Everybody Loves Weylen

Written by MadDogAirPirate
Illustrated by Weaselgrease and Chetchaka

Weylen was still trying to process just what he was facing as he stared wide-eyed at Ichitro's cock. Had he opened this door by asking questions about sex? Was he trying for this? He could have gotten out of the truck and headed inside, but he had kept talking about the subject.

"I'm not gonna stop you; reach out and grab it if you want."

Ichitro's voice jarred him out of his neurotic cloud of thoughts. Weylen took a deep breath that almost bordered on the verge of panic. There was no question about it, he felt nervous, scared... but more than a fair share of curious, of realizing he had an opportunity right now to do something sexual. It would be with Coach Ichitro, too. He could trust Ichitro to steer him right... right?

The bat could see the signs of apprehension in the young wolf. He pivoted to face Weylen more squarely, the bat's cock all the more prominent in his field of vision. "Well, you didn't get out and you still haven't touched it yet. So... you want to, but you're worried about what might happen?"

Weylen tried to catch his breath, but he nodded in response. "I- I want to learn, and I really want to.... I don't know," he rambled, as his train of thought ran out of track. "You're a teacher and a guy," he managed, before letting his gaze drop for the first time since Ichitro had pulled his cock out.

The coach grinned in response. "I think I got it. Well, it's my job to teach you sex ed. Think of this as a hands-on lesson. Nothing wrong with what we're doing. Guys can do sexual stuff with other guys. Some people out there may have a moral issue with it, but they aren't the ones who you're gettin' it on with. What matters is if it feels like something that's right to you. Put the bag down."

Weylen set the bag down as directed.

Ichitro reached out and grasped Weylen by the wrist. The teen recoiled a little bit, but Ichitro's grip was gentle. He started to pull Weylen's hand over toward his cock. "Go on, touch it. Wrap your hand around it."

The lupine reached toward it the rest of the way, and grasped the bat's shaft. It was definitely warmer than his hand, and just a bit sticky to the touch. His teacher slouched just a bit in the driver's seat and spread his legs out, his right one reaching over into the passenger's side legspace as he got comfortable. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Well, guess it depends on what meaning of hard you use," Ichitro said with a throaty chuckle. As Weylen grasped it, he could feel it pulse, blood pumping through it as the cock continued to slide out of his teacher's sheath and engorge.

"I'm sure you've jacked off before, right?" the coach asked as he looked Weylen over, notedly at Weylen's groin. Since the teen wore shorts, that made it all the more difficult to hide that he was now growing aroused, since the wolf's cock started to push up a bit against the material. Weylen tried to keep his breathing under control as he nodded in response. Ichitro's amused grin grew into one that was seemingly even more pleased. "Thought so. You like guys, Weylen?"

He didn't know how to answer that. The wolf deflected back with a question of his own. "You got hard, so does that mean you like me?"

Ichitro shrugged good-naturedly in response to that. "Not like you're not a nice-lookin' wolf. And I'm attracted to guys more than girls, myself," he admitted easily. "But your hand on my dick's helping quite a bit too. Feel how hard I'm gettin'?" Weylen found himself a mix of shocked and intrigued by how direct Ichitro was about the whole situation. Ichitro continued, "Having someone else's hand on your dick usually feels real good. To most people anyway. Sure as hell for me. So you say you've jacked off; why don't you try doing that to me for a bit? Run your hand up and down my cock."

The young lupine started to calm down now and focused on the instruction. As he did so, Ichitro slouched a bit further in the driver's seat and spread his legs open a bit, while releasing a contented sigh. "Not too different from when you do it to yourself, 'cept it feels a lot better when it's someone else. Kinda like the nerves don't know what to expect since it's not you, so they're more heightened."

Weylen tried to respond to that, but what came out was little more than a wisp of a high-pitched grunt. He stroked his hand along Ichitro's cock, surprised that the bat was still sliding out of his sheath. The wolf hadn't seen many penises in his time so he couldn't be sure, but he thought the coach's was a lot longer than his. Mentally, he was lost somewhere between thinking about how warm and slick it was, and whether he should be jacking off his teacher.

"You like the feel of that?" the adult asked. Weylen glanced up for just a second before trying to deflect with a slight smile and a glance downward. Ichitro inclined his head toward Weylen's crotch, where there was no question the teen's dick was pushing up against his shorts, poking higher than the usual lay across his crotch. The coach assuaged the wolf, "you've got full permission to do or try what you wanna. But if you really wanna get a feel how nice it is when someone else handles you...."

Ichitro's hand reaching in crossed Weylen's field of vision, which startled him a bit and caused him to jerk his head up. That allowed him all the more to see the bat's arm, complete with his webbed extension that began at his wrist. He felt Ichitro's hand grasp onto the button of his shorts, undoing the clasp. Weylen peered up, rather incredulous, at Ichitro who held a certain simper as he fiddled with the younger one's shorts. Weylen had stopped stroking, a bit frozen by the fact his coach's hand was fiddling with his shorts. It wasn't like with the acid. where it was coarse and strongarmed. He heard the whirr of his zipper and could palpably feel as his groin became exposed... especially when the newfound freedom caused Weylen's cock to bob upward as his blood coursed from adrenaline. Whether he was scared or excited, the pupil couldn't say; it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

The touch as Ichitro's hand gripped the head of his cock felt unmistakable, with every nerve firing in Weylen's shaft to alert him. The tingling signal hit Weylen unlike anything he'd felt by masturbating.

"Here's the thing," the teacher began, tightening his grip just a little. "I'm not gonna go any further unless you tell me yes. If you want me to stop, say no, you want me to go, say yes... and I'm not buyin' silence as an answer." Ichitro leaned in so that his nose almost pressed against Weylen's. "I can jack you off or go further, but you gotta tell me yes."

The young wolf just stared down at the coach's grip on his cock. He knew he wanted the coach to, but he pictured that saying yes might cause problems down the line, somehow. That was part of why he'd been so quiet.

"Your call."

Weylen focused on his own hand on Ichitro's dick. Nothing bad had happened, the bat was checking with him. It didn't feel bad. "No one's gonna know, right?" Weylen asked timorously.

Ichitro shrugged. "I'm not planning on telling anyone, but I'm not omnipotent. But then again... your house is out in the middle of the woods, after all, no one's home..."

The wolf wasn't sure why he suddenly peered outside to see if anyone was around. Only the sight of his house and the wavering image of trees and branches swaying in a light breeze greeted him. There was no sign of anyone. It actually occurred to him to invite the bat inside, but that idea was instantly beaten down by a dozen images of his father finding out. At least in the truck, the house remained undisturbed.

"Do it. ... I... I want ya ta-" he started, the words requiring more effort than even he'd imagined. Ichitro had heard enough of a go-signal, and his hand started to work its way up and down Weylen's shaft, the more experienced adult's grip shifting here and there from tighter to looser to play with the stimulation to the lupine teen's dick.

Weylen seemed more tensed up in comparison with the fairly relaxed Ichitro. "Do you feel how much better that is?" the teacher asked. Weylen nodded through gritted teeth. "Good. Now ease up on mine or yer gonna bruise it." The wolf hadn't even realized his grip on Ichitro had gotten much fiercer.

The wolf cracked a slight smile. "Sorry."

The bat shrugged. "You're gonna find a lot of being sexual with someone is figuring out what they like, what feels good, what doesn't. It'll require adjustment. I'm betting handjobs are something you've mostly got down." He leaned over toward the wolf, still running his gripped hand up and down Weylen's length. "But I'm betting you've never blown someone."

By now Ichitro's throbbing length was fully out of his sheath. Weylen didn't have anything but his own to measure with, and he could tell Ichitro was definitely several inches longer than his. The bat's cock looked like it reached most of the way up his belly, but stopped before his ribcage. The diminuitive wolf conjectured that Ichitro was a bit thicker than he was too. "I'm probably not good at it," Weylen deflected.

Ichitro's mild smile expanded just a little. "It's a skill you learn. Part of why it's a good idea." He let go of Weylen's cock and slid his hand up the wolf's back until it cupped around the lupine's neck and the base of his head. "Up for trying?"

Weylen couldn't believe he was about to do this. "I guess... but it's pretty long."

The bat chuckled and delayed his answer as he started to gently pull Weylen toward his lap. "Yeah, yeah it is. Open yer mouth...."

It wasn't like the teen couldn't have pulled away or said something, and maybe he did have a little reservation, but he still did want to try. He couldn't be sure when he'd get another shot. The throbbing cock's head loomed nearer as Ichitro guided his head downward. Weylen closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let the bat do the rest.

Ichitro's cock was warm, and it had almost a slightly salty taste. Those were the first things that hit Weylen... followed by the fact that he had someone's dick in his mouth. The wolf went from eyes closed to wide-eyed, almost as if to verify he had his coach's cock there. Ichitro let out a bit of a sigh, and used his hand to further guide Weylen down a bit more so that he had more than the head.

