“I knew you were bad at math, but I didn’t think you were so bad that you got your own age wrong!” Ms. Franco taunts. Leah cowers. “Or maybe they decided to group you with children of the same intelligence.” Ms. Franco points at a little boy with a visible diaper bulge. “In fact, I think he might be smarter than you!” As they watch, the little boy squats and grunts a few times. When he straightens, his diaper sags under him and Leah can smell the poop from where she’s standing.
“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” Leah asks quietly. Ms. Franco laughs.
“No! They would send you to the teen camp and all my fun would be ruined. It’s much better to watch you pretend to be a toddler, knowing you’re actually a high schooler.” Ms. Franco laughs again. “I’m going to enjoy changing your diapers and cutting up your dinners for you.”
“I’m not wearing a diaper, I’m wearing training pants,” Leah corrects. Ms. Franco erupts with uproarious laughter.
“Why did you say that like it’s some sort of ‘gotcha’ moment? Training pants are a little bit better, but still very bad – and very hilarious – for a teenager to be wearing.” Leah blushes. “I was worried chaperoning for camp would be as boring as it is every year, but I’m so glad that’s not the case.” Still laughing, Ms. Franco walks away.
Leah looks at the ground with a frown, trying to think of a way to avoid being laughed at by her cruel algebra teacher the entire time she’s at camp.