The Game, Part Six
Part Six
For a moment, time seemed to freeze.
Skirt around my ankles. Totally bare below my waist. A not particularly well stifled laugh from a few feet away. Church, worship, people. It was like one of those cliché nightmares, except I wasn’t. Waking. Up.
Time wasn’t slowed for long, however. A second later, I was scrambling as quickly as humanly possible. Finding my balance, I grabbed the hem of my blouse and tugged it down to cover my crotch. At the same time, I bent over and grabbed the fallen skirt. I could feel my top riding up and more fully exposing my bare bottom to anyone and everyone behind me as I did so, but it was too late to do it differently. I was bending over and fully mooning half the church and I would never, ever, ever, EVER live this down.
I had seen similar scenes happen in middle school, especially in gym class. Some girl getting pantsed; her mesh shorts dropped to her ankles, courtesy of a friend who thought it would be funny. Lots of bare leg, while using her gym t-shirt to cover up what they could. Except that was school, not church. This was families, with kids. Old ladies. Respectable people, many of whom were traditional and old-fashioned. And I was a teenager who was no doubt the first person in history to be this exposed during a Sunday morning service. The girls pantsed at school tended to at least have underwear on to protect their modesty. Not me.
Ideally, the floor of the sanctuary would open to swallow me up. Send me down to that Hell so I could escape this one. Instead, the only escape I had was with my own two feet. Pulling the skirt back up my legs as quickly as possible, I struggled to get it past my thighs for a second, as my other arm was in the way. Despite my rush, I was determined to keep my own sanctuary protected.
The moment all my lower privates were covered and the skirt was securely around my waist, I ran. My eyes were locked on the back door, as I couldn’t bring myself to scan the sea of faces. The hymn was still being played and sung, which means a good portion of the room was going about worship without the knowledge that a half naked girl was just in their midst. But I knew. And those on the ends of the pews definitely would have noticed, as would those in the balcony up above. If not due to the blatant bare skin on display, then because of my long stumble forward that almost resulted in a fall. That would draw anyone’s eye, even peripherally.
As I fled down the back half of the middle aisle, my blouse once again clung to my chest. In my flurry to recover my skirt, I had temporarily forgotten about the coffee. But now that I was upright again, the soaked top gave away my upper form in a way that the modest white blouse normally wouldn’t, and I could feel every little movement of the wet fabric against my skin. I hastily crossed my arms over my chest, but didn’t slow down. The nude bra underneath would protect anything from showing through. My cleavage, however, would be a lot more apparent under the wet top.
One of the ushers at the back tried to say something as I sprinted past, but I didn’t catch a single word. Though I was free from the public eye the moment I made it through the double doors, I didn’t stop running until I made it all the way to the gathering area. Pausing to catch my breath, I tried to figure out what to do next while grabbing some napkins and drying what I could. The Church School classrooms would be full of kids and volunteers, and going outside didn’t sound particularly appealing in my current state.
The problem was, my parents drove us there. So I needed somewhere to hide from the congregation that would be letting out in ten minutes or so, as I couldn’t bear to face anyone who had seen my bare backside, but I also needed to be somewhere that I could be found. For a fleeting, hopeful moment, I realized that I could get myself an Uber or Lyft. Even a taxi would be fine. That idea vanished when I realized my purse was still sitting back in the pew with Kate and Abigail. Phone and wallet, unreachable without returning to the sanctuary. And ugh, I needed a shower. Dry coffee was almost worse than wet coffee, as I felt sticky all over thanks to all the sweet additions Abby put in her drink. Though I couldn’t actually rinse off at church, the bathroom wasn’t a terrible idea. That’s where people went to look for embarrassed friends, right? Though I didn’t exactly have an ally at the moment.
Either way, that’s where I went. Best to hide in a stall rather than face everyone after worship. Those who hadn’t seen my mortifying exposure would still see me in a white top thoroughly stained with coffee if I stayed. Preferable to seeing me naked, but still bad.
Eventually I did hear the sound of people mingling in the gathering area down the hall, but I made no move to leave the safety of my stall. The whole time, I just relived the awful experience. For the most part, I’m only truly naked in our bathroom at home. My bedroom door doesn’t lock, so I prefer to at least be toweled or in underwear despite having my own room. But I was half naked in public. The feeling of bare legs and a total lack of fabric over my ass was a memory that was stuck on replay as I blushed up a storm in the solitude of the bathroom.
There would be time to be furious with Abigail, but I was too caught up in the humiliation at the moment. Whatever image and reputation I had here was long gone. Everyone would know about it by lunch, even if the majority of the lower floor hadn’t seen me.
It didn’t take long for my younger sister to find me. A small part of me didn’t want to call back to her, but I knew that I had to. Our parents probably wouldn’t look for me in here if Abigail reported she already checked. Surprisingly, she wasn’t smug or giggly at all. Instead, she merely slid my heels under the stall door and said, “Meet us by the curb.”
I put the shoes on and decided to trust my sister on this particular occasion. That’s where our parents usually pulled up with the car, though half the time we just walked to the parking spot as a family instead. Ducking out of the bathroom with my head down, I briskly walked to the nearest side door. Sure enough, the familiar mini van was there, and I paused by the church exit only long enough to take a deep breath. Had my parents seen? Heard? Either way, I didn’t want to push my luck in terms of not running into anyone, so I went straight to the car.
Needless to say, my parents were furious. I couldn’t pick up on whether it was seen vs. heard, but their routine was the same as the few other occasions when Kate or I had done something wrong as kids. Our mother, berating us. Our father, staying quiet in disappointment.
It explained why Abigail had been so blunt in the bathroom. She had probably hoped all the blame would fall solely at my feet, but she was very much in trouble too.
In typical parental fashion, our mother didn’t even attempt to hear me out. I tried. Blurting out that “Abby was-” but that’s as far as I made it.
Apparently she had already demanded the story from Abigail and Kate, though I doubt my sister or her friend got very far either. ‘Dares in church’ seemed to be enough to spark blame on all sides. According to our mother, I shouldn’t be blaming my sister when I agreed to sit with them and play in the first place. Though I was totally the victim, my half nudity earlier and my currently stained shirt painted a less mature picture. My second attempt at explaining things was cut off just as sharply. To her, we both played a part in what ended up being a highly inappropriate display. Kate too, and her parents would be called.
Grounded. For a month, if not longer.
My phone and wallet had both been confiscated, as had Abigail’s. We were to come home directly after school in the afternoon, and our weekends would be spent doing any and all chores that needed to be done around the house. Abby was initially frustrated, but eventually took amused solace in the fact that I still got the way worse end of the stick. Her proper older sister had been fully bottomless in church, complete with bending over while totally bottomless in public. She eventually concluded that it would have been well worth it even if she was the only one grounded.
As for me, I obviously never returned to that church. Not even for Christmas or Easter, no matter how hard my parents tried to push those more family-focused days. Despite the secondhand embarrassment and shame of their eldest daughter being seen like that, my parents had too many friends at the church to look elsewhere like I did. I ended up attending a good friend’s church, as Abby’s little stunt wasn’t enough to keep me away from religion. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.
Despite my frustration with Abigail, I never sought revenge. I’m not the type.
However, that was the last time I EVER did dares with my younger sister.