Modelland (37 page)

Tookie and Piper took a ZipZap behind the CaraCaraCara boat and entered the Fashion Emergency Department Store courtyard. The atrium was open to the sky, like a riad in the alchemy-and-spice land of Medina, and there was a pool in its center filled with a mysterious greenish substance. Various IV-like tubes were submerged in the liquid; the tubes trailed upward to the atrium’s second level, their destination unseen.

Around the perimeter of the atrium were uniquely shaped doors marked
WIG-A-WEAVELESS HAIR LENGTHENING AND THICKENING RESEARCH DEPARTMENT
,
DEGREE OF FACIAL SYMMETRY DETERMINATION DIVISION
, and
INTENSITY OF DESIRE FOR INTOXIBELLA-NESS CALIBRATION
. Piper led Tookie toward a set of double doors marked
THE DRAMA TRAUMA CENTER
. “This is the FEDS intensive care unit,” she explained.

As soon as they approached the entrance, the stark white doors turned to a bloody, gory red. Then they flung open, revealing a large, noisy, crazed room filled with Bellas suffering from various degrees of odd and unspeakable injuries.

Doctors’ offices always made Tookie uncomfortable. They reminded her of her endless medical visits when she was younger. In addition to submitting Tookie to endless forehead-growth-pattern testing, Creamy was determined to figure out what disease her daughter had that gave her dirty and snotty eyes and a frame that refused to gain weight. Even though Tookie had been
poked and prodded by hundreds of needles, the painful tests were always inconclusive.

Tookie and Piper approached the check-in counter. A woman who looked about one hundred and fifty years old sat behind the desk. She wore an elaborate sage-green cape made of multiple types of pistols, knives, nooses, and razors, with a hat shaped like a pair of angry scissors. Upon closer inspection, Tookie realized that the blades of the scissors were really
blades
. Sharp serrated knives.
Comforting
, Tookie thought. “Uh, excuse me, ma’am,” she began.

The old woman’s eyes bulged. “ ‘Ma’am’? You called me ma’am? Ohhhh noooo … you should never call me that. My name is Purse Drestookill. Remember that, because from the looks of those enormous feet of yours, I’m sure you’re quite a clumsy one, am I right?”

Tookie opened her mouth, but no words came out.
At Modelland, I guess nurses are called purses
, she realized.
You shoulda seen that coming, Tookie!

Purse Drestookill sighed and shuffled some papers behind the desk. “The Corridor Kitties have tetanus on their claws. Pretty soon you’ll be spasming, so you’ll be called shortly.” Then Purse Drestookill put her head down on the desk and aimed her scissor/knife hat toward Tookie. “Place your arm in my head device, please.”

Tookie backed away. “Uh … excuse me?”

The woman frowned. “You heard me, little Miss Forehead the Size of the South Seas! Do it!”

Tookie looked to Piper for help, but Piper just motioned for Tookie to do as she was told. Swallowing hard, Tookie slowly
placed her hand through, then her wrist, continuing until her bicep was right between the blades. They came crashing together toward her arm, and just before Tookie was about to scream, a sticker band marked
Clawed by Catwalk Corridor
slapped onto her wrist.

“I put a rush on you, Five-Head,” the woman said in a no-nonsense voice. “Wouldn’t want those bubble lips of yours to get gangrene and
really
have to be amputated. Next!” she said to the injured girl behind Tookie.

“You should hear some of the ghastly insults she hurls at me,” Piper whispered as they walked toward the waiting area. “Every three days, she thinks up something new—Red-eyed Peas, Frosty the SnowBella, Al-Bella-bino …”

They fell into seats. Tookie was next to a soaking-wet girl gasping for breath. The girl’s uniform was five sizes too small, hitting her midcalf. It reminded Tookie of Ci~L’s too-small uniform in War of Words.

“Do you mind if I ask what you’re here for?” Tookie whispered to her.

The girl flashed Tookie the diagnosis sticker on her arm.
Flooding Pants
.

