Young Writers Society

What if a hospital was your high school, boarding school and summer camp rolled into one? What if it was the place where you fell in love for the first time and made friendships that lasted a lifetime? And what if it was all weirdly hilarious and the most fun you ever had in your entire life? This is The Red Band Club. Welcome to McCormick Hospital.

Premise



McCormick Hospital



The Nurses and Doctors



The Daily Schedule



Events and Others sponsored by The Bee



Plot



Character Template

Code: Select all

Name:
Age: (11-18)
Grade:
Disease/Illness:
Treatments and Symptoms of illness:
Appearance:
Personality:
History:
Likes/Dislikes/Hobbies:
Other:


Rules



All OOC posts go in the DT! Link Below

The Red Band Club DT

Juno Jones

“Juniper Jones.” Scott greeted me with a signature smile as he entered my room. “Katarina.” He nodded towards my roommate. She turned from the window long enough to force a smile then returned to gazing at the almost empty gym below us.
“How are you feeling today, Juno?” He asked, messing with my nebulizer on the bedside table.

I took a deep breath and instantly doubled over in a coughing fit. “I’m alright,” I managed to say in between coughs. Scott handed me the nebulizer and held it over my face. The mist made its way into my lungs and I waited the five minutes to be over. Scott stood awkwardly besides me the entire time trying to make small talk with me. Every day he does this and every day I can’t talk back to him because of the machine. I don’t know why he does this. When the machine stopped, the familiar tickle down in my chest got worse and I doubled over. Scott handed me something to hack in and that’s exactly what I did. I coughed up whatever sticks to my lungs until I my chest hurt. “I want to be put on the list.” I said, leaning back onto my bed.

“What list?”

“The transplant list.” I answered.

Scott sighed and rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. “I don’t know if that’s an option for you. You and your parents have to discuss that with Dr. Mann. Unfortunately, even if you did get new lungs, the CF would still be in your other organs. It might even go back into the new lungs.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. In the back of my mind I knew that’s what he was going to say.

“I’m sorry, Juno. I just-”

Shaking my head, I brushed it off. “Yeah, it’s fine.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “Can I please go? Tutoring is in an hour.”

He nodded and gestured to the door. I didn’t bother putting on shoes, but I grabbed a sweatshirt on the way out. The hospital floor felt cold beneath my feet and goose bumps crawled up my legs. I wandered aimlessly along the second level of The Bee, taking in the green and red decorations strung throughout the building. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve which means tomorrow Scott will put on the musty Santa outfit and visit everyone in The Bee in an attempt to make our sucky lives a little less sucky.

Although I wanted to, I didn’t go down to the first floor to see the Christmas tree the nurses put up each year. Stairs are a struggle and the elevators are usually full. I tend to avoid those types of situations. Socializing is not my strong point.
I stopped at one of the windows by the elevator and stared outside. The sky was empty. No clouds or birds. Just like the sky, the ground was barren too. No snow. I’ve only seen real snow before twice. North Carolina doesn’t have white Christmases often. I touched one of the paper snowflakes taped on the window and pretended it was snowing.

“Hey!” A sharp voice snapped at me from behind and I whipped around. Even though I'm two inches taller than Ruta, she still terrifies me. “Don’t touch those. I spent too much of my time taping them up there.”

“S-sorry.” I mumbled.

Ruta pressed her thin lips together then looked at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be at tutoring by now?”

I nodded quickly. “Yeah, probably.” I coughed twice into the crook of my elbow.

“Well, get going then!”

I hurried to the elevator and stood in the corner. A kid in a wheel chair smiled at me and I nodded back. The tickle in my chest returned and I squeezed my eyes shut. Not now. Just wait a minute. The ride to the bottom felt like an eternity and my throat was burning by the time I got out. I ran around the back of a pillar and let it out.

When I got to the classroom, I was five minutes late and red in the face. I bit my lip and slid into the seat in the back.

Rally Fisher

"Come on, Rally. Get out of there. How does early breakfast sound? Are you sure you don't want medicine... You can't stay in there forever."

Broken crayons surrounded Rally as he hunched over, shaking, in a corner of the rec room. He raised his middle finger to Scott on the other side of the door before turning back to his book. The pain woke him up at around five and he let himself suffer for five minutes before getting up and banging on the room door, startling his roommate awake. The shouting match between the two lasted for maybe two minutes, which was really just Rally yelling at the other boy while he sat innocent and silent on his bed, before someone finally decided to let Rally out for some air.

The morning air was thick and wet. It felt like breathing in water and only seemed to make Rally's pain worse. The night guard had watched over him for a while, annoyed, while Rally tried to rein in his pain. But standing hunched over, taking deep breaths of basically water vapor wasn't doing anything good for his system, and the longer he stayed out in the pre-dawn the more his pain escalated and the angrier he got. In one snap decision he grabbed the keys from the guard's belt, bolted back into The Bee, and locked himself in the rec room. Yeah, they could have easily opened the door and forced him out, but he was a high risk patient. The pair of scissors sitting in his lap ensured that he'd be left alone. It was now six o'clock.

A sharp pain shot up Rally's spine and he cried out, but was cut off by the bile spewing out of his mouth. At that, the door shot open and Rally was gathered into Scott's arms. He heard the man screaming orders, and the sound of Ruta not too far away, sounding angry as usual. He actually liked Ruta. Anger was something he could understand, not the pathetic sympathy that Scott seemed to be comprised of.

"Oh, Rally," Scott cooed.

"Fuck you."

