heartbreak hotel

FULL NAME: deborah marin baker

NICKNAME: debbie

AGE: 28 years old

OCCUPATION: ghost hunter pizza delivery girl

After a good few years of being Barton Point's best pizza delivery person (voted for by Toppings customers– fuck you, Alan Weaver, for even thinking you could win), Debbie decided it was time to move on to bigger things. While it was fun that she was getting paid to ride her bike around town, greeting people who were always happy to see her, it didn't exactly pay the bills. And it's not like any of her hobbies were bringing in the big bucks either. As hard as it was to admit that Debbie needed a "big girl job", maybe it was time.

The first thing she did now that she had free time in the afternoons was start playing baseball again. There was a women's baseball team in Barton Point that met every Tuesday night, and Debbie would always walk, drive, or ride past them, watching longingly because she missed playing so much. The last time she'd played was a month after her dad passed away; the memory of him cheering her on - even during practice - was too hard to bear, so she had to quit. When Debbie joined the team and brought both her love and intensity along, she got everyone to make a commitment to be consistent with practice. Then, when they improved (aka, started hitting more than they missed), she begged the coach to start signing them up for tournaments. Even though they lost most games, they were having the time of their lives. Well, Debbie was, at least.

Debbie's intensity and passion caught the attention of the Barton Point High basketball coach. He had been doubling as the baseball coach since the team's coach quit in the middle of the season because they were - his words - "a fucking mess". He asked Debbie to interview for the job, and she got it. The team is still "a fucking mess," but Debbie would never say that in front of the kids.

Being at Barton Point High, where Debbie's dad used to work, was more emotional than she'd expected. She would walk by his classroom all the time and peek in as if expecting to see him at his desk, grading papers. Many of the staff were the same, so they would stop Debbie in the hallways to talk about how nice he was, how much they admired and missed him. It was hard for Debbie, but it was nice to feel him so close.

When a position opened for a history teacher at Barton Point High, Debbie was the first one to apply. A history major who had never put her degree to any use, except spouting random history facts every once in a while, she thought it was the perfect "big girl job" for her. That, and she got to work in her dad's old classroom, which made everything so much better. Emotional, for sure, but better.

Debbie now spends most days yelling at teenagers, but she loves her job. She gets to wear cute little pantsuits, and she's the cool teacher all the students come to gossip with. It's great.

Jeremy chuckled at her string conviction to not contracting an infection from the cut. “Yeah you’re built different. Got that healing power from all your ghost friends.” He washed off the cut and wrapped it up in bandages. “Yeah and she will be able to check you our better than me.”

“I am built different. Have you ever seen me sick?” she asked, tilting her head to a side. “Right? Hm?” She smiled despite herself and nodded. “Good. Not that you’re doing a bad job, but... she’s a doctor.”

“Shit I’m sorry.” He cursed as he realized his why hospital talk may be triggering to her. He stepped closer to her and placed a comforting hand on her good arm, trailing his fingers up and down slowly to calm her down as he looked directly at her. “I’m not going to make you do or go anywhere you don’t want to Debbie. I just don’t want you to get an infection or anything.” he continued to move his fingers until he was sure she was calmed down enough. “Please let me finish cleaning up your arm and I’ll see if my mom can check you out more thoroughly at my house so you don’t have to go to a hospital.”

Debbie stared at Jeremy wide-eyed, then quickly glanced down at his hand trailing up and down her arm. It was much more contact than they’d probably ever had in their lives, and it wasn’t bad - it was kind of nice, actually - but it felt weird coming from him. Too tender for what they were used to around each other, which to Debbie meant: this cut is much worse than it actually looks. “I am not going to get an infection,” she said - as if she just knew, as if it was impossible, as if she said it with enough conviction, it would be true. To her it was. “We’ll put some soap on it, clean it up, and- a-and I’ll be fine. Just fine,” she chuckled. “My body won’t allow an infection, it won’t,” she shrugged. She felt her entire body relax once Jer said he’d take her to his house instead of the hospital and she closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, pressing her lips onto a smile. “Your mom’s a doctor, right?”

Jeremy was wiping down the counters at Eddie’s when Debbie came in. “Holy shit Debbie.” He immediately grabbed a clean towel and held it tightly over her arm after batting her hand away. “What happened? Why didn’t you go to a hospital?” He pulled her back toward the kitchen and held her hand under the sink to wash the blood away. “I can put some gauze on it but you definitely need a tetanus shot and maybe stitches.”

“A tetanus shot!?” Debbie’s eyes widened and she took a step back, pulling her arm away from the sink. Any calmness from earlier now completely gone. “I can’t go to the hospital, I can’t afford it,” she shook her head. “Not on what they pay me at Toppings, no. Not- I haven’t been to a hospital since–– no,” she shook her head again. “It can’t be that bad. It’s just- it looks bad because there’s a lot of blood, but a band-aid might- um, fix it.”

Debbie held her hand tightly over her arm and very calmly approached the first person she saw. "Hi!" she smiled. "Quick question. Do you know how to treat a wound? I just- I cut my arm on some very ugly looking glass, and I think I might die tomorrow. Or in 7 business days." She said with a chuckle, awfully calm for the situation at hand. "It's not that bad, it just looks bad. I don't want to show you unless I know you won't faint at the sight of a little bit of blood." She paused, staring at your character. "Okay, it's more than a little bit, it's- it- it's a lottle."