CHAPTER TWELVE
"I'm a fucking scrub, alright!"
We were in the middle of our gym class when Balthazar left. Now, when think about it, I see that it must've been on purpose. We all hated him for tainting his freedom in front of us - his endless talks about his eat-in-chickens and pretty suburban houses – while we were doomed to stay locked inside our little parallel universe.
"Okay, raise your arms. Very good, we're going to be trees."
Gym classes were the most fun we had provided by the hospital. We all got to act as the wackjobs we were with background music to tune us in. People said that our instructor, Mrs. Mills, had started giving classes there because she had a crazy son locked up in the hospital once. That he had died there, and she liked to cherish his memory by dancing with us lunatics.
"Feel the strength in your arms as the branches and reach those branches up to the sky. Come on Castiel, reach. Very good. Oh, Dean, yeah alright. Reach your arms boys, reach really…lift. Feel the stretch through the hip. Very good let your arms be branches. Feel the strength of those branches. Reach, reach all the way up into the sky. Very good. Let the wind blow leaves and let you fingers be the leaves. Good Benny, very good. Feel the wind. Good, good Dean.
It was during our tree routine when I noticed Samandriel standing by the window, looking distressed. When I came closer, I could see Balthazar entering a car, while his father carried his suitcase. Dean joined us right in time.
"That is not fair. That is not fair! That is not fair!" Samandriel started screaming. "74 is the perfect weight!" He shouted as he broke down crying on the floor.
"Good luck, crazy bitch." Dean whispered, moving away from the window.
Mrs. Mills tried to come closer to Samandriel, soothing him. "Now, what kind of tree can you be, Samandriel, down there on the floor?"
"I'm a fucking scrub, alright!"