"Ayeeeee ahh!" Desiree shrieked like a goat. "It's cold!"
"Bastard! I'm going to kill you!" Christoph growled and sprang at him. Scotch backed up to the door and it swung open and he fell into Officer Dornt's scaly arms with Christoph leaning into him.
"What is going on?" Officer Dornt's growl sent all Scotch's thoughts and worries, frustrations and annoyances running for their lives to be replaced with a strange calmness. None of this was his fault and he could say so truthfully.
Christoph scrambled up to his feet and Officer Dornt practically threw Scotch off of him. He stumbled forward and grabbed the doorframe. Next to him stood Christoph rigid in his underwear and in the room, Desiree was hurriedly putting on her shirt backwards.
"Curfew." Officer Dornt glared at them through the slits of his eyes.
Desiree was fishing for her shoes and looked up. "Sorry, I—"
"Sorry your ass! Get out here Wires!"
Wires? Scotch held in a smirk. Desire Wires.
She hurriedly left the room in haste and tears. Serves her right and she should feel guilty. Officer Dornt turned to Christoph and Scotch. "No excuses. Curfew."
"But sir, my bed is wet! I paid for this room and if my father hears—"
"If you father hears you were misbehaving, what then, Percy?" With a growl, Officer Dornt left without another word. Or so most would think. Scotch caught him saying under his breath, "Stupid hormonal teenagers."
"But my bed is wet, sir! Sir!" Christoph was practically wailing by now. Serves him right. Officer Dornt turned around and for a second, he looked tired.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir," Scotch said and glanced at Christoph who had gone back into the room, head hung in defeat. Scotch closed the door behind him. Christoph whipped his head around and glared at him with fangs exposed.
"Don't try anythin' at night. I have really good hearin'." Scotch climbed back up into the bed and rolled over. There was a lot of rustling along with a low growl. Christoph was yanking the sheets from his bed and flung them at the door with force.
"You imbecile!" He shouted and the bed creaked when he jumped onto it.
Scotch turned over and smirked. "Dimwit."
"Pinhead."
"Go to sleep, Christoph Two Names."
"I'll murder you, Beverage."
"Beverage, good one." Scotch chuckled, and Christoph groaned for not having his insult taken seriously. Scotch enjoyed riling citizens up just to see what good insults they could come up with for him. It was amusing.
* * *
He was dreaming about a silhouette vaguely similar to Tyler, but by the time he woke to the sound of a soft whistle, it had all disappeared. It was Mason, using their secret signal. For Scotch, it was a soft whistle that only he could hear. For Mason, it was the sound of claws clicking on wood that always got on his nerves and woke him up even during a deep sleep.
Scotch rubbed his eyes and checked the time. One in the morning. Great. He wasn't going to get any rest to ready for his first day at Academy. Christoph was sleeping on his stomach getting the good rest he needed to wake up four hours later. Sighing softly, Scotch climbed down the bed ladder and opened the door. Mason wasn't there, but he found his friend in the common area where the other villagetown cadets sat sprawled across the sofas. Podge was the only one missing.
"Where's the Frodgin?" Ginger whispered.
"Told him about it before bed but he ain't interested." Mason shoved his hand in his pocket and with his paw he scratched his head.
"You're not thinkin' of a prank, are you?" Scotch narrowed his eyes and rolled them when Mason nodded with a grin. River cleared her throat. She was wearing some quite shear pajamas that Scotch didn't want to look at.
"We have to get them for looking at us like we're trash." River put her hands on her hips. "We gotta stand up for ourselves. Officer Dornt's a city guy. He won't understand why we can't live together."
"B'sides," Ginger began in a loud voice when River shushed her. "B'sides," she whispered this time, "I cain't with that Tiigla. Desiree's gotten on me nerves."
"We have to make them want to change rooms. They're not like us, Scotchie, putting our rooms on that Forgiveness Program or whatever it was. We're just payin' for any dorm room that's open in this buildin' but they're payin' for the rooms. All the other rooms are taken so all we have is to switch amongst ourselves."
Mason sounded like he did a lot of research on this when River raised her hand. "I looked it all up for you, you're welcome."
Scotch pursed his lips, taking in the situation. "So, the pranks are for making them wanna not live with us. Make them wanna live with each other instead."
"Yep." Ginger nodded. "Not temporare-ly but forever. The entire time we're 'ere."
