Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Izzy
The morning passes fairly quickly, much to my surprise, especially since we aren’t actually learning anything new. It’s mostly what one would expect to learn in “preschool”—letters, numbers, colors. Though everything does have a slightly sexual bent that both embarrasses and amuses me at the same time, like the beaver book. Even learning our alphabet is based on things like “D is for Daddy’s Dick” which had Tori, Juju and I all in stitches when Miss Evelyn read it out loud.
Lunch is served hot, and we’re told it’s because our Daddies only wanted the best for us and they paid extra to hire a private chef to come in and cook us a hot meal. That knowledge warms me even as I stare dubiously at the fettuccine Alfredo on my plate. It’s far more food than I’m used to eating, and the thought of putting something so heavy in my tummy makes it clench. But I silently lecture myself yet again about needing my strength if I’m going to escape, and even though I know it’s going to take me months to work off what I’ve gained here on the island, I force myself to eat most of my lunch.
Toward the end of lunch, Tori starts to squirm in her seat, prompting Miss Evelyn to ask her what’s wrong. When she sheepishly admits she needs the potty, Miss Evelyn just smiles.
“Then go ahead and potty, sweetheart. As a matter of fact, you should all probably use your diapers. If your Daddies get here and you haven’t pottied yet, we’ll all be in trouble.”
Even though I knew it was coming, the thought of using my diaper in front of anyone but Daddy freezes me in place with fear and indecision. And looking around at my friends, they aren’t crazy about the idea, either.
“Can’t we just use the bathroom?” Juju asks, her nose wrinkling with disdain. “I don’t wanna use my diaper.”
Miss Evelyn frowns, the expression looking oddly stern on her otherwise open, friendly face. “Absolutely not. Your Daddies specifically said you were all to use your diapers while in my care. Since you’re all finished with your lunches, I expect you to potty while I clean up so I can change you and put you down for a nap.”
Rising from her own seat, Miss Evelyn clears our plates from the table as we all sit and stare at one another.
“Are we really going to use our diapers?” Juju whispers, making that same face from before.
“I think we have to.” Although she doesn’t look any happier about it than Juju and I obviously feel, Tori shrugs as if to say we don’t have much of a choice. “Daddy told me if I get in trouble at school he’ll spank me again at home. And since I’m already in big trouble tonight, I really don’t wanna make it worse.”
My Daddy warned me about the same consequences on the drive over, and even though I don’t have a Big Punishment coming my way like Isabella does, I don’t really want to give him a reason to spank me. I would much rather have him pick me up and take me home for a good long cuddle instead.
Falling back against her chair with a huff, Juliet crosses her arms and scowls. “Well, I’m not going to do it. They can all spank me if they want, I am not wetting my diaper for that woman.”
As if on cue, Miss Evelyn returns to the classroom, her bright smile once again in place. “Who’s ready for a diaper change?” she asks in a sing-song voice that sets my teeth on edge.
When we all simply look at each other and then back at her, she sighs. “All right. Then you can all sit in time out until you’re ready to be good Little girls and use your diapers like your Daddies asked.”
“No, Miss Evelyn!” Tori cries out, clearly distressed. “I’m not trying to be naughty I just, um, sometimes I need a little help.”
Twin red flags appear on Tori’s cheeks at this admission, and Miss Evelyn’s expression turns sympathetic. “I see, little one. Well, there’s no shame in admitting you need help. What about you, Isabella? Do you need help or are you sitting in timeout?”
Juju gives me a pointed look, silently demanding my solidarity. But I really, really do not want to be in trouble with Daddy when he picks me up, so I ignore her look and slowly nod. “I need help, please,” I whisper, my own shame heating my face much like Tori’s.
“Of course, sweetheart. Juliet?”
“I’ll take timeout.”
“Have it your way, then,” Miss Evelyn says with a disappointed sigh. I’m not sure how Juju doesn’t fold at the sound of it, because I’m ready to beg her forgiveness and I’m not even the one in trouble.
Taking Juju by the hand, Miss Evelyn leads her over to a tiny chair in the corner. Nose in the air, Juju takes her seat with all the grace of a princess, even though the chair is so low to the ground she practically has to pull her knees up to her chest to sit in it.
