Curtain? What curtain? Your eyes grow wide as you absentmindedly close a stall door behind you. Walking up to the line of sinks, you see your perky blond reflection in the mirror, but not quite as far down as your slender shoulders. Simultaneously you realize that you must raise you arms up to the level of your head if you want to rinse your hands at the sinks, though you decide after taking a few steps back that you absolutely love this new costume, even if you no longer remember exactly how you got it.
You step forward--to go and wash your hands of course-and feel the edges of some slight concern. It doesn't feel exactly right, being a little girl standing in the middle of the boys' restroom, now does it?
You start to squirm, becoming unsure of what to do, finally reaching reluctantly upwards, your fingertips brushing against the antennae headband in order to pull it off, but then...