House M.D

Smells like a Teen Rebel

Note: Hey peeps! I love the show House and I wanted to make a lil' fanfic on it. I want to state, however, than I am only a 14 year old girl with NO background in medicine, so I'm doing the best I can. I could use a little assistance from you doctors and nurses out there, I want to be a nurse when I grow up, so I'm doing the best I can. Thanks again!

Love, Katrina Izumi :3

Chapter One: Melinda Manson

"Any questions?"

Silence followed the room at the comment. The doctors looked at one another, confused, before one doctor raised his hand.

"I don't think that you're raising your hand to go pee-pee, are you?" Dr. Gregory House, the best diagnostician in New Jersey, no wait, the entire world; remarked. The doctor shifted in his chair uncomfortably before clearing his throat.

"Um, I don't think this is a psychology class."

"Um," House mocked. "I don't think that's yesterday's lunch on your lab coat, or is it? Oh, sorry, I thought this was the 'state the obvious' game."

"He's right though," a red-headed doctor remarked. "Aren't we supposed to be learning about hemophilia and other blood-related issues instead of psychological problems?"

House frowned. He was sitting in a computer chair, one leg propped up on the desk. He was laying back and twirling his cane in his hand, watching it spin. "You seem perky today. What's your name?"

"Dr. Melinda Manson," the red-head doctor said. "I'm 36 years old and I just moved here-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" House called out. "I said name, not 'book of your life.' So, you're that Mansion chic."

"Manson," Melinda corrected. "I was a nurse before I moved here and I recently became a doctor-"

"Let me put it like this," House said. He stopped spinning his cane and he was now leaning forward, peering at her. "I. Don't. Care. I don't care, okay?"

"Please," Melinda begged. "My daughter is suffering from something and I'm not sure what it is."

House blinked in surprise. "Wow. I wouldn't admit it so openly. Maybe if you took her to a doctor-"

"I've already taken her to five different hospitals and eight different doctors," the woman said. "And besides, hemorrhages aren't my specialty. I'm an apprentice neruosurgeon."

"Knight appreantice or Donald Trump 'the Apprentice'?" House remarked. Melinda rolled her eyes and gathered up her stuff.

"Nevermind, Dr. Cuddy said you'd be able to help me-"

"Wait a minute," House said, getting to his feet. The assembly of about 20 doctors watched wide-eyed at the two. "Cuddy sent you to me?"

"Why else would I have been sent to you?" Melinda replied, sternly. House sighed before limping over to the door and picking up the intercom phone.

"Foremon, Chase, and Cameron please report to the classroom," House said, his voice filling the hospital. "And bring some doughnuts."

Melinda smiled and sat back down, satisfied. House groaned and set the phone back down.

Shoot, and on my day off from treating patients too…

"Hello, my name is Dr. Chase. I'll be examining you today."

"Do you write those lines yourself?" the little girl remarked. Robert Chase's face fell.

She's sick, he thought to calm himself down. She's only crabby because she's sick.

"How old are you?" Chase asked.

"How old are you? 45?"

Chase grit his teeth but took out a little flashlight. He was standing next to a grumpy girl in exam room one. She was propped up on the bed, trying to look menacing.

"Fifteen," the girl said exasperatly as Chase checked her pupils. The girl was wearing dark jeans with several pockets and a black t-shirt with the words 'Ki$$ my A$$' written on it. She was also wearing a little eyeliner and red lipstick. Her left ear had three earing while her right ear only had one. There was a gigantic gold stud on her nose. Only her golden-red hair showed signs of natural beauty because it wasn't damaged with artificail highlights or dye.

"I'm 27 by the way. Hey, are you wearing contacts?" Chase asked, reaching forward with his gloved hand. The girl jerked back and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah," she said, tipping her head back to pull them out. "Prescription contacts."

Chase held out his hand so she could dump the contents into his hand. His mouth fell open when he looked back at her.

"I think you're allergic to them," Chase said, examining her eyes. "Why don't you wear glasses? No one wears contacts anymore-"

"Bug off will you!" she hissed. "Are you here to examine me or give me fashion tips?"

Before Chase could retort, the door opened and Dr. Eric Foreman stepped in. He raised an eyebrow at Chase as he saw the two, both looked angry.

"Areka Manson?" Foreman asked. The girl nodded reluctantly.

"It's not 'ah-ree-kah' it's 'air-ah-kah.' You know, like the name 'Erica?'"

Foreman nodded. "Sure. Well, if you'll come with me, I'd like to get an x-ray of you."

Areka nodded and slid off the bed, giving Chase a nasty look, and paused. Foreman stopped at the door.

"Come on."