"Now," the bat offered, "goin' on nice and loose is good to start out, but you're gonna want to create some gentle suction, form a bit of a seal. Kinda close your mouth, pucker it almos- not that tight- yeah." Weylen had responded by doing what was suggested. "You want to vary suction for the sensations so the guy enjoys it. Pressure's good, but it's best when it's gentle pressure. Enough to feel. You close up too much and you'll end up with a cramp after a while." All through that, Weylen just listened. The teacher chuckled. "Most important thing is to listen, get feedback so you know what to adjust. I'll tell you one thing, though. That feels really nice."

Ichitro stretched himself out a bit further. Weylen noticed him flexing his toes as he really settled in. "Now, up'n down, vary the pressure, keep a seal...." Weylen started to move, closing his eyes for a bit as he drew his mouth back up Ichitro's cock. As he neared the head of his dick again, he could feel Ichitro's hand press against the top of his head to guide him back down in suggested rhythm. "Aww, that's good. That feels real good. Use your tongue, too, don't be afraid to lick it, draaag it... ahhhh. Like that. Yeah."

Getting the pace down took a bit of getting used to. It felt more mechanical than anything in the beginning. He could feel the bat's cock throb in his mouth, acually feel the pulse of his teacher's blood pumping. Weylen started to relax, and reached a hand over to grasp the lower part of Ichitro's length as he got into the fact he was blowing someone. The pleased noises from the bat kept him going pretty well.

Then he felt a hand down along his crotch, and he opened his eyes to see Ichiro hook his hand around his shorts and tug them down off his legs so that they fell to the floorboard. Feeling half-naked, especially naked from the waist down, jarred the young wolf a bit, and his pace nearly halted for a bunch of seconds.

"Don't stop now, yer doin' great. One of the better blowjobs I've had this year, and it's your first time. Course some of that may be due to who's givin' it," the teacher remarked with a bit of a throaty chuckle. "In fact," he added, "you could go down a bit more if you like...."

Weylen knew that so far he'd probably only taken in half the bat's length. He pulled his mouth slowly off and glanced up toward Ichitro. "I don't know if I can. I start to gag."

Ichitro nodded. "Well, you're enjoying yourself, I can tell." He pointed toward Weylen's crotch. "Look at the head of your dick. See the pre? When you really start to build sexually, you start to produce more presemen. Pooled all on the head of your dick." The bat reached a hand over and draped his index finger over the head of Weylen's cock, right over the opening to his urethra, and just swirled the finger there. Weylen gasped, liking the pressure and rubbing he exerted. As Ichitro pulled his finger back toward him, the presemen strung along, sticking to his finger. The bat leaned forward and brought his finger to his mouth, making for a string that reached from Weylen's cock all the way to Ichitro, who leered somewhat at Weylen while sporting a sly grin.

The adolescent watched, fascinated, before asking, "so it's okay to have that stuff in your mouth? Can you swallow it?"

Ichitro smirked in amusement. "It's not toxic, it's fine, though some people like how it tastes and some really don't. I don't mind it... and I find it kinda sexy to swallow it. Some folks really get off on swallowing each other's jizz... er, semen." Ichitro's eyes trailed downward until they locked on Weylen's cock. "Helps to get an idea of the sensation when you get a blowjob, too. Don't suppose you'd mind if I return the favor?"

Ichitro's head was already lowering while Weylen processed that and figured out how to answer. He'd still been mentally stumbling when he knew all too well what the bat was doing. Indecisive though he was, Weylen said nothing. As soon as Ichitro wrapped his mouth around the teen's cock, his one hand that had rested on the headrest of his seat gripped, tightly, into the fabric. The sensation registered so strongly that he couldn't handle it. Ichitro's tongue draped on his cock, he could feel its palpable tread brush his length as the bat closed the seal and started down on Weylen for the first time. The rest of Weylen's body followed, too, with both of his legs seeming to want to go somewhere, the wolf's toes spasming, the muscles trembling. He couldn't say if what came out was a protest or... or what it was, but the wolf let out a meek 'ohhh'. Ichitro's eyes were closed as he'd gone down on Weylen, but he opened them at the noise, and even with his seal, the bat managed a noticeable smile. The teacher reached a hand up to press against Weylen's chest, perhaps to steady him.

All Weylen could think about was the bat tongue trailing his cock, the saliva coating his length, the feeling of the flesh of Ichitro's mouth sliding down, then up. Control wasn't something this young wolf was familiar with yet. He couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to. Weylen felt his cock spasm. He knew what was happening. He started to ejaculate, the first warm blast of his jizz hitting Ichitro right in the back of the coach's throat. That left the bat to deal with trying not to choke as Weylen kept going, second and third blast coating Ichitro's tongue as they weren't quite as strong. Weylen uttered another grunt before gasping, and his dick kept pumping, the fluid more watery now, starting to dribble more than shoot. Ichitro seemed to recover from it, as Weylen felt his tongue draping about to gather up the jizz that he hadn't taken in yet.

Weylen started to loosen his grip on the headrest, but he still found it hard to breathe. After a moment, Ichitro removed his mouth from the lupine's cock and straightened up in his seat, additionally removing his hand from the wolf's chest. The pupil heard a bit of an audible swallow before the coach leaned in. "Yaknow, one thing that people usually do is they give a warning when they're about to jizz. That way the other person can get ready for it." Ichitro couldn't help but chuckle good-naturedly. "That took what, ten seconds? Fifteen?"

Weylen experienced a tinge of embarrassment. "I didn't know I was gonna... it happened so fast."

Ichitro nodded. "Didn't have my stopwatch on me but I'd say no more'n fifteen seconds. Aw, don't worry about it. First time it happens I think a lotta folks get overloaded. I think I did. Happened a while ago." The bat swallowed one more time, then reached over to put his arm around the student. "Ya like it?" he inquired.

Weylen eyed his cock, saliva-covered, and still feeling rather nice, even if his the tingle from the ejaculation had faded. "It... it felt great," he admitted, his smile sheepish. "I really liked it. I should... I gotta get going, though."

Ichitro glanced out the window, that smile still stretching on his face. "Yeah, all right. You might want your shorts first."

Weylen had already been reaching for the handle to the passenger side to get out. "Yeah, thanks." He took a minute to quickly slip into them, and reached for the door again. He started to push it open.

"Hey kid."

Weylen froze. "Yeah?"

"You forgot the clothes the dingo bought you." The coach reached into the back seat and retrieved the bag, handing it to the awkward wolf. "I'll see you Monday, right?"

He could only nod in response.

After he stepped into his house, Weylen heard the rumble of the truck's engine as it started. He watched for a minute as Ichitro backed out of his driveway. Did his phys. ed teacher just drive him home, and did they just blow each other? He knew they had, but he couldn't believe it. He hadn't even gotten Ichitro off. The least he could have done was to return the favor. Weylen had just gotten out of the truck. He wasn't entirely sure why. It was just all too much, all too fast. The wolf stood there, puzzling how he could've gotten a taste of Ichitro's jizz... and that did seem a bit appealing. Something to try, at least. Now it was just him, at home. Weylen wondered if that could be something he could do again with Coach Ichitro. But then he'd said it was for education. Maybe that was it, nothing else.

He smelled like sex. He could just tell. That musky mix of salt and bodily fluids just hung in his nostrils.

Weylen's father was coming home in only nine hours! That was if he didn't show up early! All that consumed him at that point was hiding the bag of clothes and getting into the shower. After dropping the bag off in his room, Weylen rushed right into the shower, quickly stripping before he climbed in, heart still beating a bit quickly as he tried to scrub and clean the smell off him. He didn't know how he knew, but Weylen couldn't be surer his dad would know what just happened.

After what had been the longest shower Weylen had ever taken, including those nice showers where he fiddled with himself, the wolf finally felt clean. He then had to figure out just what to tell his father about his clothes. Ultimately deciding to just admit a teacher had bought them, and that he would be paying the teacher back as that was his plan, Weylen began to relax and settle into his usual routine. It was the weekend, but even so, he settled in to do his homework so that he could enjoy the remainder after its completion. After some mac and cheese for dinner, the wolf headed into the den. Normally, this was his father's room when he was home. Weylen could use it, as long as he didn't mess it up. In fact, the young wolf usually tried to keep it tidy while his father was at the fire station. At the moment it wasn't too bad, just a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table, which he collected to discard.

For all the alcohol that was left around, Weylen had never been that tempted to drink. He had easy access. Jarvis drank most nights, and he left the alcohol within reach mostly because Weylen knew damned well not to disturb things that were clearly his dad's. Not to mention, on the rougher nights, Weylen knew how his dad got. Alcohol didn't seem to help if Jarvis was in poor spirits. It only made things rougher. That just made Weylen less interested in drinking.

