DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SALLY FACE OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS, JUST THIS PLOT.
Coded
Three years. He'd been going to this school for three years and this was the first time a teacher had ever dress coded him. Back in New Jersey he wouldn't have been shocked, a few of his primary and middle school teachers having grown to dislike him due to the combination of rumors floating around concerning him and his dad and his tendency to blurt out whatever the hell came to mind, but here? Never.
On the other hand, he probably should've seen it coming based off of Mr. Garrison's rather nasty attitude towards Todd when he'd had him last semester. To think that he'd react any better too Sal waltzing into his class in a black sweater dress with the Sanity's Falls logo spray painted onto it three days into the semester had been nothing more than wishful thinking on Sal's part, which leads us to the current situation.
Principle Bloome pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his thick framed glasses up so that they were level with his forehead as he sighed in exasperation, Sal waiting patiently in the leather chair across from his desk, hands folded neatly in his lap with his bag resting against the chair. This was not, by far, his first trip into this office, but it was the first time for this particular circumstance.
"Sal," he started, not wanting to say this, but feeling as if he had no choice. "Why don't you just, y'know, not dress like this anymore? He's going to keep sending you to me if you do, you know that, right?"
"But I'm not actually breaking the dress code… Sir," Sal argued, resisting the urge to pick at his already chipped nail polish.
"Well, unfortunately today you kinda are, regardless of whether it was the reason Mr. Garrison really sent you in here or not," Principle Bloome informed him carefully. "The hem of your… dress is a tad too short. I noticed that when you came in."
Well, fuck...
"Okay, but can't you just let it slide just this once? He's more likely to keep dress coding me for it if you don't. Principle Bloome, please," Sal practically begged him, leaning forward in his chair as his hands twitched into fists in his lap.
He shook his head. "Sorry, Sal, but I can't do that. I could get in trouble for it if Mr. Garrison decides to report me not dress coding a student," He explained, seemingly regretful about the whole ordeal. "I've already let quite a few students he's sent me this year for dress code issues go and I can't risk adding any more to that list. If he unjustly reports you in the future, we can let it slide then, but unfortunately he has a legit excuse this time. I'm sorry Sal."
"So, what now? Do I have to go home?" Sal asked in confusion. He wasn't sure about Nockfell High's policy on getting dress coded and was hoping he'd get nothing more than a light slap on the wrist for it.
"Actually, we're supposed to call a parent or guardian and have them bring you a change of clothes," Principle Bloome informed him, already reaching for the phone before Sal stopped him.
"That won't work. My dad's out of town for work for the next few days. There's no one at home right now except for my cat, but he's not allowed outside, so he couldn't possibly be of any use in this situation. Don't get me wrong, Gizmo is smart and probably could do it if I bribed him with food or something, but I don't think he'd ever go for it," Sal told him, not exactly sure as to why he added in that last bit. This situation had him a little stressed and Sal Fisher had a tendency to ramble when he was stressed, a trait he, according to his dad, inherited from his mother, the woman apparently having rambled about the reproductive cycle of fish before finally telling Henry that she was pregnant with Sal.
"Oh. I see. Well, then I guess I have no choice but to send you home," he told Sal, blinking in mild confusion. Talking to the boy always seemed to end with him leaving Principle Bloome disoriented and confused by whatever useless information the younger of the two bombarded him with for that session. "Just try to avoid any repeats of today, OK?"
Sal nodded as he retrieved his bag and slung it over his shoulder as he exited the office and headed home, the mid January air reminding him that he'd forgotten his jacket in his locker. Double fuck. Too late now. He wouldn't be allowed back into the school.
A raspy groan escaped the young man, his head tilting back as it increased in volume before he started to run, figuring that it would better to get home as quickly as possible.
…
Todd stared at Sal like he was stupid when he met up with him, Larry, and Chug in front of the apartments clad in dress not to unlike the one he'd worn the day before, abit longer and with no logo on it.
"Didn't Mr. Garrison dress code you yesterday for this same exact thing?"
"Yup."
"And so you plan on repeating your mistake that I clearly warned you was gunna happen this same time yesterday morning?"
"Damn straight," Sal informed him as he pulled his spare coat -it was really Larry's coat, but he'd unintentionally abandoned it at Sal's place, so it was his now- tighter around him to fight off the cold. He couldn't wait for winter to end. He hated the cold. It made his everything hurt.