With Juju deposited in her timeout chair, Miss Evelyn returns to the table where Tori and I are seated and holds her hands out for us. “Let’s take you girls over to the changing area.”
Taking her hands, Tori and I exchange a look before glancing over at Juju, who is staring straight at the corner without flinching. I wonder how long she’ll last before she breaks down and agrees to use her diaper.
Along the same wall that houses our cubbies is a large changing table, much like the one in my nursery. Miss Evelyn helps Tori up onto the table, which is my first indication that our sweet teacher is much stronger than she appears.
“All right, Victoria.” Her voice is low and soothing in a way it hasn’t been during our lessons, where she’s opted more for bright and cheerful or silly voices as she read us stories. “I’m just going to push on your bladder a tiny bit. I want you to close your eyes and try to relax.”
“Yes, Miss Evelyn.” Laying back on the table, Tori squeezes her eyes shut as Miss Evelyn presses her fingers down on Tori’s stomach.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually Tori sighs and the sound of her wetting her diaper reaches my ears. My own bladder is beginning to protest the delay, and I shift in place as I watch Miss Evelyn change Tori’s diaper, all the while praising her for being such a good girl.
Once Tori is in a clean diaper, it’s my turn. And by the time Miss Evelyn helps me up onto the table, the pressure in my bladder is almost enough to block out how embarrassing this whole ordeal is.
Almost.
I still have to cover my face with my hands when she presses down on my bladder and it takes less than five seconds for it to release. And with that pressure gone, it's all I can do not to jump down from the table and go running when she pulls the tab of my diaper open and strips it from me.
I'm half naked, my most private parts on display to yet another complete stranger and now one of my best friends.
Luckily, the humiliation doesn't last long. Before I can do much more than contemplate my potential escape, a new diaper is fastened around my waist and Miss Evelyn is helping me down from the table.
“Okay, girls. There are two mats over there in the corner. I want you to go lie down and close your eyes for thirty minutes. You don't have to sleep but you do have to rest and that means no talking. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” Tori and I chorus obediently.
We're turning to head for the designated nap spot when Tori pauses and shifts to face Miss Evelyn again. “Um, what about Juju?”
Miss Evelyn smiles. “Juju was very naughty today. She's going to have to do her naptime separately. But I promise I'll take very good care of her.”
Nibbling her bottom lip, Tori glances over at me, as if asking what we should do about it. But I'm not entirely sure what we can do about it. If we argue with Miss Evelyn, we risk getting in trouble ourselves, and I don't really see the point. Juju got herself in trouble and our rebellion won't help her case any.
So I shrug and hold my hand out to Tori. With a last longing look over her shoulder, she takes my hand and follows me over to our nap area.
“Do you think Juju will be okay?” Tori whispers after we're settled on our surprisingly comfortable cots.
“I think so,” I whisper back. “She's probably gonna get a spanking later but Miss Evelyn won't let her hurt herself.”
Tori sighs. “Yeah. Sometimes I think she likes being in trouble.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm. She's always looking for ways to get spanked. I can never tell if she's actually being defiant or if she's just being a brat for her Daddy's attention.”
“Girls. No talking during naptime. If I have to tell you again, I’ll be sending notes home to your Daddies.”
That threat shuts us up, and we lie there for a while in silence. Eventually, the world around me goes dark and I sink into a brief but peaceful slumber.
* * *
Izzy
Juju doesn’t seem any worse for the wear after our nap, though I do notice she's a bit quieter and she doesn't argue with Miss Evelyn even once. I assume she got her diaper changed, but when Tori asks about it, Juju just shrugs and turns away so she can change into her uniform for dance class.
Said uniform matches mine and Tori’s exactly, yet again. Pink tights and white leotards, an outfit I haven’t worn since I actually was four years old starting my first dance class. The ballet slippers feel odd on my feet as well. They aren’t my well-worn split soles, but rather the standard “little girl” ballet shoes, and I crinkle my nose as I try to point my toes in them.