Hours passed as the wolf played video games and watched some TV. Weylen wasn't sure when it happened, but he ended up passed out on the couch. In groggy realization, the wolf relocated himself to his room to get a good night's sleep.

The warmth of the morning sun greeted him next, and Weylen awoke feeling pretty good. Stretching as he climbed out of bed, the wolf reached for his glasses. Only they weren't there.

One of the other things his father had given him a hard time over had been his glasses. Weylen had lost a pair over the summer when he went to the beach. It'd been over two hundred dollars to replace the glasses. Jarvis let that pair go, but he'd made abundantly clear, the next pair Weylen lost, he'd be in big trouble. That left the poor wolf worried, frantically trying to remember what'd become of his glasses.

Reasoning that he'd needed them for homework, he guessed he probably had taken them off at some point in the den, maybe when he'd gotten tired. As he moved into the hallway and started down the stairs, Weylen heard the rumbling of Jarvis's snoring coming from the den. It was a well-understood rule in the Wolf house that while his father was in the den, Weylen was not supposed to disturb him. However, the need to locate his glasses far surpassed that concern at the moment. He didn't want to get into any trouble, and finding those glasses meant that he wouldn't.

The stairs let out right near the doorway to the den. The wolf peeked around the corner to take in the room. Already, Weylen could see signs that his dad had had a rough night. Jarvis's boots and socks were in a pile near the foot of the couch. His shirt was on the floor, and the jeans and belt were strung over one of the armrests. His dad was in nothing but underwear, and one empty bottle of whiskey along with three empty beer bottles on the table said it all. Whenever it was a bad night at work, Jarvis did heavy drinking, some at a dive bar he frequented, and some when he'd gotten home. From all appearances his dad had undressed, drank some whiskey, and passed out on the couch.

What Weylen didn't see were his glasses. They weren't on the coffee table or anywhere he could see within the room. He started checking about, creeping around the room and scanning each and every surface he could think of without disturbing his dad. He found no sign of his glasses.

Weylen remembered he'd fallen asleep on the couch. Could they be in the pillows? He started at the one by his dad's feet, lifting it up just a little to check. The older wolf just snored, seeming oblivious to the world. He checked the middle pillow, and was pretty sure he saw something protruding at the back of the couch. He leaned over to fish out the object, reaching right over his dad.

Doing this without his glasses was a challenge enough, and Weylen miscalculated the distance. He stumbled and ended up lurching right into his dad's lap. Trying to quickly salvage what he thought were his glasses, Weylen tried again to grab the object wedged in the back of the middle cushion, only to find it was the remote. With a surprised grunt, Jarvis sprang up. Weylen was unceremoniously dumped to the floor, but he remained there only for a few seconds. Jarvis grabbed Weylen by his t-shirt and lifted the small wolf off the ground.

"C'mere, boy," Jarvis started grumpily, still with a mild slur to his voice. "Been something I wanted to discuss with you ever since I got home. When I leave you alone I expect you to act right."

Immediately Weylen panicked. His father knew! He didn't know how, he thought he'd taken care of it, but the larger wolf seemed to have a sixth sense about everything that went on in the house. That included the driveway.

"Dad, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to! It just happened!"

Jarvis lifted his son up a little higher so that he could look Weylen in the eye. Also making it even more apparent that he was still under the influence of the liquor. Though it didn't change the fact that the big wolf was displeased. "Somethin' like this doesn't just happen. What made you think you could get away with it?"

Weylen closed his eyes, fearing what horrible fallout he'd be enduring for having sex yesterday. Did his dad know it was his teacher? Now he was worried about Ichitro, his dad was of the mind to possibly beat the stuffing out of him if he'd thought the coach had taken advantage of it.

"It's not like you think! I can explain." The desperation seeped out of every word.

"How could it not be what it looks like? There's no good explanation for this."

The larger wolf reached down with his free hand to move his pants and belt, underneath which were Weylen's glasses. One of the temple-wires on the pair were bent. "I sat on these; they were on the armrest. You're lucky all I did was bend the frame on one side. These glasses are damned expensive. What happened? Why are they in here?"

Weylen was somewhat relieved that the focus was not on the events with Ichitro the day before. "I guess I lost track of them. I came in to find them."

"The point," Jarvis growled, "is that they don't magically lose value if I'm not here. You need 'em to see, and I can't keep replacing them. The only place I wanna find these things is on your face." The big canine sighed. "Here." He offered the glasses to Weylen. "Get them back in shape... and don't lose them again." His son nodded vehemently.

He set Weylen on the ground. Jarvis eyed at the clock, grumbling, "And I only got five hours of sleep, so I'm gettin' more." The wolf sat back down, then kicked his feet up and settled in as he lay down for more sleep. Within moments, the rumble of his snoring filled the house again.

It was later in the day at lunchtime when Weylen was making himself a sandwich for lunch that his father came in from the den. The young wolf looked after him for some seconds before commenting, "I fixed my glasses." He seemed eager to please his father, "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Not answering the question, Jarvis looked at the glasses specifically as he parked himself just inside the door. It made Weylen feel a little awkward since they were on his face. After what seemed like a good minute, Jarvis turned to make some coffee, "Sorry if I was a little harsh earlier. I had a rough shift at work."

Weylen didn't respond right away. Apologies don't usually come out of his father. Mostly because his father doesn't usually do anything that warrants one. The teen continued to prepare his sandwich. Ham and cheese. Rather traditional, "You were right, though. I should be more careful with them. I won't lose them again, I promise." After finishing the sandwich, Weylen brought it over to leave it on the counter next to his father and the coffee as it began to brew.

Jarvis waited for Weylen to return to the table to make another sandwich for himself, before he picked the one served to him up to take a bite. His eating silently softened the mood of the room.

Once they were both sitting and eating at the table, Weylen told his father about the new clothes. Jarvis had seemed fine with the exchange. "Long as you pay Mr. Dingo back, that suits me fine. But it's late in the year to mow lawns. You might want to get an actual job somewhere. Under the table or otherwise."

Weylen sighed, but agreed. "I was thinking about that already. Don't worry, I'll be sure to pay him back."

"No time like the present. Take your bike downtown, see if you can find something. It'll be good to get out of the house. Who knows, maybe you'll even run into some kids from your school. You're spending too much time in front of the TV or on the computer."

Effectively shooed out of the house, Weylen found his mountain bike and did as his father suggested. It was a brisk day, just a bit cold for shorts, but Weylen didn't want to go home and change. He couldn't even be sure where he expected to find a job. He was still too young to work at the supermarket or a department store. Already out of ideas, as he reasoned that delivering papers wasn't a possibility near him, the wolf decided he'd just go to the library to think, maybe to read... or maybe to use the internet, since he'd been cut off from his source at home.

The lines of trees that stretched along his street always gave the impression that he lived miles from civilization. Nothing else existed on his street save the woods. There were no other houses, and no signs of anything manmade aside from the road. Even the power lines ran underground. In a way that made Weylen glad it was daytime, yet. At night the area around his house had an arresting beauty and eeriness. The absence of artificial lighting kept the view of night sky unspoiled. Of course, it also meant that Weylen couldn't see a thing in the woods.

Weylen reached the corner where he'd usually waited for the bus. From that intersection the other streets showed groups of houses, still nestled in among the trees. Weylen's destination lay across the river. His journey mostly followed the same route that the school bus took into town, as the library was only a few blocks from the high school. If it hadn't been for the fact he had to pass the bus stop to ride to school, the wolf was pretty sure he'd just ride to school each day. Since it did, he didn't really get to avoid the other kids at the bus stop... not unless he left much earlier, and then he would just end up waiting around at school. It provided some comfort to think that he could ride to school if he had to. It only measured about four miles, and the traffic wasn't too bad on the way.

The teen found the ride pretty uneventful, and the library looked just as quiet when he coasted into the parking lot. He only saw three cars in the lot. After locking his bike up, the wolf headed in. For the time being, he procrastinated checking for a job there. He wasn't sure why he stayed with the children's department, given that he attended high school. Usually it proved to be less busy than the adult side... or perhaps the adolescent just felt like a kid, in many ways. Weylen probably liked the solitude more than anything. He'd been to the library several times a year, just to hang out. As he ambled over to the desk, the opossum librarian smiled. The lupine knew him a little bit but still didn't know his name.

"I'd like to use the internet."

The older and somewhat portly opossum, probably in his mid fifties, nodded. "You don't need to print anything out, do you?" Weylen shook his head. "Good," the possum continued. "The printer's jammed."

The teen shrugged. "That's easy enough to fix. Do you know how to fix it?"

