ficpost: "Ducky's Book, Volume Three and a Half" (Ducky McCrae)
I've had this sitting on my hard drive since January. I love it, and have no idea why I didn't post it earlier.
Title: "Ducky's Book, Volume Three and a Half"
Fandom: California Diaries
Character: Ducky
Rating: PG-13 for homophobic language
Spoilers/Timeline: After Book 15, but only very vague spoilers. (i.e., you should read it anyhow!)
Warnings: homosexual content
Disclaimer: Ann M. Martin is ♥; I am just her slave.
Summary: The coming-out tale of Christopher McCrae.
Words: 1885
Ducky's Book, Volume Three and a Half
Lunchroom:
You stare at the guy sitting across the room. The Cro Mags are staring too. Calling names. You try to look away, but your eyes are glued to this guy. He's eating a sandwich, licking his fingers after he takes each bite. He's wearing a button-down shirt. He'll be eaten alive. Unless of course he makes a friend. An advocate. Someone who can save him from the inevitable.
Someone like you.
No way, Ducky, no way. But you're staring at the guy, and you can't help but wonder. What it would be like, to be the New Kid in the middle of your senior year and to look like that. Like a victim. Like bait.
Someone like you.
"Who's your new boyfriend, Duckinator?" Jay (no longer Jason) asks you after lunch. You wince. Go to English. Where you are now. More later.
After School:
Amalia has the scoop on the new kid (of course). His name is Craig. He's from L.A. You don't care. Really.
Phone with Sunny:
S: You should talk to him, Ducky.
D: Uh...
S: No, really. Amalia says he's nice, right? A friend your own age would be a good idea.
Or a friend your own gender.
D: I'll think about it.
S: Attaboy! Woo! GO DUCKY!
Not really. But that's what it seemed like. Maybe you'll talk to him tomorrow, sit with him at lunch. It couldn't be worse than sitting alone.
Way After Midnight:
Or maybe it could be. Who knows?
Morning:
Must. Stop. Stressing this. He's just a guy.
A guy.
What does this mean?
English class
(notebook is hidden inside "A Tale of Two Cities")
This is the best of times. This is the worst of times. This is classtime, so must write quickly.
Half an hour ago, in the cafeteria (again). Craig is sitting by himself (again). Eating a sandwich (again). Ignoring the Cro Mags (again). You're staring at him (again). This is getting to be a habit.
You sit down next to him. Say, "This seat taken?"
"Nope," he says. "Craig."
"Ducky," you say. "Christened Christopher, but I gave up religion."
He smiles. It was a lame joke, so you're grateful for the smile. "Come here often?" you say. Even lamer.
He doesn't stop smiling. "Once a day. Unless I can fake sick."
Ah yes. Faking sick. You remember those days. When faking sick was actually necessary to stay home from school. When home was actually more desirable as a place to be than school. When you had parents who cared.
So you laugh. Because that's. What. You. Do.
"Listen," says Craig. "You're in my math class." You are? He is? This is news. Note to self: pay attention in math more often. "You any good at it?"
"Passing," you say.
C: So, you think you could maybe help me study sometime?
D: Sure. We'll beat that calculus into submission.
C: Great. How about today after school? We can get something to drink first. You a coffee person?
D: Only before five pm.
C: (laughing) Okay. You're funny, Christopher.
D: Ducky.
C: Right. Ducky.
Then you -- Ms. K on the warpath. Later.
Coffee Shop
Craig is in the bathroom. Quick thoughts:
* Craig is very nice.
* Craig is a poet. Must find out what kind of poetry he likes
* It is impossible to think about math when Craig is around
* Craig says "Neanderthals" aren't worth thinking about. Suggests earplugs in the hallways
* Coffee makes Ducky VERY HYPER.
* He's back
In which Ducky makes a discovery
Five Minutes Post-Denial
Three Minutes Pre-Panic
Gulp.
You've never really thought about what the names mean. You've heard them for so long. Freak. Wimp. Pansy. Faggot. Queer. You never thought about what they MEANT, though.
Gay. They all mean gay.
Okay. So you went to coffee. You tried to do math homework. You talked. Oh, God, you talked.
And he *got* everything. It was the weirdest thing. You haven't had a conversation like that since Jay grew up. Since Alex grew away. Since...
Never.
You've never been able to talk to guys (not since afore-mentioned friends growing up up and away), not normally. They want to talk about sports. Babes. Surfing.
