Sta.sh
Fox 008: Fox... in Socks
by ~LadyQuindecim[AN: This is the eighth in the Fox Tale series. Please read them in order.]
[Creative property of Lady Quindecim]
Part Eight: Fox... in Socks
There I was, sitting in German, vacant seat in front of me, listening to everyone else talking. Asking and answering questions, holding conversations all in a very orderly and organised fashion, and completely in German. From time to time, Frau Ohtomo would say something and the entire class would answer in unison. About the third time of this, I kind of sounded it out with them without thinking about it. Then everyone got out their workbooks. It had taken me until the wee hours of the morning, but I had completed the assignment. It was like a conversation with the book where there would be things it said, then you had to write the response. We, as a class seemed to be going down the column of desks, one by one reading what was in the book, then the response. When the person before me was done, I looked up at Frau Ohtomo and she nodded and said something that sounded like "Gretel" and I looked down at my dress, then read from the workbook.
"Nein, ich konnte kein Wort verstehen. Versuchen Sie es erneut."
I looked at her blankly for a moment, then she barked, "Auch hier bitte."
I tried to read from the page again, and again with little barks from Frau Ohtomo until finaly, she smiled and moved on. It was weird.
I had started to think that I had made a bad wardrobe decision. I liked my dress; black boots, grey charcoal leggings, about an inch of black petticoat poking out under a knee length burgundy halter dress over a charcoal turtleneck. I was getting a lot of looks and it was making me less than comfortable.
Mr. Sherman did not help matters in the least by deciding out of the blue that we were going to discus Victorian era writing and looking at me weird. Then he gave this flash-fiction assignment where we were supposed to just write something on the spot, first draft only, but he wanted about two thousand words. I was not happy about this because I like to type everything on a word processor, not write all that by hand. Then, near the end of class we were asked to hand them back, however far we had gotten, to the person behind us (last person took theirs to the front) and review them. Being a hand-written first draft, we were not to check for spelling and grammar mistakes as much as critique organization of thought, understanding mission, blah, blah, blah. This assignment, it turned out not to be so much about writing the fiction, but analysis and proofing.
The guy in front of me, Daniel, wrote a sort of wandering narrative about a soccer game, that he won. I honestly could not tell if it was a real game and he embellished his part, or if it was complete fantasy. I marked it up, then handed it in when I was done, smiling sheepishly at Daniel who looked sheepishly back for such a strong and sturdy looking guy.
"Good game, eh?" I said if for nothing other than to break the awkward.
"I am never good with first drafts," he said in apology.
I was really happy when the bell rang even though Cody called to me from behind before I could get my stuff and get out of there.
"Hey, Chole," I heard and turned to look at him. He was sweet looking, pale complexion, pale eyes and light sandy hair that was that perfect, hard to achieve, messy look. He was kind of pretty, in a way, but I was not going to tell him that and hurt his feelings.
"Yeah, Cody, right?" I as I could have been mistaken about it.
"Yeah. I know this sounds really forward and all, but like, for band, when it comes to homecoming, we are all supposed to have 'dates' even though it is not like a real date or anything."
"Okay..." I thought I knew where this was going, but I wanted to hear him out.
"Well, it is just the thing and you don't have to like me or anything, but just... would you be my pretend date? … For band."
"Yeah, whatever."
"You can ask. I am not just making that up."
"'Sfine, Cody. I heard someone talking about it, but didn't figure anyone would ask me."
"Okay. Cool. We don't have to like, hang out or anything, it is just..."
I really wanted the kid to relax, and I wanted to get on to Chemistry. "No, no, I get it. You have your own friends and what not. Just for bandcomeing. I mean, band for homecoming." His nervousness was beginning to wear on me. "See you in band. Gotta go."
Cody, Mr. Sherman and I were the only ones left in the room by then and the door had just shut from the last student who left. I took slow and easy breaths to try and keep calm. It was not all that bad, after all, in the nice, big classroom and there was, after all, more than one other person. I grabbed the knob, turned it, feeling the bolt slide, and pushed. It did not budge. I pushed again, harder this time, but it still did not move. The panic took me without warning. "No! No! No!" and I was beating on the door, throwing my weight into it, blind from fear and tears, "Open! No! Please, OPEN!"
A deep voice from behind me, "I've got you, girl. Calm down."
And I felt hands grab my arms and pull me back, away from escape and from freedom.
"NO!!" I spun inside the grip on me and swung a right cross catching my captor somewhere in the face and I was immediately free from his grasp. I turned to the door putting all my weight into it, slamming myself against the wood.
And then another voice, light and friendly, but it shared my panic, "Pull."
I listened and obeyed and with all my strength I yanked on the knob, pulling the door with great force into my head and knocking me back and onto the floor. I scooted back against the wall and drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs tightly. No one was going to get me - I wasn't going to let them. More people were coming around me, more voices, more and more in the room to see what I had done, to blame me, to shame me.
"Miss... Miss..." pleaded a woman's voice while something was being pushed against my forehead.
I was still screaming, "No! No! No!"
"Chole." stated someone else, male.
The woman's voice again, "Chole, can you hear me?"
Someone else, "She has anxiety medication in the office."
"Let's try to get her up."
Someone was pulling at my arms, lifting, trying to take me, open me up, get to me. I pulled in tighter.
"Back away, Miss Gradecko."
"She needs-"
"She needs space." The hands were off me. The thing against my head was gone and something wet ran onto my arms. "Chole, listen to me. Listen to my voice. The door is open. You can walk though it. You are free. The door is open."
I lifted my head tentatively, vision swirling with tears and stars and something red. Mags was in front of me, down at my eye level, looking at me.
"You want out of the room?" Mags asked.
I nodded.
"You want to walk on your own?"
I nodded.
"Okay, but here's the deal. We are going to go to the nurse, okay? You can walk there on your own. No closed doors, okay?"
I nodded.
"Good. Lets go then."
I stood and the world started to tumble. There was a hand at my elbow and I threw up into a trashcan someone was holding in front of me. I was sitting again and Mags was holding my hair and Miss Gradecko was wiping my face.
"Let me know when you are ready to try again."
Then that deep voice again, "Here, let me help."
"Stay back, please, Mr. Sherman." Miss Gradecko asked, no, demanded. It was weird, her voice. It sounded comforting to me, but seemed to be angry at the man.
I stood again, slowly, and someone asked if I was okay that far. I nodded, and then the teacher and my friend were leading me out of the room.
"I am Miss Gradecko. I teach junior English and my classroom is across the hall. Do you know where you are?"
"School."
"Okay. You hit your head and Cody came to my class. His brother, Brad, and Mags came, but just Mags and I are walking you to the nurse. Do you understand what is happening?"
I stopped our progress down the hall and looked around. "Hi Mags," and we kept walking.
We got to the office, Miss Gradecko on my left and Mags on my right, and someone said something behind some counter and someone else said to just go in. We got to another door, a closed door, and I stepped back.
"It's okay, Chole," Mags assured, "This was the deal, remember? This is the nurse's office," and Miss Gradecko opened the door.
Fox was standing there, back to me, in just her socks and underwear, pulling a tank-top down over her far too skinny back. Her head turned quickly and I saw tears in her eyes.
"Don't cry, little fox."
[You have been reading the eighth 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]
--
Everything you think is real / so only think of things you should.
Everyone I hate's OK / Everything is bad and good.
(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
Thank you for your comments and compliments! There are a lot more characters to be met in the scenes to come - some again with the odd names - and there will be some more discussion about Chole's past. She needs help, even if she does not want it.