--

Rally stumbled in late to tutoring, clutching a coloring book and a new pack of crayons. Whatever pain medicine he'd been given made his world groggy and slow, but the feeling was nice. Carefully, he made his way to the back of the class, only tripping twice, and plopped down into his chair. He was asleep before Mr. Shaver resumed teaching.

Evan Cartee

The morning was a blur. In fact, Evan couldn't even remember what happened.

He tossed around the bed some more, staring at the blank white wall on his side.

He could vaguely remembered one or two doctors—the name escapes him, just like the rest of this world—knocking then entering his room to check up on him. "Hello, Evander," a deeper, elderly-sounding voice greeted. "Have you eaten today?" Of course, he hasn't. He doesn't eat. It's just not necessary, and he isn't hungry anyways. He's never hungry. He just continued to space out, his mind in a different world. "Well... I'll check up on you some other time then." Then a few hours later, or perhaps several days or even months later since time seems to be relative and not absolute in his bottomless empty mind, another doctor comes in, his voice young and gentle. "I've brought you lunch, Evan. Please eat."

Green peas, mashed potato, chicken breast, and an apple. The food remained untouched.

Sometime between these two events, he also remembered his roommate—Ricky? Riley? Ralph? Randy?—banging on the door, which he opened up himself in the end anyways since Evan didn't bother getting up out of bed. The crusty boy then proceeded into yelling about really nothing at all—"Who are you looking at? You're so goddamn weird! Are you going to yell at me or what? Just do it already, what are you waiting for!"—while Evan just stared up at the ceiling on his bed, not even able to hear his garbled-up roommate's voice as nurses came in and took him away.

Evan closed his eyes.
Some time later, he opened them again. 1:30pm.

Knock, knock. "Evan? It's me, Scott." The same young doctor peeped his head in the room again. "Today is Saturday, and it's past one. You're late to your tutoring class, but if you leave now, I'll have the teacher exempt your tardy."

He didn't answer back.

Scott inwardly sighed, allowing himself in. "Please, Evan. We're only there to help."
Still no answer.
"I know you know I hate doing this, but...here," he said, lifting his cup of water and added in some capsule into it. "Drink this."

Silently, Evan sat himself up and drank the glass down.
Like the doctors, he hated his disorder more than anything, but he can't help it. So if a doctor offers him more soluble antidepressants than what is prescribed to get him through the day, he would be more than, for lack of better terms, happy to take it.

Five minutes later, Evan was in Mr. Shaver's class, exempt from the tardy thanks to Scott. The only available seat was in the back, so he walked straight to it without even glancing around at his peers. When he sat, he realized that his roommate was right next to him, sound asleep.

If there's anything Evan hates more than being depressed, it's school. He hated every aspect of it—from math, to science, to English, to history, to even art class—and so listening to Mr. Shaver lecture on about Newton's Law of Cooling was not the most pleasant thing in the world. And, with the new medication that numbed him some more and made him somewhat more appeasing to society, he did something that seemed almost "un-Evan-like"—he poked Riley, or Ricky, or whatever his name was.

"Hey...Ricky," he said softly, hoping he got the name right. "You're drooling."

Rally Fisher

He was dreaming of ballet. Beautiful music wrapped around him like a hug. Straight arms, pointed toes, a Cabriole. He knew he was dreaming when he landed in a perfect plié, being in a tutu should have tipped him off first, but his teacher liked to dress him up in the girl's costumes for fun sometimes. It wasn't so strange. She said he had very girly features, and would sometimes use him as a practice model for the other girls in the studio. Either way it was beautiful, even if he knew it wasn't real. He could die right in the middle of that dream stage and be perfectly content.

"...drooling."

"Wha... No... No, goddammit!"

"It's just a little, it's not a big problem."

Rally sat up and glared at his roommate, said line of drool still streaking his chin. The last trails of his dream were fading away into the haze of pain medicine; he was already starting to forget it. Angry tears brimmed in the corner of his eyes.

"Why the hell did you wake me up? What do you want?"

His voice was shrill and high, drawing the attention of the whole classroom and a passing nurse. The dumbfounded look on Evan's face only made Rally angrier, that pathetic drugged up look.

"I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You ruined it. Are you always such a fucking idiot?! God it's like your brain is mush! Leave me the hell alone! Don't talk to me, don't even look at me you giant waste of life-"

"Ralier!"

Rally snapped his head towards the front of the classroom where Mr. Shaver and a nurse stood waiting. He hadn't even realized he was on his feet. His tears spilled over the brim of his eyes and he let out a loud groan of frustration that cracked into a sob.

"Ralier, please leave the classroom. Obviously you need some time to calm down."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever."

---

"Are you in pain?"

"No."

"Did you eat today?"

"No."

"Do you want us to call your parents over here?"

"No!"

"Then what, Rally? What do you want?"

He narrowed his eyes at the nurse and looked past her at the posters on the wall. He wanted a lot of things: a new sketch pad, those good charcoal pencils, a 64-pack of crayons, a jumbo coloring book, to go back home, to go to sleep, to freaking die already, but mostly-

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Can I go back in now?"

The nurse sighed sadly and shook her head.

"You're lucky Ruta wasn't here to see this. I heard about your incident this morning, and Ruta doesn't give many second chances. I'm going to let you off with a warning for now, but you have to try and get along. If you continue on in this behavior you won't be able to attend the Winter Bash."

Rally's eyebrows quirked up and he turned to meet the nurses' gaze.

"What Bash?"

"The dance on New Year's Eve."

"A dance..."

