A/N: This idea was actually sparked by something a girl said to me once on a college tour. "The bathrooms in the dorms were a great place to meet people. You never knew who you might run into." The idea of a bathroom being central to the year in the lives of the Solar Blue recruits sounded fun to play with. I apologize that there isn't a whole lot concerning the season two girls in here, but since the house was supposedly a new one that season, even though the sets were basically the same, I couldn't do a whole lot with them in the context of the story, though I did explain it. Oh, and any names that you don't recognize were my own creation, just to have some fun and fill in the history a little bit.
If Tiles Could Talk
Tiles are notoriously loud objects with which to line a floor or a wall. They clack against high heeled shoes. They thwack against sandals. They squeak against sneakers. They provide an echo against loud speaking voices. They cause your whispers to carry if you aren't careful. They make for a full sound to back otherwise thin singing. And they amplify the bellows of a hair dryer, or of running water, or of a dog barking.
But one thing that tiles can do above all others is keep a secret. After all, who ever met a bit of tile that was going to talk back?
Because it is tile that lines the floor of the Solar Blue bathroom designated to the female surfers housed there every year. And it is tile that insulates the shower wall against the hard spray of the water. And it is that same tile that has been privy to secrets, make-up tips, confessions, bad dye jobs, tears, hushed up meetings, and laughter for more than ten years.
If these tiles could talk, that cracked one over there in the corner, it might tell you that it earned that crack when Ellie Golding, Solar Blue class of 1996, tried to climb in the window after curfew, after downing one too many glasses of grog at a party she wasn't meant to attend. Did the tile scold her when she knocked over the brick that was meant to prop the window open? No. Did it ask her to repair the damage done to its physique? No. Did it say "I told you so" when the surfing coach, a crusty old man who would be replaced four short years later, busted her the second time she tried to come in the same way? Of course not. She probably would have had bigger problems to deal with if the tile began speaking to her. It did, however, stare forlornly up at her when she was assigned bathroom cleaning duties for two weeks, a fitting punishment for her poor judgment. The tile also knew that Ellie was not the winner of the Solar Blue wild card spot that year because it also watched as she sat on the edge of the bathtub and had a good cry before she had to return home. But it couldn't tell you that either.
If the tiles in the bath could talk, the ones closest to the water faucet, just a little bit above the bath tub drain, would tell you just why they were stained a dark purple. They would tell you that Jade Low, Solar Blue class of 2001, got tired of being a goody two shoes and started to crack under the pressure. They would let you in on the secret of the purple streaks in her pretty blond hair that she got her roommate to help her with. The two girls, in a fit of giggling, spent half an hour trying to turn her straight white blond locks into a curtain of deep purple, but they only succeeded in spilling dye over the tiles, and leaving her with light streaks throughout her hair. Jade, after that brief bit of rebellion, found her footing, and she went on to win herself a wild card spot on the Pro World Tour. And she hasn't looked back. But, since they haven't seen her since she left so many years ago, the tiles don't know that part.
If these tiles could talk, they might let you know that Bridget Sanchez, Solar Blue class of 2008, was notorious for leaving her towel in her room when she went to shower. And her roommate, Loren Power was notorious for being a regular sweetheart, bringing Bridget whatever she happened to forget. The tiles may have suspected, if they were capable of such human traits like suspicion, that Bridget left her towel behind on purpose. Because the girls of her year never spent a large amount of time arguing about the use of the bathroom. And the girls' bathroom happened to be not all that far from the boys' bathroom, of which there was plenty of fighting. The chief arguments occurred between Guy Spender and Charley Prince over who spent the longest amount of time in their own tile lined room. If Bridget timed her morning rituals just right, Loren would trot after her, just a few minutes behind, to bring her towel, and she would meet Charley on his way out of the boys' room. Everyone knew, even the tiles, that something was going on between Charley and Loren, even if Charley and Loren didn't. The tiles may have let you know just how instrumental Bridget was in bringing the other two kids together on a regular basis.
And if these tiles could talk, they would be the first to agree with you that as a place under the feet of professional surfing hopefuls, they had become well acquainted with sand and salt. There was the occasional blade of grass or spot of mud, even drops of blood from injuries sustained on the waves, but it was the products of the beach that were most prevalent. Bare feet would walk the tiles, particles from the surf clinging to them, no matter how many rinses the girls took in the outdoor shower, something that wasn't lined with tiles, but with concrete. Salt and sand became as much a part of the décor as cracks in the tiles and dye in the bath tub.
