The man with the box of felt-tip pens said one must call him 'Miss Peterson' but Justin only called him 'Miss Eterson' because he was jealous and angry. Miss Eterson had long, fair princess hair and it was so much longer than Justin’s. With a furious face the boy painted thick black lines on his paper and grumbled. Miss Eterson wanted him to paint with yellow. Princess-hair-yellow. “Justin," Miss Peterson came over to Justin's table and leaned over his drawing with a big smile. “Don’t you want to use the yellow pen? Your picture would become so much brighter." Justin grumbled a little more and rubbed a thick black wax layer to the middle of his paper. The therapist scribbled something in her file, then sat down to the other side of the table and watched as Justin drew. With lots and lots of black wax crayon. Justin was nervous because of Miss Eterson. He only sat there, staring and he smelled of violet flowers and hand cream. Justin didn’t like this smell. He didn’t like Miss Eterson’s thick chest and red finger claws either. "Oh, what a beautiful book!" Miss Peterson looked at the book of fairytales which lay on the table next to the boy. “May I look at it?" Justin shook his head without even looking up. Red finger claws would quite certainly make ugly finger spots on the pages. Miss Peterson smiled friendly. “My grandmother used to read Cinderella to me." Justin peeked up a bit under his long hair strands. "I loved it. I wanted to be a princess too and dance with the prince in his beautiful castle." Justin blinked and stopped painting. With big eyes he looked up. Was this the reason for Miss Eterson to have such long princess hair? Because he wanted to dance with Cinderella's prince? He moved back, squeaking with the chair, and stuck his head under the table to look at Miss Etersons shoes. They weren’t made of glass but were pretty and pink with a glittering bow. Justin wasn’t sure whether these could be real princess shoes or not. Miss Peterson wrinkled her forehead in amusement and bent down too as Justin touched her right shoe under the table. “Justin? You drop something on the floor?" Justin met her questioning look under the tabletop. Had he? He looked around on the ground looking for something that could’ve belonged to him, but in the end found nothing. He shook his head. Miss Peterson laughed and sat up straight again, then groaned sympathetically when her patient bumped his head as he tried to crawl up from under the table. “Hh!" The boy immediately held on his forehead and looked frightened at Miss Eterson. “Oh, Justin. Is it very bad?" With warm, soft fingers she stroked Justin’s blond hair and smiled gently. “Would you like to put some ice on it?" He thought about it briefly. His head was aching terribly but he wouldn’t want to make things worse by getting cold all over as well. He trembled visibly, shook his head and then quite automatically leaned himself a little more into Miss Etersons stroking hand. She looked at him kindly. “You really have wonderful hair Justin. Nice and long." He did? A mixture of surprise and joy crawled over Justin’s innocent features and three of his fingers came up to stroke the blond strands too. Yes, they definitely were longer than yesterday. It probably wouldn’t take until Christmas for his hair to grow the right length for the tower. Presumably only till Thanksgiving. He smiled. There was fried bird without feathers or a head then too. Perhaps even Pudding with money treasure. He liked... “…Pudding." Miss Peterson grinned. “Yes, it’s Friday, isn’t it? There’s always pudding for dessert on Fridays." It was? Justin certainly knew that in Harrisburg there was pudding only at Christmas. But he was in Pittsburgh now. Perhaps it was already Christmas in Pittsburgh? He got quite nervous at the thought and hummed the bell song. He liked the tone of bells. The therapist watched her patient in confusion as he began to hum a melody that sounded a lot like Jingle Bells, but then however decided simply to ignore it. “So Justin, Blake told me you like the colour green. Perhaps you’d like to use a green crayon for your next picture?" Justin turned a thick blond strand around his finger and showed a happy smile as Miss Eterson handed him a green crayon. Frog Prince green. “““““““““ On Fridays Blake had the late shift and made his first check on ward number four punctually at 4:30 pm. With a little medicine cup he entered Justin's room and was clearly disappointed to find the young man with a puffy face once again. He was curled up on the bed with an opened book of fairytales on the pillow. “Hello Justin. How was your day?" Blake sat with his patient on the edge of the bed. “Miss Peterson told me about the big green frog you drew today at creative therapy.” Justin sniffled. "Hey,” Blake bent down a little and stroked Justin’s head. "You’re still sad about Harrisburg?" The boy squeezed his eyes shut as tears flowed again and he sobbed silently. The male nurse looked at him taken aback. It wasn’t usual for people with Justin’s diagnosis to show their emotions so openly, but if they did it was basically impossible for them to verbalise their feelings. In return this made it damned hard for him to help. Like now, in the case of his newest patient who seemed more than lost in his own little isolated world at the moment. Blake looked around and watched at the books open pages. Rapunzel. A big, grey tower was shown and a fair-haired girl looked from the upper window. She glanced down with a hopeful expression, to this beautiful