"Uhhh... I could probably figure it out," he commented, glancing down at the library card Weylen offered. "Mr. Wolf," he identified, before continuing, "but I'm not allowed."

That sounded strange. "Not allowed?"

"The jobs here are union, Mr. Wolf. I'm allowed to assist with the computers and sign-ups, but once I actually do anything like replace ink or undo a jam, that's considered maintenance, and we need a computer technician to do it. I actually did it once, and they-" he continued, before clearing his throat in a derisive blast, "claimed I had broken it by doing so. The thing is, the computer technician is a hire by the city on a per-job basis. ... Probably sounds pretty stupid."

Weylen said nothing.

The older opossum grunted. "Well, it is. So I'm sorry, but if you need to print anything out-"

"What if I examined it?" Weylen asked pointedly.

"Pardon me?"

"Well, I'm not bound by... uh, that stuff, right?"

"Indeed not. You know what you're doing?" the opossum asked

"Well, I've fixed paper jams, so if that's all, sure."

The librarian gestured toward the printer. It took Weylen only a moment to wander over and spot the paper's feed, right on the digital panel. "It got stuck inside, right here."

"I'd figured that much out and I could probably get it out just fine. I just- I can't, I'm not allowed. Nor can I ask you to-" he'd continued, but by then Weylen had opened the tray, lifted the mechanism, and removed the jammed paper.

"Fixed." The printer whirred as it indicated it was once again ready to print.

"Yes. ... Yes it is." The librarian had appeared over Weylen's shoulder to verify that it worked. "You know, Weylen, I've seen you in here a bunch of times. You never make a mess, you clean up the shelves when you notice something out of place- yes, I have noticed," he said behind a grateful smile. "And now you've helped with the computer. If you do tasks like those, I won't be violating the union. ... Would you like a job here? I can only give you 10 hours a week... and only until January, the budget's re-evaluated every half year. I have surplus funds this half for this department. Just putting away books, helping with the computer stuff.... Any interest?"

Weylen blinked. "I was actually going to ask about that. ... Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

"Can you work for minimum wage? Five hours each on Monday and Thursday?" Weylen nodded. "Well, wonderful!" the opossum cooed. "It'll take a few days to get it set up, so starting this Thursday, then?"

Weylen nodded. "I don't have to worry about union stuff, do I?"

The opossum chuckled. "For better and for worse, no, you don't. You'd be a library page. If you get your work done early I'll even let you do homework on the clock. As long as you're ready to help out when anything comes up."

Weylen smiled, just a touch sheepish. "Sure."

"Name's Dixon, but you'll be calling me Mr. Berengar."

The bike ride home had never felt so good to the young canine.

----------

Monday morning rolled around more quickly than Weylen really cared to see. Sunday had been a blissful day of video games, movies and a pizza. Now the walk to the bus stop felt like such an unnecessary departure from it. Without Adenia the gossip there, the wait ended up fairly quiet, and the bus arrived before it became the usual degree of pain the teen had endured the week before. The pupil could only hope the whole day passed by as quietly.

Homeroom turned out to be another matter for the young canine.

"Hey. Weylen!" No sooner had Weylen taken his seat than Jasper was already on him. "How come you didn't come to my party Saturday? I was keeping an eye out for you, you never showed. What's up with that?" The expression on the raccoon's face suggested irritation and curiosity.

Weylen traced his finger around the edge of his backpack he'd set on his desk. "I had something to take care of Saturday. My dad wanted me to go get a job." A technical truth, even if it dodged the issue that Weylen just didn't want to go.

"Aw, it's all right. But I was still really hoping to see you. How about you make it up to me by helping me with the history reading. I had some stuff I don't remember about the reading."

"I guess I could. Anything in particular?" Weylen asked, figuring it was the least he could do. Hopefully, anyway.

"All of it, man, I didn't read it. Party on Saturday, I didn't have time. So much planning, all for your benefit if you'd shown up. Can't say I wasn't thinking of you when I invited you to that party. So what was it about?"

"Paul Revere and William Dawes, their rides to warn colonists of British soldiers' movements, and the battles of Lexington and Concord."

"Oh that stuff? Okay, I know something about that, I can probably fake my way through," Jasper concluded.

"Attention." The loudspeaker cut through the chatter of homeroom with its metallic accompanying hum. "We are about to begin today's announcements. First to speak to you," the female announcer explained, "is Principal Suspool."

After a few seconds, the deeper porcine voice of the principal rang through the loudspeaker. "Good morning, students. I want you all to listen to this, because it pertains to all of you. As you all know, there have been discussions on how to improve the graduation rate in this school, as only 74 percent of total students that attended here graduate in four years. Of those, 16 percent drop out, and 10 percent take five or more years to finish. It had been suggested that school uniforms may improve this, based upon studies of schools with uniforms, but the outcry over the summer was pretty strong. We have found another way, and we're going to try it."

Every student waited, though hardly with any sense of eagerness. Most were sure whatever it was, they weren't going to like it.

"A study that came out this year suggested that students that participate in afterschool activities are 31% less likely to drop out of school. Therefore-"

"Oh come on!" snapped a burly rat in ragged clothes several rows over from Weylen. His clothing didn't look to be torn up by design for some style, either. The canine didn't know him well, though he remembered he had a class with him, somewhere.

"Each student will be required to join one afterschool activity. We are going to send out a notice tomorrow explaining this. You will be required to have your parent sign it. If there is any circumstance that would prevent you from such activity, your parents must provide an explanation, and our office will be approving any opt-outs, as well as any activity. Every student must have one."

"Or else what?" the rat demanded.

"Festus! Quit arguing with the loudspeaker or you can head down to the principal's office." From behind her attendance record, Hope Hawkins, Weylen's English teacher and also his homeroom teacher, stood up. Any time she stood from her seat, she meant business. Weylen knew that much.

"You mean where that sad sack is announcing this garbage? I can't"

"Mr. Zucker, extracurricular activities are helpful for your college transcripts and this is a good idea. But since you seem so keen on discussing the matter out loud to no one, perhaps you should go to the office. Go. Tell them I sent you for disrupting homeroom, or else I will tell them later and it will be more serious."

His desk scraped across the ground as Festus got up. "Fine. ... Some of us gotta work, you know, we ain't in fancy houses with tons of money-"

"Aren't in fancy houses, Mr. Zucker. And that's enough. If there's a reason you cannot explain it to the principal." The large rat, both muscular in build but also fairly hefty to boot, tromped out of the classroom, backpack slung over his shoulder, masking some of the rips to the threadbare t-shirt he was wearing.

Ms. Hawkins sighed. "That boy is a handful sometimes," the hawk mused, before she remembered her place in front of a class of students.

The announcements rumbled on, though Weylen hardly absorbed the content given that his focus was elsewhere. He had just picked up a job. Would that excuse him? He didn't really want to do an extracurricular activity.

In the horizontal row behind him, Weylen could hear the Weasel students chatting quietly amongst themselves. There were five Weasel students in his grade. He wasn't entirely sure if they were related, or how they could be given they were all about the same age and in the same grade. He'd never really inquired about it.

"Debate club counts, right? It's not every week," one asked.

"I don't know. They never really said what counts and what doesn't." That one was Pi; the wolf remembered him from math and history class. "I know Math Team meets, so I'm covered." Not as thin as those present that shared his last name, though hardly fat, the weasel sported a white t-shirt under a grey button-up shirt that was left open, along with shorts.

"Well sports gotta count-"

"Have to count, Mr. Weasel." There was Ms. Hawkins again. She apparently saw and heard everything... and she was never short on correcting any student from any lazy habit or bad grammar they displayed.

Weylen turned around just in time to see Ace roll his eyes. "Have to count." The slender yet toned weasel wore his usual tank top over a regular shirt and jean shorts.

"Drama club definitely does... so I think we're all covered except for Chemi." The one that'd spoken was Cogni, bespectacled and in some ways looking more like a secretary or an attorney than a student with how professionally she dressed.

The weasel at the end of the row in a stained green hat, with more of a white fur than his brown-furred associates. "Yeah, I know, I know. I'll figure something out. You don't think karate counts?"

"Don't think so, that's not done here at school-" Ace offered, before the bell dismissed the students, and everyone gathered their belongings to head for class.

"Will Weylen Wolf please report to the vice principal's office." Weylen had almost reached the door before that message resonated. Weylen could tell it was Vice Principal Vulpe. Was something wrong? He hadn't done anything. ... No. He couldn't possibly know about what had happened Friday after school. That couldn't possibly be it. Weylen broke out in a bit of a nervous panic as he tried to reason what else it could be. Nothing else had happened. What was going on?

The familiar piercing gaze of the spindly lemur secretary greeted him as he stepped into the administration offices. "Mr. Wolf, second door on the left."

"Uh, am I in trouble?"

