This was kind of like a home. Cross between a hospital and juvie, just without the crime - well, maybe some drugs involved. Anyone could say it was the mix. Like a hospital, you were a patient here and you were given rides on stretchers and being treated by nurses. Like juvie, it wasn't your choice to be here and sometimes you could easily claim you didn't belong here.
Though it would be described as that, it was neither a hospital or juvie. It was a ward. Not a psycho ward, but more as a health monitoring ward. McKinley Juvenile Ward. Just about any teenager were to be admitted if there were any reported complication.
Let's explain deeper into the term complication. The definition in this ward could range from mental illness to drug addiction to even just unbearable stress. There were many counselors taught and rolled in to serve, as well as nurses and physicians to provide the patients with the best assistance.
It had been morning currently, with patients shuffling from their dorms. They wouldn't miss the 6x8 bedrooms, and the 6x6 bathrooms. Not only were they ditching the rooms, but were they scurrying to the limited supply of bacon at breakfast.
However it seemed, not everyone had left. Rachel Berry decided to take her time and have a nice appearance to her glorious world. Being closed into the small space would not even dwindle her diligence for the serious reputation, and she was never able to be timid or dubious as she knew that the spotlight would be owned by her.
She went to the bathroom, where her clothes had been rolled and hanging from a small shelf. Today, a gorgeous black, white, and pink argyle vest would be nice, accompanied by a pearl white under-blouse, a short magenta pencil skirt, and black penny loafers with white knee-high socks. She was then ready to go with a bit of lip gloss - of which would probably wear off anyway, due to her tendency to "blab" of which was actually convenient at some times.
In the mirror, Rachel took a moment to side with her elation and headed off, and on her decently long trip to the cafeteria, she found some friends screwing around. "You guys, we need to hurry up and catch nourishment! You know how the beast basketball players get after early practice." And not to mention the cafeteria being completely on the other side of the building.
Noah Puckerman, Mike Chang and Finn Hudson were seen lounging on stretchers and zooming along the short hall - an activity known as gurney-gliding or stretcher-surfing. Tina, Mike's twin sister, had cheered them on.
Finn found her eyes and sort of smiled for a moment, before realizing he must keep balance. Rachel was glad that he could see her as an existing person, however she sighed at his absent-mindedness.
Sam Evans and his sister Brittany approached Rachel. He and Brittany and the Changs had been the only set of twins in the entire ward population, which had been very surprising.
"What is going on?" Rachel demanded.
Sam replied, occasionally glancing back at the three boys, "I think they must've either overdosed on medication, or forgot to take it." It would vary between each person to find that they were high or only unmedicated, or possibly casual just gutsy. At this point who knew.
"I planted some doughnuts outside," Brittany smiled, "with the help of Santana. At first she didn't agree with the idea but I begged her, and soon she gave in."
Santana Lopez, her close best friend, turned around from a conversation with Quinn Fabray. "I heard my name."
Brittany couldn't help but add, "For some reason, the seeds were in a cereal box..." Obviously she hadn't been the brightest light bulb or the greenest grass strand, although there was no reason to dislike her as it was purely from innocence.
Santana whispered, "The 'doughnut seeds' were really Cheerios, but I didn't tell her." Brittany had been the only one she was willing to treat fair, keeping others harassed and beat down. Brittany was as her tiny puppy, while the rest of the ward had practically feared to locate her evil eyes. She took the word demon and put it as her middle name, from her prosperity in taking control in every way and turning it to meet her desires.
Following Noah, Finn attempted to leap from his stretcher but tripped to a face plant on the cold-tiled floor. His constant state in being prone for accidents always stole his mirth in having fun. Mike snickered.
"What is wrong with you?" Mercedes Jones blurted, throwing a hand to her hip. "No wonder you have a long, flat face. You clumsily keep landing on it."
Kurt Hummel held her shoulder, gasping, "Well, his facial structure is indeed bland."
Rachel embraced Finn, desiring to kiss his cheek but keeping her polite attitude. "Do not blame him. It is not his fault he has a different appearance than you." She wouldn't include that Mercedes had a different shade of skin, but only thought of her being hypocritical with her judgement. It happened for Kurt to be picky with looks, and she expected that, but not Mercedes' offense.
She must as well change the subject. "Now, let's get some breakfast and have a good day!" Her bright feel was threatened to disappear once she spotted Artie Abrams. She wasn't in the mood for another discussion, most likely about the movie Coming Home or about new wheelchair ramps here or there.
