Daily Drama

Brock couldn't continue and explain to me what he was talking about. The teacher, Ms. McElroy, tired of the constant whispers combined with the apparent disinterest of my classmates in the class, most of them strangely distracted by my presence, silenced the class by loudly whistling, startling the distracted teenagers.

Satisfied with the result, the class continued with relative normality, except for the fact that some classmates still turned slightly to give me a quick glance and communicate with their desk neighbors through paper notes.

Trying not to be bothered by the erratic behavior of my classmates, I paid the utmost attention to the English class, continuing my competition with Sheldon to answer the majority of possible questions.

At the end of the class, along with my friends, we left the room heading to our next period.

While walking through the school hallways, I could notice that, just like inside the classroom, a large number of people around us focused their attention on me, whispering, and some even rudely pointing at me.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, irritated more to myself than anything.

"Oh, you don't know," said Alan with a small laugh, apparently enjoying my unease.

"OH!" exclaimed Brock, turning excitedly, cutting off his conversation with David and Georgie, "I forgot because of McElroy," he affirmed as he circled around Alan to stand on my other side, "you saved the cafeteria barista in front of the cinema," he said casually as if it were an uninteresting thing, "everyone is talking about it," he continued, strangely greeting a small group of girls who were staring intently in our direction, or more specifically, at me, "well done, she's HOT," he said, returning to me with a smug smile on his face while raising his hand, expecting a high-five.

Ignoring his hand, intrigued, I faced my friends, "how is it possible that they know about that?" I asked everyone surprised, "in the cafeteria, there were only a few elderly people, adults who I doubt recognize me, a couple of university students," I continued trying to remember who was present. I had been doing what House had asked me to do until Regina arrived, "oh," I said when I realized.

"So tell me, Sherlock, what conclusion did you reach?" asked Alan playfully, changing his accent to a very pronounced English one.

"It can't be," I said incredulously, "it must have been only a few minutes in the morning, it's impossible that she told the whole school at the same time. It's not possible that suddenly everyone knows," I continued even more incredulous as we entered our next period's classroom.

"That's high school gossip for you, my friend," said David amused as he took his seat.

If rumors spread this fast in this era, what would happen in high schools with the invention of smartphones? Somewhat worried about future teenagers, I sighed as I sat next to Alan, who was already in his own seat.

"What happened? I don't understand," said Georgie completely intrigued in his place just behind us, apparently far from understanding the conversation. It made sense; he, like me, had arrived much later than the others.

With a weak exclamation of excitement, Brock, who was next to Georgie, began to explain what had happened in the cafeteria, or at least tried to. The story was distorted, making me seem much cooler and more heroic than I remembered, even inventing things that never happened. From a fake fight with a university student who was trying to take advantage of a 'fainted' barista to completely nonsensical medical procedures.

"Is that what everyone is saying I did?" I asked incredulously and somewhat annoyed after Brock finished telling his version, "well, yes," said my friend with a big smile.

"Well, it's wrong, at least the majority of it is. I mean, I didn't hit anyone, and I didn't perform an emergency tracheotomy on Sarah; that's nonsense," I quickly denied some stupid facts.

"A what?" asked David, who, along with Brock and Georgie, shared a puzzled look, "opening the throat," I quickly explained, drawing with my finger on the front of my throat, "none of that happened. What really happened was that Sarah seemed to have a problem with her inner ear, and I helped her relax while the ambulance arrived at the cafeteria," I said quickly, speaking a bit louder on purpose so that people around me could hear and correct the idea that had formed in the school. I didn't understand why Regina would change the story so much.

Again, Alan laughed lightly, shaking his head slightly and leaning towards me, lightly hitting my shoulder, "possibly the story got altered as people told it. Don't pay attention; surely in a few hours, they'll forget about it."

Nodding at my friend, a little less upset about the situation and grateful for his small show of support, I sat back in my chair to face our next teacher.

The day continued, and as Alan had predicted, the sudden great interest in me had diminished considerably. But still, I wanted to know what Regina had told the entire school.

