Chapter 2: Working it Out
***Author's Note***
Use of f****t, intended only as indication of how terrible a person the individual saying it is. If this offends you, please skip.
***DT***
"Okay, what do you think?" Drake asked.
Gosalyn slowly turned around to look at the drama room. It was the day before classes and 'Mr. Mallard' I can't believe I just thought that… had finally finished unpacking and getting his room set up. The drama room was tucked off in a side hallway of Longneck Intermediate School, which meant it had a slightly larger than average space.
The school itself was pretty typical for the district, a large brick building constructed in the early 1970s when St. Canard had a bit more money and Duckburg had a bit less. In recent years there'd been some issues with funding, and after the governor's fifth attempt to place the district in oversight failed it was decided by the Calisota State Court that the St. Canard School District and Greater Duckburg School District would merge to form the Duckburg-Canard School District. What this meant for St. Canard schools was that there was suddenly an influx of money that had been either withheld or misused, leading to some much needed improvements, and in some cases, programs returning.
While Longneck never lost their drama department, Mrs. Beakerson had been forced to limit the productions from 3 a year (in the 80s) down to 2 (the 90s), and eventually only 1 (after 2002)-and never a musical because the rights to those cost more than the annual budget. However, now the school had sufficient funds, meaning Drake got to choose two productions-one musical and one traditional play. He'd decided to theme his room around the two performances that were planned.
"While I never thought West Side Story and Hamlet could fit into one room, you somehow managed it." Gos remarked, looking at the posters and set pieces carefully placed throughout the room.
"Well, West Side is a modern interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, I figured it would make sense to have some common theme. I mean, I wasn't going to pick Starlight Express…"
"The PTA shot down roller-skating middle schoolers?"
"Yeah, something about 'liability'…" Drake groused.
***DT***
While Drake had never taught before, at least, never for more than the practicum and observations needed for his minor, things seemed to be going fairly well. Most of the students who were in his classes seemed to enjoy them, partly due to Drake's tendency to go a bit hammy. Which I guess makes sense, they chose to have it as an elective. And even film criticism, a class noted as an easy A, still had some decent participation.
The other faculty seemed friendly enough. Being in the arts department he was mostly relegated to the far reaches of the building along with Mr. Longbill, the music teacher, Ms. Sharp, the orchestra teacher, and Mrs. McCaw, the dance teacher. But he wasn't going to complain. They worked well enough together, and got out of a good chunk of teacher training because it never applied to them. How exactly are we supposed to implement Waddle Classroom assignments when all my assignments are performance based?
It had also been nice to occasionally seen Gosalyn. Whenever she had a free moment she'd wander down to Drake's room and wave through the window, he'd usually nod back and she'd return toward the rest of the building. Gos wasn't exactly into the arts, after some deliberation she'd picked an extra session of PE for her elective. For sixth graders, like Gos, electives ended the day. She'd just gotten changed out of her gym uniform and was heading toward Drake's room when she overheard one of the loudmouths from her science class talking to one of his friends.
"Wow, our new drama teacher is even a bigger flamer than Mr. Graystone." Bryce Quakerman scoffed.
"Yeah, and Graystone's already a total rager." Will Gooseberg replied, the two boys laughing as they rounded the corner where Gosalyn was standing.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She questioned, the two boys shocked for a minute she was blocking their way.
"What's what supposed to mean?" Bryce asked, trying to menace the girl in front of him to move out of his way.
"What you just said, about Mr. Mallard, Bryce."
"I mean the guy's so much of a fruit he's practically Carmen Miranda." The blond bully sneered.
Gosalyn tightened her grip on her backpack strap. "So what?"
"I don't know, didn't anyone ever tell the guy that the flamboyant gay stereotype is a bit overdone. Besides, my mom's head of the PTA and she's going to make sure he's out in a few months, anyway." Bryce tried to shove Gosalyn out of the way. She quickly deflected his arm.
"Your mom's going to get him fired, for what?" Gosalyn asked, a dangerous tone taking over her voice.
"Being a total faggot, duh."
Before he could do much else Gosalyn promptly punched the lights out of Bryce Quakerman.
"Holy shit!" Will quickly put his hands up and backed away. "We're cool, we're cool…" He said.