The secretary pressed her glasses a bit more tightly against her face. "I'm not really kept up on just why someone's called in, Weylen. I just direct people where they're supposed to go."

Weylen crept apprehensively down the hallway, all the while imagining the secretary's eyes on him. The door was open, for better or for worse, to Mr. Vulpe's office. As the wolf peered around the edge of the doorway, he was greeted by the vice principal's smile and a wave of his hand. "Had to drag you out of class one more time, Mr. Wolf, I still need a few questions answered about last week."

The student nodded silently before stepping into the small office. Mr. Vulpe pointed back toward the door. "Shut that, please." Weylen did as he was asked before taking a seat across from the desk.

"Is anything wrong?" Weylen asked blankly. He still hadn't figured out why he had been called in. The fox rose from his desk and approached the door, where he adjusted the knob. Hands clasped behind his back, Vulpe paced back to his desk and took a seat behind it.

"Somewhat. I received a receipt this morning from Canid Comforts. Mr. Dingo brought it to show what clothing he'd purchased to replace the clothing ruined by acid. But there was one problem." Vulpe pulled a desk drawer out and produced the receipt. "It mentions a pair of underwear. Now, when you, Mr. Bat and Mr. Dingo were in here on Friday, after you left, Mr. Bat did mention that at some point you were... exposed. And we have a receipt for underwear. So, my first question. Was your underwear destroyed?"

"No sir," the wolf responded meekly.

"Then that brings me to two other questions. Why is Mr. Dingo buying you underwear if you didn't lose a pair... and just how did the whole acid incident go on? Something is telling me the context is going to be very important. You see, Mr. Wolf, I'm concerned that your coach Ichitro may have overstepped his bounds. So what am I missing?" Mr. Vulpe sported a raised eyebrow as he awaited a response.

"I think Mr. Dingo got me the underwear because he felt responsible for what happened and wanted to do what he could to make amends."

Mr. Vulpe nodded. "And you're sure Mr. Dingo was not involved in any way with the acid?"

"I... I'm pretty sure, yeah."

"Then it sounds like the more pressing concern is your coach. Let's just say that pulling clothes off a student without their consent, it's a serious matter. It's my job to sort out affairs like these. Would you be willing to give me more information on how it happened? Like I said, context is going to be everything to determine how inappropriate your coach was." His tone was even and somewhat formal.

Weylen nodded, but felt the need to speak up. "Mr. Vulpe, I think Coach Ichitro did what he did out of concern for my welfare. I did have acid all over my clothes."

"Yes, Mr. Wolf. But how exposed were you? Understand, I'm an administrator, I'm only trying to investigate. I'd like you to duplicate what happened on Thursday as best you can.  Provided you're willing. How much clothing were you wearing after Ichitro pulled your clothes off?"

Now, Weylen was admittedly feeling a bit uncomfortable. Maybe it was the word duplicate. "Uh... I didn't really... have any." The adolescent fidgeted in his chair.

"That's what Mr. Bat had implied after you left. Could you strip down to your underwear please?"

That request did seem a bit odd to Weylen. "Strip... I don't have the same underwear on. I've got a different pair."

"The one Mr. Dingo bought you, perhaps?"

Just hearing the vice principal say that sent a shiver through Weylen. He swallowed before answering. "Yeah."

"All the more I should see the pair in question. Strip down, please."

Weylen remained seated, uncertain what to do.

"Mr. Wolf, I need this information to determine what disciplinary action I should be taking. You won't get in trouble for doing this, that I can assure you." Mr. Vulpe laced his fingers together and had them folded in front of him, giving that same impression of formality.

Weylen shifted uneasily in his chair. "I don't think Mr. Dingo or Mr. Bat did anything wrong, sir."

"Weylen, as of right now I don't have any plans to severely punish either of them. At the worst I'm going to give Mr. Bat a talking to, thus far.  I'll make you a deal. Mr. Bat won't receive any formal punishment as long as you cooperate here. Are we agreed?" The fox sounded so calm as he was explaining it. It made Weylen doubt all the more any reservations he had... if he should have any reason for concern at all. This was the vice principal.

The lupine teen nodded. "As long as you're not going to do anything to bother Coach Ichitro. He did save me from being harmed."

"Perhaps. It's more the method, but I promise to you, only a talk, nothing on his record or anything like that. As long as you cooperate, so that I can find out just what went on."

Weylen nodded, and stood up. He'd still had his backpack slung over his shoulder. After placing it on the ground, the student reached to pull his shirt over his head, starting to strip down to his underwear. The fox watched intently, at this point separating his hands and drumming one on the desk. He pulled the other hand off the desk as he watched. With his shirt plopped down on the floor, Weylen reached for his shorts. Self-consciously he glanced up at Vulpe, who merely offered a mild smile in response. The teen slid his shorts down and they hit the ground with a *chink*, as the wolf had his house keys on him.

There he stood in his silk briefs, a fact that the vice principal picked up immediately. "Silk? Awfully fancy. The pair you were wearing Thursday when the acid incident happened. Were those silk?" A slightly stern tone had sneaked into Vulpe's voice.

"No, Mr. Vulpe. Just cotton briefs."

One of the fox's ears seemed to tick a bit as he shifted in his seat. "Then why is it Mr. Dingo bought you silk briefs? Did you ask for them?"

Weylen glanced down, averting his gaze as he thought of how to respond. "I did like them." A complete aversion, the wolf knew, but he didn't feel like he'd lied.

"They are nice," the administrator commended. "I'll let that go. Just don't let Mr. Dingo spoil you with gifts. If he starts, you let me know, all right? There comes a point where it's not appropriate." Weylen nodded.

After straightening his tie and clearing his throat, the fox continued. "Now, let's go over the incident. You were on the ground, Mr. Bat said. Could you lie down on your back?"

"There's not much room in here, sir," Weylen responded avoidantly.

He got up from his desk. "Clear the chairs aside," he directed, reaching across it to pull one of the chairs toward the wall to make room. Weylen complied mechanically, grabbing two chairs and putting them against the wall. Now the wolf easily had enough room to lie down. And, after a gesture to do so from Mr. Vulpe, Weylen did lie down on the ground.

"So, let's say I'm your coach," Mr. Vulpe offered. He stepped around the desk and got down on one knee. It was only when the wolf noted the adult reaching for his underwear that he said something.

"Uhhhh, sir." Not very articulate.

He could almost palpably feel Vulpe ogling him as he hovered above Weylen. "Come now, Mr. Wolf, I'm an administrator, and you did say that your coach didn't do anything wrong. I'm only duplicating.  Or are you changing to say that there was something wrong with what Mr. Bat did?"

He felt completely stuck, not sure how to respond. He didn't want to get Coach Ichitro into trouble. This didn't feel exactly like the same thing, but, frozen in the moment, he didn't have the time to figure out just what wasn't sitting right. He felt the vice principal's black-mitted fingers hook into the elastic of the silk briefs. He watched with mild concern as the fox pulled them downward, exposing Weylen's sheath and balls. "He was trying to pull your pants off because they had acid on, correct?" Mr. Vulpe clarified as he studied Weylen's groin. "Couldn't he have done that without removing your underwear?"

The teen wasn't sure whether the questioning or the exposure made him feel more vulnerable. "I- I don't know."

"How about Mr. Bat? Did he touch you in any way?"

Weylen tensed up immediately at the query. "Did he what?"

"Did Coach Ichitro put his hands on you after you were out of your clothes on Thursday?"

The student still found it hard to speak. "On- on Thursday?"

The fox furrowed his brow, perhaps slightly annoyed by Weylen's stall tactics. "Yes. Did Mr. Bat touch you while you were undressed on Thursday?" His tone had dropped to become much more intense and serious.

The rephrasing made it so much easier for Weylen to spit out an answer. "Oh, no! No sir, he didn't."

The vice principal grunted in response. "I had to make sure." He paused, and Weylen just laid there, somewhat beneath him, starting to find it harder to breathe. "Is there anything else I should know about the incident, do you think?" he inquired generally. The vulpine rested his hand right on Weylen's belly. To make matters worse, Weylen could just feel what was starting to happen. Arousal would only serve to make the situation that much worse.

There was a rap at the door. "Mr. Vulpe, we've got a Festus Zucker being sent to speak with you. Something about him mouthing off in homeroom during the morning announcements." It sounded like the secretary.

Startled, the fox stood right up. "Ms. Edwards, I explicitly remember telling you not to disturb me until I was finished here."

"And I would, Mr. Vulpe, but this comes from the principal."

"We have two other vice principals," he snapped, his polished demeanor evaporating. "Confound it. Grant me two minutes to finish up." After he'd thought the secretary had left, he pointed at Weylen. "Take care of that, Mr. Wolf, and get to class. I think I've learned what I need."

