Chapter Text
Louie was no stranger to the guidance counselor's office, but that didn't mean he particularly enjoyed being there.
"Are you sure you don't have anything you'd like to talk about before your brothers get here?" the old bat tried cautiously.
Well, he could start by saying that the whole mental health check that the school tried to devise as a cover-up for getting the three brothers into one room at the same time was a bunch of phooey. He could say that pulling a fourth grader out of a math lesson was slowing down his development. He could say that pulling Huey out of geography class was going to cause the temper tantrum of the century once they got home.
He chose silence, and a quick shake of his head. He knew what this was.
Louie liked to pride himself on being the smart triplet, even if Huey thought that title belonged to him. He was aware that the three of them had been showing up to school with eye bags and a wafting smell of the sea. The only reason they had even gotten to keep the lights on for as long as they had was due to their bed being sold, but they weren't as lucky with the water.
Sleeping on the floor was fine. It wasn't like Louie didn't already wake up with cramps from Dewey's kicking.
Uncle Donald had felt terrible about selling their bed, but they had insisted on it going. It was the nicest thing they owned, with its plush velvet fabric and gold detailing around the legs. Louie had no idea where Uncle Donald even pulled that thing from, and every time he asked he would a grumble a response about an antique store.
Needless to say, it looked like they were being abused. Little did the school know, they were just dirt poor.
Bless old Uncle Donald's pride.
"I'm here! Sorry, I didn't mean to be late, I was trying to copy down the map of South America!" Huey's voice squeaked as the door opened.
Yeah, Hurricane Huey was sure to arrive when they got home. God forbid the kid didn't get to copy down Argentina.
Huey plopped down in the seat next to him and folded his arms, trying his best to look presentable despite the purple-ish marks that rested under his eyes. He pursed his beak and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make himself look less tired.
"Good to see you, Huey," Louie said finally.
Huey looked back at him then, flashing him a look that meant 'Don't mess this up.' Louie simply nodded and gave him a thumbs up, because if he wasn't comforted before, he definitely was now.
Not.
"I suppose we should wait on your other brother before we begin," the old bat croaked out.
Huey looked panicked. "I'm sure he'll be here soon! Probably just got lost, is all!"
"Yes, we've sent someone down to make sure he gets here safely."
Louie almost snorted. What an idiot their brother could be.
When the old bat's stupid assistant showed up at the office five minutes later with no Dewey at her side, Louie knew something was wrong. Dewey would have never passed up the opportunity to take a lap around the hallways during English.
"It seems that Mr. Dewey has fallen asleep in class," she deadpanned.
Huey looked like he could vomit, and Louie tried his best not to smile. It wasn't funny, not at all, but the nervous tickle that danced around in his chest had to manifest in some way.
Dewey's nap was not helping their case. Huey seemed to know it, too.
"Send him to the nurse," the old bat sighed, flicking her pen towards the direction of the nurse's office.
Upon hearing that, Huey immediately scooted his chair back in an attempt to leave.
She sighed again. "Huey, please sit down."
Huey could never refuse an authority figure, especially not at school, so he used his feet to drag the chair back to the desk. The motion was almost sheepish, and Louie wanted to roll his eyes. They would have been spared a very awkward conversation by leaving.
"We run these checks just to make sure that our student body is feeling better than okay!" the old bat began in a tone that was ever too cheery. "We're trying to do this in groups just to move things along, but you can request a private meeting if this is uncomfortable for you."
Louie blinked at her, and Huey nodded thoughtfully. Uncomfortable was ridiculous. They were triplets for crying out loud.
"Are you two enjoying your time here?"
"Oh, yeah, of course! The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook says that part of being a good scout is paying attention to your leaders. I trust that my teachers will lead me to the path of good education," Huey enthusiastically answered.
The old bat feigned a gasp of interest before aiming her pen at Louie. "That is wonderful to hear! How about you, Louie?"
He could practically feel Huey's expectant gaze burning into his skull. He hadn't planned on responding, but if he wanted to really convince them that they weren't being abused, he was going to have to play along.
"Yeah," he started, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's fun. I like recess."
"Well, we always try to make sure our students get their recommended thirty minutes of exercise a day," the old bat chuckled, fidgeting with the buttons on her jacket. "Now, what about the winter here? Do you think that we keep the heat high enough? I've noticed that you three...don't regularly wear winter jackets."
Yep, there it was. A vague attempt to see if they were being deprived. Louie couldn't believe that she thought they were going to fall for it. What sort of teacher asked about the weather? They didn't even care that there were worms in the cafeteria.
"We have coats! We just keep them in our backpacks," Huey responded with a shaky voice.
He never was good at lying.
