>: query
| SUBJECT OF QUERY?
>: pellicius high school
| ACCESSING O’BROKTA RECORDS
| . . .
| . . .
| INFORMATION RETRIEVAL SUCCESSFUL
>: display general
| Pellicius High School
| 4200 Hanso Lane, Saturn, XA
| Faculty: 173
| Student Body: 1534
| Administrator: Roger D. Cox
| Class D School
>: display demograhpics
| INVALID COMMAND
>: display demographics
| Student Body:
| 73% canine; 9% feline; 5% avian; 5% reptilian; 4% amphibian; 4% other
| Faculty:
| 82% canine; 10% reptilian; 5% amphibian; 3% other
| DISPLAY FURTHER DEMOGRAPHIC BREAKDOWN?
>: n
>: display number of entrances
| BUILDING HAS 32 ENTRANCE/EXITS
>: end session
| SESSION ENDED
>: erase history
| HISTORY ERASED
>:
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DAY 1: MONDAY, 17 AUGUST 2015
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“. . . your own kind of music! Sing your own special song! Make your own kind of music! Even if nobody else sings along!”
Mark rolled over in bed, distantly recognizing his phone going off, the upbeat song blaring from it puncturing the humid fog of his previous sleep in a manner that was supremely confusing.
Don’t get him wrong, it’s not as if he disliked Mama Cass. The song arrived to him like a familiar friend – welcome, something he enjoyed hearing, something that made him smile. Still, he was too damn tired for this right now.
Rolling out of his bed, he crossed over to the phone, plugged in and lying on the floor. Ah yes, his special awake alarm – math problems. Mark was, well, irresponsible. Irresponsible with sleep, that is. He only ever got enough on nights when there was no obligation the next day to give him reason to get up early, leaving him to sleep in until noon or later. Despite this, he often stayed up well into the hours of the early morning regardless of what day it was – and regardless of what he had scheduled the next day. And last night had been no exception.
For these reasons, Mark lived in a regretful state of perpetual sleepiness. It didn’t dominate his life . . . but it was certainly something big for him. Long story short, because of his usual lack of sleep, alarms very often failed to wake him unless they required him to do math problems. Or, rather, he would turn regular alarms off in his sleep if all they required was him swiping his finger on the screen.
The second of two math problems finally completed, Mark stretched and yawned before pulling off his clothes, shirt, pajama pants, underwear, and socks, all going into his hamper. Crossing quickly from his room to his bathroom, he turned on his shower, climbing in.
Today ought to be . . . interesting, to say the least. He and his family had only moved here to the other side of the country a month ago, and adjustment had been harder than he’d care to admit. Such hot weather! At least they’d gotten a house with a pool.
As with most neighborhoods, the folks living in the other houses generally kept to themselves, and his family had done the same. So he’d not really had the opportunity to meet new creatures, despite being generally curious about the area and a good deal lonely. Skype chats with old friends thousands of miles away were only so interactive.
Yet wishes do come true. The first day of Junior year at a new school awaited him, and he was certain that he’d be introduced to all the creatures his little otter heart could handle. He wasn’t all that nervous, per say, but still a little. One tends to be when they’re afraid the façade they live under is a bit too flimsy . . .
Running his hands down his furred body to rid it of the last of the soapy wash, he reluctantly turned off the water before stepping out. Drying off, combing fur, getting dressed, brushing teeth, putting on deodorant, styling hair, grabbing an inadequate breakfast, all passed quickly. He said goodbye to his Dad, already awake and working from the couch, before he grabbed his car keys off the peg next to the door, backpack – containing only his computer, a book, and assorted pens and pencils – slung over his shoulder, and left the door.
* * *
Pellicius High School, 4200 Hanso Lane. Arriving at the place, a basic brick construction, Mark stepped out of the car. Shit, he was starting to get a little more nervous. Calming himself as he stepped away from the car and locked the door, Mark attempted not to look any bit nervous and instead walked – fairly normally, he might add, if he were to compliment himself – towards the school, tail swinging slightly behind him.
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Yet again a typical first day of school.
But today was only somewhat that – typical. Ave shut down his parked car, the brick box of Pellicius High School surrounded by other students flocking into it visible through the windshield. Beside him, Cryst, his younger brother, held his backpack as he tried not to look wide-eyed at the structure before him.
He was failing.
Cryst was, although Ave would never say this, his favorite brother. Their pack was very large, something that made Ave proud to no end. It also meant, though, that he had enough siblings, both from his litter and the others, to make the choosing of favorites a natural thing. Interaction with so many different brother and sister pups created a little community that their family lived in, and the siblings banded together, if only in minor ways.
Cryst was Ave’s favorite because he was honest. There were no two ways about it. Cryst, as the expression goes, showed his teeth in the daylight. It wasn’t as if their packmates were master deceivers, or anything like that, but still, Cryst was definitely the most honest among them. The rest of them stuck to their principles of family and pack like glue – but beyond just those, Cryst was genuinely good, and lived honor in every moment of his life to both family and non-family. Ave even might say he looked up to him, in some ways.
And so, today became not a typical day. For it was Cryst’s first day of High School – honest, innocent, Cryst. Of course, the younger wolf would have gained experience with dumb kids in Middle School.
