Authors: Kyell Gold
Nick took the last yogurt-covered dumpling and gulped it down in two bites. Malaya was eating a slice of thick bread, slowly. Samaki nudged the last piece of chicken kebab toward Kory, with a grin. Kory waved a paw. “I’m full,” he said, and Samaki didn’t need any more encouragement to take it back. Nick grabbed another slice of bread himself and then sighed, looking at the clock.
“I should get back,” he said, taking small bites of the bread and chewing slowly.
Samaki trailed his paw down Kory’s arm. “Want a ride, Nick?”
“Hey, that’s right. We could drop you off,” Kory said.
Nick’s ears perked up. He chewed a little faster. “Sure!”
On the ride back, he talked about wanting to explore Kory’s neighborhood more, pointing out the silent shops in their ghostly white robes. As they approached Kory’s mother’s neighborhood, Nick fell silent. Kory didn’t have to guess at what was on his mind.
They drove him almost all the way to Kory’s house, stopping a block away to say their goodbyes. “Pizza on Wednesday?” Kory said, and Nick gave him a thumbs up as he trudged back through the snow.
They watched him get to the front door of the house and inside before pulling away. “Is he going to be in trouble?” Samaki asked.
“Probably.” Kory felt the weight of the familiar neighborhood and turned his gaze inward, looking at the scratched upholstery of the glove compartment and dashboard. Even so, he could feel the presence of the houses he knew, the one that used to be home at the center of them.
Samaki stayed quiet until they were back on the edge of the downtown, and then he said, “It was nice spending the time with Nick.”
“Yeah,” Kory said. “Glad he liked the Afghan food.”
Samaki nodded. “There are good things about your neighborhood. Drug dealers aside.”
Kory checked to see whether the fox was teasing him, but Samaki was staring straight ahead at the snowy road, both paws on the wheel. “Malaya likes it.”
Samaki chuckled. “I like Malaya, but I wouldn’t take her recommendation. I think the filth makes her feel edgy.”
Already, the snow from a few days ago had been tinged grey, even in the light of the streetlights. Kory pushed back his defensive reaction and said, “Probably. I don’t mind it, though.” He saw an overturned trash can, the striped tail of a raccoon protruding from a pile of blankets. The grimy windows of the nearby storefront barely reflected their headlights.
Samaki pulled into a parking space and turned the car off. Kory looked at the fox, smiling. “Have time to come in for a bit?”
“A bit, yeah.” Samaki turned toward him, his smile white in the dim light. “I can stay the night.”
Any remaining traces of melancholy vanished. Kory felt his ears perk straight up. “Really?”
Samaki nodded, grinning. “I guess that puts us on a schedule of, what, once a month?”
Kory laughed and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Until summer.”
“Better than nothing,” Samaki said, as they got out and he followed Kory up to the apartment. Kory didn’t have to see the fox’s tail wagging to feel his anticipation, as keen as his own. They’d barely gotten the door closed behind them when they fell together in a kiss, making Malaya snort.
“Get a room,” she yawned as they scampered, giggling, into the bedroom.
Kory still wasn’t used to sleeping naked, much less with a warm, soft fox in the same bed. After their initial, quick pawing, they found that neither of them could get to sleep, and in an hour or so they were both hard and panting, ready for another turn. They played with putting the condoms on each other, finding the sensations different. “At least it’s easier to clean up. But I’m going to be sore in the morning,” Kory giggled in the warm afterglow of his second climax.
Samaki kissed his cheek. “You’ll be ready for number three in the morning,” he said, and then, finally, they were both exhausted enough to fall asleep, curled up cheek to cheek, tails draped over each other’s hips.
On the Friday before Kory’s birthday, he got a pleasant surprise when he arrived home. On his bed was a thick envelope bearing the State University logo in the upper right hand corner. Malaya had left it there with a small handwritten note that said, “Guess this is good.”
It was. The first thing he pulled from the ripped envelope was a letter congratulating him on his acceptance to State. The rest of the envelope contained a variety of forms and brochures that he would need to have in order to enroll. He glanced through them and then tossed them aside. At least, he thought with some comfort, their fallback plan was in place.