“I washed my uniform in super-hot water today,” she explained. “They told us only to wash it in cold, but it was so stinky from Run-a-Way Intensive 201, I had to. When I took it out of the wash, it was tiny-tiny. My D mates told me to turn it in for a new one, but I was late for History of Modelland class, so I just threw this on. All of a sudden, I was submerged in water. I felt like I was going to drown. Now I can’t get the uniform off, and the floods have been happening like clockwork. I can’t swim, and I can only hold my breath for—”

Suddenly, water rose from the girl’s feet as if she was in her own private fish tank. The water swelled higher and higher until it completely covered her head. The girl flailed about, eyes bulging, panic-stricken. Purse Drestookill ran over, yanked a razor from her arsenal of weapons, and punctured the bag. The water spilled out onto the waiting room floor. The girl collapsed on her side, gasping for air like a hooked trout. Purses scooped her up and swept her through the Drama Trauma Center doors.

Tookie turned to Piper. “Okay, that was weird.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Piper whispered. “Take a look around.”

Tookie surveyed the rest of the chaotic waiting room. Across the aisle was a girl with blackened eyes and foul-smelling dark puffs of exhaust coming out of her sockets.
Smoky Eyes
, her armband read.

A loud wail filled the waiting area. Tookie turned and noticed Desperada, the girl who hadn’t stopped bawling since she’d arrived at Modelland, collapsed in a corner. Not far from Desperada was Zarpessa, sitting in a chair, poking at bleeding gashes all over her hands.

Tookie smirked.
The cats did a lovely job on her!

Just then, as if she could sense Tookie was thinking about her, Zarpessa looked up. She shot Piper and Tookie a resentful look, as if they were the ones who’d scratched her skin raw.

Desperada’s wail filled the waiting room again. Purse Drestookill placed a pair of rusted silver bullets in her ears to drown out the noise. Since no one else was paying any attention to Desperada, Tookie stood and limped over. Desperada didn’t even seem to notice her approach, wailing and sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

“Did you get scratched by the cats?” Tookie whispered. “Are
your cuts really deep? They said infection sets in fast. You can go in front of me if you want.” Even though Tookie barely knew Desperada—no one did, as she spent all her time crying—she hated the thought of Desperada being in pain.

Desperada glanced into Tookie’s eyes for a beat. “I don’t have any cuts. I—I’m sick. My stomach …” She let out a long, deep, guttural groan.

Suddenly, the doors that led to the Drama Trauma Center burst open. A woman with oatmeal-colored hair done up in dramatic coils emerged. Even amid all the chaos, she wore a soft, placid smile on her face and seemed to … 
glide
across the room. Tookie looked down at the woman’s feet and realized why: she was on roller skates.

Tookie watched the woman zig and zag through different girls in the waiting room. “I want some of those so I can get to class on time!”

“Not what you think,” Piper murmured. “Not what you think at all …”

Zarpessa rose to her feet and ran toward the rolling woman. “Oh, Nurse—I mean
Purse
! I really need to go first! This crying girl’s racket is really killing me!” She gestured toward Desperada.

The roller-skating woman looked at Zarpessa. “I am a
doctor
, not a purse.”

“Of course!” Zarpessa put on her fakest of fake smiles. “I’m sorry, Doctor, of course, Doctor. But you only handle the small stuff, right? Like knitting up cut knees and putting patches on bumps and scrapes. The big stuff is for a man’s mind. Open-heart surgery, brain trauma, that kind of thing.”

“It sounds like brain trauma might be something I should
check
you
for,” the doctor shot back. She gave Zarpessa an icy stare and rolled away.

The woman whizzed past Zarpessa to get a closer look at Desperada. Her uniform was a cloak covered in stiff white bristles like the one Creamy used on her face twice a day in the shower. Her thick stockings resembled an elastic version of the material Tookie had used to deep-clean the pots at B3 when she was on cafeteria duty. Her hair was a rather floppy, odd material … a mop, perhaps? Tookie then got the pun right away. The bristle-brush jacket, the grime-removing stockings, the literal mop head … 
scrubs
.

“I’m Dr. Erica,” the woman said, taking Desperada’s hands. Dr. Erica frowned at Desperada, then pulled a piece of sandpaper out of her breast pocket. It danced and wiggled in her hands as if alive. After she pressed the sprightly sandpaper to Desperada’s forehead, it wrapped itself around and around her head like a strip of gauze.