It wasn't until they were halfway to school that Chug decided to throw in his two cents on the matter. "So, like, Mr. Garrison got Sal in trouble because he was dressed like a girl? And this is the same teacher that didn't like Todd because he has a boyfriend?" He too had Mr. Garrison's class, but had missed the first few days of the semester due to the flu, so he was just getting filled in on the situation today.
"Pretty much," Larry confirmed, glancing at Sal who was marching diligently against the cold to their dreaded destination.
"Aren't there rules about that kinda thing?" Chug asked in alarm at his friends' injustice.
"This is Nockfell, the town where murders and cannibalists are protected and the real problems are flat out ignored," Sal droned irritably, his mouth clamping shut as Chug stared at him in complete and utter confusion. They'd never told him about the bologna thing. Oops…
"Cannibals?" He squeaked in horror, stopping dead in his tracks.
"Whoops," Sal mumbled as Larry visibly blanched at the memory.
"Cannibals?!" Chug repeated with more emphasis. "When in Jesus's name did you deal with cannibals?! You know what? Nevermind. I don't wanna know, because you're gunna ruin food for me if you do, I just know it."
"Good call," Sal agreed sheepishly. He'd never be able to look at lunch meat the same after what they saw. Hell, he couldn't even bring himself to trust things like hot dogs, chicken nuggets, or most other meat type foods that required being smashed into a puree before being cooked. Nope. He was perfectly content with drinking applesauce after that fiasco, thank you very much.
They marched in silence until they met up with the rest of their merry group of misfits by the doors, Maple and Ash falling in step with them with ease, the latter of the two whistling in realisation as to what Sal was doing.
"Declaring war, I see," Ash said, only half jokingly. She'd known Sal long enough to know that once he'd put his mind to something, he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted.
"Sally Face ain't taken shit today," Larry laughed, already hatching a plan as to what he'd do if his best friend got sent home again, but he'd keep it to himself until it actually came to that.
The first half of the day was uneventful. English, world history, art, lunch, and finally, Mr. Garrison's class, a class that Sal had only decided to take because Larry and Chug were in it. The class was called Cultural Sciences, but apparently mainly consisted of Mr. Garrison playing foreign movies on the the small television that a lot of the other teachers complained about him hogging while drank something that didn't quite smell entirely like coffee out of his mug, his eyes heavily lidded as he fought the urge to doze off.
The class was an easy A, according to most students, the only ones really having any difficulties with it being more focused on the man running the show having issues with them sticking out in one way or another opposed to the actual class itself. How he still had a teaching job, none of them were entirely sure.
"Dude, sit down before he notices you," Jordan, a fellow junior who'd taken to helping Sal out every chance he got despite not actually being friends with the guy, hissed as he entered the classroom, but alas, it was too late.
If Sal didn't know better, he'd say Mr. Garrison was waiting on him, waiting to see how he'd respond to having been sent to Principal Bloome the day before, no doubt hoping he'd broken Sal's desire to express himself. He made a face of complete and utter displeasure behind his prosthetic as the man waved him over to his desk.
"Your dress is too short, go to the office or come back with some pants. I don't care which," He told Sal, leaning back in his chair.
"Actually," Sal started, his argument already prepared because he just knew the jerk of a teacher was going to pull this crap with him again today. "The hem of my dress goes past were the handbook says it has to."
"What? No it doesn't. It's too short. Office or pants. Those or your options. Either follow them or get written up, your choice, boy," Mr. Garrison grumbled, daring Sal to challenge him again, which he did by fishing a ruler out of his binder and holding it up against his leg.
"Handbook says skirts and dresses can't be anymore than 3 inches above the knee while standing up. My hem is only one inch above the knee," Sal corrected him, his grin hidden safely from the man's sight. By now some of his fellow classmates were starting to whisper, Larry, and surprisingly Chug, watching the scene unfold, ready to jump in at a moment's notice.
"OK, fine then. The neck is too wide. It leaves too much of your shoulders exposed."
"That rule only applies to girls because it shows their bra straps. I'm a boy and don't wear a bra, therefore it's not a problem. Besides, it's not really showing that much. Mrs. Jefferson's dresses reveal more than I am right now," Sal argued once again.
