Stanford McGucket (1/?)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 Stanford messed up his brother’s chances of getting a scholarship and is now living out of the local library. Surviving with little to no plan Until a kind Southern couple offer him a chance to start over.

(an au od @thelastspeecher‘s Stanely McGucket au) ao3

It had been a month, and yet still Stanford remembered the night as though it had just happened. The duffle bag flung at his chest, the forceful slam of the front door to his childhood home, his brother’s protests being silenced by their father’s angry screams. Through heavy tears, he could see their silhouettes in some sort of violent puppet show in the bedroom window. He spent that night in the boat that he and Stanley had spent many a summer’s day working on.

He could only thank God that his father had stuffed some of his books into the duffle bag before throwing it at him. They might have made it land harder, but it gave him something to do; they gave him some form of comfort. And for whatever reason, his father had thrown in the books that Stanford currently had on loan from the library. Probably didn’t want to pay the overdue fees if they were left behind Ford thought sadly.

However, it was thanks to those books that he now stands where he is today: leaning over the reception desk of the Glass Shard Beach library; answering to a cheerful pair of Southern parents who had limitless number of questions with regards to the College brochures that were proudly displayed near Stanford’s desk. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but Stanford saw little use in grumbling over his losses; or perhaps he was just too tired and hungry to bother paying much mind to it. Instead he chose to focus on the couple before him.

“So Cali University has stronger biology curriculums?” The sandy blonde woman asked, excitement dancing in her blue eyes.

“From what I’ve read and heard, it seemed that their biology department is by far the largest in the district,” Stanford nodded, eyes half lidded. “However I’ve heard that their dormitories can be somewhat sub-par in terms of quality.”



“I’ve heard that m’self” the woman’s husband agreed, crossing his arms, “but they ain’t that bad are they?”

“I-” Ford yawned “wouldn’t honestly be able to tell you, I haven’t attended myself. I can only tell you what I’ve heard.”

“That makes sense,” the woman said, her smile falling slightly, “but I’m sure our little Angie would be able to deal with a bit o’ discomfort if it meant she could study what she wants”

“Is that so?” Stanford asked, standing up straighter. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is her prefered area of study? You mentioned biology, but is there any particular category she enjoys more than others?”

“Yes indeed,” the man said with a proud grin, “she particularly loves her reptiles, herpology-if I recall”



“Herpetology darlin’” his wife corrected.

“Ah yes, thank ya Sally” He beamed,

“Is there anything i can hel-” Ford began, before his stomach’s grumbles interrupted him.

“Y’all right there?” Sally’s husband asked, concern suddenly engulfing his face.

“Wha-oh-yes I’m…I’m fine” Ford lied, hoping a smile would convince the couple before him.

The Husband seemed to thinking something over, his hand cupping chin. Ford let the him be, his eyes wandering over to the clock on the wall behind the man. His mind wandering over his ever so distant lunch hour; his hand wandered to his pocket. Six fingers fidgeted about with the coins and notes, considering what he could get for lunch, or if he could get lunch at all [it] in favour of having some dinner later in the evening. Perhaps he could try getting a ‘six finger’ discount, but after the last time Stanford was less than confident in his abilities. His eyes felt heavier the more he thought. Perhaps after he helped this couple he’d be able to sneak a nap. The seats in the VHS section were secluded and rather comfy.

“are you sure you’re alright? You don’t look too well.” Sally asked, she’d seen the Librarian’s state before. Her son got notoriously delirious when working on assignments.

“I’m-’m- fine” he said stifling a yawn, his glasses sat unevenly on his nose, but he made no effort to correct them.

“ya don’t seem fine” Sally’s husband said, eyeing Stanford’s thinning face, “when was the last time ya ate?”

“oh I-er” he yawned again, rubbing his eye with his thumb while he did so, “My shift started early today, so I missed breakfast, but I had dinner last night” he added hastily.

“oh really? what did you have for dinner?” the boy blanched, people rarely ever asked about him, let alone anything that personal.