The pictures of State campus didn’t look all that bad, actually. Low brick buildings dotted a green hillside by a lake. On another page, three rats and a pair of porcupines chatted in a sunny, open park. An entire two-page spread was devoted to athletics, with State’s star football player from last year dominating. He shuffled through the pictures of students walking around, all looking happy to be there. Idly, he browsed the course catalog, skimming the English classes. They looked interesting enough, he supposed, though of course it was hard to tell just from the description.
He wanted to call Samaki right away, to share the good news and ask whether the fox had also received his letter of acceptance, but Samaki would be just sitting down to dinner now. Because he was now taking driving classes after school in addition to riding the bus for an hour, Kory didn’t walk through his door until after 5. Well, he would tell him in a few hours when they had their regular call.
It wasn’t worth his time to fill out the forms; he was still waiting for responses from Forester and Whitford. He did notice that the tuition asked by State was well within his means, especially since he’d qualified for limited financial aid. That reminded him that he would be paying for his college himself, and he felt a brief flash of self-righteous triumph. It would serve his mother right if he ended up going to State because that was all he could afford. That thought gave him conflicting guilt and pleasure, so he set the forms in a drawer and started working on homework.
Samaki had gotten his acceptance the same day. The two of them looked through the brochures together on the phone, admiring some of the buildings, laughing at one particularly silly picture of a marten who looked altogether too happy to be going to class, and talking about which dorm they would end up in. Kory hung up thinking that, really, it wouldn’t be so bad going to State. Not with Samaki.
On the morning of his birthday, he walked through the doors of the school as he always did, knocked almost off his feet a moment later by a charging, grinning, Nick. “Happy birthday,” his brother said, thrusting a card at him.
Kory laughed. “You’re getting stronger. Workouts going good, huh?”
Nick shoved him. “G’wan, open the card.”
“I’ll wait ’til the party. You’re coming this weekend, right?”
His brothers ears folded back, and his tail stopped its restless movement. “I can’t. There’s an away swim meet.”
“Ah, that’s right.” Kory patted Nick on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll still see you for pizza tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to give you this on your birthday.” Nick’s ears lifted somewhat. “Open it!”
Inside was a cute card signed by Nick, and a $25 gift card for online music. Kory smiled and hugged his brother. “Thanks!”
“Happy birthday,” Nick said again, and waved as he ran to homeroom.
The only other acknowledgment that it was his birthday came when he stopped by the driving teacher’s office to set up an appointment to take his license exam. Mrs. McKay kept him five extra minutes, telling him what an important milestone this was, how he was now an adult with adult responsibilities, encouraging him to read up on the local elections so he could vote responsibly in the primary, stressing what a tremendous responsibility it was to be allowed to drive a car, and so on until Kory made up an excuse and fled, the word ‘responsibility’ ringing between his flattened ears.
He had convinced Malaya, over the course of the previous week, to come to the birthday party the Rodens were throwing for him that weekend. Worn down to her last protest, she finally said, “I’ll go, but if you want someone to laugh and play games…”
“I wouldn’t have invited you,” Kory said with a grin.
“Fair enough. But I’m working ’til 3 at the store, so I’ll catch the bus over later.”
Samaki picked Kory up at eleven on Saturday. By noon they were enjoying a simple but delicious informal lunch. Mrs. Roden had made sandwiches of a soft flatbread, reducing the spice in her dressing for Kory. He, Samaki, and the younger Rodens munched happily away while Kory selected games for them to play. It didn’t feel like a birthday party to him, even when Mariatu kept putting a party hat on him, because he was just having fun with Samaki’s family the way he always did. Apart from Malaya and Nick, he couldn’t think of anyone else he’d want to be there to make it a Party.
The bat rang the doorbell a little before four. “Oh, good, we can have presents now!” Mrs. Roden said, smiling as she ushered Malaya into the living room.
Kory looked up from the Sorry! board to see Malaya grinning, one hand held behind her back. “You didn’t have to,” he said, surprised.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “But sometimes shit happens. Sorry!” Kory had shaken his head quickly and Samaki had jumped to cover Mariatu’s ears.
“I heard that word before,” Mariatu said dismissively.
Samaki raised his eyebrows and took his paws away. “You know you’re not supposed to say it, right?”