"I-I can't breathe," Areka wheezed slightly. Foreman ran over to her, catching her before she fell. She coughed into her hands and wheezed, gasping for air.

"We need help in the exam room," Foreman called out of the door. Nurses in the halls paused and ran in their direction.

"There's blood on her hands," Chase examined, still holding onto her unconcious body. Foreman turned around to look at Chase.

"She's coughing up blood?"

"She's coughing up blood," House said.

It was now fifteen minutes since the incident in the exam room and now House, Chase, Forman, and Dr. Allison Cameron were sitting in their usual investigation room. The letters 'coughing blood' were written across the infamous white board. House was sitting on the counter next to the coffee-maker, twirling his cane.

"Anything else?" House said, continuing to be intrigued by his baton-twirling. Foreman and Chase frowned at each other while Cameron was looking through Areka and Melinda Manson's medical files.

"Please, one at a time," House said sarcastically. "There's no need for so many of you to talk at once."

"Well, she was wheezing," Chase said. House took his eyes off of his twirling for two seconds to look at Chase. He then resumed to being mesmerized.

"She was wheezing," House said, stopping his twirling and hopping off of the counter. He limped over to the board and wrote 'wheezing' on the board.

"That still doesn't narrow the list," Foreman said. "It could be anything: seizure, bronchitis, asthma, pneumonia-"

"On the right track, Foreman," House said. "You get a gold star. But no, nothing to do with her brain or heart. So, you only get half a gold star."

"But bronchitis has nothing to do…" Cameron paused mid-sentence. "It's her lungs, isn't it?"

"Bingo!" House called, scaring his three subordinates. "She has lung problems, can anyone tell me why?"

Cameron frowned and turned to the other two.

"C'mon, c'mon," House urged them. "She's fifteen, her father walked out of her family at a young age, her mother is a doctor, and she walks around like the Princess Undead, she wears a shirt that screams 'kiss my ass.' Isn't it obvious? She's shouting out rebellious to everyone's faces and no one's turning around to notice."

"A teen rebel?" Chase said. "Makes sense. When I was examining her, she was acting like a younger…female version of House."

"No way," Cameron exclaimed. "A younger House? I have got to meet her!"

"And you will," House said. "I want chest x-rays on her. Check for asthma, bronchitis, anything to prove our statement's true."

Foreman, Chase, and Cameron nodded and turned to leave. House cleared his throat.

"Cameron, I need to speak to you."

The young doctor stopped and frowned. Chase and Foreman had already left.

"Listen," House said. "I have duty in 10 minutes and I can't make it. I'll give you a chocolate heart if you do it for me."

Cameron crossed her arms over her chest and put on a harsh face. "Don't play that crap with me, Gregory House. I know about you and Stacey Warner."

"B-but mommy," House said, but he stopped. "Wait, me and Stacey?"

"Yup," Cameron said, an attitude in her voice. House blinked in confusion.

"But, how'd you-" House' mouth twisted into an 'O' as a flicker of recognition washed over his face. "Wilson."

"You're not his only best friend," Cameron said, nodding. Dr. James Wilson was House' oldest 'best' friend in the hospital. He came by time-to-time to either cheer Cameron up or give House 'good' advice. Recently, he charged House of being miserable.

"I see," said House. He stood up and walked to the door. "I'm going to talk to Wilson."

"I'll do it," she said, sighing. House held up a hand to stop her.

"You said you'd go on duty for me."

"I did not!" Cameron argued. "And bribing me with chocolate isn't going to do it."

House groaned and dug into his pocket. Cameron thought he was about to pull out his usual Vicodin, or pain killers, but his black leather wallet emerged in his hand. He pulled out two crisp $100 bills and handed them to Cameron.

"Now will you do it?" House said, adding a pout in his lip. "This can buy you lots of chocolates."

Cameron couldn't help but smile. She sighed and walked to him, plucking the two hundred dollars out of his hands.

"You still have to tell me what's going on with you and Stacey."

"Nothing," House said. "What's wrong? Evil step-mom jealous?"

"Evil step-mom worried," Cameron said sincerely, wondering if he meant her as the evil step-mom. "She's married, and that kiss meant something to her."

"She'll break up with Marc and come to me," House said, bravely.

"People can't divorce cripples," Cameron argued. House held up his cane to show it off.

"Gee, thanks."

"That's not what I mean!"

"Well then," House said finally. "What do you mean? 'Cause I'm not following you."

Cameron held her hands up in defeat. "Never mind. I'm off to check on your patients!"

Cameron turned and stormed through the glass door and out into the hall. House argued whether or not to chase after her, but realized he was crippled. Instead, he walked down the hall towards Wilson's room.

Note: Chapter One: End. How do you guys like it so far? I hope it is okay, R&R please!