“a couple of sandwiches” he said sheepishly, averting his eyes as he spoke, it wasn’t a complete lie, he did indeed have some sandwiches for dinner, it was just that they lacked any filling.

“Well, Mearl and I were thinkin’ of gettin’ lunch while we’re here.” Sally said, “perhaps ya could join us.”

“It’d be the least we could do fer ya” Mearl said, seeing the protest on Ford’s lip, “one good turn an’ all”

“But-” Stanford started, he barely knew these two, could he in good will accept their offer? “I wouldn’t want to intrude, I mean, it’s-it’s not like i did much”

“Don’t cut yerself short,” Mearl said bluntly, “Ya helped us out majorly with gettin’ information on these big schools, it’s the least we can do.”

“When does yer shift end? We could meet up with ya then.” Sally proposed.

“My lunch hour is at four…” Stanford said thoughtlessly.

“Wonderful! We’ll see you then” Sally grinned, her smile reminding Stanford the way his Ma would smile whenever she made a successful sale.

The rest of Stanford’s library shift was uneventful. Reshelving some returns, calling up some overdue loans, listening to the head librarian not-so-subtly warn him not to try stealing books like he did when he was 7. A usual day if he was perfectly honest. Students came in and out, asking for books that covered whatever their English assignment they had due.

Stanford tried his hardest to not snap at the kids who earnestly asked about novels he remembers spending warm afternoons reading at home. It wasn’t there fault, it couldn’t be, it wasn’t anyone else’s fault except his own. If he hadn’t gotten in that scuffle with Crampelter he wouldn’t be here right now. But Stanford didn’t have to ruminate; he had books to catalogue. A job his superior made him aggressively aware was his responsibility.

The McGuckets chattered excitedly, taking in the sights around them, excitedly pointing out things in the distance; often turning to Stanford to ask his opinion and recommendations concerning things they saw in store windows. If he was perfectly honest, Stanford felt as though he was trying to guide excitable children through the aisles of the library rather than helping a pair of fully grown adults find a place to eat.

“Ya sure have a lot o’ souvenir places ‘ere Stanford” Mearl said, looking into a display window he swore he’d seen earler on the boardwalk.

“I guess we do,” Stanford said, his fingers fiddling with loose string in his pocket, “I never really noticed.”

“Guess that makes sense” Mearl replied, “I never really no’iced how many stalls sold yams at the markets when I was younger. Always wondered why my parent’s never grew ‘em.”



“That was because they had too many competitors.” Sally replied nudging her husband with her elbow, “if they sold ‘em like e’eryone else they would have ended up sellin’ none ‘cause all the other stalls woulda had ‘em at a better price.”



“You sayin’ my fam’ly would over charge on our goods?” Mearl asked in mock offence.



“Not on my life,” Sally replied, fauxing fear, “I would never say anythin’ bad ‘bout the McGuckets,”



“Hey look over there,” Stanford pointed, not realising that they were joking, “There’s a restaurant my family used to eat at when I was younger.”

“Oh?” The pair said, following Ford’s finger to see a 50’s styled restaurant.

“Or you know, there are more restaurants along the boardwalk, if you want some variety” he added quickly, hoping they wouldn’t return to arguing.

“That sounds wonderful” Sally smiled, “Ya could give Mearl an’ m a small tour,”

“Sounds like fun,” Mearl agreed, grinning broadly at his wife, “you up for it Stanford?”

“No-I mean-ye-Sure thing” Stanford said hesitantly. Ignoring the loneliness in his chest, Ford lead the pair along the boardwalk.

Sally and Mearl, through Stanford’s recommendation, agreed to eat a seafood cafe that had several outdoor tables. Stanford found himself parked on these outdoor tables, feeling out of place amongst the smartly dressed adults who occupied the other tables of the restaurant. He could feel the gaze of every other patron judging him for coming in dressed in a wrinkled shirt and pants that he hadn’t changed in a week. His sweater vest had several loose ends and his hair looked messy enough to be considered a wild animal. Not to mention the loud rumbling from his stomach that seemed determined to shatter the boardwalk. The McGuckets, however, did not share this discomfort. Eagerly reading through their menu, quietly laughing at the names of some of the dishes.