You want to talk about clothes. Shopping. Grunge bands. Life stuff. Memories.
Craig isn't really big on the shopping, but you like the same kind of music, and you like the same kind of books. You mention that you just read some Adrienne Rich. He smiles and says "I love Adrienne Rich."
You smile. Explain about the guy who bought it at the bookstore, how he got you interested in poetry. He laughs, a quiet little laugh.
He's nothing like Sunny. He's nothing like Jay. He's nothing like Alex.
He's something like all of them, but something that is just Craig. You wish you could say what it was.
Ducky. C'mon. Snap out of it.
You don't know how long you talked. When you got home, Ted was upset. He'd needed to borrow a ten to pay for pizza. So it was after dinnertime. Way after dinnertime.
Where did the afternoon go? Where does time go when we aren't there to keep track of it?
Back to -- phone.
Back
Amalia: I heard you had coffee with Craig.
Ducky: Yeah.
A: That's nice. How'd it go?
D: I don't know yet. Give me a few hours.
A: Oh. Okay.
D: I'll tell you about it. Really. Just... I need time to think about it.
A: Okay. It's okay.
D: Okay. Talk to you tomorrow, then.
A: Yeah.
You feel bad. But there's no way you can talk to anyone else about it when you can't even admit it to yourself.
So. Where were we? Ah yes. Back in the coffee shop, talking for hours, when suddenly, you just run out of things to say. But you don't want to end things. So you just look at Craig some more.
And he puts his hand on your knee. Says, "Let's go."
You might have said, "Okay." You might have said, "Let's do math some more." You might have said, "I'm a penguin." You honestly can't remember.
Somehow, you and Craig end up in this tiny little park in the middle of the city. You've only been here once or twice before, once with Alex just a few months ago. Then, no one said anything. Alex stared at the grass and you stared at Alex.
Craig says, "You're a really great guy, Ducky."
You nod. "Thanks. You too. I've had fun."
He smiles. Then his face gets all serious. "I want to kiss you," he says. "Would that be okay?" You can't even breathe, so you stare at him for way too long before nodding.
....
Words. There aren't any words in English for everything that kiss felt like. This is what poetry is for. This is what Shakespeare is for. This is... this is chemistry.
So that's when you realize. Wonder why it never occurred to you before. It all seems so simple now (terrifying, but simple). You're gay.
I am gay.
I'm gay.
Title: "Ducky's Book, Volume Three and a Half"
Fandom: California Diaries
Character: Ducky
Rating: PG-13 for homophobic language
Spoilers/Timeline: After Book 15, but only very vague spoilers. (i.e., you should read it anyhow!)
Warnings: homosexual content
Disclaimer: Ann M. Martin is ♥; I am just her slave.
Summary: The coming-out tale of Christopher McCrae.
Words: 1885
Ducky's Book, Volume Three and a Half
Lunchroom:
You stare at the guy sitting across the room. The Cro Mags are staring too. Calling names. You try to look away, but your eyes are glued to this guy. He's eating a sandwich, licking his fingers after he takes each bite. He's wearing a button-down shirt. He'll be eaten alive. Unless of course he makes a friend. An advocate. Someone who can save him from the inevitable.
Someone like you.
No way, Ducky, no way. But you're staring at the guy, and you can't help but wonder. What it would be like, to be the New Kid in the middle of your senior year and to look like that. Like a victim. Like bait.
Someone like you.
"Who's your new boyfriend, Duckinator?" Jay (no longer Jason) asks you after lunch. You wince. Go to English. Where you are now. More later.
After School:
Amalia has the scoop on the new kid (of course). His name is Craig. He's from L.A. You don't care. Really.
Phone with Sunny:
S: You should talk to him, Ducky.
D: Uh...
S: No, really. Amalia says he's nice, right? A friend your own age would be a good idea.
Or a friend your own gender.
D: I'll think about it.
S: Attaboy! Woo! GO DUCKY!
Not really. But that's what it seemed like. Maybe you'll talk to him tomorrow, sit with him at lunch. It couldn't be worse than sitting alone.
Way After Midnight:
Or maybe it could be. Who knows?
Morning:
Must. Stop. Stressing this. He's just a guy.
A guy.
What does this mean?
English class
(notebook is hidden inside "A Tale of Two Cities")
This is the best of times. This is the worst of times. This is classtime, so must write quickly.
Half an hour ago, in the cafeteria (again). Craig is sitting by himself (again). Eating a sandwich (again). Ignoring the Cro Mags (again). You're staring at him (again). This is getting to be a habit.