At lunchtime, my friends and I quickly reached the cafeteria, where many people were already occupying seats. Among all the people, I couldn't distinguish Regina because, at one of the central tables, strangely where Regina and her two friends always sat, it was completely empty. Knowing that they were probably in a cheerleader meeting, I ignored their absence and focused on the discussion Brock had started about the game from the day before.

A few minutes later, I felt light taps on my shoulder. Turning to see who was calling me, I found Regina standing with a big smile, accompanied by her two friends. "What are you doing here, silly?" Regina asked with a big smile.

"Hey, Regina," I greeted the teenager, "eating my lunch," I replied somewhat sarcastically, hiding the fact that I didn't know the reason for her question. Did she want me to sit with her?

"No," she laughed gently, putting her hand on my shoulder, "come to my table; you have to sit with me."

I knew it. "But I'm with my friends," I told the teenager, pointing to my friends, who, for some reason, were looking at Regina expectantly, especially Brock, David, and Georgie; Alan was simply eating an apple.

Returning my attention to Regina, I could see her contemplating for a few seconds before nodding, "they can come too, obviously," she said with a smile.

Georgie, David, and Brock, for some reason, quickly celebrated by high-fiving each other and quickly stood up, taking their trays and walking towards Regina's friends, trying to start a conversation with Karen.

Getting up last, followed by my calm friend, I noticed how he returned a simple greeting, nodding to a slightly excited Gretchen, who greeted him cheerfully.

Before moving on and following my friends, I held Regina back quickly but gently, grabbing her wrist, "can we talk for a moment?" I asked, pointing with a nod to the cafeteria door, "yes, sure," she responded with a big smile, advancing faster than me, letting go of my weak grip to quickly take my hand.

Being basically dragged by Regina out of the cafeteria, we reached one of the hallways a few steps from the noisy cafeteria. Standing with her back against

the lockers, Regina squeezed my hand a little harder, "so, what did you want to talk about?" she asked in a whisper while swaying slowly on her feet back and forth.

"Did you talk to anyone about what happened in the cafeteria?" I asked strangely, making Regina lose her smile and let go of my hand.

"What?" she asked, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Yeah, many people have been pointing at me all day, and they explained that someone spread the rumor that there was a fight in the cafeteria, and I performed a surgical procedure on Sarah," I explained.

"No, I didn't say those lies. I told Karen and Gretchen about our date, but nothing else," she said quickly, a little agitated, "was that wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"No, no," I replied immediately, "not at all. You can talk about your life with whoever you want," I assured her quickly, "it's just that someone possibly overheard your conversation and altered some things," I explained, slowing down so it didn't seem like I was upset.

"Okay," she said with a big smile, immediately changing her attitude, "I'm a bit disappointed," she continued, losing her smile and wiping what was probably lint on my shirt's shoulder.

"Oh, why?" I asked sincerely.

"I thought you brought me out here for something else," she said, adjusting my shirt's collar.

I didn't understand what she was talking about. I specifically asked to talk out here; what other topic could be pending? Without really understanding, I stared at Regina, waiting for her to continue with her explanation. She had been with her hand on my shoulder for a long time, and the whole time we were here, she constantly sought eye contact. She had already adjusted my shirt collar several times and continued swaying slightly on her feet... oh.

I understood.

Without really knowing how to do it, hesitantly, I approached slowly. Apparently, it was what I thought because Regina quickly leaned, stretching to get closer too.

Now more confident and armed with my two latest and only experiences, I quickly bent the last small space left to capture Regina's lips, again being so close to Regina, I could smell her fruity perfume and a completely new tone of what I could imagine was her shampoo. The last two times had been completely by surprise, also quickly interrupted, so I hadn't noticed with certainty the incredibly smooth texture of her lips.

Caught in Regina's embrace at the back of my neck, our bodies were very close. I felt a bit rigid with my arms at my sides. Slowly and feeling Regina's reaction to my movements, I stopped my hands on her hips, pressing a little, causing Regina to increase her actions in the kiss.

Completely trapped by the new sensations that the kiss was awakening, I began to ignore the surroundings, completely focused on Regina's warm lips, intensifying the kiss, simply following my instincts, exploring my very new affection when suddenly, "cough," I heard behind me, quickly separating from Regina, feeling embarrassed. I found only two girls, one of them Kat, who looked particularly upset with her friend.

