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The Fire Triangle
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Part Two:
Oxidizer
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Chapter 9: Conor's Story
(Continued...Part 2)
♪ "The season rubs me wrong
The summer swells anon
So knock me down, tear me up
But I would bear it all, broken, just to fill my cup..." ♫
The Decembrists - Down by the Water
Conor Lewis was a fox, not a wolf-but you'd never have known it from the way he was wolfing down his submarine sandwich.
Mind, he was still capable of displaying some foxy tendencies-such as asking for something to eat right after dropping a cliffhanger...with the implication that he might not be able to continue until he got some food in his belly. "I don't talk too good on an empty stomach," he'd pleaded, offering up a pair of big, innocent eyes.
And then... it had turned out the Mercy Star's galley was closed for the evening, and they'd been obliged to send ashore for some grub.
"Oooooo, it's a good thing we're not up on deck," Erin Hopps grumbled, silently, as she watched him eat. Otherwise, she'd have been sorely tempted to pitch this silver-furred so-and-so into the drink.
Glancing down at Mr. Rodenberg, she could see that the rat-attorney wasn't any happier about the state of affairs than she was-even if he was tucking into his hoagie with a gusto nearly equal to that of his client.
For her part, the young doe-bunny had left her sandwich untouched. How was she supposed to eat, when her two companions were chowing down on...on THAT?
As if on cue, Conor chose that moment to take notice of her reticence.
"Relax bunny-girl," he said, holding up his hoagie like 'Exhibit A', "It's not real meat, it's plant-based."
Erin didn't care what the heck it was made from; it looked real enough to her that, once again, she was glad that bunnies were incapable of vomiting.
"You know what the next big thing is gonna be; lab-grown meat," Vern Rodenberg offered. Unlike Conor, he seemed oblivious to the young doe-bunny's queasiness-surprising, in an animal with sensibilities as keen as his.
Or maybe he just wasn't interested.
"They've already approved it for sale in Israel," the grey rat went on, tapping his kippah cap for emphasis.
"Yeah, I know," Conor answered him, taking another bite. And then he said, "The Impawssible Meat guys are already working on their own version
Slowly, almost gingerly, Rodenberg set down his sandwich, looking up at the young silver-fox with curious eyes and quivering whiskers.
"And you know this...how?"
He had to wait until Conor finished another bite before getting an answer.
"From Mike Daehan; I go to..." For a second, he paused, and then went on in a voice tinged with sadness, "...uh, that is, I went to school with him. He's...I mean he WAS my best bud."
Rodenberg's whiskers instantly ceased their twitching.
"Daehan...as in...?"
"That's right, Mike's his son." Conor answered, quickly...a little too quickly, as if he'd given away a secret not meant to be revealed. Searching for a qualifier, he settled instead for a change of subject. "You're not the first rat I ever made friends with, y'know."
Whoops, wrong answer; Rodenberg's paw came slamming down on the tray table where he was sitting, making a noise like a saucepan dropped on the floor.
"Get this through your head, Booby." His voice was a high, guttural hiss, "I am not, repeat, NOT your friend, I am your lawyer-and even that's still subject to review, you got that?"
Conor said nothing for a moment, only gazed at the grey rat in stunned silence. So did Erin.
Rodenberg let this go on for only a few seconds before baring his incisors again.
"That was NOT a rhetorical question, kid. Do! You! Get! It?"
When his answer finally came, it came in a stammering rush of words. "Y-Yes Mr. Rodenberg; s-sorry."
And then hastily finishing the last of his sandwich, the fugitive young silver fox returned once more to his narrative.
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It all went down about the middle of January. I'd been cooped up for like two days in the foster home because of an ice-storm. When it finally ended, it still was way too slippery to do much outside, but at least I could hook up with Jimmy at the library.
When I got there, he was sitting at a table, reading a book...or, I oughta say, pretending to read. That should have been my first red flag; the second one was that he looked about as happy as a kid waiting to get a rabies shot.
I didn't notice either one-what the heck, I was so glad to finally get out of the house, I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to anything else. Instead, I waved and started to go over to where he was sitting.
Jimmy immediately waved back...but it was a very different kind of wave; and why was he grimacing and shaking his head like that?
I found out when someone laid a paw on my shoulder.
When I think back on it now, that's the part where I really feel like an idiot. You'd have thought, after all my success at Ringolevio, I'd have known there was someone behind me, but noooooo! If it happened now, I'd know in a heartbeat...but not back then.
Anyway, I got spun around like a fidget spinner...and then guess who it was? None other than her holy uprightness, Sister Mary Louise Carloccia. I had never met her before, never even seen her picture-but I knew right away it was her.
She was small for a marmot, not much bigger than a prairie-dog, but what she lacked in size, she more than made up for in righteous wrath. She was older than I expected; had almost no fur left on her face, and more wrinkles than a wadded-up newspaper. Other than that, she was exactly how I'd always pictured her. She wore these steel-rimmed glasses and the deepest frown I'd ever seen in my life.
Ignoring me for a minute, she looked over at Jimmy.
"So," she said, "Just as I thought, James." Sheesh, from the look on her face right then, you'd have thought she won the lottery or something. "I'll see you outside, right now, young mammal." And then she turned to me, "You, too."
Remembering my rule, I tried to protest. "Hey, I'm not...Owwww!"
