, then, did girl’s pee, but before I could ask, she’d given me a bedtime goodnight kiss and patted my head as she’d tucked me in. “Night honey” she said as she turned off my bedroom light and left, leaving my doorway opened a crack letting in just a little slice of light.

I remembered my unasked question was not answered, even by my ever so brief try, to spy on Sally-Jean. As I pondered why girls had to sit down, while boys could stand up to pee, Miss Wanger, with her arm nestling comfort around her shoiulders, brought Sally-Jean back to her seat a few desks up and a row over from mine.

Now I had no intention to upset Sally-Jean with my surprise peeking incident. Inwardly I was sorry that I’d caused her such grief but I just didn’t understand it at all. Especially, why a girl would be so upset that someone had watched her pee.

There were many times a group of us would be playing and if a boy needed to pee, me included, we’d step off a bit, let it all hang out and pee. That was also true for us boys, even if there were girls in our play group. We’d just step off and take a pee usually picking a tree or other object to aim at.

On the other hand, if girls were in our group and they needed to take a pee, they’d dash off home to use a bathroom. I was just a little confused as to why they needed to do that but definitely understood that for whatever reason, girls were different and wanted their privacy.

As the thought formulated deep in my psyche about how I’d accomplished floating up that bathroom wall, Miss Wanger started out a little speech, “I don’t know who it was that was peaking over the bathroom wall but I don’t want that to happen again.”

After a short pause she added firmly, “Does everyone understand that?”

Softly the class echoed back, “Yes, Miss Wanger.”

I continued to sit at my desk, with my pencil in hand, trying to look like I was filling out our writing assignment. Rapidly changing the subject, Miss Wanger asked the class to raise their hands if they’d finished, to see if everyone had completed the writing assignment. A few of my classmates hadn’t finished and Miss Wanger smiled, saying that was OK and they had time to finish as she and Miss Constance were going to check out the paper of those who’d already finished.

It was Miss Constance who checked my row and as she passed down the row of desks she’d smile at each kid and say, “Good work.” By the time she reached my desk I’d figured no one had seen me dart around the bathroom and classroom so I was safe after my escapade.

I got the same verbal reward as she’d given the others but when she added just for me, “That’s real good Billy,” I knew, for some reason, nobody suspected it was me who’d been the spy. That was confirmed during playground time later in the morning. I’d seen a couple of girls standing with Sally-Jean off to the side of the playground. Wondering what they were talking about, I put my hands up to cup my ears and listened hard.