I painted like a dog as I raced into the doctor's office. I was going to be late! For some reason, my appointment was on the fourth floor not even half an hour after school ended. I got into the elevator just as the door closed and pressed the button. There was a boy about my age standing quietly in the corner. He had his hands in his pockets and was shuffling his feet around a bit with his eyes closed. I figured he was afraid of elevators or something.

Suddenly, the light went off and the elevator stopped. The light came back on after a few seconds, but the elevator didn't move. The boy had a panicked expression on his face. I walked toward the emergency phone and called the lobby. I told the receptionist about the issue then listened as she spoke.

When I hung up, the boy in the corner finally said something. "What happened? How long is it gonna take 'em to fix it?"

"She said an hour or two at the latest," I answered. He groaned. "Are you alright?" I asked him.

"Y-yeah, fine." He didn't sound fine.

"Okay? Uh, my name's Jack, what's yours?"

"David," he replied simply, and squeezed his eyes shut again. He shifted his weight once more. I just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Probably just scared of elevators like I thought, or claustrophobic. He crossed his legs and winced. Weird. Then it hit me: he needed to pee.

"Do you, uh, need to go to the bathroom?" I asked him, kicking myself for it before it was even all out of my mouth.

His eyes widened. "None of your business," he mumbled. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. I shrugged.

A few minutes later, I was growing genuinely concerned. Watching his obvious struggling, I asked, "How bad is it?"

"I said it's none of your- ah!" He crossed his legs tightly and cringed hard.

I didn't mean to pry, but I wanted to make sure he was okay. "How long have you needed to...?"

"Since right after lunch at school," he admitted sheepishly. He bent his knees and leaned forward for a second.

Now it was my turn to widen my eyes. That was almost two and a half hours ago. He took a deep breath. His hands lingered around his crotch. "H-how... how long have we been here?"

I looked at my cell. "'Bout ten minutes." He groaned. I cocked my head and asked, "Are you gonna be okay? Do you want me to call again? I can mention that one of us needs to-"

"No! Er, n-no, you don't need to do that. I'm fine." He groaned again then sank to the floor. I had an idea. I started to rummage in my backpack.

"What are, um... what are you d-doing?"

"Looking for something for you, uh, in case you can't... um..."

"No! I'm fine," David insisted for the third time. As soon as he got that out, he helped and shot to his feet, crossing his legs and cringing. When he seemed to have that under control, he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets again. "Do you have something I can do to get my mind off it?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, handing him my phone.

"Thanks." He played on it for a while before he bent at the waist and started bouncing. "Gotta pee, gotta go so bad," he muttered, probably thinking I couldn't hear. He gave my phone back. "How long's it been now?" His voice sounded strained.

"45 minutes," I said apologetically.

He nodded and fell back against the wall. "Fuck!" He suddenly yelled, and grabbed himself. I began looking through my bag again, and this time he didn't protest. When I found what I was looking for, a plastic water bottle, I looked up at him. A wet streak ran down the leg of his black jeans.

I held the bottle out to him, and he snatched it quickly and turned away from me. For a few moments the only sound was him pissing forcefully into the bottle. As the liquid neared the top, he gasped and cut off the flow painfully. "Feel any better?" I asked him. He weakly shook his head and fell to the floor holding himself. I felt so bad for the poor kid.

"Hey," I I said softly, "if you need to go that bad, just do it."

"Wha-I-I can't, I can't d-do that!" He whimpered. I nodded. He squirmed in place for maybe five more minutes before I heard a hissing noise. I turned to look and his pants were getting darker until a tiny puddle formed beneath him. He began to sob uncontrollably and I reached out to comfort him.

"Oh, um, it's alright! Accidents happen."

"Not to sixteen-year-olds!" He said miserably.

I rested a hand on his shoulder. That's when the elevator started back up again. When the door opened, a shocked nurse stood outside. I led a sobbing David out of the elevator, leaving the refilled bottle on the floor.

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