“Gull in a yer gullet? Really? Couldn’ they call it a fish steak?” Mearl asked in disbelief.

“Steak ain’t cooked the same way Mearl,” Sally said, rolling her eyes, “But I’ll agree that half these names coulda been written by Angie when she was 2.”

“I think they say named it like that to make their restaurant seem fancier than it actually is.” Stanford said, eyeing his own menu.

“Or maybe they wan’ to be known for the least readable menu,” Mearl replied, hailing a waiter.

“Perhaps they’re plannin’ a deal with the carnival by the beach,” Sally smirked, “prolly have their waiters walk aroun’ wearin’ clown costumes.”

“That’d probably add to the hilarity of some these food names,” Stanford chuckled, “Fish ala ketchup? What even is this?”

When the waiter arrived Mearl and Sally placed their orders straight away, Stanford however took a bit more time. Partially because the waiter seemed to have his nose so high up in the air that he ignored the dirty looking boy, and partially because he hadn’t actually chosen anything yet. He could feel the waiter’s eyes boring into the top of his head as he skimmed through the menu, checking price first and item later.

I can’t afford any of these! Stanford thought in embarrassment, ignoring the cries of his stomach. why did I agree to coming here? I guess I could order a drink to not seem impolite-but then they might think that I don’t see them as worth my time-

The waiter coughed, breaking Stanford out of his train of thought, making him partially drop his menu in the process. Which revealed his distressed face to the McGuckets, for a moment before Stanford covered his sweating face again.



“I thi-I-I’ll just have a coke please” Stanford said quietly, not meeting the waiter’s eye.

“Will that be all?” the waiter asked, sounding as though Stanford had danced merrily upon the waiter’s mother’s grave rather than making a cheap order.

“Ye-”



“Get him a plate like ours,” Mearl interrupted.



“RIght away!” the waiter said, sounding much more cheerful as he jotted down the request and sped off to the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Stanford said, in awe of Mearl’s generosity.

“Don’t be silly,” Sally said, surprising Stanford, who was expecting her to be upset at Mearl’s snap decision, “we said that we’d be takin’ ya to lunch didn’t we?”

“You did but I didn’t expect-” Stanford said, trying to hold back tears,

“You didn’t think we’d leave ya to pay for this over-priced grub on yer own didja?” Mearl asked, with a grin.

“No-I mean yes?- I don’t know” Stanford replied, wiping his eye.

“Hey now, ‘t’s alright” Sally said calmly, reaching out for Stanford’s shoulder.

“Think notihn’ of it,” Mearl assured, with a grin.

“I haven’t had a full meal in so long,” Stanford blurted out mid-sob.

“Ya haven’t?” Mearl asked, his face twisting in shock.

“No wonder you’re so thin” Sally muttered, holding on to Stanford’s sleeve more tightly.

Stanford excused himself and headed to the bathroom. Once inside he took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror, noticing how red his eyes were starting to look. He splashed his face with some water, letting the coolness wash over him. “It’s just some food Stanford, you don’t need to break down over something so mundane,” he berated under his breath. Looking up, Stanford realised just how messy his hair and clothes were. Stanford took a moment to try and straighten his hair and clothes out as best as he could. “Maybe now I won’t look as much as a charity case,” he hoped, nodding at himself in the mirror before leaving.

When Stanford got back to the outdoor table, the food had just arrived. The waiter give a light smile to the McGuckets as he left the table. Stanford ignored the full body scowl he received and took his seat opposite the McGuckets, who had their hands clasped, muttering a short prayer. In lieu of making his situation more awkward, Stanford chose to wait for the couple to finish before digging in.

“You don’t say grace?” Sally asked, cutting her fillet.

“I-I’m Jewish,” Stanford admitted sheepishly.

“Oh-wait, is seafood Kosh’r?” Mearl asked with concern.

“Er-yes the type of fish used here is Kosher for the most part,” Stanford replied, recalling the time his family visited the cafe when he was younger.