The nurse smile warmly and nodded her head. A grin teased the edge of Rally's mouth and he looked down at the ground. Glee built up in the pit of his stomach and when he was sure the lady couldn't see his face he let off a huge grin.

"You like the sound of that, don't you? I know it's hard here, but it's not all bad. Keep it together until the Bash and holding your tongue will pay off, promise. Now get back in there. You're missing your lessons."

Katarina Nous

As I sat in the classroom Juni, as I like to call her right now, came into the room looking like she was nearly dead on her feet. Quickly she took a seat, I've seen her a couple times and got to know her name. I looked back at Mrs. Jacobson who was in the middle of teaching a rather easy English lesson. Well easy for me cause I used to be IB and could do stuff a hundred times harder than this stuff.

Juni would probably have a hard time with this stuff considering that cough, which begs the question how long does she have to live exactly? I mean given the way she looks and how she's nearly killing herself with that cough, I'd give her a year or two or maybe just a few months. Who really knows to be honest I mean-

"Katarina," Mrs. Jacobson's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked at her.

"Y-yes? Mrs. Jacobson?" I shifted in my seat a little.

"Please pay attention will you," she said in a soft, loving voice.

That was about the twentieth time she caught me not paying attention and yet showed no signs of being mad or anything like some of my IB teachers would be. I tried to focus on what she was saying.

"Now who could tell me how to correct this sentence?"

I read the sentence over three times before I raised my hand, no one else did so I was called on.

"Katarina," she said.

"Change the comma to a semi colon then put a period on at the end capitalize the name and comma after the name," I said.

"Yes, yes, very good anyone else?" she asked.

No one could make any further corrections because I had gotten them all already, I looked at my classmates and got a few looks. I immediately looked down at my desk, maybe I shouldn't have done that, I won't fit in if I go and keep standing out like that. One year here and I still haven't learned that lesson, I need to stop being so smart, so bright, so outstanding.

Juno

As tutoring neared the end, I couldn't hold in the coughing fit bound to happen. My chest burned to the point that it hurt. I stood up loudly and ran out of the class. Covering my mouth and already hacking, I stumbled down the hall and shut myself inside the closet with all the gym supplies. I fell to my knees and in an attempt to make less noise, I lifted the bottom of my shirt and pressed it hard over my mouth. I scrambled on all fours away from the door and coughed but nothing came up. Eventually, something did but it didn't unblock my lungs. I wiped the couple tears that slid down my cheeks and leaned back against the wall. I didn't have the energy to move away from my vomit on the floor so I stayed where I was.

"Is somebody in here?"

I slowly lifted my head up and a boy, older than me probably was standing in the doorway. "Don't get a nurse." I begged, bringing the back of my hand up to wipe my mouth. "Please."

The boy looked around, not quite knowing what to do. Timidly, he took a step closer and shut the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

"That's a dumb question," I mumbled. "No one here is okay." A corner of his mouth turned up the slightest bit and he came closer so he was standing over me. I watched his eyes as he glanced at the puddle of sick then back at me. While he was, I studied him. I decided I liked his freckles. He didn't look sick to me, but he had to be because he was here. I broke eye contact and tried to cough into the crook of my elbow but I ended up wheezing instead.

"Are you sure I shouldn't-"

I shook my head fiercely. The boy extended his hand and helped me up. "Juno," I said. "My name is Juno. Cystic Fibrosis."

"That's quite a name." He said quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Uh, I'm Evan."

He left out his illness. "I'm sorry you, uh, had to find me like that. If you could just keep this between us, that'd be great." I took a step back and cleared my throat. "I should probably leave now. Um, thanks. I'll see you around, maybe. Hopefully not like this." I hurried out of the closet and to the elevators.

When I got back to my room, my mom was pacing nervously while my dad sat in the chair across from my bed. "Honey!" Mom exclaimed, her blonde hair flying as she rushed over to me. She checked me over for injuries before I shook her off. "Why are you late? Did something happen? Are you okay? Did tutoring go over?"

"Yeah, Mom." I sighed, plopping on my bed. "I'm fine. Nothing happened."

She stood by Dad and put her hand on his shoulder. "So, Scott talked to us today on our way in," he said. He pressed his lips together then opened his mouth to talk again but Mom cut him off.

"When were you going to tell us you wanted to be on the transplant list?" She blurted, leaving Dad's side to take my hand. "Baby, that's such a big decision and we don't even know if it's an option."

"I know, Mom, I know." I coughed a couple times, not bothering to cover my mouth. "It's just-I can deal with the crap blocking my other organs, I'll take more supplement pills, I'm just sick of these shit lungs-"

"Juniper!"

"It's true!" My voice cracked as it got higher. "They're complete and utter shit, Mom. I'm always coughing, I've had bronchitis six times this year, and I just want new ones. Is that a sin?"

"We don't know-"

"If that's an option, I know!" I dropped my head into my hands for a moment. When I looked up, my roommate was standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Juno, even if-"

I didn't hear the rest of what Dad was going to say."I'm going to the rec room with Katarina." I jumped off the bed, grabbed Katarina's wrist and ran down the hallway before she or my parents could object. We got around the corner and I let go of her arm. Wheezing and hunched over I apologized. "Sorry," cough, "You don't have to come with me to the rec room." More coughing. "It's just-my parents-" My sentence was lost as I tried to catch my breath. I could feel her eyes watching me. "Too fast," I explained. "My lungs, I can't run."