Dang, for such an old rodent she owned some seriously fast moves; had me by the ear and was hauling me and Jimmy to the entrance before I knew what was happening.
I know, right? But I didn't know it then, Mr. Rodenberg. Someone else did though; I'll get to that in a second, but anyway...
One of the librarians, a brush tailed opossum who knew us both, tried to intervene, but one look from Momma Lou-that's what the kids at the foundling home called her-one good look was all it took to make him back off real sweet quick.
She dragged us outside to the front porch where she finally let go of us, literally shoving us in opposite directions. It was then that I knew what was happening. In hindsight, I should have expected it.
It must have been just above freezing outside that day, and the wind was blowing something fierce, but it didn't seem to bother Sister Carloccia even one little bit. It wasn't affecting me all that much either. By now, I had recovered from my shock and was getting seriously steamed. Jimmy was shivering so badly his teeth were chattering; sounded almost like one of those old teletype machines-and it wasn't just from the cold.
Ignoring me again, Momma Lou pulled herself up to her full height, and spoke to him.
"James Michael Sanchez...what is the rule regarding foxes associating with other foxes?"
Jimmy didn't answer for a minute, he only kind of sniffled. So, she asked him again, this time in a voice that said, 'answer-me-or-else!'
"WHAT...is the rule regarding foxes associating with other foxes?"
"We...we're not supposed to...play with each other." Jimmy looked at the ground while he said it. I remember that I could barely hear him, "or even be around each other."
"That's right," Momma Lou nodded, and then turned to me.
"What is the rule regarding foxes associating with other foxes?"
Yep; right. She was out of line AGAIN-but this time I did know it. Back then, I wasn't the smartmouth fox-kid I am today, but still....
Yeah, yeah...too bad the rest of me isn't that smart. You're just a barrel of laughs tonight, bunny-girl, you know that?
Anyway, I came that close to saying something snarky. And I would have too, except for the look on Jimmy's face...just begging me to keep my fox-trap shut.
And so, I played dumb-don't say it, Snowdrop-and told her, "We don't have any rule like that where I live; I'm the only fox."
"Well-l-l, we DO have that rule at the foundling home," Sister Momma Lou sneered, "And it doesn't just apply to the children under our care!"
Hoo boy, that was the closest I came that day to giving her the claw. The only reason I didn't was coz I was as mad at myself as I was at her.
Dangit, but I should have seen this coming. As strict as The Sisters were with their kids, of course they'd have that rule about foxes staying away from other foxes.
Anyway, she told us both that from now on we were to have nothing to do with each other. Of course, she had no power to enforce that rule where I was concerned, but she did with Jimmy. And...well, you guys know how much I hate seeing someone else get in trouble over me. And so, I agreed to keep away from my bud...but with my fingers crossed behind my back.
I thought at first that Her Righteousness hadn't noticed, but I found out differently when I got back home. Soon as I walked through the door, I got pulled into Mr. Kaneska's office for a question-and-answer period. Sister C. had called him right after I left the library.
Nah, I wasn't in any real trouble; those badgers may have been lousy foster-parents, but even they weren't going to punish me over a rule I didn't know existed. Besides, it became pretty clear, and pretty fast, that Momma Lou's call had been anything but friendly. I found out later that she'd basically given Mister K. a lecture on the proper way to treat foxes-and being a predator himself, he hadn't much cared for it.
But when I told him about how she'd grabbed me by the ear and dragged me out of the library, that was when it hit the fan-at a hundred miles an hour.
"She did...WHAT?!"
He sent me out of the office and back to my room-my room, thank God, not the time-out room.
I later heard that when he finally got hold of Sister Carloccia, she not only admitted to what she'd done, but even bragged about it. I don't know how true that is, but I do know they got into the mother of all screaming matches. It was so loud, I was able to hear part of Momma Lou's end of the call from inside my room-which, by the way, was on a different floor. I found out later that she went so ballistic, she ended up losing her voice for a couple of days.
How...? Oh, I overheard some of the other kids from the foundling home, talking about it.
Anyway, that call turned out to be the beginning of a range war. The Kaneskas threatened to sue the foundling home over Momma Lou having put her paws on me, and The Diocese retaliated by threatening to have their license revoked. Nothing came of either of those threats, except that Jimmy and I were told, in no uncertain terms, that we couldn't hang out any more.
I tried...I really tried to suck it up and move on, but by the time spring was about ready to sprung, I'd had it. Like I said, Jimmy or no Jimmy, I could still go to the park to play-and I couldn't help seeing him there; same thing for the library, too.
Trouble was, now there was almost always one of The Sisters hanging around. Sometimes Momma Lou herself would be there, and she always spotted me right away. Used to give me 'the gesture', you know the one-where you point two fingers at your eyes and then at the animal you're watching. And even when there weren't any nuns around, I didn't dare hook up with my bud.
You see, the word on the street was that Sister C. had found out about Jimmy and me from one of the other kids at the foundling home. We never did find out who snitched on us...or even if anyone HAD snitched; it was only a rumor. But what it meant was, we couldn't be seen together by anyone, period.
But if we weren't able to meet face-to-face, we could still send messages back and forth. I wasn't the only kid from my school who used to hang out at the park, and if Jimmy had no idea who had snitched on us, he DID know which of the kids at the foundling home were guys that he could trust.