"Hey Kat," I greeted the girl, trying to hide the embarrassment of being caught in that situation. Kat, who was at that moment playfully hitting her friend's shoulder, completely ignored me again as she quickly dragged the other girl away. It seemed she was embarrassed by the interruption caused by her friend.

Finding it somewhat amusing now that the surprise of being discovered had passed, I turned to a surprisingly annoyed Regina, who continued to gaze at the two girls rapidly walking down the hallway. Before either of us could say anything, the bell for the next period rang loudly through the hall, followed by a stampede of people rushing through the corridors.

"Time's up," I joked with the now disappointed girl, who nodded slightly, separating from the lockers.

"Regina!" I heard Karen's shout, which I immediately recognized, making Regina quickly separate from me to walk with her friends, discussing something in hushed whispers.

Feeling a bit awkward in front of my pants, I walked through the hallways towards my locker to get what I needed for the next period.

To my surprise and annoyance, people started pointing and whispering again, laughing slightly.

In my locker, my friends were already there, still talking among themselves, each in front of their own locker.

"Hey SuperStar, well done!" exclaimed an excited Brock as he raised his hand for a high five. This time, I didn't ignore his greeting and repeated it with David and Georgie, who were also strangely celebrating. Ignoring the reason behind the celebration, I opened my locker to get my things.

"It's happening again, seems like the rumor spread during lunch," I told Alan, who was beside me with a strange half-smile.

"Yeah..." he said, drawing out the word. "Or it could be the fact that you look like this," he continued calmly, pointing at my face.

Unable to see my own face, I didn't understand my friend's hint.

Apparently understanding my ignorance, Alan pointed behind me, where Georgie's locker was open. On the door of the locker, Georgie had a piece of mirror attached, clean enough to show my reflection. I immediately understood why they were pointing again—my lips were somewhat swollen and definitely stained with what I could assume was Regina's lip gloss.

As before, I immediately felt embarrassed. I had paraded through the school hallways in this way as if trying to show off in some manner. Quickly and eagerly, I wiped my mouth with the side of my hand, achieving small and almost imperceptible results.

Although I could see my reflection, I silently asked Alan if it had worked, receiving a hearty laugh as my friend, ignoring me, moved on.

"I don't understand why you care; you're just cooler to everyone," Georgie said, amused, as he closed his locker.

"It's called modesty, Georgie," I explained to my friend. "By the way, why on earth do you have a mirror in your locker?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"How else could I maintain this hairstyle?" he said, pointing to his hair as if it were obvious.

Amused by my friend's complete lack of shame and somewhat less embarrassed, I followed my friend more quietly to our next period.

Classes continued, and at the end of the day, as always, mom was outside waiting a few seconds after getting into the car. "Patrick John Darth Duncan!" the woman shouted, "Is that swelling on your lips?" she asked incredulously, leaning in to inspect my face, strangely moving my head to also check my neck.

During the car ride to the hospital, bombarded with questions that I intensely avoided and a strange kind of reprimand/warning about treating a lady, we arrived at the hospital in what felt like the longest drive, at least it felt that way.

As soon as mom parked the car, I got out without waiting and walked quickly into the building. With a quick greeting to the nurses, I walked through the hospital corridors towards House's office.

Inside, all the doctors were already there, including House, the latter standing next to Dr. Foreman, looking at a large book.

"Let’s see," I heard House as soon as I entered the office, "Absidia? Excellent, doesn't account for any of the symptoms," he continued sarcastically, "and you, you're late," he said, fixing his gaze on me, lifting his cane.

"I don't have a schedule," I immediately responded, greeting the other doctors present with a slight nod.

"Hey PJ!" cheerfully greeted Dr. Cameron on the side of the board with a series of ailments written on it, "no condition accounts for all these symptoms," she continued, addressing House.

