In Pursuit of Something, Though What It Is Eludes Her Mind (end)

The boy noticed me. Though how much thought he placed into that I'll never know. 

He stole a glance at the telephone pole and waved a hasty hand at Mr. Hanma, to which he nodded solemnly.

He went in - or rather -  he hurried through the gates and into the school grounds proper. 

So it wasn't my position as a girl that was jeopardized: it seemed as if I were a human repellant moonlighting as a human being.

Was my bed hair that repulsive? I'll never- 

I'll find out soon enough.

I raced after him, only after lending Mr. Hanma another perfunctory wave of the hand. He bopped his head and resumed sweeping through the gutters. 

While he was hurrying along, he ceased his steps to spot me from afar. 

He ran.

He pushed through the double doors that lead you to the inside.

The double door that gave into the school swayed, and I had to muscle through it to fall in pace with him.

The doors rebounded on either side of the entrance wall. I've surmised that if I were to put more force into it, they would star and shatter.

I apologized to the double doors post-haste - they weren't called glass for nothing - then raced after the fleeing boy: my quarry. 

He's not as thin as a whisper, nor is he rotund. As I said: the perfect quarry to pursue.

Literally.

I turned a sharp right to the locker rooms, bumping into shoes that I rearranged hastily, and after I jerked my head broadside, I picked out a blur of someone skittering away.

He turned left. 

I did likewise.

He was heading for the bathroom.

The men's bathroom.

That feeling. The feeling that drove me to stuff a finger in my fanny, the overwhelming feeling that compelled me to scale the bathroom window.

It swept over me full force.

I charged at the bathroom door, an inorexable boulder smashing through the castle wall.

And that makeshift boulder smashed through the door. Though nothing of value was damaged. The wooden frame didn't splinter, nor was the scummy knob broken. 

But I think I displaced a shoulder bone. 

They  walk it off. I'll follow the example. 

I huffed out a breath and steadied myself. I've never realized how much damage doors could do.  

And standing before me with his back to the stalls was the boy from before. 

No sooner did I open my mouth than he cowered behind one of the swinging stall doors.

"W-wh- what are you doing?" I said. I seemed to adopt the tone mothers use to lull their children to sleep.

"What are you doing?" he shot back. "You fu- you ran after me, dude! Is that not an excuse to run away?"

"We-well," I said, dumbfounded. "I ran because you ran. And I- I ran even faster cause' you picked up quite the speed."

"And I ran because you ran. I didn't even run in the first place! You were trailing me from behind. That is enough reason for me to do so. Now let me hear yours, or I'm calling a teacher. I'll do it now if I have to."

"Fair enough." I feigned a cough. This is it. I said three full sentences, I could do with four more. But more than that I'm jumping out the window again.

"What am I?" I inquired, with as much stateliness as I could muster.

"What are you? No, I mean it. What are you?  Please don't kill me, please don't. You're one of the otaku killer types, aren't you?  I don't wanna die to someone who jacks off to anime, please, please, God, please bestow upon me divine providence!"

"W-what, no. I don't j-jerk off,"  To anime. "That's awfully rude."

"Yeah, right. Don't tell me you don't. I know you do."

I do. But the methods to go about them are a different matter.

"And that's an educational guess?" I asked earnestly.

"W-well. Are you impotent, or something? I could look at someone and figure if they do the deed or not."

"And I do?"

"Yes. You do it on weekends."

Square on. This guy is something else. "Guesswork?"

"Most of the time, but usually I take a look at their palms, and I take their..."

He issued a series of coughs from behind the stall.

Oh right. "A-ah, quite. So, um. I- I- wanted to ask you something."

He peeked his head out a bit farther, then narrowed his eyes. "Shoot."

The million-dollar question: "Am I a girl?"

He raised both eyebrows, though his eyes were still narrowed.

"Are you?"

"Am I?"

"I suppose you're not a trann-'

"He-hey, don't say that!"

"Say what?"

"You know the word. That word."

"Why?" he asked with no hint of derision.

"Bec-because it's offensive." 

"To whom?"

"To-to," I thought about this for a beat. "Well, to me, of course. Don't say it to my fa-face unless you want-wanna' be..."

He sighed.  Then took a step outside. "Look, man. The assembly's about to start, and I have a lot of places to be, so if you would be so kind as to scoot over-"

I pulled down my pants.