And so, for the next few weeks we communicated second-paw. I remember that in the beginning, we used to open the messages in the bathroom and then flush them after reading. Once, though, that almost backfired, big time. I was leaving the restroom after reading Jimmy's latest note, and almost walked right into him.
Uhm, he was on his way inside to...'do his business.' I thought, for sure, that we were both gonna get it, but nothing happened. No one at the foster home ever even mentioned that close encounter; same thing for the foundling home.
But then, something else went down with me.
It was right before springtime-when a surprise warm spell hit Connecticat. It caught the Kaneska's completely by surprise; they'd been expecting it to stay cold all weekend and had the furnace turned way up. Because of that, it was like a sauna in my room.
Oh, right, right, right...I forgot...
By now I was old enough-and I'd been at the foster home long enough-to have my own room. It was upstairs, on the second floor; not a whole lot more space than I'd had in the basement, but at least it was private.
I also had a window...one that looked like it hadn't been opened since CB radios were a thing.
What are...? Uhhh, some other time Erin, okay?
But anyway...I was desperate to get some air into my room. It took me like half an hour to get the window-latch undone and I nearly broke two finger claws in the process. But when I went to push it open-what do you know, it slid up easy-peasy. I spent the next couple of seconds with my head stuck outside, just enjoying the fresh air, and hoping I wouldn't get in trouble for this.
Now, it so happened that my window opened up onto the roof; remember what I said about how it was longer and lower on one side than the other? So...I climbed out and lay down on the shingles, looking up at the stars. It was really clear that night; I could even see the Milky Way. Dang, but I wished that Jimmy had been there with me right then.
But when I happened to look left, I noticed this big, old, beech tree that we had in the yard...and that some of the branches were hanging really close to the higher part of the roof.
"I could reach that big one," I remember thinking, "I could get up there and then climb down to the ground."
No, I didn't; not in my pajamas, but the idea wouldn't go away. The next day, I made a quick survey, and saw that the part of the roof closest to the tree was over the storage-attic-where nobody lived, YES!
Two nights later, I made my move, and it turned out to be even easier than I expected. I could jump down onto one set of branches to get off the roof, and jump down again from the next ones up to get back onto it. Climbing down to the ground turned out to be almost a cakewalk, even for a red fox. That tree had a big, twisty trunk that made it really simple.
The second my feet hit the ground, though, I had to wonder what the heck I was doing out here? I didn't wait for an answer, I beat it back up to my room, as fast as I could.
That answer to that question came to me the very next day-when I spotted Jimmy playing stickball at the park. That was when I finally understood what I'd been up to last night...and what I had to do next.
It took me two more days to get a note to him; by then we had a system. After writing out our messages, we would fold them up and seal them with scotch tape. The rule was, if you got a message that looked like it had been opened already, you were supposed to toss it without reading it.
Heyyy, don't shake your head at me, bunny-girl; that actually happened a couple of times. Anyway, my note said, "If you can, meet me over by the swing-sets at the park, Midnight, Saturday."
Then I waited...and waited. I waited all the way until the weekend, and never got a reply. Not only that, there was supposed to be a chance of rain Saturday night. I almost called the whole thing off, but when it didn't rain after all, I decided to go ahead and go through with it.
It took me like forever to get where I was going. Every time a car went by, or if I thought I heard somebody coming, I had to duck out of sight until the coast was clear. Not only that, when I finally made it to the park, it turned out I wasn't alone. A group of high-school kids was there, hanging out by the picnic tables. I almost bailed again...until I noticed they were passing a bottle around. Ohh-kay, no worries; these guys weren't gonna snitch.
Just the same, I took the back way around to the swing-sets; got there more than half an hour late.
But when I came out of the bushes, there was Jimmy...and I'll never forget the first thing he said to me.
"Whoa Silver, you never told me YOU knew how to sneak outta your place, too."
"I didn't," I protested. "not 'til a few days ago. But you mean...you...?" The way he'd said it, it sounded like sneaking out at night was no big deal for him.
Not just for him-as I soon found out.
"Heck yeah, we do it all the time."
Whoa, had he really said...? "We...who's 'we'?"
"The kids at the foundling home," he said, looking at me with a tilted head, "Didn't you see those guys over by the picnic tables? That goat-guy and wolf-girl are both from there."
He then went on to explain; sneaking away from the foundling home at night was a tradition that went back to long before his time there. He'd never told me about it, because he didn't want me to try it-and then get caught. I gotta admit, he had something there. While I was having to fly solo tonight, he had almost a whole network backing him up; lookouts, security; there was even supposed to be a tunnel.
"And even the kids that don't sneak out after dark won't snitch on the ones who do." he insisted.
That was how it started. Before long, Jimmy and I were doing late night hookups on a regular...ahh, scratch that; a sort of regular basis.
Well, rainy nights were out...obviously. Wha...? No Snowdrop...a little water didn't bother me; having to explain why my clothes were all wet and the puddles on my bedroom floor-that would have bothered me, okayyyy? Okay...
I also couldn't go whenever Mr. Kaneska took his boat out for the day; he always stayed out late, and you never knew exactly what time he was coming home.