The doctor inspected the paper closely and sighed. “Just as I thought. Temperature is standard, blood pressure is perfect, gastric and skin acidity suggests electrostatic normalcy, but texture of epidermis indicates elevated hormonal activity.”

She can tell all that from sandpaper?
Tookie thought, amazed.

“Does that mean I’m dying?” Desperada bleated.

The doctor frowned again. “Not any faster than the standards of beauty, missy. But you are suffering from BW. Boy Withdrawal. There’s a guy, right?”

Desperada froze midwail.

“Bingo!” Dr. Erica turned to exit the waiting room.

“Wait!” Desperada yelled. “Okay, my
stomach
doesn’t hurt—my
heart
does! I miss my boyfriend so much I think it might stop!
Please write me a note so I can go down the mountain to see him! I don’t know what he’s doing while I’m gone! What if he’s messing with another girl?”

Dr. Erica clucked her tongue. “Little missy, or little miss
-him
, no Bella is ever allowed to go home of her own accord. You can’t leave the property just because of some silly guy. What a mistake that always is, whether you’re at Modelland or not. Talk about crippling yourself …”

“But my heart is
killing
me! I have to see him, just for a second. I swear, I’ll be back so fast and—”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t allow you to do it,” the doctor interrupted.

Desperada clapped her mouth shut. Her eyes turned from bloodshot red to a cold iron-gray. “Fine, then,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll just leave!”

The doctor smirked. “Just leave, you say? At Modelland, Bellas pay a pricey toll for hopping the fence. You do
not
want to do that.” Dr. Erica pointed to the exit doors. “Suck it up, girl. And don’t come back here unless you’re being strangled by a choker necklace!”

Desperada trudged out of the room. Dr. Erica rolled her eyes. “These parents, they’ve got to be careful with how they name their kids.” She sucked her teeth. “Desperada? What did they expect the poor girl to grow up to be?”

Then all eyes whipped to the door through which Desperada had just exited. A new patient had strolled in. He had glowing skin, a sharp jawline, and deep-set eyes. Tookie’s heart did a flip.

Bravo
.

There was a fresh gash on his neck.

All the girls in the waiting area let out sympathetic moans. Piper nudged Tookie. “There’s thumb boy!”

“Shhh.” Tookie just looked away, mortified.

Bravo approached Purse Drestookill’s desk. Even she looked smitten, perking up and pushing out her chest … of knives. “Just here to get my stitches removed,” he said. “Don’t fuss over me.” Then he walked over to an oversized chair in a corner, picked up an old copy of
Modelland
magazine with Ci~L on the cover, and sat. Alone.

“Next!” Dr. Erica called. She glanced at Tookie. “Looks like that’s you.”

Zarpessa let out a little whine. “But I have—”

“Faces before hands, missy,” the doctor interrupted.

“Good luck,” Piper whispered, shooting Tookie a
be brave
smile.

The doctor led Tookie through the double doors and directed her to a white bed in the corner. Tookie sat down on it and immediately sank into the mattress.

The pillow rubbed against her mouth and she winced. Her lip was hurting so badly now, tears brimmed in her eyes.

“You’re in agony, aren’t you?” the doctor said.

Tookie nodded.

“You hide pain well,” Dr. Erica went on. “Something tells me you’ve been doing that for a long time.” She placed her hands on each side of Tookie’s head and stared into her eyes. “On a pain scale of one to ten, I see you’re at about a seven and a half. Here’s a bit of Zed Med for the agony while I fix you up. I have to warn you, though. The Zed Meds mess with you. They have a Z effect.”

“A Z effect like getting some Z’s?” Tookie asked. “Like falling asleep?”

“Not exactly,” the doctor murmured.

Two strands of the doctor’s mop hair started to lengthen. They snaked through the air and entered Tookie’s nostrils. Tookie’s pain slowly started to subside.

“Where’d you get your skates?” she asked woozily as the doctor inspected her wounds.

“These?” Dr. Erica glanced at her feet. “I got them at birth.”