Making a mental note to ask Daddy if we can order me some different shoes, I move to the front of the room and face my friends. Miss Evelyn is sitting in a chair off to the side, a bag of yarn in her lap for knitting as she keeps watch over us. Juju and Tori were all bubbly smiles after lunch, telling me how excited they were to take a dance class from a real live ballerina, and whatever nerves I might have had about teaching evaporated in the face of their excitement.
“Hello, class,” I greet them from the front of the room.
“Hi, Izzy!” they chirp back, bouncing on their toes.
“I think today we’ll just start with the ballet positions. Does anyone know what they are?”
“Oh, me, me!” Juju nearly leaps off the ground in her excitement, waving her hand over her head to get my attention, as if there aren’t only two of them in the room.
Swallowing my laughter, I point in her direction. “Juliet. Can you show us first position?”
Placing her heels together, Juju slowly pushes her toes outward, forming more of a V than a straight line, but it’s a good try for someone who hasn’t been practicing their entire life the way I have.
“Very good! If you can turn your hips out just a bit more, though, that would be amazing.”
Tongue between her teeth, Juju focuses on doing what I’ve asked, improving her stance enough for me to applaud the effort. Tori follows suit, and I approach them, helping them with their posture. It’s a bit difficult to get exactly the right position with the bulk of our diapers impeding the movements of our hips, but we make do.
We spend much of the next hour moving between the positions, with me painstakingly explaining how to fix things, and by the last few tries, they seem to recognize when something doesn’t feel right and they’re able to correct themselves.
Pride wells in my chest when Tori immediately moves her heel closer to her opposite toe in fifth position. Maybe it’s not dancing the lead in Swan Lake, but watching my friends discover their own love of ballet fills something—a space in me I didn’t even know was empty before today.
We’re closing in on the end of class when Tori collapses on the ground. “I can’t go on! It's too much! I'm exhausted !”
I have to swallow another laugh because we've barely done anything today. But my friends aren't as used to constant physical activity as I am so it makes sense they wouldn't last as long.
Though I had thought they might last a little longer, if I'm being honest.
“Me too!” Juju follows suit, the back of one hand pressed against her forehead as she sinks dramatically to the floor.
Now I can't quite contain my giggles. “You guys. We still have fifteen minutes of class left. What are we supposed to do?”
“Oh!” With a sudden burst of energy, Tori pops back up into a sitting position. “Show us one of your routines!”
“Yes! Yes! Show us!” Juju cries out in support.
“You mean from one of my shows?” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know. I don’t have my pointe shoes or anything.”
“Please, Izzy?” Clasping her hands together in front of her, Tori widens her eyes into the biggest, most pitiful puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Juju joins in, and I know I don't stand a chance against them.
“All right, all right. Um, Miss Evelyn?”
When Miss Evelyn looks up from her knitting, a small smile plays on her lips. “Yes, Isabella?”
“Can you play ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ from The Nutcracker? On your phone maybe?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Just a second.”
Heart pounding as though I’m about to take the stage again in front of half of New York City, I center myself in the room, closing my eyes as the first strains of the waltz wash over me. I practiced and performed this number so many times last Christmas, I don’t even need to count the beats before I step out on my right foot, my arms raised high over my head as I bring my left foot up to my knee. It feels a bit clumsy without my pointe shoes, but I manage, and soon I’m lost in the music, my body moving through the steps with the ease of muscle memory as I dip and sway and spin my way through the waltz.
And for a few minutes, the island fades away. All my thoughts of escape, my plans to return to New York, my fears that I’m becoming a bit too comfortable here, all of it simply… disappears. There is only me and the music as I let it guide my steps.
This is what I love best about dance. Not the applause or the status of being one of the elite. I love the music. The way I can lose myself so completely in it as I move. I love the way my body feels, like it becomes one with every sound. There is nothing quite like it in the entire world.
Somewhere along the way, I think I forgot that. I let myself get so caught up in the competition, the rat race, the work ballet had become that I lost the peace it used to bring me.
I lost my love of the dance, and I have no idea when it happened.
By the time the song ends and I sink gracefully to one knee, my chest heaving with each deep breath, I can barely see. It isn’t until Tori rushes over to me, her small hands brushing at something on my face that I realize it isn’t beads of sweat dripping down my cheeks.
It’s tears.