king's son who ready for rescue, jumped of his horse. Blake touched the page thoughtfully and then looked up at his crying patient. “It’s pretty sad that the princess had to live all alone in the tower for so long, hmm?" Justin didn´t answer. He only covered his face with both hands and sobbed again. “I would’ve been rather frightened. I mean if someone would lock me up in there, you know?" He continued to stroke his fingers through Justin's hair. “Fortunately the prince showed up at the end, right?" The boy said something through his hands. “Ch-hristm-mas ca-ame to ea-earl-ly." Blake carefully pulled away the fingers and wiped Justin's cheeks with a paper handkerchief. “Christmas came too early?" Justin looked at Plake miserably and nodded. “But it’s four months till next Christmas. It’ll be in December quite on time." The boy shook his head with tear damp eyes. “But in Pi-ittsbh- hurgh it´s ri-ight n-now." "Yeah?" Blake looked at the patient closely. “Who told you that?" Justin began to wail loudly and tore himself strongly by the hair. “N-not P-lake!" Blake raised his eyebrows and tried to solve Justin's tense fingers from the blond strands. “Not Plake?" Justin pulled more strongly and cried out flustered. And the male nurse had no other choice than to give a little sedative shot into the boys arm. “It’s ok." He stroked the kids’ forehead gently. Justin's movements became dull and his blue eyes were turned towards Blake's face sadly. Blake smiled. “It’s ok. Sleep a bit, frog prince." Three minutes later Justin breathed evenly in a relaxed sleep and the male nurse left the room to take a look at the work schedule in the ward room. He read the plan for Friday shook his head and went into the next door, the staff room. “Hey, Teddy. Did Ethan have the shift at noon today?” Male nurse Schmidt put down his coffee. “Ah yes. But he left twenty minutes ago.” Blake nodded and smiled. “Okay then. Thanks.” He went to the desk of the station leader and sat down at the edge to grab the phone. It rang and just a few seconds later a sleepy “Gold?” was heard. “Hey Ethan. Blake here. Sorry to bother you, but Teddy said you had the shift at noon.” “Yes. Why?” “Mister Taylor at 411 is rather irritated. I had to sedate him.” “Hmm.” “Do you know anything? Was he conspicuous during your shift?” “No. He was very exited about his lunch, though.” “What was it?” “I don't know... chicken, vegetables and caramel pudding. The kid possibly thought it was a fucking Christmas dinner.” Blake frowned. “Christmas dinner?” Ethan laughed. “Yeah, he jabbered something of a money treasure in the pudding and a fried bird without feathers.” “Hmm. What did you tell him?” “Nothing. I placed the tray in front of him and wished him Merry Christmas. Then I left.” “You wished him Merry Christmas? Why?” “I don't know why! Hell, it was a joke. What's with all the questions, anyway?” Frustrated, Blake rubbed his hair. “It's okay. I’m trying to find out what's up with him, that’s all. Was he inconspicuous after lunch?” “I only looked after him once as I cleared the tables. He sat crying in front of the mirror.” “Really? What did he do there?” “Like I said, he was all crying. Something about his hair. I don't know, if you’d ask me he damn well has a good reason to whine and weep with that hair style. The kid badly needs a decent haircut.” “Hmm. Ok, thanks for the information. I appreciate it.” Blake hung up the phone and made some notes. He never liked his colleague and was absolutely not in any agreement with Ethan Gold’s work ethics or his often irreverent attitude against the patients. But at least now he could visualize what happened earlier to put the little frog prince in his current state of condition. ... speaking of frogs. Armed with a small roll of cellotape the male nurse headed back to Justin’s room and searched for the frog drawing from Lindsay Petersons creative therapy. The boy would be happy about some colour on his empty walls. “““““““““ As Justin woke up it was early evening. His head hurt a little and somehow he still felt tired, but he also was hungry. Very hungry. He sat up and looked at his blue alarm clock. It was 5:51pm. Almost dinnertime. Quickly he rose and washed his hands at the washbasin next to the drawer. After that he sat down at his small table and stared at the door. At 5:54pm he heard footsteps and bent his head a little to try to look the two meters distance through the tiny keyhole. It didn’t work, but the door opened and Plake entered the room with a piece of paper in one hand, a tray in the other and a kind smile on his face. “Hey Justin. How was your nap?” Justin thought about it and then answered nothing at all because only kittens knew how to take a nap and report afterwards about it and he didn’t have any fur. Though it was a real shame, he would’ve liked to wash his silky black fur with his tongue. He smiled… purred a little, stroked his longish hair…. and wrinkled his nose then in distraction. Hmm. His fur wasn’t black. It was lightly yellow. Princess-Hair-Yellow because he was a princess. The male nurse kept the tray in his hand and gave the paper to the boy. “That's the lunch scheme for Pittsburgh. I thought we’d hang it up next to the frog, so that you always know what you get for lunch.” Justin followed Blake’s pointing and his eyes widened immediately. “Hh!” The picture of a green frog was hanging at the wall, over the bed! He quickly stood up from the table, climbed on the mattress and touched the paper with his fingertips. Blake grinned