“That’s a relief, wouldn’a want ya goin’ against yer beliefs.” Mearl sighed, taking a bite of his fillet.

“Thank you” Stanford replied before eating his own fillet; trying his hardest to not finish his plate instantly.

The meal proceeded mostly in silence. Save for the few moments where the McGuckets occasionally brought up their children back home. “Angie woulda loved comin’ here.”

“I betcha comin’ to eat here woulda cheered Fiddleford right up.”

It made Stanford think back to his own home. Do they think about me?” he wondered, taking a sip of his drink, Does Ma still make food for me by mistake? Does Stan forgive me for that night? Does Pop even let them talk about me when he’s around? Does Ma ever talk about me to her clients? If she did she’d probably end up crying into the phone. Heh, at least she’d get more of their time.

Stanford’s thoughts were interrupted by the waiter, accidentally bumping the table, bringing in the bill.

“Say Stanford,” Sally started, leaving her husband to pay for the bill and tip, “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to ask you,”

“What is it?” Stanford replied, putting down his glass.

“I noticed that yer the only person we’ve seen today that ain’t in school, is there any reason fer that?” She continued, her face gentle but questioning.

“I-” Stanford choked, he could feel the tears inching out of the corner of his eye at the mention of that night, but if those self-help books taught me anything… he thought.

“If ya don’t want ta share it’s fine” Sally assured, “I’m just concerned is all, do yer parents know yer not in school?”

At the mention of his parents Stanford felt his world collapse around him, the tears that had been threatening to spill since he’d taken his seat finally began to fall. If he were standing he’d have fallen to the ground; luckily for Stanford he wasn’t standing. Mearl leaned back in surprise, his chair squeaking along the wood of the boardwalk as he did so. Meanwhile Sally simply stood up to sit next to Stanford, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“It’s alright darlin’,” she whispered; as the boy pressed his face into her shoulder, “I’m here fer ya”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sally could see the eyes of the patrons turning to their table. When her eyes met her husband, the pair shared a nod and quickly took action. Mearl raised his hand to hail the waiter while Sally whispered into Stanford’s ear. “Let’s go somewhere quiet, ya know any place that’d fit the bill?”

Stanford nodded into her shirt, sniffling quietly as they both got up and left; soon followed by Mearl who held a pair of to-go boxes. Letting the boy lean against her as he wiped his eyes, Sally had Stanford guide them to a place for them to sit, “ya don’t gotta talk to us about what’s botherin’ you, but some fresh air would do you good.” she said, rubbing his shoulder.

The McGuckets soon found themselves sitting on a pair of rocks on Glass Shard beach; in front of them stood a set of playground equipment. Stanford held onto Sally’s arm, still in her hug from earlier, his earlier sobbing quieted down to the occasional sniffle as he watched the swings before him sway in the breeze. His lunch hour ended long ago, but Stanford had no intention of going back to the library right now.

Sally rubbed circles in the boy’s back as he shuddered. “If ya wanna talk about what’s botherin’ ya you’ve got two pairs of ears here for you,” she said calmly.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Stanford slurred, tearing his gaze from the swings to look at the sea.

“We gave ya a free shoulder to cry on,” Mearl said, “I don’t think anything you say now is really goin’ ta bother us,”

Stanford turned to look at Mearl and Sally, their faces gentle and welcoming. I owe them that much he reasoned, getting up from his seat on the rock.

“It all started about a month ago. My twin brother,” Stanford said, his voice cracking, “had gotten an offer for a sports scholarship, and a scout was going to watch one of his matches. Stanley and I were on our way to the match when-” Stanford paused, suddenly feeling foolish.

“What happened son?” Maerl asked, concern filling his voice.

Stanford took a moment to collect his thoughts. “We-well-I were attacked. Some bullies from school cornered us just as we arrived. They started going off about my hands. And Stanley being Stanley, dove at them fists at the ready. Unfortunately the college representative exited the building at that exact moment; and well, it isn’t the best image when the person you’ve been called out to check up on is covered in blood.”

