Sta.sh
Fox 004: Fellowship of the Fox
by ~LadyQuindecim[AN: This is the fourth in the Fox Tale series. Please read them in order.]
[Creative property of Lady Quindecim]
Part Four: Fellowship of the Fox
Back across the street, I spied Samwise - no, Sam Wise - sitting with a small group of friends, or acquaintances, or fellows of some sort who may not have belonged anywhere else.
"Here Sam," I said, extending the brownie, looking around at the cluster.
There was a girl wearing a Scandinavian looking knitted cap mostly covering purple bangs, doing math with a guy looking at her notes next to her. Two boys were playing chess, one looked like he should have been cold there without a coat, but his sleeves were rolled mid way up his trim and muscular arms and it was probably his own coat behind him. The other was dressed like a depression era street beggar, except that his clothes looked clean and purposeful. I wondered if he had to beg and plead for permission to buy them. There were two girls sitting picturesque on the wall eating sandwiches over their textbooks.
"Uh, Chole... What is this about?" Sam looked up at me suspiciously and not even reaching to take the brownie from me.
"There is nothing wrong with it. It's just a brownie from the bakery."
He just stared at me.
"I didn't even touch it."
Nothing.
"Look, I just bought it, and don't want it. Have it or not." I shrug the thing a little in an encouraging way.
Someones foot hits the threshold of the school entrance not far away and it clatters in that way they do and I flinch.
Sam swallows nervously, "I'm not supposed to have chocolate."
"Well, fine then."
The chess player without the jacket reaches out his hand, "Don't let it go to waste."
I walk over an put it in his hand and look at the game board, lifting my tea, testing to see if it is cool enough to sip. It is.
"I could have caught it, you know."
I sighed submission to the confession. What else could go wrong today. "No, I can't throw."
"What, from there to here?" the other, vagrant looking one challenged.
"Right. I'm a girl. Sue me."
Without looking up from her book, the girl in the tuque scoffed, "Pffft. I'm a girl and I can toss with the best of them."
Vagrant laughed, "Yeah, apparently so," and the others, except Sam, joined in.
The blushing girl threw a notebook at him, hitting its mark, but in rebound, the folder cleared almost half the chess board and came to rest at my feet. Embossed in gold on the black folder, small, down in the corner, were the words: Clarinet II. I picked it up and reflexively jogged the pages down into their pockets from where they had unsettled.
Handing it back to the girl. "Here. I'm Chole. Drums."
She reached out her hand slowly. "Thanks, and yeah, we know."
I looked around and there was nodding, except for Sam.
"I'm Mags, by the way. And sorry about that. TMI."
"I am just..." I shook my head. Better to just ignore the comment than say another word.
Mags collected her homework, the guy looking at her notes protesting, and stood up. "I guess you know Sam, but he's not in band. The mooch is Brad and the perv is Brian. You'll get to know them. Ginger and Mary Ann, both from the brass section; award winning brass section, by the way."
I simply had to ask, "Ginger and Mary Ann? Really?"
"Well, not exactly."
"Oh."
"Ginger's real name is Mary Ann, but with her ginger hair, got called Ginger, like, forever and Mary Ann's given name is Jenifer and went by Jen (because there were always like a million Jenifer's) until christened Jenifer Marian and so... there you have it."
I looked at Mags to see if she was having a laugh, but no.
"James there is the black sheep of the choir," she said, getting back on the track of introductions.
"How's that?"
"Because he hangs out with the band."
I looked to see if this time she really was making a joke or something, but everyone seemed to be nodding their ascent. "That big of a rivalry?"
"Pretty much," Brad added ungracefully around a mouthful of brownie. "You have Mr. Sherman for English?"
I nodded around my tea, trying to enjoy it before it gets cold. Still plenty hot at the moment.
"Don't worry about him, he's an idiot. He doesn't know a particle from a predicate."
"A simple cobbler from Connecticut?" I added before I could stop myself.
When he and Brian quit laughing, the only two in on the joke, he said, "Yeah. He thinks there is a mysterious formula to understanding literature that no student is capable of understanding."
Brian added, "Mostly because he doesn't."
"So, my brother Cody is always making faces at him behind his back."
"What does this have to do with the band/choir feud?" I wondered.
"Well, he sits behind you. He said that Mr. Sherman ripped on you unkind, right? So he made a face at him, and Angela thought he was making it at her. He said her expression was priceless."
"It was something else, that's for sure," I added, hoping there was more, but waited for Brad to finish chewing another bite of brownie. The thing was huge. Brad had short blond curls poking out from under his tuque. Brian had long, brown Kenny G type hair that would make most girls green with envy. I was wondering where in the world that expression could have come from when I thought about Fox's short, spiky, messy hair. That was some I could envy.
"Yeah, so anyway, she is in choir, and he is in band," he concluded.
"But why the rivalry?"
"Who cares?" Brian added and everyone dismissed the issue.
I looked at James who was focused on his schoolwork, but shook his head with a grin. I looked back at Mags who seemed almost to have been hoping for more of a story from Brad. She was cute, under the hat, in lots of little ways. It was hard to guess how thin or not she was under her sweater and jacket, but she seemed to have some favourable curves. I didn't think that I needed any magical gadgets to tell me that she was straight. Not that I could know for sure, but playing by odds alone, it was the safe bet. It was going to take years for me to trust anyone, including myself, well enough to start fishing. There was no way I would find someone could like like that on my first day, but cute is good.
And with evident self-betrayal by way of timing, my mind went back to Fox, the irritation giving way to the ever-growing intrigue.
"Sam's in German Club," Mags went on as if the introductions had not been interrupted.
I must have cringed unconsciously.
"Not a fan?"
"German is not going so well for me."
Sam, at last, spoke again, "Who do you have?"
"Frau Ohtomo," I answered and his confusion made me worry I was missing something.
"Who? Oh, you must have zero hour."
"Yep. Guilty. But what's up with that?" I wondered.
He looked down at the ground, or his feet, or something. "That is the only class she gives, then she is here for her office hour, then goes to the university."
I have no idea why I was shocked. "She teaches college German?"
"Yeah," he confirmed with reservation and maybe awe. "But it must have been something for her to have let you into her class. She only takes the best German students for her AP class."
"Wait, you mean that this class she gives here is college level?"
"Well, yeah. She teaches Japanese at the university, of course. How long have you taken German?"
I looked at Sam with utter disbelief. "Fifty five minutes!"
Sam looked really confused now. Mags tugged at my coat sleeve. "Come on. It's a little early, but I am the band quartermaster. Lets get your instrument and uniform."
[You have been reading the fourth installment of the Fox Tale Series by Lady Quindecim.]
[If you received this text from a source other that DeviantArt, please let the author know via e-mail to lady.quindecim@gmail.com]
[I hope you have enjoyed this installment]