I have to say, though...and I don't think you'll be surprised to hear this; as happy as I was to be able to hook up with Jimmy again, things just weren't the same. No stick ball games, no Ringolevio, hardly any other kids around, same age as us. And those that we did bump into had better things to do than hang with a couple of 'sneaky' fox kids. We couldn't play kickball, we couldn't play one-on-one basketball; we used to hug whenever we met, but we didn't dare let out a fox scream. The one time we did, someone called the cops and we barely made it home without being pinched. About the only thing we could do whenever we met was sit and talk...that was it. And mostly what we talked about was how unfairly we were being treated by the adult mammals.
It was all so wrong; Jimmy and I weren't bad kids! Since we started hanging out together, we'd never once gotten into any trouble. We didn't steal, we didn't go out and break stuff, and we never got into fights. And yet here we were, being forced to meet after lights out and in secret-all because of our species;
Yeah, I know I sound bitter, Erin. That's coz I AM still bitter, okay?
Uh, yes and no, Mr. Rodenberg. While I couldn't hang with Jimmy anymore, elsewhere in life, things were looking up for me.
When I'd started classes back in September, there'd been a new teacher at my school, a caracal named Mr. Jones. Among other things, he was our music teacher. He wasn't as good as my mom on piano-but way better than her on guitar.
Uh-huh...yup. Give the bunny a gold star. THAT was where I really first got interested in playing guitar.
Mr. Jones used to lead us in all the usual kid stuff...but sometimes, he'd finish up by playing us a solo number, almost always a blues tune; he just loved the blues. Sometimes when he played, he'd bring out a resonator guitar. What's a....? Ehhh, you know the guitar on the cover of the Direwolf Straits CD, Brothers in Arms? Yep, that's a resonator. His favorite tune was a thing called 'Fishin Blues.' Hmm, lemme see if I can remember how it goes.
♪ "Betcha goin' fishin', alla the time
Baby goin' fishin', too
Bet your life
That your sweet wife
Goan' catch more fish than you
Any fish bites...if...if..." ♫
Ah, I can't remember the rest, sorry. But Mr. Jones had been there about a month and a half when I finally got up the courage to ask him if he could teach me to play guitar. He said yes, and we started right then and there.
I have to admit, that was the one good thing about not being able to hang with Jimmy. After Momma Lou dropped the hammer on us, I found myself with all the time in the world for guitar practice. Mr. Jones had an extra one at home, a half beat-up old six-string that he used to bring for me to play. After a while, he started letting me take it home after school-with the understanding that it was a loaner; not for me to keep. I remember once he had to come to the police station after this antelope-cop pulled me in, sure that I must have stolen it and refusing to listen to me. "Yeah, riiiight, FOX-boy." I later found out that it wasn't entirely his fault, one of the other kids at my school had dropped a dime on me as a prank; I never did find out who it was.
Anyway, Mr. Jones was easy on me at first, but then he began pushing me. "I'm not doing this to be mean, son." He always used to tell me, "I'm doing this because I like you and want you to be a good player. Now, let's try it one more time."
Near the beginning of April, we had rainy weather all week and I couldn't get out at night to see Jimmy...so, instead I stayed inside and practiced. And even after the rain stopped, I had to wait two more days for everything to dry out.
No, Erin. I never brought that guitar to any of our meetings. Trying to climb down a tree trunk while carrying that bad-boy was a major non-starter. And then climbing back up again? Forget it! Jimmy knew I was learning guitar though; I'd sent him a message about it. He saw me practicing at the park a few times, too but he always had to keep his distance-I was never able to play for him.
I was not what you would call a natural on the guitar; but at the same time, whenever I played, I had the ability to stay totally focused on what I was doing. Sometimes I got so wrapped up in practicing I completely lost track of the time. I spent many an hour in the time-out room because of that.
Ummmm, do either of you guys know who Robert Furpp is? Yep, lead guitarist with King Crimson, tremendous player. I saw him in a video once, where he swore up-and-down that when he first started playing, he was tone-deaf and had no sense of rhythm. He eventually got good at it, he said, coz he needed music in his life just that badly.
I'm telling you this, because that's pretty much where I was coming from. No, I take that back, it's where I'm still coming from today. I don't just LIKE to sing and play guitar; it's something I've gotta have. Uh, am I making any sense over here?
Oh, good...what?
Yeah, riiight, I'm getting off track, sorry. Okay, that night when I saw Jimmy... I don't remember which of us first suggested it-might have been him, might have been me-but I do know it started out as a joke. "When school lets out, let's take off together for the summer."
Silly idea, but it wouldn't leave us alone. Every time we got together after that, we'd talk about making a summer getaway. None of our conversations were serious, not in the beginning, just two fox kids, spinning a fantasy together. It might have stayed that way, too...except for a change of circumstances in both our lives.
It began when Jimmy showed up at the park, looking like the kid who just found nothing under the Christmas Tree. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me that he'd just heard the news; Sister Mary Louise Carloccia was being promoted to Mother Superior.
"Ohhh, NO!" I started to give myself a monster face-pawlm, but before I could finish, Jimmy busted out laughing and told me the rest of it. Momma Lou wasn't being promoted to Mother Superior of the foundling home-they were sending her to a convent in the Philippines; she was supposed to leave around the end of July.
Oooo, I didn't know whether to hug my buddy or wring his neck; so, I settled for joining him in a couple of choruses of 'Ding-Dong, The Witch is Dead,' after which he swore me to secrecy.