“My word,” Sally muttered, Stanford started to tear up again.

“Stanley didn’t mind it, ‘I never woulda done well in some big dumb school anyway’ as he put it,” Stanford continued, doing an impressive impersonation of his brother’s voice, “My father on the other hand,” Stanford chuckled between his tears; as though his life was some twisted joke and he was only now understanding the punchline. “He didn’t take to kindly to the news. He threw me out the same night, saying I was a wimp who hid in my brother’s shadow for too long. And that I wasn’t to return until I had made up for the millions that my brother could have earnt us.”

Sally covered her mouth in horror at that statement, a burning sensation filling her chest as she watched Stanford struggle to collect himself again. “So you’ve been out on your own since then? How did you make it by one your own?”

Stanford paused, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, the kindness in her voice; it felt almost impossible to not break down again. But he somehow kept composed, if only for a little longer. “When my father kicked me out, he threw a duffle bag at me, it had some clothes and the books I had borrowed from the library.” Stanford said, licking his lips, “I guess he didn’t want to pay the overdue fee or something, but when I saw the books in the bag, I remembered the library, And-I-when I saw them I knew I had a chance to stay self-sufficient; since, the library opened ‘til late, and if I took the late shift, I could lock myself in and stay the night. Plus most of the librarians knew me from my long hours of studying, so I had a chance of getting a job there.”

“But that older dame didn’t seem too fond of ya,” Mearl stated, remembering the hawk-like watch the head librarian had on Stanford.

“Right, her-um-she’s the head Librarian, she’s been working there since I was in elementary, and she kind of never forgave me for that time where my brother and I stole some books from the junior fiction section.” Stanford replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We gave them back, she’s just hard on me is all.” he added quickly.

“But what were you planning on doing? You can’t sleep in the library after hours forever.” Sally observed.

“I was planning on earning enough to start staying at the nearby motel,” Stanford admitted, “the rest I was going to play by ear.”

There was a beat. Stanford stood there, watching the McGuckets as they looked at one another.

By the end of his tale, Stanford had tears falling down his cheeks again. But this time he wasn’t ashamed, or upset, he just felt…hurt. Revisiting those old wounds was never a comfortable act; especially late at night in the VHS section of the library. However, now that he’d said it out-loud, he felt…lighter, like a weight was lifted from his chest. I wonder if this is what my teachers meant when they’d say that talking about your problems with people was better than keeping it locked up he thought, stepping back to sit on the swing set.

With one last look, Stanford saw that the McGuckets seemed to be holding a meaningful conversation. He decided to leave them be, turning to face the sea and the soon to be setting sun. The head librarian would have his head for disappearing for so long, I wonder if she’d have the heart to throw me out over this he mused, letting the sound of the waves wash over him. Taking him to a time when things were simpler, where school was the last thing on his mind and his biggest concerns was making a wrecked ship seaworthy. Laughing alongside a free spirit and running along the beach, uncaring for the sand that got in their shoes and on their clothes.

Stanford was brought out of his thoughts by a hand pressing onto his shoulder. The same hand that held him close that afternoon, the same hand that let become a blubbering fool without reprimand. Turning to face the Sally McGucket, rather than meeting with a judging glare, Stanford saw a welcoming smile.

“Stanford,” she said, taking the seat of the swing next to him, “Mearl and I got to thinking, and we were wonderin’ if you’d want to come and work for us.”

“Wha-”

“We’ve been looking for a new farm hand, we’re not as young as we once were, an’ our kids are out mos’ of the time,” Mearl said, standing to Ford’s left.

Stanford looked up at the man, processing what he was being told. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“If ya wanta job, bed and three square meals a day, we can give it to ya” Mearl said, placing a firm hand on Stanford’s other shoulder.

A glimmer of hope lit up in Ford’s mind, a smile spreading across his face. I never thought I’d find kindness like this from strangers- he thought, interrupted by the memory of a rough new jersey accented voice ‘ain’t nothin’ in life free, yer best to remember that Stan’.