It didn't take long at all for Weylen to put his shorts and shirt on. Grabbing his backpack, he then hurried out of the office, puzzled, more than a little uneasy, and relieved to be leaving it behind. Not wanting to be marked absent from his first period math class, he maneuvered quickly around the corner to make his way there. A familiar face stepped out of the teacher's lounge, and that halted Weylen's pace immediately.

"Hey. What're you doing out of class?" Pushing his coach's visor up, Ichitro leaned against the nearby lockers and folded his arms with a genial smile.

"I, uh. Hi." The adolescent clutched the strap on his backpack and let it swing off his shoulder. He just brought his focus to his bag. It felt easier than meeting his instructor's gaze. "I'm, uh... sorry about... you know, Friday."

That immediately raised both the coach's eyebrows. "What do you mean? You didn't do anything you need to apologize for Friday.  I liked Friday."

Weylen looked up at Ichitro. "Yeah, but I... I didn't... uh, you gave me something and I didn't... uhhh. I didn't.... You know."

He shrugged. "I really don't know. So I gave you something and you didn't.... Oh. You mean I didn't pop my cork?"

The wolf blinked, trying to figure out what Ichitro was getting at. "Cork?"

"I didn't finish.  Least not with you. Don't worry about that. Chances are if I had it would have taken me forever to clean up my truck." He chuckled as he visualized that. "Still was fun teaching you."

"You think maybe sometime we could... again?"

"If you think you've got more to learn. At your pace." Ichitro seemed very nonchalant about the matter. Weylen, on the other hand, was growing more excited at hearing that.  Literally. He could feel himself.

"Today?"

Ichitro chuckled. "Classes, and I've got to coach football afterward. It'll happen later. You know, Friday afternoons, after school, I don't have any coaching to do."

Weylen agreed instantly. "Yeah, I'll... well, I'm not sure if my dad's working that day."

"We'll work it out. Meantime... how are your grades?"

The abrupt change of topic threw Weylen a bit. "My grades? I'm getting all A's... might be getting a B in science, but I'm trying to fix that."

The bat grinned. "Figured I had me a smart one. Good grades... all the more." The grin faded into a sterner expression. "Don't get so distracted you screw up your schoolwork. I find that out, it stops. You get me?"

Weylen nodded vehemently. "I know, I won't. I won't let you down." He'd just blurted out the last sentence, and it surprised even him.

"'Nuffa this. Get yer ass to class." The bat pointed down the hall.

Weylen lugged his backpack over his shoulder again and started down the hall, but couldn't help but glance back. When he still noted Ichitro standing there, Weylen commented awkwardly, "I... Friday was awesome."

The toothy grin said it all. "Damn right. Now. Class."

The silent walk down the hall gave Weylen plenty of time to ruminate on what could be ahead of him. Math class had to have been half over, and there was his jittery teacher. The hare glanced over at Weylen as soon as the door opened. "My word, Mr. Wolf, second time now. Friday, then today. Is everything okay?"

The attention embarrassed Weylen, as did the fact that he knew he still had some arousal. The wolf made sure to hold his bookbag at groin level. "Yeah, everything's fine, Mr. Harris."

Easing his knitted brow, the gangly jackrabbit nodded, thoughtlessly bringing a hand up to adjust his glasses to a suitable position along his muzzle, "If you're certain, then please have a seat."

Weylen dipped his head as he quickly made way for his desk. While the student walked, Mr. Harris watched him closely, not with suspicion so much as concern. "Now, before class ends, let's have another example for chances and odds! Such as the likelihood of a bolt of lightning reaching the same point on the ground as another, a meteorite smashing into the earth where one already had, the sun expanding and absorbing our entire solar system before shrinking into a black hole.."

Across the room, Edgar, a sullen mouse, raised his hand, "Mr. Harris? I thought lightning never strikes the same spot twice." After a pause, he added, "It's what my mom says."

Mr. Harris nodded with a slight twitch of his nose. "That's a very infectious line of deception. Adages rarely ever give us the correct perception. The truth of the matter is that lightning strikes wherever it has opposing charges strong enough to trigger. I can guarantee you lightning rods serve a purpose, saving lives and preventing fires. A lightning rod can dissipate strikes numerous times in a year."

Adjusting his tie for no reason other than his own nervous nature, the jackrabbit continued, "The chances are low, admittedly. It's one in 775,000. Once a bolt of lightning occurs, the charge has been nullified for the particular area until the opposing charge returns. It would depend on some form of consecutive build-up to happen again soon after. But we're not here to study science. It's chance! We're going to figure out how likely it would be for a second strike to occur in a location, and thus your potential for survival if you stood in that spot. Square the denominator... and you'll have your answer!"

He started to scribble out the math step in his jagged signature scrawl.

As he did so, the spindly crane girl, Kathy Yeager asked with a hint of a knowing smile, "Wouldn't that mean that any place anywhere could get struck? Even in here?"

"Here we go," Pi, the only weasel that shared math class, murmured with noted disapproval. It didn't take much to wind up Hex Harris.

So far, though, he didn't seem too bent out of shape. The quirky teacher nodded interestedly, "Absolutely! Nowhere is absolutely safe!" The rabbit chuckled nervously, "Why...Th-the chances are less likely, but it really only comes down to time and conditions!" He fitfully collected a red marker from the tray along the board and started writing things in the messy manuscript across it, "Take the present materials for example. We have aluminum boards and windows. But we also have steel doors on the classroom and closet, the legs, arms, screws and bolts for every desk in the room, a fair mathematical assumption that of all of you at least 30% of the zippers on your backpacks are conductive. Just as well I imagine most of you have some form of electronic devices, some that may even be conducting electrical charges right now, and if they aren't on they still contain gold or sometimes even silver, which is the most highly conductive metal on the planet." He steepled his fingers together, almost haphazardly clacking them together as he thought on the matter. "I've asked them to set up a lightning rod right outside my classroom, but apparently, heh, it's not c-cost effective." That twitch was growing worse on his brow, a sheer sign he was growing agitated.

The more he wrote, the more excited the teacher seemed to get, "S-So...So let's see, with each of these accumulated materials we have increased the risk of a lightning bolt triggering with this room, and our bodies, as its primary targets for dissipation. We also ne-need to add the- the electrical outlets along the walls, ca-cased hazardously behind steel plates, the iron support beams irresponsibly woven behind the thin layer of concrete on our every side, the thoughtless exclusion of grounding materials beneath the floor tiles...." It also always became apparent that Mr. Harris became less rational as he worked, jumping at every shadow, factoring in greater risks, seeing greater likelihood in everything. "I would estimate it's more like 1 in 620,000 given our conditions...."

Off to Weylen's right, Owen Bay, one of the few other wolves in his grade, watched with subtle amusement as he muttered, "Five bucks he's gonna hyperventilate again." The wolf's prominent toned stature and popularity seemed to dwarf Weylen, and always left him feeling like the runt. "Mr. Harris?" the larger wolf student asked. "What about the pencil sharpeners? They're metal." The rabbit could only nod vigorously as he continued his calculations.

Kathy, the crane who'd started winding him up, was seated right behind Owen. She leaned forward, "No way, I bet he'll freak out and run out of the room like on Friday."

Yasmin, the white cat who Weylen saw both here and in his history class, whispered, "Fetal position under the desk." As if to ensure it happened, she immediately spoke up, "Mr. Harris, don't forget the gilded wall of steel lockers right outside the room!"

The rabbit raised his marker out in their general direction without looking, "Th-thank you! I'd almost forgotten about those deadly things." Scratching that one onto the board, Hex then proceeded to etch out numbers off to the side of each one. By now he'd grown so erratic that reading the numbers he'd scribbled proved near impossible. "These numbers are a vague representation of the increase in potential for a lightning strike coming right here to kill us all, out of a 100% chance. Now we unfortunately don't have any form of scale to evaluate a scientifically honest answer as to how reasonable it would be for the school to place a lightning rod right outside my window, BUT, with this information we can make a fair guess as to how little they care about my-..That is YOUR well-being! We merely multiply the likelihood factors together... simplify the fraction, and there you have it! A 1 in 4.25 chance! That means that for every four or five bolts of lightning in the sky in this area, at least one of them should have killed me!" A pained smile provided very little cover for the fact that the poor teacher was cracking internally.

The bell suddenly belched out its timed tone to announce the end of class, causing Mr. Harris to flail, throwing his marker into the air and diving under his desk, "Oh dear lord, IT'S HAPPENING!"

Most of the class couldn't help laughing as he disappeared in a wake of papers flying from his desk, "Someone wanna tell him it's a clear, sunny sky outside?"

The teacher's head popped back into view. "Like a bolt out of the blue is an expression, and it should give you the idea very quickly that even clear sunny days can KILL! I have to go! You should too! Get to the basement!"