Mariatu nodded. “Jenny Adams got in trouble for saying it and she had to go up in front of the class and write ‘I will not use dirty words’ a hundred times and the teacher said next time someone uses that word they get their mouth washed out with soap.”
“I don’t think Mom’ll use soap,” Samaki said.
Malaya grinned. “So anyway, I happened to find this as I was leaving, and then I ran into your postman on the way up the walk,” she said to Samaki, revealing the two large envelopes she held in her right hand.
Mrs. Roden shrieked and then clapped her muzzle shut. A moment later, Kory saw what she had seen: the large “Forester University” logo in the upper right corner of each envelope.
“Mom!” Mariatu protested, holding her own ears now. The other cubs looked wide-eyed at Kory and Samaki as each grabbed one of the envelopes and tore it open. They read from their letters, each seeing the words the other was saying and jumping ahead.
“We are delighted to inform you—”
“—accepted to the Forester University class of—”
“—continue our tradition of diversity and excellence—”
“—response by March 1 in order to begin processing—”
“—new student orientation August 23rd—Mom!”
Samaki’s letter fluttered to the ground as his mother, unable to restrain herself, threw herself on him and hugged him. A moment later, to Kory’s surprise, he got a similar embrace. He returned her nuzzle and grinned as she jumped back, clapping her paws together. “What about the financial aid?” she asked Samaki.
He bent to pick up one of the other pieces of paper. “Here it is.
Pleased to inform you… as long as you meet certain academic standards…
” His eyes shone as he looked up, first at his mother, then at Kory. “Full ride.”
His mother shrieked again, said, “Oh, let me call your father!” and then dashed from the room.
Samaki grinned after her, his tail wagging. “What about you?” he said, turning to Kory.
Kory sifted through the rest of his papers until he found the tuition one. “I qualify for some aid. A couple grants… looks like I’ve got about half of it paid for. I can make up the rest with the money from the online tutoring, and a work-study program.” Hope swelled in his heart. “I can actually do this. Without… on my own, I can do it.”
Ajani’s little tail thumped the carpet. “So you’re going to school together next year?”
Samaki reached out to ruffle his little brother’s ears. “Looks that way, huh?”
Kory felt as though a door had finally opened, allowing him to see down the corridors of the future. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Wanna work on our acceptances?”
The rest of his presents, though nice, were an anticlimax. There was ice cream, and cake, and later, a delicious dinner followed by more cake. Once the younger cubs had gone to bed, Kory and Samaki sat up with Mrs. Roden, going through the packets they’d been sent: the maps, the forms that needed to be filled out, the course catalogs, the brochures for each of the on-campus dorms, and the listing of student groups.
“Look,” Samaki nudged Kory, indicating the “Forester Lesbians and Gays” line on that last page.
Kory read the description. “Sounds all political.”
“Might just be a place to meet other people,” Samaki said. “And somewhere we could hold hands in public.”
That would be nice, Kory thought. He tried to imagine the room full of students, boys holding hands with boys, girls with girls, he and Samaki in the middle, their paws clasped together, unremarkable. “We can maybe go once, check it out,” he said.
A car rolled to a stop outside. “Your father’s home,” Mrs. Roden said, getting up from the table. “Let me put some coffee on. Kory, would you like some?”
“No, thanks.”
“Some hot chocolate then.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but swept off to the kitchen.
Samaki put his paw atop Kory’s, let it rest there warmly. “So… speaking of holding hands…” His eyes met Kory’s. “You decided yet about the prom?”
Why not? He had just been thinking about how this family was all he needed, except for Nick, how comfortable he felt here. His reservations about going to Samaki’s prom seemed distant and silly. Why wouldn’t he trust the fox and believe that it would be okay, that nobody would laugh at them, or threaten them, or jump them outside the prom?
Still, he’d never gone out with Samaki as a couple, like that. He hadn’t gone out as a couple since he and Jenny had gone to a dance with their friends at the Top Hat, a seriously lame club for teens. That hadn’t been the best of experiences, and he was happier with Samaki in private.
But still, Samaki really wanted to go. And at the moment, the most important thing to him was to see Samaki’s violet eyes light up.