"I'm not s'posed to know she's leaving; none of us kids at the home are supposed to know. So, please...keep quiet about it, okay?"
I never said a word about it, not to anyone...but then the next time we met, that was when Jimmy first began to get serious about us taking an extended summer vacation.
"Y'know, Amigo...if we did decide to take off for the summer, I could always say it was because I couldn't stand Momma Lou always picking on..."
Well, remember guys, The Sisters didn't know that the kids knew she was outta there. And then, when Jimmy came back, he could say "Oh, gee...I'm sorry. If I'd known Sister Carloccia was leaving, I never would have bolted...blah, blah, blah..."
He was only half serious, and so I didn't argue. Besides, I thought he might actually have a point over there. More and more I was beginning to get the drift that Momma Lou wasn't being sent to the Philippines as a reward for exemplary performance. In any event, she'd started tuning up on the kids she didn't like more than ever.
But then, things started to change on my end too.
It started when Mr. Jones told me that he was going away on sabbatical for the summer, taking some courses at Arizoona State Unifursity.
He promised me that he'd be back in the fall, but that was about as comforting as a blanket full of fleas. Wonderful...there went my lessons for the summer. Heck, I couldn't even practice; he was taking his beat-up, old guitar with him...wouldn't let me keep it no matter how much I begged and pleaded.
Even worse was what was going on with the Kaneskas. They'd started fighting with each other-and I mean really fighting; screaming matches that lasted almost until sun-up.
And they were badgers, don't forget...not quietest species to begin with. Not all of their fights were strictly verbal, either. At least twice that I know of, the cops had to come by the foster home to check on us. Another time, Mrs. Kaneska took off in her car and we didn't see her again for nearly a week.
And bleahhh... her husband couldn't cook to save his life. The only good thing about their fights was that they made it easy as heck for me to slip out at night.
Nooo, I didn't have a clue as to what was going on, not at first
...but I knew a guy.
His name was Darryl...Wayland or whatever. He was a giant Afurican Pouched Rat and the second-oldest kid at the foster home-and also that one dude who's always up on the latest news, you know the type. On top of that, he had the room closest to the part of the house where the Kaneskas lived. And I don't need to tell you, Mr. Rodenberg-being a rat yourself-he had some seriously sharp hearing.
We had never made friends, being different ages and all. Just the same, I had a healthy amount of respect for that rodent. One time, he spotted me sneaking back in after seeing Jimmy. Not only did he NOT snitch on me, he took me aside later and warned me to be more careful-and never once asked me where I'd been for most of the night. That was Darryl; a stand-up guy, all the way.
I caught up with him on the way home after school one day and asked him if he had any idea about what was going on with the Kaneskas; all the fighting and screaming and stuff.
Oh, boy...did he EVER! Remember that boat of Mr. K.'s I told you about? Yeah, well, it was one of those big, flat-bottomed, pontoon jobs...and it turned out he'd been using it as a love-boat; taking other females out on secret excursions behind his wife's back. Darryl had no idea how she'd discovered he was cheating on her-but he sure as heck knew her reaction; heck, everyone up and down the block knew that one.
Darryl also told me that the Kaneskas had started counseling after their first blow-up...and that it wasn't working out, DUH!
But then he told me that they were about ready to throw in the towel and get a divorce. I didn't feel one way or the other about it...except that maybe if they split up, things would finally settle down around the foster home. I was getting sick of all the noise and whatever; we all were. And maybe, if they got a divorce, we'd go back to being fed on time. Maybe, it was the best thing, after all.
Nope...coz then Darryl he hit me with the news that if the Kaneskas called it quits, they were going to close down the foster home. Those two didn't agree on much right then-but they were totally together one thing, if nothing else; neither one of them wanted to run that place on their own.
Looking back on it now, I realize it was actually good news. Wherever I might have ended up, it could have hardly been any worse than where I was now; prolly a whole lot better.
At the time, though, I saw it strictly as a bad thing. Goodbye Jimmy, good-bye Mr. Jones, hello, great unknown.
Two nights later, when I met up with my gray-fox buddy, I told him about my conversation with Darryl...and that now I was all for the idea; let's get out of here for the summer.
Like I said before, Jimmy hadn't been 100% serious about it the last time we'd talked...and so now he wasn't sure if I was really down with it.
Heck yeah, I was...when school let out, did I want to put up the Kaneskas' 24-hour cageless cage-match? "And when we get back, that can be MY excuse for taking off for the summer."
Still, Jimmy wasn't completely on board...until I told him that the foster home was probably going to end up closing for good. "This could be our last chance ever, to hang out together."
THAT was what finally sealed the deal.
Yeah-h-h, for once I have to agree with you, bunny-girl...it was a really dumb idea. When I think back on it now, I can't believe what a couple of clueless fox-kids we were. Our plan was-you're gonna love this-we'd been seeing stories on the news about this guy called the Bearfoot Bandit. He was this sea-mink kid who ran around, moving into empty vacation homes while the owners were gone. He'd been a subject of our conversations since long before we decided to get outta Dodge for the summer. Yeah, THERE was kid who didn't let himself get pushed around, coz of his species!
Sooo, that's what we decided WE would do...boogie on down to the Jersey Shore, and find us a nice empty house to live in.