She nodded and pushed a piece of red hair behind her ear. "I understand." An uncomfortable silence washed over us. I took my hands off my legs and stood up. She hadn't left yet so I took that as a good sign. "To be honest," she laughed sheepishly "I didn't know you knew my name."

I smiled. "Yeah, mine is-"

"Juni. I mean, Juno. Yeah, I've kinda been calling you Juni." She studied my face for a reaction. By the looks of it, I think she expected a bad one. "Sorry, I don't know, you just look like more of a Juni to me."

"Doesn't bother me." I shrugged. The tickle in my chest returned and I tried to subside it by clearing my throat like usual but it only made it worse. I shot Katarina an apologetic look before coughing into my arm. "So," I laughed weakly when it was over. "Uh, rec room?"

She bobbed her head and followed me down the hall. Since she wasn't talking, I felt weird so I opened my mouth and rambled on about the topic everyone was talking about this month: the winter bash.

Alayna Finn

I dropped my pack on the stiff sheets of the hospital bed glancing around the room. No yellow. Good. My last hospital room was all yellow. In fact, the entire children's wing that they stuck me in was covered in yellow. I don't know why everyone seemed to think that sick people liked yellow. Yellow and balloons. Balloons and a color will not cure the incurable. Ugh, I just --

"Oh Alayna, you wouldn't believe how hard it was to find your room!" My mother burst in, carrying her bag over her shoulder.

I sighed, not bothering to correct her. I knew how much she hated my nickname, but it really irritated me that she wouldn't just humor me. If anyone should be bothered by it, it should have been me. She wasn't the one who had Parkinson's. She wasn't the one who was only going to get worse. If I wanted to play off my disease and go by Park that should have been my decision. But no. My mother thought it was too morbid.

"So I just wanted to make sure you were all settled in here before I go across the street. Are you all settled in?" She flitted around the room, looking around the window and turning back to me, a giant smile plastered on her face.

"I'm fine mom, go. Make friends." I smiled.

She gave me a sad look. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?"

"No because I'm not your mom. Really though, I'm okay."

"Alright, I'll come visit tomorrow."

"Okay mom," I watched her leave and then sat on my bed. The one on the other side of the room was empty, but appropriately rumpled, so apparently I had a roommate. I wondered who it was. There wasn't much time to wonder though, because a nice looking male nurse walked into the room.

"Hello Alayna, I'm Scott, I'm one of the nurses here, you'll be seeing me a lot, along with Nurse Ruta, but between you and me, she's a little tougher." He rattled off.

"Park," I smiled, preparing for the "look" that all doctors gave me when I told them my nickname. "I go by Park."

"Okay," he said without missing a beat. "I will adjust that on the paperwork so the rest of the staff knows that you prefer --"

"Park. As in Parkinson's" I repeated. He had to have misheard me.

"Yes, I understand. Its a pun." He flashed a toothy grin and wrote something on his clipboard. "Now let me look you over and you'll be free to explore the Bee."

I nodded, leaning back. I think I might like this place.

Evan Cartee

Right when Rally—which Evan remembered was what the other kids called him after Mr. Shaver yelled out Ralier—returned to the room, Evan was already standing aside to let him pass so he could step out too. He didn't give any eye contact to him, which didn't matter anyways since the guy looked like his whole life changed or something, as Evan silently closed the door behind him.

Sigh. Mr. Shaver had approached him after sending Rally off, asking if he'd like to step out to get his mind straight on things. Of course ask that; he had Major Depression Disorder, and he was the teacher. But honestly, Evan only really accepted the offer because he didn't want to hear one more word of Newton and his scientific findings.

Fucking idiot. Leave me the hell alone. Don't talk to me. Giant waste of life.

Rally's words stung a little, but he couldn't feel it. It was numbed. It was dampened. It was dull. There was just a sea of empty tranquility, and it was strangely soothing even when it blocked any and every emotion thrown at him.

Suddenly a girl burst out of a neighboring classroom and ran to the closet across the hall, coughing and hacking the whole way there. It sounded terrible, all that coughing. On and on it went, only getting worse even with the door dampening her from the rest of the hall.

Down in the deep sea of emptiness, there was a spark of empathy. Slowly, Evan approached the door. "Is somebody in here?" he asked while cracking the door open. It was a pretty dumb question, but he didn't know what else to say without sounding demanding.

"Don't get a nurse... Please." She was just a girl around his age, and the glint in her eyes screamed desperation as her blonde hair clung to her face smeared with mucus and disease.

He's only been here for about a week, and a situation like this has never happened before. He knew the feeling of not letting any official know of this since their "remedy" usually involved stupid therapy or addicting medication that he can say from first-hand experience will only make it worse. "Are you okay?" he asked after a long pause, closing the door behind him so it would just be the two of them. A second later he realized it was yet another stupid question. Because no one—

"—here is okay." The girl seemed to synchronize with his mind, mumbling the same thought out loud.

Amusing.

He made brief eye contact with her strikingly gray eyes.

Abruptly, he shifted his attention to the puddle of disease in front of her. This was what she puked out. This was what she coughed up out of her body. He started to ask if she was sure that he shouldn't ask for some kind of help, but then she introduced herself: Juno and cystic fibrosis.

Juno. It had a nice ring to it, and he even mused that out loud. But it was then that he noticed that she connected her name with her disease, which he had always looked down upon. It was as if the disease was latched onto her name, like it was some vile thing that was a part of her. Evan didn't want to be known as "Evan and Depression," but unfortunately, the link between the two were strong. It was true; the name and disease go hand-in-hand for the ugly red-banded patients here, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm Evan."

