Fake

At lunch the next day with a trash bin of saxophone player spittle at her feet, she recognized the voice of a conversation that had begun to take place loudly over Chris’ drumming.

“She filled the water bottles with toilet water!” Somebody said.

“I got so sick dude.” Another said.

“GET OUT!” Somebody said obnoxiously to Chris. “We booked this room to practice for the talent show.”

“Dude, that’s Chris he doesn’t talk.” Somebody else said.

This group of jerricks didn’t book this room today, Bugatti thought, she wouldn’t have to squeeze her eyes shut tight and imagine Andy’s angel voice while scrubbing tarnished trumpets if this room had been booked! “VAMANOS!” Bugatti hollered.

“Oh dang its toilet girl.” Jon said.

“Oh look its sidelines guy, the one that made the team by drinking toilet water and watching everyone else do drills.” Bugatti said. Shots fired.

“I got SO sick last night from your crappy water.” Jon said.

“Toilets are cleaner than dogs mouths.” Bugatti trolled.

That’s when the bass player started woofing at Bugatti.

Bugatti woofed back. Chris began laughing.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out of here?” The bass player said to Chris.

“He doesn’t talk.” John and Bugatti said at the same time.

“You didn’t book this room. Get out, it’s booked practice time only and none of you are allowed in here.” Bugatti raised her voice and pointed at the door. They left the room woofing.

The woofing would continue every time she walked down the hallway or entered a room they were in for the next week. They also started calling her Toilet Girl.

Notes

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