Two doors down in Room 304, an English class was halted. The teacher, Belle, had just finished roll call and was about to assign the work for the day when Pete, the school janitor, knocked on the door, a mop and mop bucket beside him.

"Heard something needed cleaning?" Pete said as Belle opened the door, making room for him to pass.

"Yes" Belle replied, "One of our students was a little nervous about being called on in class."

Pete looked around on the floor, first seeing the vomit, and then the girl who produced it, in a now vomit covered white dress. It didn't take a genius or a person with fashion sense to know that the dress was a Sunday dress. Pete also noticed that her shoes, equally covered in vomit, were black dress shoes. Pete leaned in towards Belle, curiosity and concern setting in.

"What happened?" Pete asked, "This kind of thing doesn't just happen. More than a fear of public speaking if you ask me."

Belle raised her eyebrows, exhibiting curiosity of her own.

"You're paid to mop floors and clean" Belle exclaimed, "Not to be a psychologist."

Pete huffed, for he begged to differ, the program guidelines specifically stating that all participants, no matter the position, attend to the needs of students to the best of their ability. If that meant being a psychologist, then as far as Pete was concerned, that meant being a psychologist, to say absolutely nothing about Jiminy Cricket, the school counselor.

"What's her name?" Pete pressed, looking at the girl and seeing her face of humiliation and embarrassment and pitying her.

"Emily" Belle answered rather sharply, "Now please help clean up this mess-"

Pete dipped his mop in his bucket and wrung it, after which he began to mop the floor. Pete simultaneously looked at the students. One boy was staring out the window, a blank stare on his face, his eyes appeared to be far-reaching; another was looking at the clock on the wall, mirroring the first's stare. Two rows back from where Pete was standing, three girls were huddled in a group talking amongst themselves in loud and broken English by the sound of their voices Pete concluded that they were deaf. To his immediate left Pete saw another girl, about the same age as Emily, making various clicking noises with her mouth and tapping her feet, making no other sounds.

The janitor, having cleaned up the mess, turned towards Emily and smiled, extending his hand.

"Come on" he said softly, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Belle moved in front of him, extending her arm in disapproval, blocking his way.

"You can't do that Pete" Belle declared authoritatively, "You're not trained for Special Needs."

Pete rolled his eyes, incredibly annoyed.

"You need help Belle" Pete defended, ignoring her statement, "You can't teach these kids on your own, where's your assistant?"

"Ursula?" Belle exclaimed, "Mickey got rid of her. She was too hard on the kids, action had to be taken."

Pete stood up and leaned on his mop, using it to support his fat body. He stared at Belle with an uncharacteristic stare of warmness and understanding, for he knew that deep down Belle was putting the interests of the kids first.

"Let me help you" Pete pleaded, "English ain't my strong suit but I've been told I'm a people person."

Turning back towards Emily, Pete pulled out a red lollipop and handed it to her, he then patted her head and pulled out his walkie-talkie that was precariously clipped to his belt.

"Clarabelle" Pete said, rather loudly, "We have a Code Three in progress in Room 304, need some personnel down here."

Pete pocketed his walkie-talkie and continued mopping. Emily only stared at him, her eyes wet with tears, having no idea what was going on or what a Code Three was. Belle rolled her eyes, wanting nothing more than for Pete to stop trying and leave the situation alone.

"Let me handle this Pete" Belle said as she stepped in front of him, grabbing his attention, "You don't know these kids. They're socially, mentally, and physically underdeveloped. Most of them are only here because they were dumped in our hands or problem cases that need to be solved to the best of our ability."

Pete shook his head and sighed, a small wave of hopelessness and defeat washed over him just as Pluto, Chip, and Dale came at the door.

"What do they expect?" Pete asked, not really sure what to say, "We can only do so much. We ain't miracle workers."

Belle nodded in partial agreement, still despite this she could not help but feel as if there was something that could be done, that perhaps with more funding, more workers or perhaps both, that the Special Needs area of the school would be better equipped to deal with all types of children with various deficiencies and the tragedy of the situation would be diminished.

"Don't talk like them Pete" Belle declared, "You're better than that. Now please, get out of here."

Pete nodded, smiled and pulled out a small business card from his jacket pocket, handing it to Belle.

"Here's my cell" Pete exclaimed, "Let me know how things are getting on. You need help with anything, anything at all, call me. I'll even brush up on my reading if it comes to that, just let me know."

Belle took the business card and folded it haphazardly in her hand before placing it on her desk. She then gestured towards the door and opened it, causing Pete to step out into the hallway, after which it was unceremoniously slammed.

Pete sighed and pitifully shook his head. Pluto, Chip, and Dale turned towards him, faces of concern on all of them. Chip, who had clown makeup on his face, slowly began to wipe it off with a rag, it was obvious that he was distressed, still he said nothing, being inside of himself for a moment, taking the time to think and to process the situation. Dale sighed and gently patted Chip's back, for he knew that this was only time that Chip agreed to be silly, normally being a very serious and straightforward type of person. Pluto sat on his haunches and stared up at Pete, trying to read him.

"What's wrong with everyone today?" Pete asked, fighting a slow waterfall of tears, "I ain't that bad am I?"

Pluto smiled and brushed against Pete's leg, trying his best to be comforting. He wanted to say something, for he did have the ability to speak, currently not operating under Disney contract, serving as a free agent, but like Chip he kept his silence, in favor of being the closest thing to an actual dog as possible. Pete, in response to this, kneeled down and ruffled Pluto's fur on the top of his head, at which he began to laugh and give a quick embrace around the dog's head. Pluto did the only thing he could do and attacked Pete with various licks to his face, causing Pete to laugh more than usual.

"Thanks" Pete said as he let Pluto go, "It's nice to know I'm not completely hated."

Pete turned to Chip and Dale as he stood up, giving a casual nod before he moved down the hall, mop bucket dragging behind him. Dale looked after him, surprise and confusion on his face, he then turned back to Pluto, who only shook his head and laughed to himself.