I know, I know! Since when are you gonna find an empty vacation house in the middle of vacation season? We also knew zip about that part of the country, and had no idea about how we were supposed to get there. Our first thought was to hitchhike-I know, I know, I KNOW!
As time went by, we did start to plan a little more carefully. First thing we had to do was settle on a destination. We finally decided on Wildwood, way down at the southern end of the Jersey Shore. It was further away than either one of us would have liked...but hey, it had an amusement park and not one, but two water-parks, and was supposed be a happening place in the summertime. No contest, that was the place for us. Yeah, right...I KNOW. How many times do I have to say it, huh?
Dumb little fox-kids or not, we knew one thing, at least; it was gonna take money to make this trip. We started the very next day, collecting cans and bottles for deposit. We had this collapsible wagon at the foster homes, one of those canvas-type things. I had no trouble getting permission to use it. By then, Mr. Kaneska would agree to just about anything if it would get you to shut up and leave him alone.
At night, we did all the usual stuff, trash-can raids, dumpster diving and whatever. Strangely enough, the park where we used to hang out turned out to be our happy hunting ground. We were averaging maybe five bucks a night, which we always split fifty/fifty, regardless of who had collected the most bottles and cans.
Oh...we took turns bringing them in for redemption.
When Saturday rolled around, and we had to separate during the daytime, we went hunting for containers on our own. Our first time out, we weren't able to hook up again until the following Tuesday, but when we did, I had made our usual five dollars over the weekend.
Jimmy had made fifteen bucks, our biggest score yet.
What he'd done was something I hadn't thought of. He'd gone door to door, asking mammals if they had any deposit bottles or cans to spare. And he'd worn his uniform from the foundling home, so that was who everyone had thought he was collecting for. Coz of that, folks had been way generous in their contributions.
Hrm? I honestly don't know, Mr. Rodenberg. Jimmy always swore that he hadn't planned it that way; he never said outright that he was collecting for the foundling home. Yeah-h-h, okay...he never denied it either. Later on, he even picked up a couple cash donations while he was out snagging bottles and cans.
No, he never got any heat from The Sisters...not even Momma Lou. But by then she had issues of her own. Turned out that my guess had been spot on; she didn't want to go to that convent in the Philippines and had been fighting it, ever since she got the news.
And no, the Kaneskas never had a problem with me collecting containers for deposit; I don't think they would have minded, even if they weren't having all those other problems. It wasn't exactly dishonest work, after all.
That came later.
It started on one of our nocturnal excursions. I had just pulled a bottle out of this big, plastic dumpster only to have it roll back underneath. Ordinarily, I would have written it off, but when I looked, I saw at least six others down there-jackpot!
I asked Jimmy to help me push the dumpster out of the way. He insisted that even made outta plastic it was gonna be too heavy for us to move; I said there was no harm in trying, and we're arguing when suddenly we hear these tires screeching.
We look up, and here comes this big Lincoon Navigator, sliding around the corner, like totally outta control.
Jimmy was able to jump out of the way in time; I wasn't. The Navigator slammed sideways into the dumpster at...I dunno how fast, but it hit really hard. I thought I was toast for sure...and I would have been, if it hadn't been for that trash thingy kind of cushioning the hit. It stopped with its right-fender like maybe a quarter inch away from me-but that was enough. My clothes were a mess, but except for a couple of scratches, I was fine.
Except...now, I was stuck with no way outta that space between the SUV and the wall. I had to get down on all fours and crawl out from under it to finally get free. Meanwhile, Jimmy was screaming his head off. I dunno why I didn't yell back that I was okay; prolly, I was too shaken up.
I made it out from beneath that rig just as the driver's door opened. I saw this tiger get out, take two steps-and then fall flat on his face.
Noooo, he wasn't hurt. Matter of fact, he wasn't feeling any pain right then; totally hammered, three sheets to the wind. I could smell his breath from four feet away, and I was UP-wind of the guy. I swear, if I'd lit a match right then, I think his head would have exploded.
He was out for like two seconds before he woke up again...and when he did, he had an instant panic attack.
"Oh no...no. Are y-you kidsh alright? Pleasssse...tell me you guysh 'r okayyyy."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Kids? I was the only one there; Jimmy was still out of sight behind the 'Gator's rear door.
But then...I DID know what to do. Mr. Big Cat had been driving a luxury machine, and was dressed to the nines and then some. No fox-kid worthy of the name was going to pass up an opportunity like this. For sure, I wasn't; I grabbed at my side and started moaning and groaning.
"I-I think so...I...I dunno."
It was about then that Jimmy showed up. He knew right away that I was putting on an act, but being a fox himself, he went with it.
"Tommy? Tommy! Oh, thank GOD!"
And then he ran over and hugged me. The hug was real, but my reaction wasn't. I pretended that it hurt when he did that.
Wha...? No, Tommy wasn't my real name; Jimmy made it up on the spot
Yeah, at the time, I wondered why he did that, too. Later on, he explained that he'd given me a fake name coz he didn't want the guy who'd almost killed me coming around the foster home to check up on how I was doing. Heh...couldn't argue with my buddy there. If that happened, I'd have some majorly explaining to do...
"...And just WHAT were you doing out at two o'clock in the morning?
