Chapter Text
“No, I won't allow it”, Filbrick wasn't even shouting. “You? Going to college? What for? It'll be just a waste of money”.
Stanley lowered his head in quiet acceptance. His Father was right, as always. He had troubles keeping up with his school classes already, there was no way for him to hope for making it higher.
And yet, as soon as Father mentioned in passing that he should've kept Ford and not him, as the oldest twin was accepted in some college on full scholarship, Stanley couldn't help but research the ways to get in some college himself, maybe even find out the Sixer's one and try out their requirements…
But Father was right. Colleges were for someone like Ford, smart and bright. Someone like Stan just didn't belong there…
“But I'm glad you touched that question,” Father continued, “We should discuss your plans after graduation”.
Stanley perked at that. That was one thing he was really looking forward to. Lately he was finally allowed again to help Father in the shop, sweeping and dusting and sometimes even managing the register as a reward for a higher grade. And this past week he actually managed to pass some tests with “better than average Stan’s grades” (quote by his teacher).
“I found you a job nearby. Will keep you busy for the whole day, and the pay is even more than you deserve”.
“What?” Stan stared at his Father with confusion. “I thought I would be helping you here?”
Filbrick stared at his unreadable expression.
“Don't be ridiculous. You call that a help? Even if I pick up some loser from the street and agree to pay him a dollar per day, he still would perform better than you!”
Stan sighed and looked down. And here he was thinking he learnt to manage it rather well. But it was Father's business, so he knew best.
“I understand”, he whispered, “So, what's the job?”
“Managing some cargo for ZYX’s factory. They assured me that it would be easy, even if you couldn't possibly fumble it”.
***
Stan glared at “the cargo”. And then at the Suit that was explaining to him the “managing” process.
“You… want me to bring THAT to the shore and dump it?! Are you serious?! There's ‘Toxic’ written all over it!”
He pointed at the barrels that did have “Toxic” written all over them.
The Suit sighed.
“They’re overreacting. There is nothing dangerous there for anyone. We did tests. The ocean won't even notice this small drop”.
Stanley glared at him once again, turned around and left.
***
“What did you do?!” Filbrick grabbed him by the collar as soon as Stan returned. “Do you even know how much effort I had to take to convince them to give you a chance?! And you! Ungrateful dumbass! Not only walked out on them, but you called the Marine Health Services on them?!”
“Did you know what they were doing?!” Stanley was still pissed and pushed against his Father. “Did you know they were poisoning the shore?!”
“They are a perfectly safe industry!” Filbrick was roaring. “And for all that money they were offering you should've just ignored it!”
“No!” Stan shouted in response. “You're wrong! And they are too! Don't you get it?! The ocean is not something…”
Slap!
Stanley’s mind had to take a minute to deal with its blankish state. Did… Did Father just slap him?
“Listen here, you pathetic piece of shit that my sorry ex wife somehow made instead of finally normal son!” Filbrick pointed his finger on Stan's chest. “You just cost me a huge sum of money, not to mention sunking my reputation! So you better think long and hard about how you can possibly repay…” by the end of this rant Filbrick put his other hand on his own chest.
“There's nothing to repay!” there was something ugly inside Stan. He really should've kept quiet, agreed with his Father and accepted whatever punishment there would be coming. Only this time he wasn't feeling guilt, he knew he was right! He just had to prove it to his Father to see it too! “It was a toxic waste! They told us in classes that this stuff should be disposed of in specific locations! Not by dumping it in the water!”
“Shut up!” Filbrick’s face started to redden. His hand clutched at his chest zone. “You don't understand anything about this world! It works not like in those stupid childhood books that your brother loved so much! I hoped you would lose all those stupid fantasies along with that little frea…”
Stan punched him.
Filbrick took a step back, more from surprise than from the punch itself.
“You don't get to call Ford that”, Stan hissed. “I won't allow it!”
Filbrick’s expression turned even more enraged, and he opened his mouth… But in that moment his hand that was pressed to his chest contracted itself, and Filbrick stumbled, trying with his other hand to find something to lean on.
“Sta…” he weezed as his hand found nothing and he slumped to the floor, “Stan…ley… help….”
Stanley froze. One part of him was screaming at him to run to the man who raised him and gave some place to call home….
But the other, ugly part wanted to do nothing.
And Father was right. Stan was just a stupid pathetic piece of shit. He couldn't hope to win against that ugly side.
And so he stood there, unmoving and silent, as that man rasped and pleaded and trashed and then went still…
Stanley did nothing. He felt nothing.
And when the next day he left the house after taking every valuable thing he could find he felt the freedom for the first time in forever.
But no one prepared him that freedom felt dark, suffocating and absolutely hopeless.