Stanford’s smile fell, sudden concern filling him. “Why would you want me to work for you?” he asked, voice cracking again as he ran a six fingered hand through his hair, “I’m just some, drop-out f-freak. What could I possibly offer you?”, he sniffled quietly. his eyes were burning and he was all out of tears to cry. Sitting in silence, he waited for them to realise their mistake.

“Son, yer polydactyl ain’t got nothin’ to do with this,” Mearl said, kneeling in front of the boy, “what me an’ Sally get outta this is a hard working young man who made a mistake but is workin’ on fixin’ it.”

“You might be feelin’ alone in the world Stanford, but it don’t have to be that way.” Sally said, gripping Ford’s shoulder tightly, “It’s alright to ask fer help.”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Stanford asked, looking up.

“Sure thing son, but we can’t stay fer too long, we live up in Arkansas ya see?” Mearl said, getting up. “We’ll meet you at the library by seven. Is that good for ya?”

Stanford wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded.

Stanford stood awkwardly in front of the library, fidgeting with his dufflebag trap as he waited. He was early, but that was something he couldn’t really help. After arriving over two hours late the head librarian almost shouted the library down; saying that if he were to not take his job seriously then he might as well leave. Taking the hint stanford took his duffle bag from it’s hiding place, beneath the ‘for sale’ book box and left.

That had been about an hour ago, and judging by his watch, Stanford still had another hour of waiting to do. With a sigh, the high school dropout walked over to the stairs by the entrance of the library and took a seat. Might as well make good use of my time he thought, taking out a work book and pen from his bag.

It was 7:05 when the McGuckets arrived, laughing amongst themselves as they held some souvenirs that Stanford recognised from the carnival.

“Stanferd!” Mearl beamed, handing his keychains to his wife as he approached, “have ya thought ‘bout our offer?”

“Yes.” Stanford said, playing with a folded piece of paper in his hand,“and I’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”

“That’s great!” Sally said, stuffing the key chains into her purse, “we’re ready to leave, have you gotten everything?”

“Yes, about that,” Stanford said slowly,

“Is somethin’ wrong son?” Mearl asked,

“O-n-no nothing’s wrong.“ Stanford clarified. He cleared his throat, “I was just wondering if we could make a quick stop before we left?”

“Ya want to take a look at some memories fer the last time?” Mearl smiled, leading the way to his car.

“In a way,” stanford replied, taking the back seat. Placing his bag on the seat next to him.

“So where are we headed?” Mearl asked turning the key after Sally got in.

“Pines Pawns, it’s near the far end of the boardwalk, near the waffle house.” Stanford said, almost stuttering as the words left his mouth.

“Pines? That your old place?” Sally asked, looking at Ford in the rear-view mirror.

“Yes,” Stanford said, staring out the window, “I have some unfinished business there,”



“Stanferd,” Mearl said slowly, his gaze meeting Stanford’s through the rear view mirror.

“I’m not going to start up a fuss,” Stanford said quickly, “I just want to leave a message for my brother,”

“Oh?” Sally asked, “you want him to be able to find ya?”

“Yes” Stanford said, “knowing my father, my brother may not be able to stay for much longer,”

“Then why not invite him to come with us?” Mearl asked, “we got plenty a room back at the farm.”

“I’d rather not force a decision on him,” Stanford said, “he might decide to walk his own path, but I want to give him the opportunity to contact me if he wishes.”

The car stopped near the store, but not outside it. The shop’s lights were off so Stanford knew he was safe from being spotted by his father. Walking quickly, Stanford made his way to the red cadillac that was parked in front of the store. Carefully, Stanford lifted one of the windscreen wipers and placed a folded up letter under it.

“You ready to go?” Mearl asked as Stanfrod took his seat in car again.

“Yes I am,” Stanford replied.

A/N:

This was born after a short binge of a role-swap fics where Ford got kicked out instead. kudos goes to the aforementioned thelastspeecher and @radioactivedelorean for their completion of role swap ficlets that lead to this fic’s creation. (found here and here).