If these tiles could talk, they would also tell you that the row of loose ones, just behind the shelf at the base of the wall, were there because Diana Parish, Solar Blue class of 1999, used to hide the little love notes slipped under her bedroom door behind them, because she couldn't bare to throw them away. The notes were left for her by Nicholas Anders, also Solar Blue class of 1999. She hid them because her roommate Ivy Lewis had a bit of a crush on Nicholas, and Diana didn't want to hurt her feelings. Both girls would eventually get over Nicholas, though the two would remain life long friends, but the tiles don't know that part of the story since they only exist in the confines of the Solar Blue household. The tiles do know, however, that there is still a note wedged underneath them that includes an invitation to see a movie. They would tell you all about it if they could.
And if the tiles could talk, they would inform you of all the secrets that the Solar Blue girls tried so hard to hide. Like Alice Connell, Solar Blue class of 2003, one of the only girls in the Academy's history to ever be sent home from the program. Alice, like many girls before her, was excited to enter the house, ecstatic about the chance to go pro. But also like many girls before her, she let the pressure consume her. She allowed the stress to take over so that by Week 4, as she noticed how much more lithe and athletic the other girls were, she began to force herself to cough up the remnants of her breakfast and dinner. And she was so taken over that by Week 7, as she was still last place in points for the competition, she was smoking cigarettes, blowing blue smoke out the window, as a way to calm her nerves. By Week 12, her secrets were out, and her parents were picking her up, along with her belongings. The bathroom tiles never saw her again, so they couldn't let you in on what happened next.
If these tiles could talk, they would be willing to tell you about the number of girls who tried to hide their injuries from their competitors and their coaches. Of course, since the Solar Blue Academy was relocated to a different house for the class of 2006, supposedly due to zoning and insurance reasons, the tiles would be unable to tell you all about Brooke Solomon. There were days where she could barely walk. She would hobble along on the tiles at the other house, toes dragging across the floor, and she would have to almost drag herself into the bathtub. But she absolutely refused to get help for the injury she had caused her back until it was almost too late. A whole lot of pain, and an ice bath that would have amused those other tiles (if they could be amused) later, and she was forced to admit defeat. Of course, as the those other tiles discovered much, much, later, having her injuries properly treated did Brooke some good. She did go on to win the top spot at the Academy that year. But the tiles in question couldn't know all of that. They didn't communicate with the tiles in the other house. They probably wouldn't even if they could. Because they might have felt a bit of jealousy that the other house was chosen at all that year.
If these tiles could talk, they would have endless stories of girls getting dressed for formals, of lipsticks getting lost under bath mats, of girls slipping on wet sections of floor when they stepped out of the shower too quickly, of girls who talked to themselves in mirrors, of girls who sang to themselves in the shower, but most of all, they would have stories of girls in groups, using the room, in all its tiled glory, as a gossip chamber of sorts, a room in which to spill secrets.
Because one year in particular, during the reign of the Solar Blue class of 2005, a group of girls made their bathroom an unofficial meeting place. The bathroom became a way to escape the boys, a place to talk without being overheard, and a room where confidences were exchanged on more than one occasion.
If these tiles could talk, they would tell you that the bathroom was the first place in the house were Perri Lawe admitted that she and Matt Leyland were not "just friends." Of course, she only admitted it to the bathroom mirror while applying her mascara, at first. But the tiles would have been sure, if tiles could be sure of anything, that it wouldn't take long for her to admit it to other inanimate objects, and maybe even a few people. The tiles would have been right. But don't tell them that. They don't really need the ego boost.
If these tiles could talk, they would assure you that German kite boarder Anna Peterson, despite all evidence to the contrary, was a very good girl. Not that the tiles could really pass judgment anyway. She might have had a piercing that none of the other girls in her year would ever have the guts to get, and she might have been the one to organize their wildest party, and she might have even sneaked out the bathroom window a time or two, but she was also the girl who would be knocking on the door to check on someone if they had disappeared into the safety zone of the cool tiles for too long. And she was the one who would sit on the bathroom floor with you and comfort you if you were having a bad day, even if you said you just wanted to be alone.
If these tiles could talk, they might also make mention that girls were not the only ones who used their space that year. The tiles would tell you they spent quite a lot of time bathed in a strange sort of light while Heath Carroll developed his pictures in the middle of the night. Heath was, surprisingly to the tiles, if tiles could express such surprise, conscientious in his photography efforts. The tiles might have expected that he would be sloppy, dripping chemicals all over the place, or loud, talking to himself and waking everyone up, if the tiles were to believe the description of him by some of the girls. But then, the tiles would probably also reason that much of what they had heard about Heath from the group of girls was said in anger or frustration, and maybe they should take those statements with a grain of salt or sand.
