Desperate to Graduate/Dark/Med School Secrets

A Study In Secrets for Reedsy Short Story Contest 6-13-25 (1200 words)

Finster sat where he always sat in the back of the classroom of the Misala Science and Medical College of Ensenada, otherwise known as the “Other Med School.” As always, he struggled to understand the nuances and uncertainties that the Spanglish speaking instructors threw at him.

All he needed was a passing grade, a diploma in hand, and he was on a jet back to New York City to work in his parent’s clinic. Twenty three more months of this, and Lady Liberty here I come…

His phone beeped. Wi-Fi was spotty in the entire city, but somehow his mother could always get through.

“Where Are You?” she rattled. His parents, both physicians, had all but disowned him when no US or Canadian med school would take him. In desperation, they’d offered to endow a building fund for any place who’d take him, but even that offer had been turned down.

So it was either find a foreign medical school, or go to dental school. Nothing could be worse than that. Somehow he’d found a place South of the border. But he hadn’t told his parents. They would be shocked. They with their fancy clinic and framed certificates from Harvard and Stanford on their office walls.

For all they knew, he was on a “Gap Year or two.” That’s what they’d told their country club friends. Finster’s grandfather, the Governor, had spotted him the fifty-thousand USD to sign up for the program. Good ol’ gramps. He thought it was a legit place. If he only knew…

As all teachers did, Dr. Juanita Perez droned on about epididymosis or epididymiasis or costral chrondritis, or polyglandular pigmosis—could have been any one or all of those conditions. She used words like “hemorrhagias” and “sangria” and “nauseas” and “infermo.”

Spanglish was close to English, but still difficult to follow. Finster was frustrated, but he was determined to pass this course, show his parents and his snotty sister, the dermatologist, and his uppity brother, the heart surgeon, that he could do something if he just set his mind to it. He’d show them when he showed up with the diploma in hand.

The deal was that Finster had to sit in the classes for two years. Two years of torture. He had to show up, act like he was interested, pay attention, read the books, take the open book exams—which were thankfully in Spanglish, collect his diploma, and then cha ching! Welcome a million bucks a year as a doc in his parent’s clinic injecting high society clients with Botox.

“Yes, Dr. Perez was saying.“ Yes, you will be expected to treat these cases.” And “No, I won’t be telling you how, because you’ll be consulting google every minute when you're out there working.”

From his vantage point in the back, Finster could see the other American ex-pats in the class. Most in the same spot as him. Most rejects who had no other options, just like him. This class wasn’t so bad. There was Studley Fitzsimmons who he’d known in prep school. And next to him sat Shurl VanOlson, heir to a pharmaceutical Corp. Kids like that. Kids like that who would one day be performing open heart surgery and kidney transplants and robot-assisted spinal fusions because of their connections. Family connections were everything in this business.

Finster tuned back in to Dr. Perez’s lecture. “And manana,” she said firmly, we study the entrails of a goat to predict the future of specific patients.”

“What the?”

“Oh, yes, Mijas’ and Mijos.’We study all that in this medical school.

Suddenly, the Chinese school of Trucking and Medicine didn’t look so bad. They only studied extra things like reading tea leaves, the I Ching and Acupuncture.

The bell rang and the next instructor came through the door. Curandero Chic, this one was a guest lecturer, listed as “Doctor Cortez.”

“Yo soy un Medico,” he said.“I am a traditional physician, a Bruja.”He straightened his white lab coat that sported dark red and black stains. “Now, les’ turn to page tres in your tesbook’, por favor", Dr. Cortez continued. Page three was a summary of all the hallucinogenic drugs, old and new, that were available today.

“Pharmacologia,” Cortez intoned, “muy bueno subjecto.”

I’m gonna need some of those to get through these next two years. Finster shook his head. Act interested, smile, look interested. It’s all about the goal.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded. Dr. Perez ran into the room. "Help, help, a nina’ is delivering a bebe’ in the clinic.” She turned to Finster. “Help me, por favor.”

Finster froze. He knew less about delivering a baby than he knew about dismantling a jet engine.

Perez grabbed him and pulled him out of the chair. “Come on, young man.”

“No, no, I can’t.” So far, all he’d ever done that resembled medical care was put a bandaid on his niece’s knee.

“You’ll get estra-poins for this.” Finster perked up. He’d need extra points to finish this program for sure.

She propelled him out into the corridor and raced him into the adjoining clinic area.

A young girl stood in the doorway screaming and holding her stomach. “Ay yi yi” she yelped over and over, then a period of silence. Then a torrent of Ay yi yi’s.” Blood curdling yells.

“Contractions two minutes apart,” Perez said. “Help me get her up.”

Together they lifted the girl onto the delivery table. They propped her legs into stirrups.

Finster heard a commotion behind him. The entire classroom of students was crammed in the doorway, necks craning, watching what they were doing.

“Scrub up,” Perez was directing him as she started an IV and placed an Oxygen mask on the girl. “Put these on.” Perez handed him a package of sterile gloves.

“Como te llamas?” Perez asked the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Maria,” the girl said. “Mi nombre es Maria Theresa.”

“Soy doctora Perez.”

The girl’s body racked with spasms which made Finster panic. Anxiety was an issue with him. Sometimes he wondered how he could ever consider becoming a physician in this lifetime, despite being born into it.

“Empuhe, empuhe, Mija,” Dr. Perez was saying in a loud voice.

“Respire Profundo, Mija,” she instructed Finster to say with her.

Surprisingly, he found himself repeating “Respire, respire profundo, Maria.”

Dr. Perez kicked a rolling stool over to the base of the table, right under the girl’s outstretched legs. “Asiento,” she commanded Finster. “Sit.”

He sat. Another huge spasm racked the girl, accompanied by more ear splitting screams.

“She’s crowning. She’s crowning,” Dr. Perez was yelling into Finster’s ear.

Then, “Catch, atrapar!” and then “Atrapar un bebe!”

Finster nearly dropped it.It was like catching a greased baby seal. Forget football. This was serious.

After the cord was cut and with the crying newborn cleaned up, Finster carefully placed the boy baby on the girl’s chest. All was suddenly quiet as the baby recognized his mother.

Dr. Perez turned to Finster and smiled. “I knew you had it in you. You’re a natural at this, just like your parents were when they attended this medical school thirty years ago.”