Suddenly Juno started to talk really fast and then she bolted out saying that she should go, leaving him alone with only her name, a blur of wispy blonde hair rushing by, and vomit to remember her by.

--

There really wasn't much to do in free time. He kind of wandered around, even satisfied the nurses that check up on him by eating an apple, then finally made it back to his room.

"Evander, so very good to see you," Dr. Mann greeted. "I'm just doing my daily check-ups recommended to me by the nurses." He then looked over at Rally then smiled in satisfaction, which was a pretty new smile, because if Evan recalled correctly, most of the nurses or doctors that checked up on Rally usually leave the room with a look of relief that it's all done and over with. "I understand from Scott that you are feeling well today?" he continued on, and Evan nodded. "Good."

He packed up his things to leave then headed out the door. Midway through, he stopped and turned around. "Ah, and before I forget." His smile left a lot of wrinkly creases around his face. "Get along together. Rooming is much more enjoyable if there is a friendship."

Rain Berkeley

You know when you wake up from a nightmare and you're glad your dream is over? Well, when I wake up from a nightmare and I wish my dream was real. At least in my nightmare I'm not worried about whether or not I'm going to space out, or do something stupid. At least in my nightmare I'm somewhat more human.

I watched as my half-brother talked with one of the nurses while I was supposed to be off to the side, looking at my new room. I looked around a bit. Interesting, I thought. At least the room had some dignity, it seemed to be pretty nice. I'd been to "prisons" where there were rats crawling on the walls. At least this hospital was properly hygienic. It also looked incredibly expensive. I walked to my room window, and watched the lawn outside, the people coming and going. I saw the house across the street. Visiting hours were either starting or ending as people were existing and entering. I felt a tight squeeze in my stomach and hoped nothing would happen.

I'd spent three weeks with my half-brother and his pregnant wife, the three of us kind of getting to know each other. It was weird to suddenly find out I had a brother, weird but relieving. At least I had some family, I thought. At least I had someone who could care, who could possibly understand. But, like usual, I was completely wrong.

Here I was. At another hospital--excuse me, prison. Having to face more of those nasty pills being shoved down my throat to no avail. No matter how many pills they give me, they don't work, I know, I've counted. In a day, no matter what, I will at least have three, three moments of utter destruction.

The first week at my brother's house I decided not to let it show. Especially since I had begged him to take me out of the crack hospital and into a home. I told him they were lying and my condition wasn't that bad. I told him that it was the hospital that was bad. And in my defense, it was. It was a crap-whole, cheap-ass hospital that the government could afford.

He finally agreed and took me in. So I had to hide it. Every time I felt it coming, and most of the time I can tell; my mind feels heavy, like someone poured water into my brain and my brain was drowning, or, my stomach feels weird, like something is tugging at my stomach from the inside.

If it's really terrible, I smell blood. The rusted iron smell fills my nose up until I think I'm going to vomit it out, then I blank. I leave the world, and something comes and takes over my soul, at least for the limited amount of time.

So whenever I faced one of those warning signs, I'd leave whatever I was doing and go to the room they told me was mine. I'd just sit on my bed and let the monster I call "Niar" take over me. When I came to, the worst that happened was that I had used something sharp to cut myself. The best, I had simply curled up in a ball on the floor and was rocking back and forth.

It was torture. But I managed to hide it.

That is, I managed until the day that my stupid Niar self walked out of the room, and took a tumble down the stairs. It wasn't an easy landing either. Then the questions came, the questions I'd been hearing for a long time.

"Wait, so you don't know what's going on?"

"Why can't you see?"

"What goes through your mind?"

My answer to those questions continue in this pattern:

"No."

"I don't know."

"I really do not know!"

And any other questions would get similar responses. I don't ever want to hear those questions again.

So after that day, they were more watchful of me, and told me to tell them when it would happen. It was still good. Until I apparently carried a knife and started toward my half-sister-in-law. That was then "the last straw" as if I had any control over what I was doing. And then I was told I'd be sent away. She even wanted me to go back to the crack hospital, but thankfully John refused. He said they weren't helping me. I couldn't have agreed more.

"What do you think?" John asked me with a grin, interrupting my thoughts. "Pretty impressive, huh?" I gave him a small smile and shrugged.

"I don't see any rats, so that's clear." I almost grinned when the nurse beside him's eyes widened. He was a man-nurse, wasn't bad looking, but what I noticed most was that he looked so young. He spoke up,

"Hey, I'm Scott. I'm the nurse in charge of your room. I'll be here if you need anything, and you can always ask me questions." I nodded. "Now, did you just say that you had rats in your former hospital? John was telling me it was a free clinic." I nodded again.

"I was really sad to leave there. After all, nothing beats their jello!" Scott laughed. I smiled a little. "So I'll need you to wear this." He handed me a silver band, similar to the red one I was given at registration.

"It's for safety purposes, we need to make sure we can keep an eye on you. Your brother tells me that you know when it's about to happen?" I nodded. "Alright, then if you know it's going to be serious, just press the little button at the bottom of the bracelet, if not, it's okay we'll be able to track your heart-rate. So,you're free to have a look around. I'd suggest you do."

"Okay." I replied. He smiled. "Have you taken your medication for the afternoon?" I shook my head.
He pointed to an orange cup with a colorful mixture of meds.