"Well, good!" said House with an obviously fake joy, "because I thought maybe he was sick, but apparently he’s not. Who wants to do up the discharge papers?" he continued, much more serious. "Okay, unless we control the blood pressure, he’s going to start circling the drain before we can figure out what’s wrong with him," he said after a moment, seeing that his message had landed. "Treat him for sepsis, broad-spectrum antibiotics, and I want a cort-stim test and an echocardiogram," he finished, making the other three doctors stand up and leave one after the other.

"Now, you," said House again, pointing at me with his cane as he walked to his desk, "the notebook," he continued, raising his expectant hand.

Approaching the other side of the desk, I took out the small notebook from my backpack and handed it to him. "I didn't know you'd be grading me," I joked with the man as he opened the notebook.

With a funny snort, House began to read quickly the notes about the people written there.

"This man in his seventies, cane on the right side with hearing aids and drinks medication with his coffee, diagnosis?" House asked, still flipping through the notebook.

Trying to remember the people I had described in the notebook, I responded quickly, "Possible high blood pressure or heart problem," managing to get House to nod very slightly.

Still scanning the notebook, House maintained a somewhat bored expression until he turned the page, slightly opening his eyes. "Woman in her twenties, lack of balance, excessive sweating on her forehead, irritation by light and sound, diagnosis?" House asked, closing the notebook and looking at me with interest.

"Labyrinthitis in her right ear," I immediately replied, knowing he was talking about Sarah.

Handing me the notebook, House reclined in his chair, nodding silently, inviting me to continue.

Understanding his request, I began to tell him about what had happened in the cafeteria, omitting the fact that I was there for a date.

At the end of my narration, House had a half-smile, which I could now distinguish he used when he was about to mock someone. "You must have felt so lucky," the man said as he leaned forward in his chair, "on a date and you can play the hero," he continued sarcastically.

"I wasn't on a date, and I didn't feel lucky," I lied about the date, and I really didn't feel lucky; I mean, why would I?

Narrowing his eyes, "I believe you," House said, obviously suspicious, "so I must believe that on your way here, you kissed your mother, and in a desperate but fruitless attempt, you cleaned your lips," House continued with a big smile.

"Hey," I said annoyed and somewhat disgusted at House's stupid idea.

"I'm just saying I believe you," House said, raising his hands with an annoying smile.

"Okay, fine, I was on a date, but it's not important for what happened," I quickly said, trying to erase the image that House had planted.

"I knew it; I just wanted to annoy you," House said ironically, smiling.

Annoyed by his joke, "So, do you need anything else, or can I go?" I asked irritably to the smiling man.

Losing his smile, House leaned back in his chair again, "Buruli disease," he said dryly.

Waiting for him to continue, I saw him for a few seconds, and then I understood; it was a question.

"Caused by Mycobacterium ulcerans, it presents skin ulcers that can affect deeper tissues. The transmission is still not fully understood," I replied, recalling from the last book.

Nodding once quickly, "How can Nipah virus be diagnosed?" House said again.

"Encephalitis and exposure to secretions from infected animals, including fruit bats," I responded a few seconds later after remembering.

The questions continued like this for several minutes. I could answer the majority of them, occasionally House added some things not found in the book, and the few times it happened, he answered for me when I couldn't recall the response.

Still lounging in his chair with his feet up on his desk, House nodded satisfied, stretching his arm a bit to reach one of the books behind him.

"Here, continue with this one," I took the book, reading the cover before putting it in my backpack. Unfortunately, I didn't have the other book with me, so I couldn't hand it over.

Checking his watch, House made a grimace so that he slowly and with effort stood up, "come on, the clinic is waiting for us," he walked out of his office with me following behind.

When we entered the clinic, which was completely full, to House's frustration, if a deep sigh indicated anything, we found Dr. Cuddy checking files at the clinic reception.

When we were close enough for her to notice us, Cuddy, with a furrowed brow, confronted House, "you’re half an hour late," she said loud enough for the present patients not to hear.

"Busy case load," House immediately excused himself.

Shaking her head, "one case is not a 'load,'" said Dr. Cuddy sarcastically, returning to her files on the reception counter.

House, seeing the large number of people waiting to be attended, "so, how are we doing on cotton swabs today?" he asked sarcastically, surely making up the first thing that came to his mind, "if there's an acute shortage, I could run home-" the sarcastic man was saying, "no, you couldn't," Dr. Cuddy interrupted, looking pointedly at his leg, alluding to the obvious.

