Jess is fuming at her unfortunate case of mistaken identity, and is aghast at being made to stand holding the metal pole right next to Mrs. Mathews as the small bus brought the girls back to the private school. Every bump and pothole in the road is a maddening reminder of her desperate need to relieve herself.
There was something about the way the school girls acted when they had proffered the spare swimsuit back at the pool dressing rooms that caused Jess to decide on just making do with only the towel, but now, as her right hand tried to hold the towel around her, and the left tried to maintain a grip on the pole, Jess began feeling the thousands of minute, itchy sensations from some harmless prank powder one of the girls had sprinkled into the clean towel prior to handing it over to Jess.
Noticing the girl in her charge becoming increasingly agitated, Mrs. Mathews remarks, “My, you certainly are the fidgety one, aren’t you little Jessica?”
Jess is quivering and the towel keeps falling as she tries to rub up against a seat to relieve the maddening itchiness, “It’s the towel, ma’am! There’s somethi-OOF! Hey!”, and poor Jess has her footing compromised by one of the girls in the front seat right behind the driver’s seat, causing her to jostle and fall over onto Mrs. Mathews’ side as she is taking a turn.
While Jess is too tiny to interrupt Mrs. Mathews’ driving, the sudden surprise of her fall does alter the turn slightly, nearly causing a collision with a smaller truck, which honks at the school bus.
“OH! Can’t you behave in the least child?!? You’re lucky we are so close to the school, or I would stop this bus at the first opportunity and give you a sound thrashing!”, Mrs. Mathews bellows while yanking Jess back off her lap. “You are so in for it when we do get back to school! I will personally see to your punishment! You could have gotten us all killed with your acting out, Jessica!
Jess just crumbles to the floor, one hand still trying to cover herself with the itchy towel, while the other barely maintains a grip on the pole so she won’t flop all around the floor.
Jess pouts and shivers, looking up at the smiling girls in the front seat who pushed her into Mrs. Mathews. One of the girls says, “Mrs. Mathews, she just shot a bird at you behind your back!”
“I did NOT!”, cries Jessica, who is openly crying now, in front of a bunch of girls half her age, “She’s lying! Waaa!”
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