But she couldn't hate anyone, Artie especially. Tina was more than grand to have Artie now. Other than Mike, Artie had potentally been the only one to actually hold conversation with her - meaningful conversations - and favorably indulge in creating memories - meaningful memories- with her. "Hi, Artie."
"Just as Rebecca said," Quinn said, having no choice but to follow with the stack of annoying and overambitious girl, "we need to hurry and get to the cafeteria." She'd mostly been referring this to herself and Santana and Brittany because due to their suspected anorexia, they were required to either grab a tray or be sent to another long session with the obsessive counselor Emma Pillsbury. She especially was not ready to repeat all of those times it'd happened.
Rachel corrected, very firmly, "It's not Rebecca, excuse me. It is Rachel." This vexed her heavily. How could she be the most intelligent, common-sensed girl, but remain unrecognized and even be available to name-forgetters? It was incorrect, plainly illegitimate.
The group had went for a successfully fine walk to the cafeteria. From the sight of no bullies preying on them, they were ready to perceive themselves in eminence. But fate brought them back to the grieving reality, and it must have been compelled to do it the hard way: by saving them no table to enjoy a meal at.
"Again," as said by Rachel.
Another day of this. They would continue to be the outcasts, only prominent to one another and to no others. It was conspicuous and undeniable, though very undesirable.
Finn popped his eyes open once hearing the loud music of a vibraphone. It had been the intercom, with one of the secretaries now wishing the entire building a good morning.
He battled a moment of confusion, twirling in his chair, then to realize that he'd fallen asleep during breakfast. Silly me, his mind said as he took the striped sleeve of his sweater to his drool-drenched lips - and chin, and maybe even neck.
After gulping down essential nutrients blended with 8 oz servings of TruMoo, and ridding of probable irritation, Finn decided to head out to find his room.
Of course it would be a difficult mission, and often time-consuming, but he would not regret a slow walk down the few halls. He was able to pass the emptied and unused storage room and shift a glimpse of beautiful Rachel, whom he knew would always be there alone practicing her singing at 10 am sharp. He'd spent his entire breakfast period admiring the apple of his eye and soul, and he hoped she would notice him. Wished, actually. Though with her as a very understanding and surely accepting acquaintance, he remained unable to proceed in sharing his feelings with her.
Now, suddenly, he felt a burst of sheer joy. That this was his moment to shine and to get her recognition. He hurried into the room, resisting tripping over his own feet, and blurted romantically.
Even as I wander,
I'm keeping you in sight!
You're a-
"Finn," a nurse announced loudly, "it is not time for singing yet, but I do appreciate your dedication."
Oh yes, he was probably disturbing some patients resting nearby. He stammered quickly, and as clumsily as his own two feet. "Sorry, Ma'am... Misses... Nurse, ehrm, Judy... Fabray? Fabray, yes. Nurse Fabray." He was so clumsy sometimes.
After receiving a smile, he apologized again however much clearer. Forgetting to mention that many nurses had actually been very sweet and open minded, whom had all allowed time for hobbies. But of course, they must enforce rules to protect patients' necessities. Finn must respect that, so he was compelled by his own kindness to follow her word. Oh well, he would likely get a shot at expression soon.
Another nurse, Julia Chang, came along and checked his wrist ID with, "It is time for a checkup, anyways. Finn, patient no. 38, is it? Follow me."
Being led into a medium sized office, Finn plopped up onto an exam table. He began tugging denim and was about to remove his pants, when he was disrupted.
Nurse Chang chuckled. "Not that type of checkup, honey." She gathered materials of a stethoscope, ear thermometer, blood pressure monitor, otoscope, retinoscope, and examination lamp. She had her clipboard of many papers nearby.
He would bear with her as she began his checkup. Soon after the stethoscope deal, he took the pleasure of lying down. Gee, the pillow was soft.
Nurse Chang then inquired, "Are you given any medication, especially to maintain sleep habits or to help conflicts pertaining to the body? If so - are you injected through needle/IV or are you served via oral/rectum/et cetera? What form if so?"
"What?" he choked. "And what?" He was so clueless sometimes, and he could barely understand medical language. Again, clumsy - but what was he supposed to do?
She kindly rephrased her inquiry for his convenience.
"Oh, oh, I know this!" he easily responded. "I have some stuff to help me sleep at night. By mouth, 2-a-night pills."
"Any pain relievers or fever reducers?"
"No." He fidgeted his head, antsy as could be. "But, when can I sing?"
She began to take his blood pressure and pushed a hesitant reply of, "You should obtain an inside voice before singing."
"I have an inside voice." He looked at her. "Well, most of the time."