And if these tiles could talk, while they were on the subject of Heath Carroll, they would, inevitably, have half a mind to steer the conversation around to Fiona 'Fly' Watson. Fly, the baby of the house, the most sensitive to the remarks of the others, spent an awful lot of time with the tiles that year, and she would have spent just as much time with them the next year, if the Academy wasn't in that other house. Whether she was taking an extra long shower because she was homesick and wanting to clear her head, or just lost in thought as to what her friendship with Heath really meant, or staring in the mirror trying to will some of the competitive spirit into herself, Fly was, as the tiles would take note, a bit of a worrier. She let her mind work round and round different issues before she made a difficult decision. And the decisions that she didn't reach out on the waves were reached instead in a cloud of steam and a spray of water, surrounded by tiles. And the tiles, having spent so much time with Fly, would be privy to the fact that Heath Carroll was Fly Watson's first kiss (and second and third and... you get the idea), before she even told Anna about her confusion when it came to their friendship. And the tiles also knew, even though Fly and Heath were not a couple by any conventional means, that Fly Watson would sit on the edge of the bathtub and talk with him on the phone for two hours straight in the middle of the night once she returned for a visit from the pro circuit every now and again. But, those were conversations that it wasn't really the tiles' place to repeat, especially since the tiles could only hazard a guess at what was said on the other end of the line.
Yes, if these tiles could talk, they would have stories and stories to tell. There were games of Never Have I Ever played under the guise of cleaning. There were first date warnings discussed while one girl was in the shower and the rest lounged on the counter or the tiles themselves. There was nail painting and makeup tips while girls got more and more nervous as the end of the year drew near. There were excited squeals when secrets were exchanged while drying hair. There were even sips of pilfered bottles of wine shared, just to see what it was like. And, of course, as teenagers will be teenagers, there were plenty of secret meetings that involved whispered topics and a lot of jumping to conclusions. The tiles could have told all of these stories. Instead, the tiles just laid bare in a room that was no longer in use, and stared back while Bec Sanderson raked her gaze across them.
Yes, Bec Sanderson, also Solar Blue class of 2005, was standing in the doorway to the bathroom she shared with three other girls that year, though it was some time later. If the tiles could have spoken to her, they would have told her how glad they were to have her back. It had been touch and go there for a while for the tiles, and the Solar Blue Surf Academy. The tiles didn't know what exactly happened, but as soon as the class of 2008 had left, and Bec with them as head of the Academy, there had been days and days of silence. Someone had come though for the tiles though, saving them, and the Academy from a life of abandonment, and there had been sand and salt and teenage girls with stories to share with the tiles ever since.
And Bec Sanderson would have happily listened to the stories of the tiles. She would have been eager to hear about Ellie's brick or Jade's hair or Diana's letters. She wouldn't have been surprised about Bridget forgetting her towel, since Bridget had been one of her first students. And she would have already known most of the stories about Perri, Anna, and Fly, but she would have allowed the tiles to go on and on for hours, soaking it all in, reveling in the memories.
Bec Sanderson probably would have reminded the tiles of the number of times she sliced up her legs because Perri came barging in the door while she was trying to shave. Or maybe, she would have reminisced with the tiles about the impromptu dance party the girls held while "borrowing" Heath's Catalyst CD and locking themselves in the bathroom so he couldn't get it back, which only resulted in the boys climbing in through the window. The entire thing had made them all laugh hysterically, and almost gotten them into a good bit of trouble. She could have gone on about the time Matt was assigned to the bathroom for cleaning duty, and Perri didn't know, coming in talking about him as if it were Bec on her hands and knees scrubbing the tiles until they shown. She even could have talked about the few times she and Dean Edgely met for quick kisses behind the closed door, though she probably wouldn't have dwelt on that particular subject. She might have even mentioned the heart to heart with Anna about the German girl dating Bec's brother. And she would have begged to know what it was Fly and Heath could have talked about for hours on end. Because Bec still thought of each of those girls like sisters, and she had fond feelings for all three of the boys.
As it was, she was busy cataloging every memory of her own, discussing them with no one, taking one last look at the tiles she knew so well. Because tomorrow, they would all be ripped out, and new tiles would line the floor and the tub. In fact, there would be a whole new shower, new sinks, the works. And the new tiles would be the watchful eyes of a whole new class of recruits. And Bec wouldn't be the one making memories in the bathroom. She would be the one catching girls sneaking in or out when they were supposed to be in bed. She would be the one doling out punishments to rule breakers. And she would be the one making final decisions about who stayed and who would go, just as she had for the last few years.
With a quiet sniffle, Bec said her own private goodbye to the room, letting a bit of salt and water from her eyes splash to the floor for the last time, and walked back to her office to confirm the schedule for the remodeling.
If only these tiles could talk, they would have said their goodbyes as well. But, as tiles can't talk, not even the least little bit, they were content to sit in silence, knowing their time had come to an end.