The hare was the first to dart out of the room, right into the very large form of a gorilla. He leapt up onto her shoulder and shuddered as he emphasized, "We have to get out of here. Let me go, I need to get to the basement!"

Stoic in response, as this had been the third time this year that the teacher had bolted frantically out of his classroom, the lumbering nurse sighed. "When I let you do that Friday you built a nest of boxes and refused to come out of a hole in the wall. I'm not doing that again." She called into the classroom, "No one goes yet! Mr. Weasel, escort Mr. Harris to my office and keep an eye on him. I'm gonna have some words with your class."

Pi hurried out into the hallway, clutching his backpack as he offered his hand to the jackrabbit. "Come on, this way. Man, we're never gonna get to trinomials."

The lumbering frame of Nurse Rilla filled the doorframe. She wasn't nearly as big as shop teacher Whittaker Bruin, but she was just as ominous. "This was the third instance where he's fled the classroom, and I know what's going on. Who wound him up?" No one answered. "Fine." She severed the silence with the verbal blade that was her irked tongue. "It will be clear enough eventually. Someone in here keeps goading him."

"We don't know what you're talking about," Yasmin spoke up in her silky mock-innocent tone. "We're just curious minds thirsty for knowledge. And we're just as concerned about his well-being as you are!"

The nurse glowered down at Yasmin, but she seemed unphased. "I can speak with Mr. Harris myself, then." She knew that wasn't quite true, as once Hex Harris unraveled, getting him to detail events in any remotely coherent way ended up an endeavor. "You all just remember, I'm responsible for your well-being, and I have a surplus of hyperdermic needles in my office. The more this happens, the more I need half a reason to become very concerned about your health. Now get to your next class." She stepped out into the hallway, and gave each student the evil eye as they filed out.

At least she did until Weylen exited. "Mr. Wolf, a word."

That shook Weylen up immediately. He'd never even met this woman before. "I didn't do-"

She held up an enormous hand to silence the protest. "Relax, I know you didn't do it. I've got good reports about your character from Pi. You're a good kid. The problem," she continued as she swept Weylen back into the classroom after the last student had exited, "is that Mr. Harris becomes pretty discombobulated from whoever keeps stirring up the hornet's nest that is his mind." She lowered her voice a bit. "I need to know who's causing the trouble."

Weylen's stomach tightened. "You want me to snitch? I can't do that. I'm just getting settled, it's my first year. Besides, they beat up snitches."

"Oh, confound it!" the large gorilla roared. "Pi hasn't wanted to tell me either, and normally he's very forthcoming." Her tone softened a bit. "Mr. Wolf, this can't go on. It's disrupting your class's learning and his sanity. I want these troublemakers out of his class."

Weylen offered nothing to that. The gorilla tightened her fists. "You do whatever helps you sleep at night." Nurse Rilla tromped out of the room.

The wolf found himself glad he had a study hall that period. It gave him some peace and quiet before continuing on in his day.

Third period, however, rolled around far too quickly. Mr. Tomar entered the classroom just as the bell rang, and, as always, he was lugging his briefcase with him. "I thought we would start with a pop quiz this morning," he began with his usual cheeriness. That news was not surprisingly received poorly among the students, though they didn't express their whining verbally. That could only serve to make it worse in the rat teacher's class. Instead, they exchanged sour looks or quietly ridiculed their instructor when they thought they could get away with it. "And this comes with a nice reward for the half that do the best," he continued as he set the briefcase on his desk and undid the latches to it. "I've cleared it so that you half will get the rest of the period off for study hall, while I remain here with the half that don't do well and focus on them a bit more. What fun that will be, eh?"

"Fun for which half?" asked Delilah, the female gecko folding her arms.

"For the half that earns the rest of the time off, my dear. And as one of the good grades on the last test, I'm sure you'll do well today."

As Mr. Tomar collected the quizzes to pass out, Weylen silently cursed the fact he'd done his reading on Friday. He'd just had study hall, but he'd done nothing but try to unwind, mentally. That meant the material wouldn't be as fresh in his mind. The wolf, having been in the second seat of the center row, first got the quizzes from that siamese cat Elizabeth before passing the other copies on back. As he glanced back, he saw the imploring expression from Jasper, who sat diagonally behind Weylen. He could only offer a gentle headshake before turning to focus on his own quiz.

The questions were easy enough. The wolf always did well with multiple choice. 'One if by land, two if by sea.' 'Massachusetts Bay Colony.' 'Paul Revere and William Dawes.' 'Lexington.' 'Samuel Adams.' On and on it went for ten questions, with each correct answer leaping out at the young student. So many others in the class appeared to be agonizing over the right answers.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Tomar spoke up. "Pens down, pass the quizzes forward. I'll ask that you grant me five minutes to grade them, and then I'll figure out which half of you did the best. In the meantime, just sweat it out."

The students all surrendered their quizzes, and there was nothing but awkward silence and the occasional harsh whisper that cut through it while the rat professor graded the papers. He worked with great fervor and speed, each paper only requiring seconds before he marked any incorrect and scribbled a grade at the top. Every so often he'd separate a quiz and put it in a small pile.

"Twenty-one of you in here, so that means eleven get to go. I'll round up," he offered with an indulgent smile. "Six in here got a perfect score! Impressive. Pi Weasel, Cogni Weasel, Weylen Wolf, Ben Avery, Elizabeth Felix, and... Alexander Karzik, much improved after that C last time!" The rat that sat a row over from Weylen seemed embarrassed, looking down at his desk with a mild smile.

"Excuse me, Mr. Tomar, do you really have to announce our grades to the class?" Adenia demanded testily.

The rat teacher shrugged before peering at the jackal. "Miss Shaghal, you earned these grades. If you're not proud of them, work to improve them. I can assure you the grades will not be a secret in here. You're all college-bound students, and I'm not going to soften anything."

"What about our right to privacy?" Yasmin asked.

Chuckling, the rat responded, "That's for your personal lives. Your school grades are another matter, and it's my job to make sure no one slacks off. So expect me to lay it out for all of you. Now then. With 90s...." He started to shuffle through the remaining quizzes. "Delilah Lesk, Ace Weasel, Jin Saeng, Francis Roquefort. ... And that's it. That brings us to 10. One of you that scored 80 will be lucky enough to escape...." The grin Mr. Tomar had never ceased to be unsettling. "At any rate. You ten. Pack up your belongings, I'll give you each a pass for study hall in the shop room. Just don't let me hear a bad report from Mr. Bruin for any of you, or I'll have to reconsider this leisure time for you." The teacher continued to shuffle through the papers. "We have four 80s... so one of you lucky folks will be escaping for the day. Leonard Loon, Miles Fischer, Jackson Hadwin, Faith Amarillo."

Mr. Tomar rubbed his hands together as he sported a crooked smile. He paced back and forth in front of the classroom, hands clasped behind his back. "We can do this by chance... or we can do this by who can answer more questions correctly. You four, those of you who want to do so by chance?" Faith and Jackson raised their hands. "Well, you're staying here. You don't do well in life by trusting to chance. Really." He chuckled. Disheartened, they put their hands down. "Mr. Loon! What was Florida's reaction to Lexington and Concord?"

The loon appeared perplexed, speechless. He struggled for a moment before Mr. Tomar pointed to Miles. "You, lad. Florida's reaction?"

Miles answered, "Florida wasn't a state for over fifty years. It wasn't one of the original colonies."

"You earned your spot. All right, everyone, collect your passes and enjoy the period!"

Weylen found himself complying like some kind of unthinking robot, though he was no doubt as puzzled by Mr. Tomar as everyone else.

"Doesn't every question or method he employs seem like a dirty trick?" Elizabeth asked as the group started for the shop wing.

"Well, yeah," Ben agreed, the coyote shrugging to show he didn't have much concern for it. "Keeps you on your toes, you know? I kinda like that."

Even Weylen found himself speaking up. "I think he's just trying to shake everyone up to get them to work hard."

"Maaaybe," the cat conceded. "But does he have to be so underhanded about it?"

"I think that's a perk to him. He is a rat, after all!" Miles added cheerily. The caiman seemed glad he was able to escape with the others.

"Hey!" Alex snapped. It was hardly surprising that he'd taken offense, as Alex was a rat.

"Dude, that's like racist," Ben challenged.

As the other students filed into shop class, Weylen stopped cold. Other students were already there, presumably enjoying their study halls. There was Mr. Bruin, who glanced over and waved the students in. "The smart ones who made it. Get in here."

"Yeah, Weylen," called the reason the wolf had stopped cold. The face, the accent, everything was a needling reminder of just who was sitting on the far side of the room. "C'mon mate, sit here by me."

Now Weylen was torn. He didn't want to really sit next to Riley, but snubbing him might be that much worse. Nervous, the wolf headed toward the offered seat and took it without gazing at Riley.