Mr. Big Cat didn't know any of that though; he did a fast draw for his wallet, pulled out all his cash, and practically threw it at me.
"Here," he said, "take this, and don't tell anybody, okay?"
And then, without waiting for an answer, he jumped in his ride and took off.
Yeah, except for a bashed-in door it was still drivable, would you believe?
But, when we counted up the money...Holy Criminy, almost $500 bucks. Five hundred smackers, it seemed like a billion! And it gave me an idea.
There was a bar, not all that far away from where I went to school, one of the places where we used to go collecting deposit containers. So, on Friday and Saturday nights, me and Jimmy used to stake out the parking lot, looking for animals, heading out to their cars, who were in no kinda shape to drive. When we spotted one, we'd plot an intercept course, and then one of us would tell 'em, "Hey, be careful; there's a cop-car right nearby." And then the other one would ask him if he had any spare cash.
Now, understand, we never actually told anybody that we'd drop a dime on 'em if they didn't make a 'donation'...although we always made a point of checking out their car license...and we always made sure that they saw us doing it.
It wasn't exactly foolproof. Maybe half the times we pulled that gag we got a payoff, and the other times, we were told to get lost-and, uh, not in those exact words. But then, one night, this reindeer guy chased us for two whole blocks with a tire iron, and that was when we decided to hang it up. Not really that big of a deal; by then, summer was getting close and we had plans to finalize.
We decided that we'd head out on the first Monday after school let out for the summer, right after bedtime. We'd hop a city bus to the Danbeary Commuter Parking Lot, and then cross under the Yankee Expressway to the Rest Area on the other side. Then we'd hole up until midnight and try to sneak aboard a semi-trailer headed the way we were going.
How would we...? By making sure it had Zoo York License plates...maybe, we'd even find one with Zoo Jersey plates if we were lucky.
Yeah, yeah...YES, it was stupid; I know that now, okay? As a matter of fact, it was even dumber than you think, bunny-girl. We never made any plans about what to do if something went wrong. All we wanted to talk about was Wildwood, and all the fun we were going to have when we got there.
I will give us credit for one thing, though. Nobody-not the Kaneskas, not The Sisters, not the kids at my place, none of the kids at the foundling home-nobody even came close to figuring out what we were up to. If they had, believe me, we'd have known about it. For starters, Sister Carloccia would have been all over Jimmy the minute she heard. And even if it wasn't one of The Sisters or the Kaneskas who got wind of our plan...there was always another possibility. "You know, fox-kids...for twenty bucks, everyone might not have to find out you're planning to boogie for the summer."
That never happened, either.
How much...? Between the two of us, we had a little more than $900 bucks, split evenly, down the middle.
Then, why didn't we just...? Oh-kay, that's a fair question, Erin. We were determined to spend as little cash as possible trying to get to Wildwood. That way, we'd have more to spend AFTER we got there, you follow what I'm bringing out?
Given how clueless we were, you'd have expected everything to go south from the minute we set off. I think now that maybe if things had worked out that way, we would have turned back when we had the chance. But nope; when we boarded the bus for the commuter parking lot, the driver barely glanced at us; it was still early enough for a couple of kids our age to be out and about. And then, two stops later, this gang of high-school mammals got on, headed for the Thrillz Adventure Park, which was right near where we were going. They were a rowdy bunch, all hoofed mammals, deer, antelope, a mountain goat and one or two elk. They never gave Jimmy and me any grief, never even looked our way-but with them on board, we got zero attention from the driver and the other passengers.
But then, when we got to the commuter parking lot, guess what? There was no way under the Yankee Parkway, except the Milestone underpass, a seriously longer hike than we'd anticipated. And being a couple of dumb fox kids, as soon as we cleared the underpass, we decided to take the direct route to the rest area, cross country. By now it was way after dark, but hey...we were foxes, a night hike would be nooooo problem for our species, right?
Wrong...we ran smack dab into this pond, right after we set off. And I mean literally; the first hint that we had it was there was when we found ourselves in water up to our ankles. Oh, and did I mention all the mosquitoes? By the time we made it to the rest area, we were bit up, dead on our feet, and hadn't had anything to eat or drink since before we left home.
Our first stop was the restroom, and our second stop was the vending-machines...which charged like three times as much as the ones at the gas station next to the park, but we didn't care. Four bags of chips and cookies, and two sodas later, we were ready to go looking for our ride.
That was when we noticed two things. Number one, the sky was starting to get light, and number two the truck-lot was mostly empty. It had taken us even longer to get here than we'd thought.
And the situation wasn't getting any better. Every trailer we scoped out was either locked or sealed with this kind of aluminum zip-tie thingy. And even if we could have gotten one of those doors open, how were we supposed to close them up again, after we got inside?
Yeah, I know; we SHOULDA thought of that earlier. It was the closest we came to giving it up that day. We would have, too, if we hadn't known what was waiting for us back home. Me, I'd be grounded for the rest of the summer, and I didn't want to think about what would happen to Jimmy. Not only that, we knew-we just knew that if we turned back now, all of our hard-earned cash would end up being 'confiscated.'
With that in mind, we decided to stick it out. Sooner or later, something had to show up that we could hitch a ride on.
And lo and behold, it happened sooner, rather than later.
