2011-03-20: Throwing Like A Girl


Dashenka_icon.jpg Index_icon.jpg Travis_icon.jpg

Summary: Travis, Index and Dashenka have some creative time in the Workshop.

Date: March 20, 2011

Log Title: Throwing Like A Girl

Rating: PG

Barnes Academy - Workshop

The workshop is for any sort of shop classes from woodworking to mechanics and more. The room has the highest tech and tools are available for anyone wanting to build a shelving unit or wanting to rebuild a car engine. There are computers along one wall for those learning animation and graphic design as they have the latest in programs. The smell of oil, grease and wood has permeated the room and anything you need to build can be found in here.

Most of the afternoon Travis has been in the workshop working on building a a thin shelving unit. He's got all his pieces measured and cut out and now he's carefully sanding some of the edges before putting it together. The radio is on playing some Linkin Park and Travis sings along, horribly. The boy is practically tone deaf but since he's not trying to impress anyone he doesn't mind singing when alone.

Index walks into the workshop with his hands in his pockets, sighing. He's wearing a pair of safety glasses, just in case, as he begins to explore the area. He raises his hand in greeting at Travis and says, "Thinking of auditioning for male lead in the school musical?" He wanders to check on some of the materials that are stocked in the room.

Dashenka has recently started a project of her own. She had found an old 1965 Pontiac Firebird that had been sitting out in a scrap yard for who knows how many years. Most of it had been gutted, but the frame was good, and the body surprisingly rust free and mostly intact. She bought the thing for a couple of hundred bucks and had it brought to the garage so she could start working on it. She's taken over one of the workbenches this past week, trying to salvage the transmission, having taken it apart, a tarp laying over the parts when she's not working on it. She walks in, holding a grocery bag under one arm and smiles when she sees that there are other people here. "Zdravstvuite, moi druzya," she says, walking over to her work bench. "How are we doing today?'

Travis stops singing as soon as Index comes in a blushes. "Sorry, thought I was alone. And sorry Mr. Index, trying out for a play isn't really something for me. If you need help with stage crew I'll be happy to help build stuff." He likes working with his hands and building things. "Hello Dashenka, I'm doing okay today. Been keeping busy, how about yourself?"

"Well, speaking of help with stage crew, I might recruit your help if you're available. I've never been good with set building," says Index, turning away from the materials and towards Travis, crossing his arms. His head turns towards Dashenka as she enters and he nods back to her, "Hello Ms. Ivanov. I'm doing pretty well today. Just trying to figure out what I've got to work with, here. How about you?"

"I am doing good," replies the Russian girl, placing the bag down on the table. "This transmission…. it can be saved. I think I have parts to do so."

"I never learned anything about cars." Travis says to Dashenka. "Well I mean how to fix them. But show me anything involving carpentry and I can probably repair it." He says with a smile as he nods to Index. "Definitely let me know. I'll build anything you need." He says as he continues to sand the edges of his square plank. "I've never built a set but I don't mind trying."

"Thanks, Travis," says Index, smiling at that, "You'll have most of the set design notes provided to you, since we've already come up with that. And if you want, we could say this is a special credit project going toward fine arts credits. Which… are probably irrelevant to what you're doing, but hey, who can turn down a gold star?" He brushes his hair back and nods at Dashenka, "Noble goal, saving a transmission. I've gotta admit, knowing what technology you need to fix it puts you above me on that kinda stuff."

"It is what I went to school for," explains Dashenka. "Schools in Russia do not work same as here. When you are fifteen you decide, 'Do I go to college, or do I learn a skill?'" She starts pulling out various bits and pieces from the bag, as well as some cleaner and brushes. "Unlike America where everyone must go to college. Russia understands that the other people are important too."

"I don't fully know what I'm going to school now, here, just that I'm getting an education." Travis says with a shrug. "I was gonna go to school for baseball but with six arms that feel through so now I'm just kind of waiting and taking my time. I'm not in a rush since still trying to get used to some things." He says as he puts down the piece of wood to pick up another one. The sanding goes by fairly quickly with his six arms. "And it's hard to turn down a gold star Sir, Can I get a sticker to go with it?"

"Well, I'd have to go into the city and buy stickers, but I'm sure they'd provide some extra incentive for my students," says Index, nodding sagely at the suggestion. "I think someday, we'll have mutant leagues. I guess I understand sports league's concerns when it comes to mutant players… I never had much aspiration. I was always told I threw like a girl." He glances towards Dashenka and then nods, "And yeah, I agree that other people are important. I didn't go to college after graduating high school, myself. Of course, I can't tell you what I -did- do, but it wasn't college."