At this point, Mr. Garrison was starting to turn an interesting shade of red, a combination of angry and embarrassed that Sal was winning this argument. His fingers drummed irritably on his desk as he tried to think of a way to put himself in the right. He had nothing and instead choose to let loose some of his opinions of Sal instead, not caring in that moment who heard him.
"You know what, you little shit, you drive me nuts. There always seems to be a special acception for you," he started, standing up and bracing himself against his cluttered desk as he leaned towards Sal who challenged him with his eyes, him just being able to make out their narrowed forms through the shadowed eyeholes. "Masks aren't allowed, not even during halloween, but you get a free pass because you're self conscious about your face. Well guess what, boy, you don't see your fellow classmates hiding behind masks, and let me tell you that some of them be butt ugly. I also don't understand why you being a boy makes you exempt from following the dress code for dresses which you shouldn't even be wearing in the first place, you little freak! Put on some damn pants on you fuckin-!"
"Trap?" Sal suggested, arms crossed, his voice dripping venom. The class had fallen into silence, some of them afraid for their fellow classmate, others watching it intently like it was one of the late night dramas their parents watched.. "Or perhaps tranny is the word you're looking for. There's not much you can call me that I haven't heard before, Mr. Garrison. Watch what you say next. It might just get you fired."
"Are you threatening me, Fisher?"
"Threaten? No. I'm simply promising an inevitable result that will come to fruition should you say what I think you were gunna say." Sal had spent his whole life standing up to bullies and in that moment Mr. Garrison blended and blurred together with the rest of his kin as something that Sal didn't care to let get the best of him. This was also the only time Sal could ever recall behaving in such a way towards a teacher, but then again he'd never really had to deal with level of bigotry from one either.
Mr. Garrison glared at Sal as he pulled out a pink slip from his desk a fished a pen from a cup designed to look like a fish gasping for air, or rather, water. "Refusal to follow instructions," he stated has he started to write down Sal's "crimes."
"Hey now, that's not fair!" Larry yelled at him, Chug nervously trying to pull him back into his desk, genuinely afraid he was going to punch a teacher of all people.
"Arguing with a teacher over being dress coded. Threatening a teacher," Mr. Garrison continued to relay out loud as he jotted down each offense. "You wanna add to the list, Fisher? I'd be happy to oblige, unless you decide to have sudden change of heart."
"You said you wanted me out of the dress, right?" Sal asked, his tone unidentifiable. He then proceeded to pull the dress over his head, leaving him in nothing but his shoes, boxers, and tights as his friends and classmates screamed, laughed, and cheered in the background.
He got suspended for two weeks.
…
Henry rubbed his temples as he stared at the piece of paper Sal had reluctantly presented him with the morning after he came home. "Sal, why?"
Sal shrugged as he waved a piece of sausage at Gizmo, his furry companion batting it out of his hand before sniffing and ultimately deciding to eat it after carrying it into the living room, Henry grimacing at the possibility of him rubbing grease all over the couch.
"In my defense he told me not to wear it."
"You knew what he meant, Sal."
"He was an a-hole. He was out to get me like he was Todd, except in my case he didn't like me for wearing dresses opposed to liking guys."
"I thought you told me you were bi," Henry said in confusion.
"That's not relevant to what happened. Mr. Garrison doesn't know that," Sal informed him, waving his hand dismissively.
"That still doesn't tell me why you had the brilliant idea of stripping in the middle of one of your classes. You're eighteen. You know better," Henry scolded, though he wasn't entirely sure if should be angry, embarrassed, or applaud Sal for what he'd done. On the one hand, he really shouldn't have done that. On the other, it was kinda ingenious.
Henry lowered his face into his hands and groaned as Sal half heartedly apologised for his actions. He didn't actually regret what he'd done. He'd totally do it again, no questions asked.
"Dammit, Sal. I still have to ground you for this, you know that right?" He groaned, his face still hidden from sight.
"Yeah, I figured that," came Sal's reply, which is why he'd played video games, his guitar, and fucked around with all of his stuff to make up for possibly not being able to interact with half of it for God knew how long.
"No music, no video games, and no leaving the apartment unless you absolutely have to for…" He paused, picking up the slip to get a better look at it. "Two weeks. You get your freedom back when you go back to school."