Taken by surprise, I couldn't help it and let out a quick laugh that I tried to suppress.

Noticing my presence, Dr. Cuddy attempted a pleasant smile, "PJ, nice to see you," she greeted before continuing with her paperwork.

"Hi," I greeted the director, trying to avoid House's offended look, "nice, you're turning the kid against me," he said, making Dr. Cuddy laugh, ignoring him while writing in the file in front of her.

House, seeing that Cuddy was ignoring him, indicated that I should follow him as he walked to the center of the waiting area, "hello, sick people and their loved ones," House cheerfully greeted the people present, "in the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chit-chat later, I'm Dr. Gregory House," he continued, lifting his cane to greet the people, "you can call me Gregg," he continued, trying to appear friendly, "I'm one of the three doctors staffing this clinic this morning," House said with a big smile, obviously fake.

"Short, sweet," said Dr. Cuddy, who had approached at some point, "grab a file," she ordered annoyed.

"This ray of sunshine is Dr. Lisa Cuddy, who runs this whole hospital, so unfortunately, she's much too busy to deal with you," House quickly said, ignoring Dr. Cuddy, "I am a bored," he continued emphasizing the last word, "certified diagnostician with a double specialty in infectious disease and nephrology," House explained calmly, "I'm also the only doctor currently employed at this clinic who is here against his will," he continued, causing many patients and family members to lose the friendly smile they had on their faces.

"But not to worry because, for most of you, this job could be done by a hormonal teenager who reads a lot," House said as if he had invented the comparison on the fly, "indeed," he continued, twisting his face and smiling, "this one here is PJ Duncan, a teenager not old enough to have a driver's license yet," he said, taking me by the shoulder and shaking me lightly, "you might be wondering what he's doing here; well, he's my assistant. He tells me if I missed something or if I forget something during the consultation. Sometimes I let him diagnose, and I work accordingly, making my job much easier."

Seeing that Cuddy wanted to say something, House quickly took another step forward to keep himself in the spotlight, "Speaking of which, if you’re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this," he said, showing his small bottle of medication, "this is Vicodin," he explained, "it’s mine, you can’t have any, and no, I do not have a pain management problem; I have a pain problem," he continued quickly with a small smile on his face, "but who knows? Maybe I’m wrong; maybe I’m too stoned to tell," he said, changing the expression on his face to one of concern, "so, who wants me?" he asked the people, but no one raised their hand, "and who would rather wait for one of the other two doctors?" he asked again, making everyone raise their hands, "okay, well, I’ll be in the exam room one if you change your mind," he finished with a smile, walking toward the room, smiling at Dr. Cuddy on the way. I quickly followed, avoiding the annoyed doctor's gaze.

"Jodi Matthews," I managed to hear Dr. Cuddy shout before reaching House and entering the room.

When House was getting comfortable in his chair, a somewhat short woman with glasses entered the room with a file in her hand.

Seeing that his tactic hadn't worked, House, frustrated, got up from his chair to snatch the file from the woman's hands. Looking me in the eyes, House quickly tilted his head, pointing at the woman. Understanding what he wanted, I opened my notebook to start writing what I could see.

The woman was in her thirties, in formal clothes for the occasion. When she entered and smiled at me as a greeting, I noticed that her teeth were recently worked, quite white to be natural. She had new glasses or was compulsive with their care because there was no visible scratch on them. In medical terms, there was nothing to note: no visible redness, no cough, her pupils seemed fine, good balance, and she didn't seem uncomfortable anywhere. She seemed to be simply waiting while House read her file.

"Okay," House said after a few seconds of reading the file in his hands, "everything seems in order. Why did you come?" House asked her while handing me the file to read and indicating to the woman to take a seat on the examination table.

"My mucus," the woman said as she took a seat.

"What?" House asked, somewhat irritated.

"It was yellow," the woman affirmed, somewhat embarrassed because I immediately began writing in my notebook. Strange, it was yellow, now not?

"It was?" House asked sarcastically.

"It's not anymore," the woman explained.

