Just Stupid! (2 page)

   ‘How many times do I have to say it?’ I say. ‘I don’t want—or need—a pencil. What I need is a toilet. I’m busting!’

   His shoulders drop. He sighs heavily. He looks like he’s going to cry. If he’s trying to make me feel bad then he’s succeeding.

   ‘Okay,’ I say, fumbling for change. ‘I’ll have a pencil.’

   I can’t find a twenty-cent piece. All I can find is a two dollar coin.

   ‘Have you got change?’ I say.

   ‘No,’ he says. ‘You’re the first one to buy a pencil today.’

   ‘Keep the change then,’ I say

   ‘No, that wouldn’t be right,’ he says. ‘I’m not looking for charity.’

   ‘Fine,’ I say, ‘give me ten pencils!’

   He counts the pencils out really slowly, one by one. He makes a mistake and has to start again. I’m shifting from foot to foot.

   Finally he hands the pencils to me.

   ‘Have a great day,’ he says.

   ‘I will if I don’t bust,’ I say. I run off before he figures out another way to waste my time.

   I’m running as fast as I can, but I’m not sure where to. I have no idea where the toilets are. This shopping centre is too big.

There are too many levels. Too many people getting in my way. I want to scream.

   I trip and stumble. I look down. My shoelaces have come undone. I hate my shoelaces. It doesn’t matter how well I tie them up, they just keep coming undone. I can’t ignore them, either, because they’re extra long laces. Now I have to stop and waste valuable toilet-searching seconds doing them up.

   I kneel down. It’s not easy. It’s putting pressure on a part of my body that’s already under too much strain. I grab the laces and pull them tight. I loop them around each other. Then I loop the loops together and pull them tight as well. That should hold it. At least for a little while. I do the other shoe. I try to stand up. It hurts even more than kneeling down. I don’t have much time.

   Suddenly, hanging overhead, I find the sign I’ve been looking for. A picture of a man, a woman, a wheelchair and an arrow pointing to the left. I turn and sprint down a little corridor. I can see the toilets up ahead of me.

   Oh no. I don’t believe it. There’s a yellow plastic pyramid outside the toilet.

   Closed for cleaning!

   Of all the times to clean a toilet, why now? Why not at night when there’s nobody here?

   Should I try to find another toilet or just wait?

   I’ll wait.

   But I’m busting.

   I can’t wait.

   But I can’t not wait.

   I have to go. Right now.

   Why does life have to be so difficult?

   Hang on! The handicapped toilet is not closed.

   Can you go to jail for using a handicapped person’s toilet when you’re not really handicapped? Surely not. I’m sure nobody would mind. I’m busting so bad I’m practically handicapped anyway.

   I hobble up to the door and push it open. It’s vacant. I want to go in but something is stopping me. It would be so easy to just slip in here, and yet, so wrong.

   If I get away with using this toilet, who’s to say where or when it will stop? I could be taking the first step towards a life of crime. Today the handicapped toilets—tomorrow I’ll be leaving my bike in the spaces reserved for handicapped drivers and walking up disabled access ramps instead of taking the stairs.

   I can’t do it. I let go of the door. I might be busting, but I’m not a criminal.

   ‘Hey!’ yells a voice. ‘You can’t use that toilet! You’re not handicapped!’

   I turn around. Oh no. It’s the old guy with the walking frame. He’s hobbling up the corridor towards me.

   ‘I’m not going to use it,’ I say, backing away from the door.

   ‘Then why did you have the door open?’ he says.

   ‘Well, I
was
going to use it but . . .’

   ‘A-ha! I thought so,’ he says. ‘Tearing around the supermarket and knocking people over. Using the handicapped people’s toilets and stopping the truly handicapped from using them. You’re a menace to society. I’m going to call a security guard!’

   ‘No!’ I say. ‘I’m not a menace—I’m just busting!’

   But the old man is not listening.

   ‘Help! Guards! Arrest this boy!’

   He’s crazy. I’ve got to get out of here. He’s creating such a racket you’d think he was being murdered or something.

   I run down the corridor and back into the shopping centre. I’m not sure where I’m going. I need to find a location map.

   I pass a shop with an enormous poster of a river in the front window. It’s an ad for a video called
Great Rivers of the World
. If I don’t find a toilet fast there’ll be one more great river in the world. Right here in the shopping centre.

   I can’t hold out much longer. I can hear splashing. Uh-oh. I look down.

   No, it’s not coming from me. That’s a relief. Well, sort of.

   I look around. It’s coming from the indoor fountain. There are about fifty thousand jets of water spraying in every direction. The sound of all that water is excruciating, but it does give me an idea. Maybe I could go in the fountain. I could get in, stand in the middle and pretend to be a statue. I could squirt water out of my mouth at the same time. Nobody will even realise.

   But hang on! In front of the fountain is a map of the shopping centre. Fantastic!

   I hobble over to the map. Hmmm. There are about half a million shops spread across three levels. So there are actually three maps. Lower, middle and upper with letters and numbers around the border of each one. It’s very complicated.

   And the sound of all that splashing is not making it any easier to concentrate. Whose idea was it to put a fountain inside a shopping centre anyway? I’d like to find that person and tell them they made a big mistake. And I’d like to find the person who made the shopping centre. I think they made the biggest mistake of all.

   This shopping centre is way too big. I mean do we really need button shops? Or shops that sell nothing except stuff made out of cane? And as if there aren’t already more than enough shops to buy gifts in, some genius comes up with the idea of a gift shop. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing more stupid than a gift shop is a shop that sells nothing but cat ornaments—and there’s one of those here as well.