The Switch

Chapter Four | Gas Station Bathrooms are Gross

I wished my legs were longer. I knew I should be grateful to have legs at all, but looking at my legs in relation to Rachel's, that was the only thing that was running through my mind.

"Do you think this top is modern enough? The fashion is always changing up here." Rachel griped, studying herself in the grimy gas station bathroom mirror.

"I think you should be fine. As long as you bought it last year, no one is really going to notice." I played with my hair, trying to find the style that went best with the halter top I had on. Eventually, I pulled the top section of my hair into a small ponytail and tied a green ribbon around it. "Plus, we can just get some new outfits this year."

Silence fell as we both adjusted our clothes, still getting used to our human bodies. The smell of urine and body spray permeated the air, coming from the stalls behind us. I shuddered. I had forgotten just how dirty humans were.

"This smell is definitely something I didn't miss," I muttered as I pulled lipgloss out of my small black purse. We had already accessed the storage unit, and I was wearing one of my favorite looks for our first night on land.

"Amen, sister," Rachel replied. "You'd think with all their new technology they could at least find a way to get rid of their stink."

I chuckled and ran my fingers through my white-blonde hair, perfecting the flow of the waves.

"Are you almost ready?" I asked Rachel as I applied another coat of light pink lipgloss. I rubbed my lips together to get full coverage and blew myself a kiss in the mirror.

Rachel saw me and shook her head. "Dork," she said with a grin. "Yeah, I'm almost done. I just have to use the restroom."

"Oh God, you're actually going to go in here? Can't you wait until the club?"

"Marina, you know how these bodies work. When you've got to go, you've got to go."

I sighed. "Alright, but enter at your own risk."

Rachel nudged the greasy door open with her sandal and wrinkled her face in disgust. She peered into the dark stall and looked back at me with a pitiful look and I laughed. She sighed and held her breath as she slowly stepped in. I waited as she used the restroom, adjusting my green halter top in the mirror, tucking it into my white lace shorts.

The toilet flushed and the stall door slammed open as Rachel raced to the sink. I chuckled as she layered five pumps of soap onto her hands and vigorously scrubbed.

"That bad, huh?"

She glared at me, but a smile played on her lips. "I don't want to talk about it." She ripped some paper towels out of the dispenser and wiped her hands dry. "I can't wait until I have a fin again. I won't have to worry about those... things," she said, gesturing toward the toilets.

"I agree." I nodded vehemently.

She turned to me, her purse dangling on her shoulder, hands on her hips. "Let's go."

I grabbed my purse and followed Rachel as she opened the greasy bathroom door. We started to walk down the street, the sounds of nightlife echoing around us. Neon lights flashed on the sides of buildings, casting a multitude of shadows over everything in the streets. Cars honked and swerved around each other. I breathed in the smell of the city, of smoke and tar, and smiled at Rachel. She grinned back, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

We were back.

* * *

The club, as always, was overcrowded. Bodies filled almost every inch of space, the smell of sweat, perfume, and alcohol mixing in a euphoric aroma. Finding the others from our group wasn't hard. They practically lit up the entire room with their smiles and bubbly laughter.