"Hm, that's a shame," House said with fake sadness.

"I thought that might be a problem, so I brought you this," the woman said as she took a colored card from her purse.

"Your mucus was pale goldenrod," House said, reading the inscription on the card before passing it to me. Strange, why bother bringing this?

"Last week, yes, should I be worried?" the woman asked, totally unconcerned.

"Oh, yes," House said sarcastically, "very," he continued with seriousness.

"Really?" the woman asked, suddenly scared, "I thought I was okay now," she affirmed with concern on her face. Then why was she here?

"And yet, here you are," House said ironically as he straightened up, "what happened? Did the paramedics take a week to respond to your 911 call?" House asked sarcastically, teasing the patient.

"You're not a very nice doctor, are you?" the woman accused.

"And you are very bad at whatever it is you do," House affirmed, and with that, I understood what might be happening. House, noticing the surprise on my face, stretched out his hand, asking for my notebook, which I quickly handed over.

"You don't even know me!" the offended woman exclaimed.

"I know you have new glasses, your teeth are sparkly white, and you're getting the most of your health insurance while you still can," House said, nodding slightly at what was written in the notebook, "diagnosis?" House asked, returning the notebook to me.

"Termination," I quickly responded, the theory I had formed with what House had said.

"I might be quitting," the woman proudly announced.

"If you were quitting, you would have known that last week when your snot was still pale goldenrod; you're getting fired," House said calmly.

Seeing that she had been caught in her lie, the woman simply lowered her head, "I just don't like being told what to do," she said, making House look at her specifically.

"I'll get you in for a full-body scan later this week," House said, pitying the woman, surely feeling similar to her as he wrote in the patient's file.

"Thanks," the woman thanked.

After a few minutes of House filling out paperwork, the woman left. "What kind of patient is she, a type two?" I asked while taking a seat in the other chair in the office.

"No, she didn't want drugs, possibly we're in the presence of a unicorn," House said with a strange smile.

"A unicorn?" I asked intrigued.

"A type five," House said, "an interesting patient," he explained, noticing my surprised expression.

"I thought there were only four types of patients," I ironically told the man.

"The type five is so special and rare that I preferred to skip it," House said as he handed me the patient's file, "take it to your old girlfriend, be careful she doesn't find out about the new one," House continued joking.

Ignoring his joke, I took the file to Nurse Fryday. "PJ," the nurse greeted cheerfully as she received the file, "let me see," she continued, opening and reading what was written, "a full-body scan, wow," she continued surprised after reading what House had written.

"It's nothing serious, House just wants to cover everything," I explained to the nurse as I leaned on the desk.

After having a small conversation, Nurse Fryday handed me another file, urging me now that House had introduced me to the patients to call them myself.

We continued at the clinic for a couple of hours, attending to patients much less interesting than Jodi, many type ones, and, of course, not helping my 'task' of diagnosing without reading the file. It was too easy.

When I was about to leave to deliver the last file, House's pager started ringing. Checking the message, House stood up, "let's go," he said as he walked out of the room.

Following the man after leaving the file on Nurse Fryday's desk, I quickened my pace to catch up with the fast man with the cane.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Kidney failure," House explained as he walked.

"Caused by antibiotics?" I asked, walking beside him.

"Maybe," House said thoughtfully, "cough, abdominal pain, fever, rash, nausea, blood pressure not responding to IV fluids, kidney failure," House listed as we walked.

When we reached House's office, the other doctors were already there.

---

Author Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American, and much less a doctor.

I know there's a plot about PJ's name in the series Good Luck Charlie, but according to the wiki, his name is the one published here. From now on, it will be like this, and there will be no changes.

Today, I made some changes to Regina's attitude shown in the movie. You probably remember that Regina doesn't care about showing 'affection' in front of other people; obviously, that's because of her mother's role model. But I like to imagine that Regina's attitude in the movie is the result of a gradual increase in ego during her high school journey. I imagine that since she was a child, people told her she was the prettiest (specifically her mother, living vicariously through her daughter), creating a great self-esteem. When she entered high school, she used this to belittle people around her and feel like the best once again.

Having said that,

I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thanks for reading! :D

PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.