We got a big one; a pair of oversized trailers, each hauling half of a prefabricated house. The only thing standing between us and the interior of each of them was a sheet of Tygervek plastic; one of them even had a tear in it, just big enough for us to get through
But it was the logo on the side of one of the truck cabs that really drew our attention:
Gary Howllen Modular Homes
Roamson Zoo Jersey
YES! We had no idea where Roamson was, but anywhere in Jersey was the right direction, as far as we were concerned.
We waited until the drivers, both blackbucks wearing turbans, had gone into the restroom before making our move...scampering out of the bushes, and across the asphalt. It took us maybe five seconds to get to the half with the tear in the plastic, but it felt like hours to me. At any second, I was sure I was going hear, "You there! What are you doing?" It didn't happen, and we made it through the Tygevek without a hitch. Still, we held our breath; we weren't in the clear yet. It wasn't until we heard our ride starting to pick up speed on the highway that we finally relaxed...and then fell fast asleep.
I remember dreaming about my mother; the first time I dreamt about her in years. When I woke up, I couldn't remember exactly what had gone down in my head while I was out-only that mom hadn't been very happy with me. That scared me, and I grabbed my pack and started rummaging around looking for the picture of her I'd brought with me.
Yeah, I had it-I wasn't going anywhere without that bad boy; it was the only memento I had of her. Before leaving, I had scanned and uploaded it onto my fursonal webpage at the library. Later on, I was able to recover it, and that's where the pic I showed you just now came from.
Noooo, I'd read those 'Don't put personal information on the internet' posters and stuff, so I'd called the website 'CrazySilvaF0X1-or something. No mention of my name on there at all.
Anyway, I was making so much noise that I woke up Jimmy.
"Dude, what the FOX?"
"Never mind, big guy," I said, waving a paw, "Just a bad dream is all; go back to sleep."
He did-and so did I. But even as I drifted off, I couldn't help thinking about my dream from a few minutes ago.
And they were NOT happy thoughts.
When we woke up again, we could see the sun shining through the Tygervek. We could also smell food cooking...smelled like breakfast, so it was still morning.
What time was it, though? I didn't have a watch, but Jimmy did, and it was just after 8:00 AM. Okay, but where, exactly, were we?
Looking out through the slit in the plastic didn't give us an answer. For a second, I thought I was looking into a ginormous mirror-but it was only the other half of the prefab where we were hiding.
But then Jimmy called me over to a window on the other side of the trailer. It was covered in...like, shrink-wrap or something, but you could still see partway out of it.
And what we saw was this big building with a pale green roof, surrounded by semi-trailers. Even as nothing but fuzzy outlines, you couldn't mistake them for anything else; we were in a truck-stop.
But a truck-stop...where? There was only one way to find out; recon mission.
It wasn't a hard decision to make. By now, that breakfast aroma had made its way down from our noses to our stomachs...and mine was telling me, "Send down some chow or the throat GETS it!"
That did it; we might get busted the minute we set foot outside that trailer, but it was better than starving and having no idea where the heck we were.
Except...what do you mean 'we', fox kid?
"There's no reason both of us should go," Jimmy pointed out-and aggghhh, grrrr, I hated it when he was right.
I tried to fend him off by suggesting we use scissors-paper-rock to decide which one of us would take the plunge. I might as well have just volunteered; he won-three times in a row.
But when I slipped through the rip in the Tygerver, no sweat, nobody there. Crawling on all fours to the edge of the truck-cab, I scoped out my surroundings, extra careful-like. There was no one within 50 feet of me, but I took a deep breath and sniffed the air, just the same. Lucky for us, we were downwind of the truck-stop; anyone in between me and there, I'd smell 'em in a nanosecond.
Once again, zippity.
Okay, I decided; I would move out-carefully-until I was ten yards away from the line of trucks and then hang a left. If I made it that far, I'd be in the clear; anyone seeing me would think I was coming from this group of campers and trailers, parked kitty-corner to the semis.
Bracing myself, I slipped out into the open. Nothing, no voices calling after me. So far, so good. Trying not to look like I was hurrying, I made the next part of my move, and made the turn.
...And stopped dead in my tracks, with my face falling down to my knees. If I'd been alone, I would have done a war dance and fox-screamed my head off.
But I wasn't alone, not completely...and so all I could do was reverse course and head back the way I came, doing the walking-dead shuffle. I didn't care whether anyone saw me now, not any more.
When I got back to our trailer, Jimmy was all, "What, you're back already?"
I just shook my head; it seemed to weigh a ton.
"C'mon Jimbo, grab our packs and get out here; we got problems."
I saw his head poke out through the rip in the plastic and tilt sideways.
"Wha...what's wrong?"
I pretended not to hear him.
"Hurry up, before those truckers come back!"
"All right, all riiiight!"
When he got outside, Jimmy was all over me, about what was going on. I just turned and beckoned for him to follow me, leading him out from between the two semis. If anyone spotted us now...who cared?
We'd gone maybe four or five steps, when he grabbed me by the arm.
"Dude...what's going ON?"
Again, I said nothing, just turned left and pointed.
Jimmy turned too...and then HIS face was halfway to the ground.
Directly across the road from the truck-stop was this big, red-barn building, with a sign on the roof:
Great Hollow Grange #247
Lebanon, New Hampster
Yeah, yeah...laugh it up, Snowdrop; get it out of your system, go on.