It sounded like a good idea, but the pranking part was what he wasn't sure he was up for. They had just gotten to Cataloogy and they were already getting themselves into trouble. What if the officers found out? Scotch, Mason, River, and Ginger would be made to turnaround and go back with their dreams crushed if things went wrong.
Amiss. Awry. Bad. But I should be optimistic, too. Success. Victory. Win. He came here to become a policeman. But how could he concentrate on that when there was a nuisance in his room? There was no guarantee that Christoph had enough. There was a pretty good chance he and Desiree would want to make out tomorrow night, too. If not in that room, the females' room.
"Hey, Scotchie, you in or not?" Mason said and the others were standing in a circle with their hands out in the middle. With a sigh, Scotch joined them. He knew that without him, at least Mason would run amok. He wasn't sure about River and Ginger, but Mason wasn't always a good judge of situations.
Again, how did this dumb Ropardia even manage to pass the test with flying colors?
"On the count of three." River said in a whisper. "One, two, three."
"Crystal Hunters!" they whispered in unison.
"We'll talk details over breakfast and lunchbreak," Mason said before River could open her mouth. She gave him a long glare before flicking her hair around and returned to her room.
Scotch squeezed Mason's cheek. "Ow, ow, what?"
"I think she likes you, Mason." He chuckled when Mason looked surprised. "Try to let her take the reigns next time. Goodnight." He didn't wait for Mason to reply and opened the door to his room quietly and slipped back into bed. Mason was a playboy who wasn't good at playing. That's where Scotch filled in for him, telling him when a guy or girl actually liked him because Scotch was just observant like that.
When it comes to my own stuff, I'm clueless. I can never see what's before me. He took out his Bolt to check it and saw he had gotten a message from Tyler a few minutes ago.
Sup. Just checking to see if this works.
Yeah, works. Scotch was about to send when he realized Tyler didn't say anything about the incident at dinner. Was he sorry for laughing? Did he know Scotch was in some kind of mental turmoil? Was it even worth mentioning? Maybe he could get an apology out. But would that be like opening a can of worms?
After moments of pondering, Scotch decided against it and sent the simple text. Immediately there was the little loading bar indicating Tyler was typing. Scotch's heart thumped and he waited with eyes wide and hopeful. What was Tyler going to say?
Precious.
Scotch stared at the word. His face warmed. What was this? What was going on? Tyler was flirting with him? Crushing on him? Were they in love?
Oh, stop. Just stop. Scotch waited for the bar to load.
Sweetie. and honey, right?
The synonyms for sugar Tyler asked him at dinner. That's all it was. All his hyped-up feelings disappeared, leaving him empty. Tyler was not flirting with him. He was just trying to make conversation. Scotch took a deep breath and typed back.
Yeah, you got it!
The bar loaded again.
Couldn't remember them. Couldn't sleep, you?
What was he doing just casually talking to the hot senior in the middle of the night when he should be sleeping? This was a crime. He should be handcuffed for it and his Bolt should be taken away.
Roommate trouble. He simply said.
The bar was loading and loading. It was loading for a long time that Scotch began to wonder if Tyler just fell asleep with the Bolt in his hands. Then it came.
Tomorrow night I'm hosting a welcome home party for seniors. I'd like you and your friend Mason to come.
We'll have drinks, whisky, scotch. Only on invite. Tell them I invited you & they'll let you in.
Game?
A party? He and Mason? Invited? Twigdrunken yeah. Scotch smirked.
Game!
Great! Goodnight.
Goodnight.
Scotch quivered from his head to the tip of his tail. He and Mason were getting into the scene. He squeaked with joy in his pillow. He was such a hopeless romantic and already imagining dancing with Tyler or maybe Tyler would fall asleep on his lap! He couldn't wait for tomorrow and his heart was leaping with happiness. That meant, of course, he couldn't sleep a wink until three in the morning.
By the time the trumpets over the speakers woke him up, Scotch had just fallen into a deeper sleep and woke with a tired brain, but it was all worth it. He got to text Tyler in the middle of the night. How many freshmen got to do that on their first night?
Christoph groaned as the trumpets kept going. "Five more minutes!" He moaned and put the pillow over his head. Scotch shook his head and took his towel to the bathrooms to wash his face. He bumped into Mason on the way and told him what happened last night. Or was it this morning?
