9. Early Start
There was a faint ping that could have been anything from a screw hitting the floor to an email hitting a phone. The indistinct sense of sound was the first thing Zandra was aware of, although she was still asleep and that didn't mean much to her. The next thing she noticed was that she needed to get up. But she was still asleep, so she didn't know why she would have to move. She wasn't awake enough to put the facts together yet. Some part of her might have realised that the sound could be a message from Dell; but making the leap from there to the need to pick up her phone was beyond her right now.
The third thing she was aware of was the fact that she was very uncomfortable. It felt like a heavy rod was pressed against her face. It turned out, as the feeling woke her more, to be the hard seam along the edge of her mattress, pressing through the sheets. She must have moved around even more than usual in her sleep, and ended up lying half out of the bed. That seam was right across her face; she could feel her hair waving from side to side as it hung over empty space.
Next, she noticed a feeling of dampness. She was waking up more now, so she was able to track it down to her left arm, which was hanging loosely over the side of the bed. Her fingertips reported both the hardwearing roughness of the bedroom carpet, and that they seemed to be touching a damp patch. Had she spilled a drink as she went to bed? She tried to remember, but the only thing she was sure of right now was that she had fallen asleep long before she intended to. It was quite possible that she had still had a bottle of cider in her hand, not quite empty. That would be the worst case, though; she knew how hard it was to clean the sticky-sweet liquid out of her clothes, and on the carpet she would have had no idea.
She reached out automatically for her phone so she could check the time as she forced her reluctant eyes to open. But from her unfamiliar position she didn't quite judge the direction of the nightstand correctly, and the slightest movement shifted her centre of gravity, almost causing her to tumble right off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Arms and legs flailed in a panic, and this time it was a leg tangled in the blanket that yanked her back and halted her head above the ground. But the sudden movement made her abruptly aware of the clammy cling of her pyjamas and sheets, and a wet spot under her body much larger than the one on the floor.
Zandra's eyes finally shot open as the pieces fell into place. She'd wet the bed again. Heart pounding, she sat up and eventually extricated herself from covers, blinking at the large darkened patch on the mattress and her soaked pyjama pants. She could barely see the puddle beneath her, thanks to the very first traces of sunrise on the distant horizon, but there was no mistaking the clammy feeling and the faint odour of ammonia in the air.
Her heart raced, and she tried to work out what she could do now. Thankfully Sean wasn't here to call for anyone today; she could keep this time secret. She swung her legs out of bed, and reached for the lamp. The situation looked even worse than she had thought; there wasn't just a wet patch in the middle of the sheets, but an actual puddle. It looked like it might have spilled off the side of the bed a little where she had been lying, but thankfully the mark on the carpet was just a faint damp patch that would dry on its own in an hour or less; she just hoped that it wouldn't smell.
After a few minutes of panic, she finally calmed down enough to approach the situation logically. She rushed into the bathroom and peeled off her soaked pyjama bottoms. She threw them into the bottom of the shower, so they wouldn't continue to drip on the floor. That was the benefit of having the attic room; her parents had added an _en suite_ bathroom up here when the extra room had been added, so in exchange for climbing twice as many stairs, it meant that she had a lot more potential for privacy compared to her brother. It was a trade-off that she'd never been more glad for.
She grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes that she normally used to scrub the inside of the shower clean, and used them to wipe down her wet hand, and then her legs. Those things probably weren't good for her skin, but anyone sniffing her would only smell lemons. It would let her keep her secret until she had time to shower properly. She took a deep breath, and stepped back into the main part of her room. There was a puddle on the bed. She couldn't deny it. She didn't know what to do, but she knew that she would have to improvise. She grabbed her favourite bath towels; the thick, fluffy ones that were big enough to cover her whole body. Spread out on the bed, she was sure they would have enough absorbency to make quick work of her little accident. Then she pulled on some different pyjamas so that she would look vaguely normal if it turned out anyone else was awake, and a robe.
By then it looked like the puddle had been absorbed. She hated that she'd had to do that, but she would have hated it more if anyone else found out that she had wet the bed. She pulled up the fitted sheets at the corners, and then pulled them over the top of the pile of blankets, pillows, and towels. She bundled it all up, and then all she could see on the mattress protector was a slightly damp sheen. So she tossed the blankets as one bundle into her laundry hamper, which she was pretty sure was likely to be kind of waterproof. Then she carried the whole thing downstairs, and dumped its contents into the machine. She took a deep breath, put two detergent capsules in the machine as the manufacturers recommended for heavy soiling, thought for a moment, and added a third. She pressed the buttons as fast as she could; selecting a short but hot wash. And then she added the jasmine fabric conditioner; one that the family rarely used because its scent was so strong, and set the machine to give an extra rinse at the end of the cycle. The timer on the display suggested that it would be running for fifty-three minutes, which would at least mean that she couldn't be accused of getting in the way at breakfast time.
Once the machine was spinning, she rushed back upstairs. She had two things to do now; a shower so that she would actually feel clean, and her homework. She had noticed when she was dashing past her desk that the work she'd intended to do last night was still there, and she was pretty sure that it was due today. She had to check that it was actually finished and put it away. And if it turned out not to be ready, then she would have no option but rushing to complete the exercise over breakfast; or even trying to do it on the bus to school.
"Shower first," she muttered. No matter how important the school work was, she knew that she couldn't stand a day where she kept on imagining the lingering odour of urine clinging to her skin. An immediate shower was essential for her mental health.
