Beverly Hills: Season 2

Season 2, Episode 14: Hell and Back

  Brooklyn stares down at the gray leather seat in the treatment room of the hospital. There's a machine next to the chair and a few clear tubes that hang from it that are supposed to go into her arms. She doesn't dare to sit down in it though. If she sits, that means this whole needing kidney transplants is real- and that's the opposite of what she wants. She read all these horror stories online about people getting heart disease from bad kidneys and how they ended up dying from that. Brooklyn doesn't want to die. She isn't READY to die.
   "Brooklyn, I think you're supposed to sit." Mrs. Sabin whispers to her daughter from next to her.
   "If I sit, that means this is all real." Brooklyn responds. "And I don't want it to be real. I'm waiting to wake up."
   "Honey, this isn't a dream." Mrs. Sabin puts her hands on her daughter's shoulders from behind. "I want you to get better and dialysis will help you get healthier before the doctors find a transplant."
   "What if they don't?" Brooklyn looks at her mom in the eye. She had told her family that she doesn't want any of theirs. She doesn't even want them getting tested for matches. Taking one of their kidneys away from them would be too hard. "What if no one is willing to give up their kidneys?"
   "Honey, people all over are donating." Mrs. Sabin assures. "This isn't the shortest process but the faster we get it rolling, the faster you'll be out of here, healthy."
   Brooklyn hates it here. She has been in and out of this place taking blood tests, having long talks with the doctors about procedures and surgeries, lots of kidney talk, and visiting that one chick who was in the room next to her but it seems she has checked out. Brooklyn didn't always hate hospitals but now that she has been a patient in one for such a while, she's completely over them. "I'll take your word for it."
   "Good." Mrs. Sabin says as her daughter takes a seat in the chair.
   "If I die, tell Cambridge Brightwell I love him." Brooklyn mumbles to her mom as one of the nurses comes over to the machine to start hooking Brooklyn up to clean out her blood and empty the water from her body.
   "You can tell him that yourself." Mrs. Sabin grins. Brooklyn sighs, looking away as she gets injected with the shot, wondering how long she'll have to be here for.

   At school, Harrow browses through internet pictures on the fire that took place at 8 Count Dance Studio a few days ago. A lot of people in Beverly Hills are raging about the fire since it was the city's most prestige dance studios and how justice needs to be taken. The cops are still clueless on what started the fire but Harrow knows all the answers. Emerson had burned the place down all by himself after the studio rejected her audition. She was pretty pissed about not getting in but she got over that the minute she found out what Emerson did. She wishes she never saw those matches in his pockets and she wishes he would have never admitted to it. That makes her an accomplice, doesn't it?
   "Hey." Emerson pecks Harrow's cheek as he sits down next to her on the bench in the courtyard. "I was thinking we hit Jerzey's after school? I think Tabby is playing."
   "Can't. I have homework." Harrow gets up from the bench before swinging her bag onto her shoulder. She hasn't spoken to Emerson much since knowing what he did. If she surrounds herself with him, that makes her even more guilty for knowing what he did and not telling the police about it. SHOULD she tell them?
   "Did I do something wrong again?" Emerson growls, following her down the brick path away from the bench. "You've been acting a little cold to me lately."
   "Um, yeah because you lost your mind." Harrow faces him, keeping her voice low. "You burned down a dance studio because they didn't accept me."
   "Okay, and?" Emerson waits for her to go on. "I thought you would think that's romantic."
   "It's crazy!" Harrow hisses, hoping no one is listening. "And now that I know, I can go to jail with you."
   "No one is going to jail." Emerson shoots her a look to shut up. "It's not like I killed anyone. No one even got hurt."
   "That's not the point." Harrow shoots. "You committed a crime. What makes you think that's okay?"
   "Okay, you're right." Emerson gives in. "I may have made a mistake but as long as neither of us say anything, we'll be fine."
   "I feel guilty." Harrow says honestly. She never pictured herself as the worry bee but this situation is stressing her out. "I feel like the cops are going to come knocking at my door and handcuff me. And the sad part is, they won't even be strippers. They'll be real cops."
   "Are you going to go to the police?" Emerson tilts his head, looking bored. "Just tell me now if you are. I really don't want to get blindsided."
   "No, I'm not going to the police." She straightens up.
   "Then we're fine." Emerson doesn't even look scared or worried or panicked... and HE'S the one that committed the crime.
   "Yeah, we're fine." Harrow confirms before turning her back and heading inside, not sure if she means it or not.