"Shite, why didn't you tell me you got his number? That's awesome, Scotchie!" Mason reached over to smack Scotch on the back. "Now all you need to do is get in his pants."
"Mason," Scotch groaned. "Not so early in the morning!"
"Cadets!" came the renewed screaming voice of Officer Dornt as he came thundering down the hallways. "Get dressed and get down to the diner. Breakfast won't wait for you! You've all got a full day of orientation!"
When no one responded he said, "Move it!"
"Yessir!" Scotch and Mason said at the same time as a few others. Then it was all the chaos of getting ready and getting dressed and trying not to lose old underwear in the process. Scotch had the habit of kicking his old underwear under the bed, but the bed here was risen up quite a bit so his underwear was exposed. He stuffed it behind his suitcase and changed behind there, too. It wasn't like he particularly needed underwear anyway because his fur covered him quite well down there, but having worn underwear since he was little, it was strange not to have it on.
But one of these days he was going to either have to wash them, buy new ones, or wear no underwear. A sudden thought crossed his mind for tonight. What if he didn't wear underwear to the party? It wasn't weird if he didn't because how fox-like he was below torso. Some Halfhumans didn't and it was totally acceptable. He began to imagine him and Tyler somehow in a situation where Scotch would have to undress in front of...
None of that. None. You're not Mason. Cut it out. He shook the thought of Tyler somehow finding out Scotch was the kind of Halfhuman that chose not to wear underwear.
There wasn't much to talk about at breakfast with officers milling around barking orders in students' ears, telling them to 'hurry the F up'. There was nothing peaceful about breakfast anymore and Scotch spotted Tyler, but he didn't get a chance to say, 'good morning' or even 'hi'.
At last they were all full, teeth brushed, and carrying digital clipboards to take notes and filing into the auditorium with some juniors. The cadets were filing, but the juniors were marching like they were going to war like in those old Human movies about the wars when Humans invaded the planet centuries ago. They marched like wooden boards with legs.
Once they were all seated—rather, crammed in the auditorium—Captain Morgan Trinity made her second appearance before his eyes. He couldn't help but hate her based on the only fact that it seemed like she took the job just a few days after his father's death. Talk about disrespect.
And headed the investigation. All responsibility on her damn shoulders.
Her speech was the usual 'welcome to academy' and 'welcome back from break' without sounding the least bit welcoming. Then she went out to dictating their week, telling them to take notes about dates and times that had been changed. There was going to be a class overview after lunch, classroom tour after that, and a welcome get-together in the auditorium again with more talks by some police officers who graduated last year. Tomorrow was medical exams, strength and stamina tests, and situation assessments which were where they stood in a holographic room replicating various confrontational situations with culprits.
"The rest of the week you will be assigned to a senior and follow them around on their investigative missions out in the field. This is different practice from last year, but one we have seen successful with our current Juniors." Captain Trinity narrowed her eyes when the door in the back opened.
"What is the meaning of this?" she said as a police officer hurried down the steps and whispered something to the captain. Scotch tried to catch something, but they were done before he could really work his ears. The officer left the auditorium the way he came, and the captain went back to explaining the orientation week.
When they were finally dismissed, Scotch's tail and butt ached from sitting for too long. Mason looked like he wanted to scream, but they kept their cool. Out in the hall were their official school packets being handed out. The cloth bag had 'CPA' on it—Cataloogy Police Academy. Underneath that was the academy's mascot—a horse.
"Why a horse?" Mason dug into the bag and pulled out a plastic tube. "Is this the thing we pee in?"
"Think so. Look here," River said, pointing to instructions on how to pee in the cup and then put the urine in the tube. There were different instructions for different lower body types. "Gross." She made a face.
"It's just a willy, River. Get over it. How old are you anyway?" Mason laughed but River glared at him and stalked off. Her ponytail flicked from side to side. Mason stared after her with a face like he'd smelled something bad, but it was in fact the face of frustration.
Mason was really beginning to like River and her tough-cookie personality. But Scotch could also tell his friend was quickly finding other interests that were easier to attract. As they walked amongst the crowd filing towards the cafeteria, Mason purposefully flashed smiles at older females or complimented them on their bodies. Most of them glared.
If Scotch was the hopeless romantic, Mason was the reckless romantic. He seemed to get with the wrong kind all the time.