Dashenka nods in understanding to Travis. "Ah. Da, I have heard that in Russia, many, many times." She picks up one of the gears that are laid out on the table and examines it skeptically. "And I have seen girls throw. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Umm..Dashkena, I know it sounds sexist and all but when a guy says "I throw like a girl" it usually means I can't throw a ball to save my life. At least here in America." Travis explains knowing that it sounds somewhat insulting to a girl. "Oh I know it'd be unfair for me to compete with my six arms. Though hitting a ball is definitely different it's a bit easier to catch a ball."

"Oh, yeah, it's definitely sexist. I was more angry at the sexism than being told that!" says Index, putting his hands on his hips and sighing, "But that was a different time. If you didn't know it already, I'm approaching the summit of the hill now." He glances over towards Travis and says, "Well, I imagine it -would- be awkward to swing a bat with all those arms. I guess I've never had more arms than two, though."

Dashenka takes a steel brush to the gear to see how bad the rust is. "Ah!" she exclaims in understanding when the phrase is explained to her. "I understand." She shakes her head, "But Baseball is not a sport I understand. I have seen a game, but it did not seem all that interesting to me."

"It's the greatest sport ever." Travis says defensively. "But then that's because my Dad used to take me to games as a kid and I grew up with the Colorado Rockies." He says as most of his clothing is Rockies related. "The awkward part is trying to figure out which arms swing the bat the best but over all, I kinda like the six arms. It's useful."

"The /really/ awkward part is determining your strike zone," says Index, smiling slightly, "But anyways, whatever you decide to do, I'm sure you'll do great. Even if it's not being in the school musical." He starts rummaging through the scrap metal and wood. "I liked baseball okay, I played faaaaar left field in little league. But I was mostly into, well, what I'm teaching now."

Dashenka chuckles as she gently scrapes away the rust. "Da. I bet it is. Being bear is useful, too. Good in the cold."

"I played first base since I was a kid. Even made Varisty my freshmen year." Travis ays a bit proudly. "But anyway, being a bear must be cool. It was cool what you did against that crazy Eris woman.

"I'm not entirely sure what it'd be like to be a bear, but it's nice to know that there is someone who can give an account and isn't only able to speak bear," says Index to that, pulling back from the materials and nodding. He produces a clipboard and pen, and starts checking things off before storing them back where they came from.

Dashenka holds the now rust-free gear up to the light, scrutinizing it. "Is good," she says, setting it down. A small blush at Travis' compliment and she shrugs. "It is what good hero would do."

Finishing sanding what he's working on, Travis starts to put his stuff aside so it's not in the way for later. "I gotta go though, told my Mom I'd be by to have dinner with her tonight and I don't want to keep her waiting." It's nice when you're Mom's a teacher at your school. "I'll see you later Mr. Index about the set design stuff and Dash, I'll have to check out your car later." He says before brushing off as much sawdust as possible and heading out.

Index nods at Travis and says, "Well, you enjoy yourself, Travis. And yeah, just pop by during my office hours if you're available, that'd be a great help." He looks over towards Dashenka and the gear, tilting his head slightly.

"Do svidaniya, Travis," says Dashenka. "It is not much to be seeing, now, but it will be glorious when I am done with it." She turns back to the transmission and starts picking out some of the more badly rusted parts, and comparing them to parts she pulls out from the bag. Feeling Index watching her she shifts uncomfortably on her feet and attempts to make small talk. "So. What is play you are playing?"

"Hmm? Oh! For the school musical, it's called Area 51: The Musical, but uh, I can't say it has anything to do with the actual Area 51. Anything I know about that, if anything at all, is classified," says Index, shrugging. "It should be a lot of fun, though." He glances at his watch for a moment.

Dashenka tilts her head curiously. "What is an 'Area 51?'"

"Eh, not important. It's just a mysterious place that all kinds of conspiracy theorists make conspiracies about," says Index.

Dashenka looks enlightened again. "Ah! Like Yamantau Mountain!" She nods. "But in end it was just crazy man's shelter for when Cold War turned into World War III." She shakes her head. "The /real/ sites like that nobody ever hears about."

Nodding at Dashenka, Index says, "Yeah, exactly." He taps the side of his nose and smiles, "The musical is a bit more playful than serious, it seems. I mean, I just thought it would be suitably ironic for a secret underground school to put on."

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