"I'm about to head for the teacher's lounge to get my lunch," Whittaker Bruin explained in his deep bass voice. "They don't think much of making me share my lunch period with minding this study hall. While I'm gone, I don't want to find out there was any problem in here. I'll be back in a minute."

Of course, as soon as the door shut, the room broke into little conversations, and Riley was no exception. Weylen cringed a bit as the kangaroo craned his arm around to grasp Weylen's shoulder.

"So mate... been meanin' to ask ya somethin'," the larger kangaroo began in a quiet rumble as he leaned over. "That gym thing... said it was an accident, too right?"

Weylen said nothing but nodded dumbly.

"So what... you weren't tryin' to get an eyeful of me twig and berries? Cause I saw you starin' right at them. Fer way too long ta be an accident."

Weylen's first response was to glance about, somehow unsconsciously expecting to feel eyes burning into him. No one else seemed to be focusing on it, instead having their own discussions. "It just surprised me, that's all," the wolf lamely offered. Even he had a sense of what Riley meant.

"Why? Somethin' wrong with me? Just because my balls are up top instead of down unda'?" Even with the slight Americanization of his accent, Riley was unmistakably an Aussie.

Weylen shifted away almost unconsciously, though Riley's hand that had snagged his shoulder pulled him right back in. "Nothing's wrong," Weylen managed uncomfortably. "They looked fine to me."

"Yeah, sure. So why the stare then? You like what ya saw?" Riley's grip on Weylen's shoulder tightened.

"It was fine," the lupine repeated mechanically, not knowing what to say or what Riley was getting at.

"Here's the thing, fella. ... If you got any designs on 'em, I'm tellin' ya right now, you pull that stunt again where yer starin' at 'em in front of everyone, I'll kick yer arse."

Weylen cast his gaze down at the desk. "I get it, I'm sorry, it really, really was an accident."

Riley leaned in just a little more so he was nearly in Weylen's ear. "Now, if we're ever alone away from pryin' eyes... maybe it'll be a different story. Depends on how good you are at...."

Confused, curious, but also not wanting this to grow into an ugly situation, the wolf only glanced sidelong at Riley. "Good I am at what?"

"Keepin' yer mouth shut... unless I want it open."

He could only comb over what that meant for the rest of the period, because at that point, Whittaker Bruin came back with what appeared to be a rotisserie chicken for his lunch. "Quiet down," he commanded calmly as he took a seat back at his teacher's desk at the front of the room.

"Think on it," was the last thing Riley said before silence fell like a blanket over the room for the rest of the period. It ended up that thinking about it was something the lupine couldn't avoid.

The bell rang. The canine was looking forward to lunch. At least it would be a break. This day wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. Weylen clutched his backpack and got up. "Hey, uh, Weylen?" It was Alex. The rat waited until the other students were clearing out before he spoke again. The rat gripped his shoulder gently. "That teacher. Mr. Bruin. You've got class with him, right?" Weylen nodded almost mechanically, wanting to get to lunch. "He teaches shop, right? Well, wait, we're in the shop classroom, so of course. You know much about him?" The rat was wide-eyed, and the grip on Weylen's shoulder had tightened. "Last week was my first week here just like yours, Alex. I gotta get to lunch, sorry." Alex nodded, but his visual focus was on Whittaker Bruin, who was wiping down his desk now that he'd finished eating. "Yeah, thanks Weylen. Maybe catch you later? It seems like you'd be someone cool to hang out with sometime." Weylen was already most of the way to the door, but that brought a hint of a smile to his face, and he felt just a bit better. Much of the remainder of the school day wound up a blur, as the wolf had a lot on his mind. Weylen was even vaguely aware he didn't pay attention for some of English and computer science. But seventh period caused him to recollect himself. Weylen knew he was already having trouble with biology. Riley's presence complicated it further. As soon as he entered, Weylen noticed Riley point at him and grin. After that the canine became very interested in the intricacies of wood patterns on his desk.

Darwyn Dingo entered the classroom and sought out Weylen immediately with a glance. The second pair of eyes made the adolescent all the more self-conscious.

"Looking sharp, Mr. Wolf!"

The well-intended comment put the small canine over the edge. He wished he could just vanish from the classroom.

Fortunately enough, Darwyn had just finished the starting lessons on scientific method the week before, and he was now ready to begin the lessons on cell structure and mitosis. "I've prepared a film that will hopefully illuminate much of what we will be discussing for the week." Darwyn inserted the DVD into the school TV unit and moved over to dim the lights. Beyond that, Weylen couldn't be sure. He became absorbed in the film... and the occasional recurring puzzlement concerning the many events of the day that had just seemed to overload his plate.

The bell sounded before the video had concluded, and it immediately launched a frenzy of movement as the students around him scrambled to pack up their belongings so that they could leave their day of classes behind. Weylen was notedly less frantic, and was still gathering his belongings as many others were heading for the door.

The lights illuminated again as Darwyn switched them on, and Weylen caught the instructor's expression of concern. "Weylen, can you stay behind for a moment?" the instructor asked. Weylen had just stood up to go, but upon hearing the request he sat back down. After the last of the other students departed, Mr. Dingo shut the door.

"I couldn't help but notice you were... distracted at times today." Darwyn took a seat atop his teacher's desk in front of Weylen. "Is everything all right?"

Weylen glanced at his arm and rubbed it self-consciously. "It's just been a... a long day."

"Aw. If something's bothering you, you know, I'm here. I'd be willing to listen, help you out with whatever's weighing on your mind. I'd like to help if I could. I hate seeing you so troubled. Might make you feel better."

Weylen sighed, and he could feel himself losing it, losing himself to the countless things gnawing at him. "It's all right."

"Are you sure? Seems like you're carrying something around. Get it off your chest, you'll feel better."

"I'm fine. I just... everyone wants so much from me!" The gist was out, and before he knew it, Weylen was launching into detail. "My dad's pushing me real hard to get good grades, and I want to, but stuff keeps coming up and getting in the way. I got a B on that first quiz and I'm struggling to keep up in here, but I can't even stay focused!"

Darwyn nodded, and he opened his mouth to speak, but not before Weylen launched into further details on his troubles. "Riley's been giving me a hard time since gym class last week and today he threatened to beat me up but then he- I don't know what he did!" Weylen went on, frustrated, chest heaving, pupils dilated, gripping the edge of his desk. "I mean, he threatened me, but then it's like he wanted to do stuff with me."

Darwyn seemed interested, and he started to ask, "What kind-"

"And Mr. Vulpe called me into his office to ask about the clothes you bought me and he told me he doesn't want you buying me anything else because the clothes you got me were real nice... and they are, I like them, they're just expensive, and they included underwear, and he thought that was a problem... and he had me go over the acid thing that happened with Coach Ichitro, and it was... really uncomfortable!" Weylen continued.

"Well, what-"

"And even when I'm just doing good people want stuff from me! These kids agitated Mr. Harris and the nurse wanted me to just tell on them, and I can't, because if they found out then I'll get beat up, but she made it sound like it's something I have to do. And some other kid's been bugging me to help him cheat in class because he doesn't want to do the work himself, and it's hard to tell him no. It's hard to tell anyone no!"

"Weylen, stop, stop. Calm down."

The wolf didn't realize how red-faced he'd become or how stressed he looked. "I'm trying... I'm trying really hard. I mean, it's not all bad. I got to spend some time getting to know someone, and it felt really nice, and I wanna spend more time with him, I think, but... I'm not gonna get to. I have too much to do! I need to get A's, I had to get a job to pay for those clothes 'cause they cost a hundred dollars so now I'm gonna be working at the library, and they're making us do extracurricular activities-"

"Weylen. Just breathe for a minute. No more talking, just breathe. In."

Weylen took a deep breath. "Out," Darwyn instructed, and Weylen exhaled, still noticeably shaken. "Just do that for a minute. And then we'll talk about all this stuff."

Weylen put his head on his desk, trying to stay in control, but he felt like he could lose it and start crying any minute.

"I probably only absorbed half of what you said these last few minutes. It all came out so fast. But it sounds like there's a lot weighing on you." Darwyn's measured, quiet tone soothed him a little.

Weylen stood up, not wanting to break down any further in front of Darwyn. "I'll be fine. I should get going."

Darwyn hopped down off the desk. "Don't be in such a rush to go." The pupil had a sense that the dingo was coming toward him, but he seemed oblivious to the nature of the embrace until after the teacher had wrapped his arms around Weylen fully. "It's all right. I'll help you deal with everything, any way I can."

The moment of surprise had washed over Weylen, and hearing Darwyn's reassuring words proved enough to allow him to start calming down. He just let the hug happen, and it even felt rather nice. "... All- all right."

Darwyn smiled, keeping the hug nice and tight. "Stay here... and you tell me all about it."