2020-08-17 - Running Late

(TXT to Alexander) Joey : Get dressed. I'm out front waiting. We're going to be late.

(TXT to Joey) Alexander : wtf?

(TXT to Alexander) Joey : I'll explain on the way

(TXT to Joey) Alexander : Do I need a knife?

(TXT to Alexander) Joey : I did not get you a warehouse job. no.

(TXT to Joey) Alexander : All right. I'll be out in a minute.

It's morning. Early in the dam morning and out front there's a quiet rumble as the classic Camaro rumbles quietly in the drive. Joey Kelly is sitting in the driver's seat with a t-shirt and a blazer on and slacks and a duffel bag visible in the back seat. The radio has Offspring playing quietly. Green eyes track Alexander that have their own mood to them which is decidedly a business mode. This is not a run for burgers at 6:30 am.

Alexander sidles outside his house, looking drawn and severely underslept. Not only are people severely fucking with his sense of reality, but Isabella is on the Other Side, and he's not super okay with that. He's normally a twitchy guy, but right now, he's visibly frayed around the edges. Still, he's dressed - t-shirt, jeans, and oversized army jacket that it's too warm for, and he locks the door behind him, checking his phone, before looking around for Joey. Seeing the Camaro, he makes his way over to the passenger side, and slides in. "Should I have dressed up?" he asks, eyeing the guy's blazer thoughtfully, before rubbing his face.

Joey watches the small details in that manner that he does because someone gives a shit in both that sense that Alexander's condition still matters, but also in such a wave that suggests 'laid back' is not in his repertoire of 3 emotions anymore. Objectively he offering in gravelly tone, "I'd consider it probably. We still got five minutes if we don't stop for coffee."

Alexander continues to stare at Joey for a moment. There are approximately a thousand questions behind his eyes, and at least half of them have to do with the duffle bag in the back seat. But the internal argument is brief, and seems to fall on the side of nodding, getting up, and going back inside. There's only a minute or two before he comes out in a burgundy button down shirt that's clearly been bought by someone with fashion sense, and a nicely-tailored black blazer. Still jeans. Look, you can only ask so much.

He slides back into the passenger seat, and now he asks, "What are we doing, Kelly?"

"We..." he slides the gear to shift into reverse looking over his shoulder to back out, "are going to work." Uh huh. Really doesn't answer any one of the 1,001 questions Alexander had. Today, unlike usual days, he does seem a bit actively pissed. His battle aura is not flaring but there are absolutely hackles up. None of this seems directed at Clayton however as he drives, mostly minding the speed limit but using all efficiency to not waste time, to get across town and over to the downtown area. "I heard some shit. Isabella alright?" Any other day he's be able to size up Clayton before he's walking off the porch. He's got a lot on his mind, but it doesn't keep him from asking.

Alexander's not actually bad at reading people. He's just bad at knowing what to do with the information in a way that doesn't usually make things worse. So he picks up on that prickliness pretty easily, but it causes his shoulders to hunch and sudden soul-searching to take place. "Did I do something wrong?" he asks, quietly. A little shake of the head at the question. "She went Over There. She left a voicemail. It's...voluntary. This time. So," he clears his throat, "she'll come back. She will." He takes another deep breath. "Not your problem. What's going on, Kelly?" More tentatively, "I can be of more help if I have a bit of information."

Joey pauses at the stop sign. his fingers tighten on the wheel and there's a deep breath before he gives Alexander all the info he needs, "No. It's not you." And being that he's never lied, because it's weaksauce, he doesn't go further than that. His jaw tightens at the news giving him, "She will be. Still, that's shitty." He looks to Alexander and gives the slightest nod and answers the rest with, "People can't be fucking trusted, Clayton. I ain't tell you anything you don't already know. " A bit grim even for him, "That and this town's lost its goddamn mind for..who cares what fucking reason." And there's the High School up ahead. "We got work to do and I've been informed WE are going to be late for first period."

"She'll be okay. I'm just worried. But I worry her all the time, so it balances," Alexander mutters. One of his arms is actually in a sling, bruised from hand to shoulder. But he frowns at Joey. "Trust is hard. Some people let you down. It hurts. What happened?" A simple nod at the town losing its goddamned mind. "I'm not a middle school teacher. People need to stop saying that I am." But now Joey's taking them to the High School, and talking about first period, and Alexander looks suddenly like a cat who's getting ready to claw himself right the fuck out of this car. "I'm not a history teacher! I'm not!"

Joey's jaw tightens in that way someone's hand either is or it not about to release the trigger on a grenade. "Someone betrayed my trust. It's been a fucking goddamn week. It's not you. I'm just pretty much done." He takes a deep breath and looks up at the school at Alexander panics, "But not with this. You know somehting is going on and I don't fucking know what it is and you know what? I don't care." Angriest hands-on not-caring while giving a shit Gray Harbor's seen in three months right here.

