They took their mother's car. It still smelled like her, jasmine soap and mint. Ryan fell asleep in the passenger while Sharpay drove. Pulling up in front of the building, Sharpay fought a flight-or-fight need to turn the car around and get back home and pray it was all a dream.

One look at Ryan told her it was all to real. A glance cast down at herself seconded this.

"C'mon, Ry," she whispered, leading him through the double doors and into the waiting room. It smelled lightly of cigarettes and strongly of the Frebreeze that tried to hide the odor.

He didn't even ask where they were. There were a few other people there. None quite as well-dressed or beat-up as them. The receptionist noticed them as they entered, and when Sharpay noticed her, she once again fought the urge to run.

"Sharpay?" choked the tiny receptionist, coming out from behind tthe desk to kneel down in front of Ryan, her fingers lingering at his bruised face, before reaching up to push his hair back in search of the wound that left his face sticky. "Sharpay, w-what...?"

"I tripped," Ryan muttered.

"I thought that's what happened last time," said the receptionist, incredulous. She stood up, placed a hand on hip in almost a comical manner. "You guys need the hospital, this is too much for us."

"We can't," Sharpay hurriedly said.

"Why not?" asked the girl.

"Because," she hastily replied.

"You said he j-just tripped, s-so what's the problem?" It was a challenge, a foreceful push in the correct direction, a gutsy move for this girl.

"Please..." whispered Ryan. What he was begging for, neither was sure.

The girl blinked down at him, then over at Sharpay. She gave them each a once over before leaning in, trying to be as menacing as possible. "I-I think I know w-what's going on. I-I have my sus-suspicions anyway." She drew a breath before continuing, straightening her spine in effort to shake off her nervousness. "I'm calling social services."

Ryan was up in second, "Kelsi, no!"