She grabbed the hem of the boy's shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground. "You tell anyone else talking like that I'm good for a fight. Leave my dad alone."
"Alright, Jesus…" Will nodded.
Gosalyn tossed him back to the ground. He kept his footing for a moment before running into someone. The boy looked up to see an intimidating face glaring down at the scene in front of him.
"Uh, hi Principal Muttley…"
***DT***
"Hey Mark, what's up?" Drake asked as he walked into the main office. He'd been packing up some papers from his film class when the phone had rung and Principal Muttley had asked him to come down to the office. Normally this meant he'd forgotten to do something, but today the irritation was different on Mark's face.
"We had a bit of a situation today with your daughter…" Muttley said, gesturing to his office. As he swung open the door a nervous Gosalyn was rapping her fingers along the arm of her chair.
"Gos, is everything okay?" He looked at Muttley, "What happened?"
"Yes Miss Waddlemeyer, why don't you explain to your guardian what happened."
"You know that jerk Bryce Quakerman that keeps messing with everyone in my science class?"
"Miss Waddlemeyer, please stick to the facts." Principal Muttley reminded.
"Fine, you know that kid Bryce Quakerman who keeps bothering me in science class?"
"Yeah, I talked with Carol, er, Mrs. Gander about it. She mentioned that she was going to change the seating arrangements."
"Well, anyway, he was saying some stuff in the hall and we ended up getting in a bit of a fight."
Drake frowned, Gos doesn't fight people unprovoked. "What happened, why'd you fight?"
"He said some stuff…"
"What kind of stuff? Just because someone says something doesn't mean you can just get in a fight."
"Well, it wasn't much of a fight. He was unconscious before he hit the floor."
Drake sighed, "Either way, what could've possibly led you to think it was okay to get in a fight at school? What did he even say?"
Gosalyn looked away, "It doesn't matter, it's done now."
Drake exhaled, exasperated.
"Drake, I may be able to shed some light on the situation." Muttley interjected.
"Please do."
"I overheard the end of the conversation your daughter had with Mr. Quakerman, as well as Mr. Gooseberg. The boys had been making some derogatory remarks at your expense-primarily due their perceptions of your…" He hesitated, "…lifestyle choices. Mr. Quakerman claimed he would use his mother to get you fired-which I can assure will not happen. It's illegal to fire someone based on that, regardless of whether it's true or not. And I have no interest in knowing either way, as it's not my place."
Drake looked at Gosalyn, "Gos, is that true?"
Gosalyn was silent, aware that her actions had been wrong, but still hating the boy for saying it. Drake frowned, knowing too well the feeling of wanting to lash out.
"However, given that it is her first offense, and Mr. Quakerman's actions precipitating the fight, Gosalyn will not be suspended. However, she will have detention for the entirety of next week." Muttley concluded. He paused, "As for Mr. Quakerman, he will also be serving detention, though I will ensure it is in a different room."
"Thank you Mark," Drake nodded, "Come on Gos, let's head home."
The walk to the parking lot was silent. Gos glanced over as they exited the building, trying to read Drake's face. Normally he was an open book, any little line or crinkle easily conveying exactly how he felt. Now though, it felt like he was wearing a mask. He unlocked the car and gestured for her to get in. She did, placing her book-bag in the back before she sat in the passenger seat.
"Are you mad?" She asked.
"No. Not really." Drake sighed, gripping the steering wheel slightly too tight for a moment before he relaxed.
Gos nodded. Drake started the car and pulled out of the faculty parking lot.
"It isn't fair."
"What? That the kid you knocked out has the same punishment as you?" Drake remarked.
"No, that he could say that kind of stuff about you. He doesn't even know you! "
Drake smiled sadly, "Unfortunately I'm not surprised. There are always people like that." He paused, "After a while I got used to some of it, I know I'm not just some stereotype, and I don't have to prove that to anyone. I'm not saying let them get away with it, but I'm also not saying punch them in the face. I'm happy with who I am, and if someone else can't accept that then that's their loss. Maybe they'll eventually come around, but I'm going to keep doing what I do-I'm going to keep taking care of you and this city, or my name isn't Drake 'Darkwing' Mallard."
"Well, either way, can we both agree my training has paid off? No way I could've knocked out a guy that size last year."
Drake rolled his eyes as the car continued heading home.