Sal shrugged again. "Seems fair."
"Ok, then. I have to go to work. For the love of God behave," Henry warned him as he started collecting his things before heading out of the door, leaving Sal to himself. Sorta. Gizmo had turned on the T.V., something loud and actiony blaring from the speakers.
A lot of people said this kind of behavior wasn't normal for a cat, but he'd been the only cat Sal had ever owned, so he wasn't so sure about that. Maybe no one else was aware as to what their cats did when they weren't home was all.
He watched a lot of T.V. without really watching it as a curled up on the couch with Gizmo in is arms. He was heavy and his fur tickled, but he didn't mind. He never minded.
At some point he fell asleep, awoken by the sound of someone knocking far too loudly on his door. He groggily sat up, turning the volume down, before dragging himself over to the door, opening it to his friends smiling sheepishly at him.
"Why are you all wearing dresses? What did you do?" Sal asked in confusion. Even Larry, Todd, and Chug were clad in the traditionally feminine article of clothing, Larry's hair styled into a french braid that he was sure Lisa was ecstatic to help him out with.
"You may have started a mini rebellion," Ash laughed as they all made their way into the apartment. "Half of our grade showed up in dresses today, even the boys."
Sal blinked in confusion. "What? Why?"
They all pointed to Larry who laughed.
"Because your best bud over here declared he was going to wear a dress today to avenge you," Todd explained, pushing his glasses up his nose. His skirt was one Sal had seen his mother wear on a multitude of occasions, a cluster of multiple shades of green swirling together, dotted with tiny orange flowers. It was a complete and utter headache to look at for prolonged periods of time. "And naturally, almost everyone who heard this declaration of justice followed suit."
"Shit was bogus," Larry stated nonchalantly as if he was simply talking about the newest Sanity's Falls album. "If you wanna wear a skirt, you should be able to wear a skirt without getting in trouble for it. No one fusses at the girls for wearing guy clothes. The vice versa shouldn't be any different."
Sal was silent for a good minute as he processed this information, chuckling as he imagined some of his more masculine classmates wearing frilly skirts and dresses that they borrowed from their mothers, girlfriends, and sisters.
"So what happened?" Sal asked, curious of the result.
Maple smiled at him from where she sat on the couch, stroking a purring Gizmo. "They got intercepted in the front hall by Mr. Garrison."
"He was legit pissed!" Larry laughed.
"I thought we were gunna get suspended on the spot," Chug admitted nervously.
"I wasn't aware it was possible for a person to turn such a color," Ash threw in, laughter consuming her at the memory.
"He went off kilter at us," Todd finally explained, crossing his arms as he shook his head. "He started screaming about how we were doing it just to piss him off and his thoughts on the whole thing kept getting more and more vulgar until Principle Bloome walked in on it. He got fired on the spot for unprofessional behavior towards students amongst other things."
Sal nodded, enjoying that answer. "So no more Mr. Asshole?"
"Nope. Principle Bloome had been looking for a proper reason fire him for a while and this was the perfect opportunity, apparently. So yeah. We're free to kiss boys and wear dresses without getting sent to the front about it."
In that moment Sal wanted to cheer and grin a make an absolute idiot of himself, but managed to withhold the urge, though he was smiling like an idiot behind his prosthetic. It was then that he remembered something.
"Oh. Shit. You guys gotta go. I'm grounded," Sal told them as he scratched the back of his neck anxiously. His dad would probably be peeved if someone told him all of Sal's friends had piled up in the apartment after he'd just informed him that he was in trouble that morning.
"What? Why?" Larry asked dubiously. "Does he not know what went down?"
"Uh, yeah. He does. I'm in trouble for stripping down to my boxers in a public area, not for talking back to a teacher, though I don't think he's gunna stick to the whole grounded thing," Sal informed them sheepishly.
"Forever a legend for that, man," Larry laughed.
They all talked for a little bit more before clearing out of the apartment, not wanting to get their friend into additional trouble. This really was something they weren't going to forget anytime soon. Sweet Sal who normally avoided confrontation stripping just to one up a teacher. That was most definitely one for the books.
Three days later Sal's suspicions about Henry lifting his two week sentence came to fruition under the conditions that he never pull anything like that ever again. Sal happily agreed, his fingers crossed behind his back when Henry wasn't looking.