“I didn’t- I-” Leah tries. She wants desperately to explain herself, but is too humiliated. “I’m really a teenager.”
“You are dressed like one, and talk like one,” the daycare worker says. She eyes the wet spot on the front of Leah’s jeans. Leah blushes. “But you need some protection if you’re going to have accidents.”
“It was an accident!”
“That’s what I just said. Wait here.” The daycare worker leaves, then returns. She hands a new pair of pants and a diaper to Leah. “Here, put these on.” The jeans were probably made for a toddler, but don’t really look any different to what she has on right now. It’s the diaper that Leah’s not happy about.
“I’m not wearing a diaper.”
“Those are the rules, even for visitors and workers. Anyone who has an accident needs protection,” the daycare worker says, sounding bored with the conversation. “Either you put the diaper on yourself or I put it on you.”
“…Fine,” Leah mumbles. She ducks into the bathroom, where she removes her wet pants and underwear, wipes herself as clean as she can, and clumsily tapes on the diaper. The thickness of the diaper makes it difficult to put the pants on, but she manages. She shudders at the sight of the bulge around her waist.
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” the daycare worker says when Leah emerges. Before Leah can say anything, she leaves. Leah stands there, feeling more embarrassed by the second. She can’t do this. She can’t be dressed like this, rules or not.