Careful not to jostle Alexander because he's been mauled by the Grizzly Den..Diner..Blackbear...Cafe or whatever he emphasizes his point. "No your'e not a history teacher and I'm not a fucking gym teacher or football coach. However if the whole town's lost their mind and thinks it's no one's job but ours that means these kids are getting fucking stranded on their own. We know more than they do and that's all that matters." this is about something else, clearly. Wasn't Joey the one that used to cut class? "If no one realizes it's their job to do shit then no one's coming to help these kids. That's ...fucking bullshit. You don't just walk out on a fucking person after you made them a goddamned promise. What's wrong with this place?" yup. Definitely something.

"Oh." Alexander frowns as he watches Joey. "I'm sorry. That hurts a lot. When people do that." He looks back to the high school. "So...we're gonna teach gym class? We're not teachers, Kelly. We're not licensed, or trained, or have any idea what the curriculum for this year is." He points all of this out in a very reasonable sort of voice, but he does seem to realize, on some level, that Joey isn't necessarily in a super reasonable frame of mind, right now. So he looks down at the floorboards, nods to himself. "Okay. We'll, uh. We'll do what we can. I like kids. How hard can it be?"

Joey tightens his hand on the wheel, eyes forward as if framing up the 'how' in his mind. His voice catches though, hurt, tired, bitter, "Yeah. Yeah it does." Hurts like hell. Right now though? One of the few things that can surpass his bad mood; minors in a shit situation. "Well they don't have a history teacher and I know you are a better researcher than most Fuck it, quiz em. Find out where they are. it's the beginning of the school year so start at the front of the book." There' s a pause and he looks to his companion and blinks again, louder. "What part of gym class do you think I do not know? I don't run a shop downtown, and even Nicole can tell you more about wrestling than most...apparently." She is reportedly on GLOW on Netflix. Taking a deep breath he sighs, "I mean I played football here... I am...technically a coach. Just not...theirs. How bad can this be? just remember we ain't allowed to hit no one if they're being dumb."

There's a pause and some of the tension drops in his shoulders considering the task at hand. "We might be frighteningly good at this, Clayton."

There is no part of this Alexander is looking forward to. He hated high school. He hated high school students. He ran away to join a cult, and the only thing that motivated him to graduate was the idea that if he went to college, he would be as far from high school as it was possible to be, given the schools that would accept him. He opens his mouth to say all of these things, but Joey's hurt, tired voice stops the words in his throat. "My dad was the coach here. He was probably your coach," he says after a moment. "He was a good coach. Just be my dad." He rubs at his face. "We can do this. We can just...be my dad. For a day."

Joey is processing a lot. High School was not easy for him. He got suspended. A lot He got i fights. A lot. He loved playing football though. Great outlet for a lot that got kicked around. a lot. Then there's the connection and it weirdly puts a little crack in his storm front. "Coach Clayton was your dad?" There's a faint arch of an eyebrow, "No shit? yeah. he was my coach." There's a faint snort of amusement letting his hands relax on the wheel and pauses not sure how much or if he should share but thinks back, "You know he used to yell 'Kelly!' and... my brother an I used to be smartasses and yell back 'which one?' and he'd tell me 'Kelly, you can run our mouth or run down the guy with the ball not both. '"

Tilting his head he muses, "Never did turn me in for trying to break into the school that time either." There's a pause drawing a deep breath watching the horizon of the yard. murmuring, "Interesting guy. Good coach." There's silence and he says, "Yeah, maybe we can help out the little shits like us. God knows no one else fucking seems to be even when they say they got your back anymore." Looking to Alexander he knows it's a big ask and nods slowly. It might be a couple days or... something. He doesn't point this out. "We're all that's left. Someone's got to do this."

"Yeah," Alexander says, and a real smile appears. "He was my dad." And really, once it's been pointed out, the physical resemblance is obvious - although the Coach walked with more confidence, their general face shapes are the same, and the same hair, just better kept by the older Clayton. He laughs a little. "And that sounds like him. He must have liked you both. Thought you have potential."

He reaches up and tries to settle his hair into something more teacher-ish. "Okay. Fine. This is crazy, and we're likely to get arrested for trespassing by the end of the day, but," he shrugs. "Not the first time for either of us in that regard, I imagine." He offers Joey a smile. "So. Let's, uh. Support the flawed system of public education as best we can because there's not a lot of other options." He reaches for the door with his good arm.