while, putting down the tray. “See? You drew it at Miss Petersons, remember? It looks nice on the wall.” Justin rubbed over the smooth surface with fascination. It was so green and smelled like pens and the frog was happy and laughing. Justin laughed too. Loud. Blake stopped a moment and beamed likewise. Then he took a small roll of cellotape out of his pocket and took two little pieces from it. “Here. We hang the Pittsburgh lunch plan next to it.” With wide stretched arms he stuck the black and white paper next to Justin’s frog and smoothed it somewhat. “Perfect!” “Perfect!” Justin echoed the word in an exact copy of Blake’s voice and grinned at the black and white scale. “Mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayfridaysaturdaysunday.” “Right, the whole week.” Blake pointed explaining at the scheme. “You see, here is Friday. Breakfast, lunch, supper. What do you read at supper?” Justin stared at the plan in earnest concentration. “Potato salad.” Blake stifled a grin and tried to keep a mature tone. “Justin. I don't mean your supper in Harrisburg. Read what you get in Pittsburgh.” “Potato salad, potato salad.” The boy whispered, while pretending to read from the list. The male nurse grinned and probed his young patient playfully to the side. “Nooo. No potato salad. It’s red beet, dark bread, soft cheese and liverwurst.” “Potato salad.” Justin really didn't like red beet. Blake sighed and shrugged his shoulders with a grimace. “Okay, you're right. Potato salad is definitely better than this grub.” “Potato salad.” Justin smiled brightly at Plake. Blake smiled back. Then he pointed again at the plan. “Here, do you still know what you got for lunch?” Justin looked at the column Friday-Lunch, read it and immediately turned his head away. “Justin?” Blake remained calm. “It says you got yams, fried chicken, peas and caramel pudding for dessert.” The boy mimicked a motionless concrete column perfectly as he stared disinterested in the other direction. “Was it tasty, hmm? Fried chicken and pudding? I'm sure you like pudding.” The patient didn't reply, but started rocking unconsciously. “When did you get pudding in Harrisburg? Mondays?” “Christmas, Christmas...” murmured Justin scarcely audible. “Pudding at Christmas.” “You thought that today was Christmas? Because you got pudding?” Justin rocked a little harder and his fingers wandered to his hair. Blake grasped his small wrists. “Ethan has brought you your launch at noon, am I right?” “Not Plake...” The boy tried to release his hands from Blake’s grip. “Not Plake.” “No, not Plake. I was at home. Ethan also works here. He brought you your dinner and wished you a 'Merry Christmas'.” “Merry Christmas.” echoed Justin weakly. “Merry... merry.” Gently Blake stroked the boys arm. “It was just a joke Justin. Ethan has made a joke. It isn't Christmas here in Pittsburgh.” “Merry, merry...” “Just a joke, Justin.” “Joke, Justin.” “Yeah exactly. Just a joke. It isn't Christmas.” “Not Christmas.” Blake reached for Justin’s chin and turned it around to create eye contact. He looked at Justin and shook his head. “Absolutely not Christmas. In Pittsburgh you get pudding and chicken on Fridays. Not at Christmas.” The boy looked silently at Blake who tried to use this attention. “Don't you like Christmas?” Justin blinked. “Hmm, Justin? You don’t like Christmas? Why were you sad?” “Hair isn’t long enough. Certainly not long enough.” Justin’s gaze turned blank and he reached for his hair, touching lightly the end of the strands. Blake let him. “Not long enough.” Blake tried to make sense of what the boy was saying. “Your hair must be long for Christmas?” “Certainly too short.” “Why? Why do you want long hair for Christmas?” Justin’s gaze still was blank but he began to smile and climbed off the bed. Excited he took the fairy tale book from under the pillow, turned the pages and finally opened it to page 17. As if that alone would explain everything. He looked at Blake, smiling brightly. “I get the same.” Blake frowned and looked at the drawing of Rapunzel, the tower and the prince. “The same?” Justin nodded and accurately followed the length of Rapunzel’s long fair hair with his finger. “Down to the bottom.” “Hmm.” Blake smiled. “She certainly has damn long hair. You want the same?” Justin didn't take his eyes off of the picture as he reached for his own blond wisps or hair and wrapped some of them around his finger. “It doesn’t grow that fast Justin. You have to wait.” He didn’t use his natural voice for speaking these words, so Blake assumed, Justin imitated someone else who told him things like that. “You must be patient for your hair to grow long? You have to wait? Until Christmas?” Justin nodded and again rubbed with one finger along Rapunzel’s hair length. This time with a sad gaze. “Christmas comes too early in Pittsburgh.” “Nope.” Blake smiled and touched his hand to Justin’s cheek. “Remember? Ethan has only made a joke. It isn't Christmas in Pittsburgh yet. We always eat pudding.” “Not Christmas in Pittsburgh.” “No.” Blake prodded Justin’s nose with his finger and the boy giggled because it was funny. “Hey listen. Do you want to eat your supper now?” The corner of Justin’s lip curled into a cheeky grin. “Potato salad.” Blake sighed. “Uh, boy you’re killing me ...”
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_________________________________________________ A/N: Thanks to Miguel for the ´Miss Eterson´ Storypic. And thanks to Bine for the wonderful translation-job. AND thanks to our wonderful beta Sam