You sit down next to him. Say, "This seat taken?"
"Nope," he says. "Craig."
"Ducky," you say. "Christened Christopher, but I gave up religion."
He smiles. It was a lame joke, so you're grateful for the smile. "Come here often?" you say. Even lamer.
He doesn't stop smiling. "Once a day. Unless I can fake sick."
Ah yes. Faking sick. You remember those days. When faking sick was actually necessary to stay home from school. When home was actually more desirable as a place to be than school. When you had parents who cared.
So you laugh. Because that's. What. You. Do.
"Listen," says Craig. "You're in my math class." You are? He is? This is news. Note to self: pay attention in math more often. "You any good at it?"
"Passing," you say.
C: So, you think you could maybe help me study sometime?
D: Sure. We'll beat that calculus into submission.
C: Great. How about today after school? We can get something to drink first. You a coffee person?
D: Only before five pm.
C: (laughing) Okay. You're funny, Christopher.
D: Ducky.
C: Right. Ducky.
Then you -- Ms. K on the warpath. Later.
Coffee Shop
Craig is in the bathroom. Quick thoughts:
* Craig is very nice.
* Craig is a poet. Must find out what kind of poetry he likes
* It is impossible to think about math when Craig is around
* Craig says "Neanderthals" aren't worth thinking about. Suggests earplugs in the hallways
* Coffee makes Ducky VERY HYPER.
* He's back
In which Ducky makes a discovery
Five Minutes Post-Denial
Three Minutes Pre-Panic
Gulp.
You've never really thought about what the names mean. You've heard them for so long. Freak. Wimp. Pansy. Faggot. Queer. You never thought about what they MEANT, though.
Gay. They all mean gay.
Okay. So you went to coffee. You tried to do math homework. You talked. Oh, God, you talked.
And he *got* everything. It was the weirdest thing. You haven't had a conversation like that since Jay grew up. Since Alex grew away. Since...
Never.
You've never been able to talk to guys (not since afore-mentioned friends growing up up and away), not normally. They want to talk about sports. Babes. Surfing.
You want to talk about clothes. Shopping. Grunge bands. Life stuff. Memories.
Craig isn't really big on the shopping, but you like the same kind of music, and you like the same kind of books. You mention that you just read some Adrienne Rich. He smiles and says "I love Adrienne Rich."
You smile. Explain about the guy who bought it at the bookstore, how he got you interested in poetry. He laughs, a quiet little laugh.
He's nothing like Sunny. He's nothing like Jay. He's nothing like Alex.
He's something like all of them, but something that is just Craig. You wish you could say what it was.
Ducky. C'mon. Snap out of it.
You don't know how long you talked. When you got home, Ted was upset. He'd needed to borrow a ten to pay for pizza. So it was after dinnertime. Way after dinnertime.
Where did the afternoon go? Where does time go when we aren't there to keep track of it?
Back to -- phone.
Back
Amalia: I heard you had coffee with Craig.
Ducky: Yeah.
A: That's nice. How'd it go?
D: I don't know yet. Give me a few hours.
A: Oh. Okay.
D: I'll tell you about it. Really. Just... I need time to think about it.
A: Okay. It's okay.
D: Okay. Talk to you tomorrow, then.
A: Yeah.
You feel bad. But there's no way you can talk to anyone else about it when you can't even admit it to yourself.
So. Where were we? Ah yes. Back in the coffee shop, talking for hours, when suddenly, you just run out of things to say. But you don't want to end things. So you just look at Craig some more.
And he puts his hand on your knee. Says, "Let's go."
You might have said, "Okay." You might have said, "Let's do math some more." You might have said, "I'm a penguin." You honestly can't remember.
Somehow, you and Craig end up in this tiny little park in the middle of the city. You've only been here once or twice before, once with Alex just a few months ago. Then, no one said anything. Alex stared at the grass and you stared at Alex.
Craig says, "You're a really great guy, Ducky."
You nod. "Thanks. You too. I've had fun."
He smiles. Then his face gets all serious. "I want to kiss you," he says. "Would that be okay?" You can't even breathe, so you stare at him for way too long before nodding.
....
Words. There aren't any words in English for everything that kiss felt like. This is what poetry is for. This is what Shakespeare is for. This is... this is chemistry.
So that's when you realize. Wonder why it never occurred to you before. It all seems so simple now (terrifying, but simple). You're gay.
I am gay.
I'm gay.