Joey lets that thought drift around his foul mood. It's something small that sparks in a very dark place right now. He almost adds top Alexander's statement but silently nods. "Lunch 4th period? Hey, if it helps I hear they dig ya... let's get this done. "

"All right." Another brief and mildly terrified smile from Alexander, and then...in they go. For Alexander, whose revised memory insists that he used to be a middle school social studies teacher, it's a bit tricky, but luckily one of the history teachers did call out, and they were scrambling to find a short notice substitute. And the weirdly positive memories that everyone has of him have him in a class by 1st period, even if he's visibly twitching every time someone calls him 'Mister A' or 'Mister C'. He looks over the notes left for substitutes for the classes: worksheets and movies. "Boring," he mutters under his breath.

When the students file in, several proclaiming that they'd had him for seventh or eight great social studies, he turns and looks at them wide-eyed, for a moment frozen in place. Then he clears his throat, awkwardly, and says, "I'm, um, here instead of Mr. Alvogadro today. We're gonna learn history. I see you're supposed to be studying, uh, a recap of the Revolutionary War." He frowns. "Haven't you already had this several times?" A chorus of groans answer him. He thinks about it, nods, flips forward. "Okay. Well. It's only one day, so how about we look at something new. How about the labor movement, violence, and social upheaval in turn of the century Gray Harbor area?" He brightens. "Hey, did you know one of the most prolific serial killers in American history was right from our little town..."

It's going to be an interesting lesson. But the kids, after some confusion, get into it, and Google exists. God only knows what they're going to tell their parents, but at least they're learning!

Joey enters the high school, this time as an adult. Almost immediately there's a beeline to the teacher's lounge to see how it plays out. Best to test the waters early with his gym bag over his shoulder. Thanks to Byron he has clothes for 'business' without looking like a mobster. Thank B for having good taste. He gets to the cubicle that has messages stacked in it. he's used to seeing these when he was sent to the office on many occasion. Flipping through the stack he murmurs to himself eyeing one of the notices, "whaaaaat the faaaaaaaak..." and is interrupted by the voice of a woman.

"Coach Kelly?" His attention snaps up , gives her a once over trying to place her and back to her face. "Something the matter?" The other two teachers in the lounge go on with prepping their day and getting coffee.

Joey looks back to the paper, eyes narrowing and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket shaking his head with that look like someone's about to eat a brick. "Don' even ask. Who, um, who signs off on the budget for the fucking budget?"

The other teacher blinks "Uhhh language?" Maybe his 'mean coach' vibe is known more than by the kids but she gives him a name.

"Sorry. Who signs off on the fucking budget, please." He waits and nods. "Thank you." With that he's punching in the number and mutters, "Jersey shop jacked up their damn price. This ain't Seattle. How they expect these kids to play if they can't afford the goddamn gear?" There's more gentle insistence that there's a school around them right now. He waves it off. "They got Netflix. Yeah hello?" he looks on the invoice and asks for the Sam listed and proceeds to get his coffee while coming within an eyelash of threatening the guys' business directly but not quite. it does end in him cancelling the order and calling up the one Erin hooked him up with for doing screen printing for his gym and re-doing the order.

The rest of the morning is a bunch of kids learning tough love about live and hard work that gets a stonewall on excuses and warnings against co-dependency and energy drinks. At the end of it there's even pulling one kid aside telling him to show up back in the gym for 5th hour since he's only going to skip math anyways. He can do that here and be productive." Does he know what trouble kids get up to when they don't? yes. Yes he does.

They don't have to like it and they can be angry, but dammit they can do it here where they're not going to make a mistake they can't fix too.

It's going to be a long week.
He hasn't told Alexander that.

By lunch it hits him how this bizarre situation could have gone another way.
Everything good this week is getting taken away. Eventually this too.
Damn.

Alexander's good at teaching. He knows a lot more about history - even non-murder history - than he generally lets on, and he genuinely enjoys explaining things to people.

He's also tactless, soft-hearted, and completely susceptable to strong personalities walking all over him. The day starts out well. But as time goes on, the kids in each period realize that 'Mister A' will pretty much let them do whatever the fuck they want as long as they don't use nicknames, answer the questions he asks, and don't hit anybody.

By the time 4th period lunch rolls around, he looks wild-eyed and disheveled, and the classroom is pretty much at a constant state of 'joyous roar'. When the bell rings, he doesn't manage to be under his breath when he says, "Thank God." As kids stream out, he says, "Don't forget to do the reading! You can find the text at the library, or on the internet!" Then he sways for a moment, and makes his way, slow and shellshocked, to the faculty lounge. He didn't bring lunch. He didn't realize lunch was going to be a thing. He just mumbles some things at the other adults and finds a corner with his back to the wall to huddle and wait for Joey.