"That's your pile. Don't worry though because we've got something better than Jello, once you're done." He winked. I actually laughed a bit. After saying a bit more to my brother, he was gone. My brother then turned to me grinning,

"Don't scare off all the other kids with stories of your past hospital experiences, now." I smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure they can handle a few ghost stories don't you think?" I looked to the floor. Wow, even the floor was pretty here. I continued. "Besides, I don't think they'd be freaked out by my stories, but just maybe they'd be scared if I carry a knife and run after them." I looked at him. He looked honestly sad and it made me sick to my stomach.

"Look, Ray, you'll be fine here. They know what to do, I'm sure they've worked with cases like yours before. Every, little, thing's gonna be alright." He was giving me a knowing look. I laughed.

"Don't steal words of encouragement from Bob Marley, come up with your own stuff." I said shaking my head. But I grinned. He grinned back.

"Come on let's take a tour of the place, I'd like to see how much better this place is." I shrugged.

"I'd like to know how you're gonna afford it." I was serious. He laughed it off, and shook his head at me.

"Why don't you unpack and then we go?" He suggested. I nodded. "I'll be outside." Just like him to know I needed privacy.

I sighed and looked at my small bag of things. I opened the bag and pulled out the one thing that I kept with me, and the one thing I would never leave. The picture of my family, before the pain. I brought it too my chest and held onto it for dear life. I miss you guys, stay safe.

I heard some noises, like some people were coming, so I quickly shoved everything under the blankets. Not a very smart move, but I didn't really think I had a lot of time. As I was walking out there was a girl walking down the hall. She didn't see me, and she seemed to be really excited. I saw Scott trailing her. My brother was waiting for me on the side, so I didn't have much time to stare.



When I got back to the room, I heard noises within it. I froze. My roommate. She sounded like a really happy person. Optimistic.

"Park. As in Parkinson's" I heard. Huh?

"Yes, I understand. Its a pun." Scott's voice. A pun? Then it hit me, I smiled a little. Her name's a pun. Brilliant.

Ralier Fisher

Rally finished the last two hours of tutoring in a pleasant daze, which was strange but still he welcomed the warm buzz of excitement in his cold body. He hadn't been paying attention to the lesson, he wasn't that happy, but couldn't find his way back to sleep either. Instead, he switched between his coloring book and doodling in his notebook. When he exited the room there was a nurse waiting for him, the same one from earlier. She gave him a pleasant smile and handed him a granola bar. He presumed it was because he'd revealed that he'd skipped both lunch and breakfast, but he simply starred at her until she retracted her hand. His stomach clenched in protest but he ignored the uncomfortable tightening. The nurse, her nametag read Amelia, sighed and put the bar back into her pocket. The was a flash of something on her face - pity, sadness, regret - before she smiled again.

"I have some good news, Rally. Your parents are here."

"I don't want to see them."

He turned to walk away but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. Rally pushed the nurses' hand off of him and turned to glare at her.

"Don't touch me! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a leisurely visit. They're here to discuss with you the chemotherapy you'll be starting tomorrow."

"I don't want to go."

Amelia sighed deeply, squeezed her eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of her nose. All the positivity drained from her face. Another nurse passed by and gave her a sympathetic look.

"Rally, please."

"Why? It's not like I have any say in the matter. Why the hell should I have to sit through some bullshit meeting discussing my fate when I know I won't even have a single god damn say in what happens. I don't care."

"I think you'll want to go to this one. Trust me."

---

"Ms. Emilie?"

"Tsk, boy. You haven't been keeping up with your exercises at all. Can you even Fouette?"

Rally executed the move sloppily and then ran to hug his teacher. Her embrace was warm and familiar, a comfort blanket heavier than any Bash they could throw at him. He felt her wet tears on his neck and nearly cried himself, but remembered the nurses and his parents still in the room and reigned control on his emotions.

"Oh, my sweet pet. I've missed you."

They broke apart and Rally's ballet instructor cradled his face in her soft hands. Her kind eyes met his and he felt the first tug on his heart.

"You are still so beautiful."

"That's my line, Ms. Emilie."

She let out her sweet, twinkling laugh and Rally smiled along with her. He felt a weight being lift from the very core of his soul. He straightened his posture and removed all negative thoughts from his mind, leaving room for only Emilie. The knot forming at the base of his throat grew bigger and bigger until he could barely breathe around it. He felt his face screw up, ugly, and the softening of Emilie's eyes sealed the deal. He cried on her shoulder until she was forced to lead him to his chair and sit him down. Rally wiped his face with the tissues given to him and then preceded to try his best to not make eye contact with anyone. Emilie kneeled down in front of him and held his hands in hers.

"I would have come earlier-"

"You're here now."

"They told me you were having trouble adjusting, which I couldn't believe at all, so I came to see for myself- Oh!"

She jumped up and ran to a table in the corner of a room. When she returned she placed a plate in his lap.

"I've made your favorite, love. Shrimp fettuccini and a side of green beans. I figured it would be a nice break from this cafeteria food. Are they feeding you well? You look so angular."

Rally picked up the fork and ate without a second thought. He vaguely noticed Ruta telling him that she was taking his parents into another room to talk about his therapy, and he was welcome to enter at any time, but he forget every syllable out of her mouth as soon as it was said. Instead he preserved Emilie. She spoke to him of the performances, of how he could take the lead if he was there because the new dancers in the studio were helplessly mediocre. They talked about Julliard and Swan Lake, about their favorite dancers and the most beautiful moves. He tried to tell her about his dream, but couldn't piece together enough fragments of it to form a coherent thought, so they talked about other dreams instead. Most importantly, they didn't talk about the cancer.