But Ave worried for him nonetheless.
“Well, are you ready, Crys?
Cryst turned to him, putting on a smile that was mostly sincere. “Yeah. I think so.”
Ave reached over and punched him in the arm. “You’re gonna do fine. Let’s go.”
Stepping out, Ave was immediately found the smells of dozens of different animals on the air. Some were familiar – even to the point of recognizing the specific individual they came from – but others were more vague. And others, still, came from clearly other non-canine species.
Ave’s ears flattened at this. He, like many in the school, hated the recent push towards species integration. Canines belonged with canines. Scalies with scales. Birds with birds. Etc. What was so difficult or wrong about that?
Eyes searching out the smells, he easily spotted several of them. A scalie of some kind held a laptop bag close to its side as it walked to the school, he thought he could see a feline thing . . . and even there, an otter Ave had never seen was walking in swinging his tail like he owned the friggin’ place.
Next to him, Cryst had apparently failed to notice the newfound “diversity”. Cryst himself was pretty soft on the whole thing, one of his only character flaws. Instead, he held his phone, setting it to vibrate.
Ave’s ears rising again, he rolled his eyes at his brother's incessant need to follow the rules before turning around to walk in. Calling at his brother over his shoulder, Ave began to prepare himself for the day that was yet to come and tried not to breathe in otter stench.
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The dull roar of the school lobby approached Samantha Dancyon’s perked ears in a manner most unpleasant. For the dull roar was hardly dull at all, but rather quite loud - whoops and barks and guffaws floated on the air as the students, largely unchecked, greeted each other after the short summer.
Feeling the eyes of multiple students on her body – likely on multiple places on her body – Samantha strode quickly through, dressed in a conservative suit, briefcase at her side. If she were to be frank, she hated this job. It was easy to remember a time when she was a young, short-clawed college student, unable to see the world past her own snout, so blinded by idealism was she. Back then, teaching was a job that meant everything from enlightening the youngest of pups to expanding the minds of those adults about to enter the real world. She imagined herself, entering work each day with a meticulously prepared lesson for each and every class. The students were constantly inquisitive, the faculty kind and inclusive, the job rewarding despite its admittedly low salary.
To be fair, she hadn’t been quite that foolish. She’d remembered High School, what it was like and how the students truly were – filled with unnecessary drama and angst. Still, she’d hoped that she could lead classes that would inspire students like her old teachers couldn’t. Now, she knew the full truth, though. More students at this school valued her for her body than for her mind as their eyes snaked their way all over her curves – or at least what little showed through in the suits she wore. She struggled daily to hold their attention off herself and on the lesson plan, or even hold their attention to the present at all.
The student and faculty body, composed vastly of canines (including herself) was split harshly along different cliques, the fights amongst these different groups even pettier than their existence in the first place. Popularity contests, irrelevant disputes, hatred towards those with intelligence and others existed alongside such larger offenses as sexism, religious prejudice, transphobia, and homophobia. Not to mention the speciesism – and good God, was it rampant. Living on the opposite side of the country, she’d known before moving here to teach that it existed, but she’d never imagined the magnitude towards which canines could expel any and all regard for other species of animal or otherwise. They daily assaulted – not just verbally, but even physically! – those whom could not count themselves as a canine of some sort. And it was even worse for the mixed-bree- . . . Er, excuse her. That wasn’t the proper term, she had to remind herself. It was even worse for the hybrids. They treated them like absolute dirt.
Finally stepping into her classroom, where several students already waited for the short 15 minutes of “homeroom”, she tiredly set down her briefcase, greeting several of them when they said hello to her – “Yes, I’m fine, how are you?” and “My summer was fine, thank you for asking”. Yet again feeling eyes on her as she sat down behind her desk, Samantha turned around to see Ave, a young purple wolf in his Junior year, sitting there, an absolutely disgustingly rabid grin on his face as he, without any attempt of subtlety or regret, checked her out. Finding her looking at him, he winked.
She wanted to kill him. She wanted to rip him apart and tear that smile and his face off so that they would no longer sit upon his disgustingly twisted brain – for all the injustices committed at this school, he was simultaneously one of the worst, and one of the smartest offenders.
However, she took no immediate action. The Principal only gave a damn about animals like Ave and their prejudice when the state required it, and even then, Ave’s smarts meant that he got away with everything. Still, she didn’t know how much longer she could put up with him before she, at least, decked him in the face.
. . .
What had she become? She felt hatred towards a student of hers. Hatred. College hadn’t prepared her for this, for being in this situation. And the worst part of it all – there was nothing she could actually do about it – about him, about his clique, about their wretched prejudices. Living in a town that was indifferent, working under a Principal that shared in the prejudice, operating amongst students who were despicable animals – all of it left her no option for change. She was powerless to affect the situations in which she stood, for if she tried, she’d surely only find herself hurt, fired, or worse.
Yes, the small changes, those that were minute and went unnoticed, she reminded herself, those were the important ones.
Turning back to her filing cabinet to pull out the attendance sheet for this semester’s homeroom, she ran a paw between her ears as she sighed slightly. If getting through it all was her only true option, then get through it all she would.