During December of last year, I was having a sleepover with my friends and my twin sister, Sola. Instead of having dinner at my friend’s house, we decided to go out to eat at Mariachi, a Mexican restaurant. On the way there, we were all laughing and talking about random subjects. When we passed The Tilted Kilt, a restaurant, we began talking about that. I didn’t know what it was, so my friend Olivia explained. She kindly told me, “Sophie, The Tilted Kilt is one of those restaurants where people wear short skirts, short shorts, and that kind of clothing, except in that restaurant, it’s kilt themed.” I quickly told her that I understood, and we switched topics. Soon we reached the restaurant, a small rundown building on the side of the road. It didn’t look like it would have
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Susan dried her hands and began to throw the paper towel away, but paused. “Looks like the trash can is full,” she said. To solve this problem she positioned her foot over the open lid of the trash can and brought it down, hard, several times. I was shocked. She was stomping down the trash so that she could throw a paper towel away! I backed away from the door as she exited, and, when she opened the door to leave, she made eye contact with me. I swore that she winked at me on her way out. During this exchange, Olivia was still in the bathroom stall. What was taking her so long? The other lady came out of the stall. She had shoulder length wispy blonde hair and was very tall. I decided to call her Romilda. Romilda took a few minutes touching up her makeup, then turned to face me. “So,” she said sweetly, “how old are you?” I had been taught not to talk to strangers, especially not creepy ladies in the public restrooms, and I knew you weren’t supposed to tell people your name or age. I stuttered, “I-I dunno.” “Well,” she replied, “are you thirteen? Fourteen?”
“Sure.”
I was twelve.
“Are you going to go in?” she asked, gesturing at the empty
Susan dried her hands and began to throw the paper towel away, but paused. “Looks like the trash can is full,” she said. To solve this problem she positioned her foot over the open lid of the trash can and brought it down, hard, several times. I was shocked. She was stomping down the trash so that she could throw a paper towel away! I backed away from the door as she exited, and, when she opened the door to leave, she made eye contact with me. I swore that she winked at me on her way out. During this exchange, Olivia was still in the bathroom stall. What was taking her so long? The other lady came out of the stall. She had shoulder length wispy blonde hair and was very tall. I decided to call her Romilda. Romilda took a few minutes touching up her makeup, then turned to face me. “So,” she said sweetly, “how old are you?” I had been taught not to talk to strangers, especially not creepy ladies in the public restrooms, and I knew you weren’t supposed to tell people your name or age. I stuttered, “I-I dunno.” “Well,” she replied, “are you thirteen? Fourteen?”
“Sure.”
I was twelve.
“Are you going to go in?” she asked, gesturing at the empty