He expected to be sad when she started to make her leave, but even when the door closed behind her and the last degrees of warmth from her hands left his cold, he did not feel sad. She said she would be back, and she never lied. As he was watching her leave, his parents came up behind him. His father simply clapped his shoulder before stalking off, but his mom ran her fingers through his tangled hair. He jerked his head away from her touch.

"This chemo will work."

"No. It won't, mom. You know it won't."

She smiled sadly and shook her head. Rally kept his stare steady with her face, his mouth in a straight line and his eyes hooded.

"You say the meanest things. How did I raise such a cruel child?"

They stood in silence for a few moments while Rally's mother stared at his expressionless face. She gathered him into her arms briefly before moving quickly to meet his father. When the door closed behind them, Rally shivered.

---

Chemotherapy for two weeks in a row, followed by a one week break. Rally knew it wouldn't work, his parents knew it wouldn't work, and the doctors knew it wouldn't work; still, he had his schedule. Rally didn't let that sour his mood, though. He was sat on his bed coloring after his check in with Dr. Mann. Barely seconds later Evan came in. Rally's knee-jerk reaction was to glare at the boy, which he did, but the expression dropped quickly as he returned his attention to the half-colored picture of a garden. Evan went to his own side of the room and the two sat in a silence so loud it was starting to get on Rally's nerves. To make things worse, the boy kept stealing obvious glances at him.

"What," he finally snapped, shutting his book angrily.

"Wha... n-nothing."

"Then either stop being so fucking awkward or get out."

Evan started to reply but Rally cut him off by jumping out of bed and going to the door.

"You're pathetic. Well, come on then! I'm gonna kill someone if I have to sit in this room with you for one more second. We're going to the rec."

Rheann August Atkins

I really hated my hands.

They were probably the worst part of this whole ordeal, looking ghastly and alien, just bone and movement and yellowed nails that no amount of dark blue nail polish could really cover up. The rest of my body I could ignore, sure, but there was no escaping the hands that help you live through a life you’ve messed up. They did everything I did in my life, and my eyes followed every twitch, every movement; they looked like really ugly old person hands.

I also hate this place. My parents hurry through the process, probably wondering how the hell they messed up another kid when they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They don’t say it, but I’ve seen it on their faces. They’ve said everything they could ever think to say. My Mother helps me secure the red band that contains my entire self in a few printed words;Rhaeann August Atkins. Grade : 11, Age:17, Sex: Female. Anorexia. That’s exactly what I’ve been reduced to, I guess.

My parents move all of my stuff into a room. There’s another bed, another girl’s stuff, though it doesn’t look like she’s gotten around to personalizing it, if she ever will. She could be dying, and maybe doesn’t feel like it. That’s a weird thought. Am I so close to death that I have to room with someone who could be, someone with cancer or something? I’m not nearly that bad, I’m really not. I could never die from this monster, though I sometimes wish I could, right? What I have is not that bad. It isn’t. It could be.

Thinking is exhausting. Actually, everything is.

I help my parents put up a few things, but I mostly just direct them. Even when they’ve finished, perfectly attentive, it doesn’t feel like home. I doubt it ever will.

My Mom leans down and hugs me. “I love you, okay? You’ll do great here. We’ll visit once a week. If you get well enough, maybe you can come out and see a few meets?”

What’s the point if I can’t compete in them?

My Dad frowns, but doesn’t say anything, just kisses me on the head. I know he’s run out of words. It seems he’s spent all his disappointment between Renee and me, and that’s all the parenting he had left.

They leave, and I collapse on my bed. I want to fall asleep, but I can’t. I have to go to school here? I have to be ‘taken care of’, like some old lady, some old lady that has my hands. I hate this, but I have to find a way. I try to gather up what energy my body produces. Rhaeann August does not give up that easily, and the best way not to give up is to get yourself an adrenaline rush, easily obtained through just a little bit of exploration.


I’m surprised that this hospital does not smell like the hospitals I’ve been used to. It smells like girl’s perfume and dry erasers, though I’m sure part of the hospital smells like death and sickness. The whole place is a tragedy disguised under colorful posters and decorated doors.

At the end of the hallway, voices, very loud. They seem to promise action, as I kept hearing insults thrown back and forth. I make my way over to them, to a door labeled ‘Recreation Room’. Two boys are flinging ping pong balls back and forth and I can see them through class walls, but they can’t see me.

They’re both so skinny, one more than the other, and neither of them as bad as me, but still skinny. Skinny like I’d never seen boys before, like their muscles have been hollowed out, like they care about eating food as much as I do. This isn’t Runner-Boy skinny, this is diseased. For some sick reason, that is comforting.

I open the door and step inside, and neither of them look at me. I don’t care, for the moment, watching the mesmerizing motion of the ball. When one of the boys finally manages to miss it, swears, and drops his pong, the skinnier one sees me.

“What do you want?”

Irritable. Diseased and irritable means honest, at least.

“Entertainment. I’m bored, you’re actually doing this something.” A pause. “I’m Rhaeann August. Can I play? It doesn’t look to exhausting.”

Katarina Nous - Rec Room

"You going to the winter bash?" Juni asked as we walked.

"Yeah, I want to dance and socialize with others. It would be my first real one since coming here," I said.

"Really, didn't you come here right around this time?" she asked.

"Yeah, but my doctors thought it best that I don't attend this one since with the social pressures and all," I said.

Juni nearly kills over again with her coughing I remember when I first came here. I knew no one here, but I got to know Juni from just seeing her and hearing the murderous coughs she has. In reality this was the first real time I got a chance to talk to her at all within the last year.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah, let's keep going," she said.