Zandra stood in the shower and ran the water so hot that her skin turned pink. She squeezed some soap onto her hands and lathered it over her body until she might have looked like a snowman, save for the little strip where the water was running down her legs to carry it all away. She stepped back under the shower head, and massaged her body as she rinsed the soap away. And then she poured a new dose of soap, just to focus on her butt and thighs. She knew it was probably redundant, but that didn't seem to matter to her subconscious mind. She needed to feel clean again, and she needed to be certain.
Finally, she could let herself relax. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in one of the coarse green towels that had been her last Christmas gift from Jay. She could probably have dried herself quickly, but she reasoned that if she just sat at her desk like that, she could start on her homework immediately, and she was guaranteed to be dry by the time everybody else was ready for breakfast in any case.
She managed to complete the homework exercise she had been working on, in any case. There was still more work to be done, but she glanced at her clock when she finished and realised that Jay's alarm would be going off sometime in the next ten minutes. She'd been annoyed in the past to be woken by a faint beep-beep-beep drifting up through the floor, but at least now it meant that she knew she had a little leeway. She went back into the bathroom and pulled out the surface wipes again, and took them through to get the last traces of pee off the mattress protector. She didn't know what she would have done if that hadn't been there. Once those wipes were in the bin and the bed smelled only of lemons, she crouched down to check the damp patch on the carpet. She didn't know what to do about that; even if she could work out how to wash it, surely she would just end up making a larger wet patch, which would take longer to dry. She knelt down and sniffed, and there was no tell-tale scent. So she could only hope that by the time it dried nobody would know.
She glanced at her clock again, shocked by how long the last couple of steps had taken. She ran back downstairs, glad to hear no signs of life from Jay's room, and quickly pulled her sheets and pyjamas out of the washing machine. Setting it to the hot option for drying turned out to have been the right option, because there was no sign of dampness, and she didn't see a hint that anything had shrunk either. She took a deep breath and dashed back upstairs.
She wasn't quite sure that the blankets were dry. But they were close enough; they weren't visibly wet. And once she stretched everything back over her bed, she was sure that everything would have dried off before she came home.
She had done it. It seemed impossible, but she had managed to clean up after herself without anyone ever knowing. Her mind was flooded with pride, and Zandra could sit down to continue working on her outstanding homework without any more worries. At least for ten minutes, when she heard the sound of conversation drifting up the stairs. A few minutes later the alarm on her phone sounded, and she knew that she would have to join them for breakfast sooner or later. Putting it off just made it more likely that one or more of her family members would guess something was amiss and come to check on her. And that was the last thing she wanted.
"Morning, baby sis," Jay greeted her before she was even through the door into the kitchen.
"Stop it," Zandra snapped. "I'm not a baby, and that's not funny anymore."
"Oh, I don't know," Jay answered with a cheeky grin. "Seems pretty funny to me. And I think it's a big sign of being a baby when somebody can't manage to keep her sheets dry. Princess Puddlebut, maybe I should call you? If you don't like Baby Zan."
"Shush," Mum said. "That's not a nice thing to say. You should try demonstrating a little maturity sometimes, Jay."
"What? I'm not the one who–"
"Who _what?_" Dad cut in, breaking his characteristic silence over his bran flakes. "It what you say is a lie, then it is the most childish form of insult, and I would think that you would know better. And should there be a grain of truth to it, then it would imply that she is capable of taking whatever measures are necessary to deal with her problem without disturbing the peace of the family breakfast table. Which shows a great deal of maturity. Much more than a bully who would bring up such a distasteful subject without any clear need."
"Hey, I just thought you should know she's not grown up yet. Such a little baby, it's just lucky the government decided she should still be in–"
"Jay," Dad said, and the word commanded silence immediately. "You seem to be operating under a misapprehension. Allow me to clarify. Someone who wets the bed is either undeveloped or has a medical problem. Possibly both. Someone who spreads rumours about such a problem, regardless of truth, is a spiteful little whiner. There is no case in which that is a sign of maturity. I thought you were supposed to be a man now. I have let your behaviour slide in recent days because you are a young man who has started his own career and made his own way in the world. But I have to tell you that if I see anything to tell me you are not actually the man I thought you were, then I would have no problem treating you as an immature child again."
He stopped, and picked up his tea. A second later he was back to enjoying his breakfast in silence, supremely confident in the knowledge that his son wouldn't dare to deny that pronouncement.
Zandra returned to her food as well, and tried to keep herself from blushing too obviously. She was pretty confident that Dad already knew she had wet the bed recently. He'e never been there, but Mum would probably have told him no matter how much Zandra begged to keep it their secret. But he hadn't actually said that; he'd made it clear that he didn't see it as his business. So long as she managed to keep it to herself, Dad wouldn't say anything or judge her. Just like when his apprentice Bryan had been incapacitated by migraines. Dad had told them all about it, like it was some kind of morality tale. Bryan had gone to the doctor, got medication, and then scheduled some overtime or asked colleagues to help him ensure that all his work was done before the deadlines. To Dad, this was the height of responsibility. He would never pick a man who had been lucky enough to avoid illness over one who had shown a determination to ensure his own issues didn't become problems for the team.
She could breathe a little easier now, but she knew that she was still on thin ice. Because if Jay said the same things to her friends, they wouldn't have the same weird moral code to ensure they still respected her. She didn't know what they would think, but she was sure that they would laugh at her, even if they didn't really want to hurt her. And she knew that her dad's support would last only as long as she was actually dealing with the problem. The instant she slipped up – and she knew herself well enough that if she was honest, she knew it would happen sooner or later – it would be his problem again, and he would think nothing about laying down the law.
A sigh of relief; that was the only emotion she could find now. But Jay's comments meant that she was as sure as ever that he needed a judicious application of revenge.