"Yeah, we just don't really get cold. It's a family trait. Did you know that our uncle could swim in an ice bath for thirty minutes straight?" Louie gushed, holding his hands to his heart. "He holds the family record, but trust me, we've all tried to beat it. Dewey's the only one who's come close. I think one day he'll be able to do it."
Huey's beak was agape when Louie finished. The old bat's eyes were wide behind her glasses. Louie didn't even know he had that in him, but he crossed his arms and sat back proudly.
"I...suppose you two are good to go. It's nice to hear you enjoy our school so much," she said, once she'd regained her bearings.
Louie heard the sound of Huey's chair before the sentence even finished leaving her mouth.
"Thank you! Have a great day!" he chirped, grabbing hold of Louie's sleeve and pulling.
Louie put his hand up in a simple wave, and he allowed himself to be pulled by his older brother. As soon as they shut the door behind them, Huey was making a beeline for the nurse's office, Louie's sleeve still clutched firmly in his palm.
"Don't you think we should make it any less obvious that we're cutting more class?" Louie quipped.
"As long as we make it quick, we should be fine. Besides, the lunch bell just went off three minutes ago. We could afford to miss the daily food fight."
Louie shrugged, kind of wishing he could be there to see the popcorn chicken and mashed potato rockets that stuck to the ceiling.
Once they arrived at the nurse's office, they were immediately let into the back room where they put all the sick kids with headaches or stomachaches that couldn't be retrieved by their parents. They were lucky that the nurse knew them already, otherwise they would have had to fake an illness. Huey was terrible at faking anything, and Louie had just about met his lying quota for the day.
They quietly shuffled behind the curtain of the bed that Dewey had been assigned as if not to disturb the other sick kids. If there was one thing they were good at, it was being quiet enough to not wake someone up.
Dewey looked...like a corpse, to say the least. He lifted his head slightly when he saw them enter, and Louie could have sworn a small smile crossed his face.
"Hey, guys!" he tried to cheer in typical Dewey fashion. "Do you think we're gonna have alphabet soup for dinner again? I'm starting to get really sick of that stuff."
Louie swore he saw Huey's eye twitch, and it was not because of geography.
"I'm not sure, buddy," he said softly.
Louie snorted. "You missed the meeting."
"I know. Teacher was yapping about metaphors and id...idio...idiots?"
"Idioms," Huey huffed.
"That!" Dewey said happily. "I just started feeling my eyes get heavy."
"Yeah, well, I gave Uncle Donald the great idea to get us a dog bed once he gets a job. At least that'll hold us over," Louie announced proudly.
Huey narrowed his eyes. "And what did he say?"
"That it would be insulting."
Dewey smiled a little, and he rubbed his cheek further into the cot. It did look comfortable, Louie couldn't even blame him. He almost wanted to curl up next to him and nap for the rest of the day.
"Well, we should probably get back to class before lunch is over," Huey said, ruining any sleepy thoughts that Louie had.
"But it's lunch," Dewey groaned.
"Okay, so we'll wait until after lunch, but then we have to leave."
Dewey rolled his eyes. "For seriously?"
"For seriously."
They waited until the final lunch bell rang before helping Dewey off of the cot and to his next class. The nurse looked as if she was going to offer to keep them for the rest of the day, but even they knew that wasn't allowed. The last two hours of the day dragged on, and Louie sort of wondered if he could do any sort of get rich quick schemes to prevent them from ever having to step foot in the place again.
When the final bell rang, Louie made sure to stop by Dewey's classroom to make sure he made it to the front of the building safely. He was directionally challenged, and as much as Louie liked to make fun of him for it, he knew that missing the bus was almost worse than going on it at all.
The free transportation was the one blessing the school had provided them with, even if it dropped them off blocks away from the houseboat. It was a lot of walking, but they took what they could get.
"One of these days we're going to get kidnapped, and then the school is gonna have to pay us so much money for endangering us," Louie said on their walk home.
Huey narrowed his eyes, stepping over a piece of broken glass. "I don't think that's how that works. I mean, we're expected to have a trusted adult waiting for us when we get off the bus."
"It's not our fault that our trusted adult needs to make us money!" Dewey whined.
Louie nodded solemnly. "You're right, it's not. Hence why a school assigned trusted adult should be there to walk us home. Hence why we can sue them."
"Still not how that works."
Huey held the door to their houseboat open as the two of them waddled in, shedding their backpacks and dipping their hands into the sea to clean them. It wasn't the best option, not by a long shot, but at least it made them feel less grimy. Even Louie could attest to that.
The smell of alphabet soup wafted into their faces as soon as they closed the door entirely.
Well, at least that meant the power was still on.