We arrived with Juni and see there was a few other patients here as well I look around the room and see there was a new girl here. Juni goes to sit down to take a rest due to her lungs I wave to her and she just nods I walk over to the new girl and I overhear what she is saying.

“Entertainment. I’m bored, you’re actually doing this something.” A pause. “I’m Rhaeann August. Can I play? It doesn’t look to exhausting.”

"I'm Katarina Nous it is nice to meet you," I said.

Rhaeann turns and looks at me with her big brown eyes even before she turned around I saw she was skinny almost like a pencil, but seeing her from the front gave a whole new look to it all. Then there was her gaze, there was something scrutinizing about it as her eyes darted downwards. I felt jittery as I hoped that she would at least approve of me I honestly don't believe I didn't do a very good job in my appearance. Then her eyes met mine and I saw a sneer on her face maybe she didn't approve of me after all.

"It's nice to meet you," she said.

But she didn't hold out her hand to shake it but that scrutinizing gaze was now looking me dead in the eye and I somehow knew she did not approve of me at all.

Alayna Finn

After Scott left, I turned to unpack my meager belongings. I'd decided not to bring much of my stuff to the hospital. What was the point? It wasn't like I was going to have it all for very long. Not like I was going to be around for very long. I sneered at my reflection in the mirror. Very cheery Park. I pushed the thought away and pulled on a smile, turning to my worn canvas backpack.

As soon as the magnetized latches popped open, the sight of my most precious possessions loosened my smile and allowed a bud of warmth to blossom in my chest. Above my bed was a shelf, which is where I placed a few beaten copies of my favorite paperbacks, and the small framed photograph of my childhood cat, a Maine Coon named Hagrid.

Then, I tucked my leather bound journal and favorite blue ballpoint in the drawer of my bedside table. I was about to place my art supplies in there as well, but instead placed my sketchbook and charcoal set on my bed.

Finally, I drew my beloved pair of pointe shoes out of the bottom of my bag. I knew these would not go in the drawer, or on the shelf. I couldn't let them go without use. Instead, I put them in the middle of the table, a place of focus, within reach. I would use them. I would dance. Parkinson's would not stop that.

Happier, and calmer, I returned my attention to my sketchbook and charcoals. Now that I was settled in, I decided to go and acquaint myself with my neighbors the best way that I could. But when I turned, I found myself facing my new roommate.

"Hi," I said cheerily, despite the fact that I'd nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Hi," my roommate said, voice a bit guarded. She looked older than me, but more in a sleepless, exhausted sort of way. But she was quite pretty. "I'm Rain."

I nodded. "Well hi Rain, I'm Park."

"I heard,"

I cocked my head to the side. Was she listening? I shrugged. Oh well, didn't matter now. "I'm going down to the Gym to scope out the new neighbors. Come by if you want. I'll talk to you later."

She nodded, her short brown hair falling into her face.

I breezed past her into the hallway. I decided that I quite liked my new roommate, Rain. She seemed a bit distant, but I could tell she could be cool.

The Gym was easy to find, what with the directional posters pointing me towards the Gym, the classrooms, and the physical therapy rooms. There was quite the collection of teenagers gathered there, doing various activities. They were all around my age, and fascinating to watch. Some I could see their illness in them, others I couldn't. One boy in particular caught my attention.

I started to draw before I consciously decided to. He was fairly androgynous, with short black hair and angular everything. Yet he moved with grace. Something about him screamed dancer, and I was glad for the familiarity. The sour face almost didn't suit him, but I drew it anyway. I was never one to sugarcoat anything.

Evan Cartee

It was strange to think that a guy that was screaming insults at Evan just hours ago was now playing ping-pong with him in the Rec Center. Rally had to literally drag Evan out of bed and into the room full of games and patients who fake smiles, because he loathed the room due to the description previously stated. It was a room filled with "goodies" and "fun games" with the sole purpose of taking the patient's mind off their disease. Put a guy with major depression in there and he's bound to go crazy.

Swoop, swoop. For whatever reason Rally had picked up a ping pong paddle and challenged Evan to a match. Maybe he wanted to relieve whatever anger he had on him by playing a silly game, maybe he wanted to see if his mushy brain could take it, or maybe he just really loved ping pong. Whatever the case, Evan accepted, and there they were, going at it as if they were in the World Olympics.

They even had their first proper conversation together.
Well... kind of.
It went something like this:

"You hit like a girl."
"It's just ping pong."
"Yeah? Then beat me already, c'mon!"
"So you want to lose?"
"Is that a threat?"
"No, I was just—"
"It's on."

A girl approaches them a minute later, and even when she's only in his peripheral line of sight, it distracts him, and he finally misses. Damn.

He picks up the pong and watched as the girl—Rhaeann August—asks to play. He was about to offer her the ball and paddle, but then another random girl butts in the conversation and introduces her as Katarina. Rhaeann gives her a glare of daggers, and Rally curses and begins to storm off, no doubt angry that the girls can stomp in his bubble like that.

Not wanting to converse with the girls, Evan silently set the paddle and ball down on the table, slinking away without making eye contact. He was about to leave the room since he didn't want to be here in the first place, but a familiar-sounding coughing fit was heard. Juno.

She was sitting on a chair alone, and after a brief moment of trying to decide whether to leave the wretched room or give her some company—even if it's awkward like Rally proclaims it is—he makes it over to the seat next to her.

"You should really get that checked up," he said after she stopped coughing.

Clearly, he did not know anything about cystic fibrosis.