7

Mycah drug me forward in Time to the next morning, and back to the school. If he had not, I would have probably glared at Jek Mank all night trying to make nightmares out of his dreams.

“You are so pretty. I swear, you must be the prettiest girl in the world.” I heard a young, feminine voice say. My heart wished, for a second, that the compliment was intended for me, but deep down I knew it was not. That realization was like a bubble popping in my brain, and I wondered how many more doses of reality I would have to swallow before this trip was through. I looked around and saw that the intended target was a blonde, female Fennec Fox around the same age as the kids I had followed yesterday. She was stunning, with golden fur that seemed to glow with a light all its own. Her eyes were bold and big, and though her ears were far too large for her head, their size only helped to accentuate the cuteness of her overall appearance. I felt foolish, after seeing her, for momentarily thinking I was the one being complimented. Her beauty cast a shadow over me that far exceeded her diminutive stature.

Her name was Yanna Alix, and she blushed a little at the kind words from one of her fellow students. She was accustomed to people complimenting her wherever she went and had developed certain habits in her responses. She smiled her best smile, but “Thank you” was all she said as she continued her walk down the hall of the education center. She did not turn back or look to see if any eyes followed her. She assumed – based on past experiences – that there were always eyes on her.

I can't deny that I am pretty. That would be a lie. She thought, and Yanna Alix didn't lie. She could clearly see just how pretty she was. It's because of the sunlight inside of me. She told her mirror as part of her morning routine. And each morning she rededicated herself to spreading as much of that sunlight as she could to the rest of the world.

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. That was the motto that she lived by. Just let your light shine. Yanna could have easily been the most popular girl in the class, were it not for the fact that most creats can't stand bright, shiny, bubbly little cheer-a-holics. As I walked beside her through the halls, I could hear the true thoughts of her classmates. Most outwardly claimed to love Yanna. In a popularity contest they would declare her the winner. They wanted to be near her. To drink in her radiance. But they hated themselves for their wanting. Inside their own hearts they were jealous, or covetous, or downright hateful of her and the fact that they could not be her. They made her popular because they, frankly, had no idea what else to do with her. Their behavior was molded by societal, as well as their own, expectations. Yanna Alix was too pretty not to be popular.

Yanna didn't lie, that was true. But she had developed ways to say nice things without having to tell people the ugly truth. She Simply chose to omit the unsavory comments that occasionally crossed through her sunny mind and substitute them with helpful suggestions.

“I love your dress, Yanna!” Another feminine voice said. Yanna’s blonde head turned to see who had paid her the compliment.

“Oh, thank you, Keeli!” She said. Acknowledging the arrival of – arguably – the second prettiest girl in the class. Their different takes on what constituted pure beauty made them instant rivals. Yanna was the supermodel. Keeli, the classic girl next door. Still, neither saw a need for un-pleasantries.

 Sid’s second-best friend was determined to find something to like about her blonde classmate, though the two had little in common. Keeli had zeroed in on the dress, because she knew that Yanna was a fashionista. Yanna, too, wanted to be everyone’s friend. There was an awkward silence as she tried to find a suitable compliment to return to her complimenter. 

“You know Keeli, if you want to talk fashion some time, let me know.” It wasn't a compliment, but it was all she could think of. What she chose not to say was How could someone as pretty as you have absolutely no fashion sense? I mean, boots, Keeli? And not fashionable, female boots! No, you're wearing muddy, male boots!

Keeli had decided to wear her clodhoppers again today, just in case Jireh wanted to play army after school – though it was unlikely with Wolo injured. A trail of clods traced her steps back down the hall, out the door, and down the cement walkway she followed to school every morning. Yesterday’s adventure had been shaken off on the cold, harshly lit tile floor. Keeli, for all her motherly instincts, gave no thought to the fact that someone else would have to clean up the mess she left behind her.

Maybe I should say something nice about her horns? Yanna thought, but she didn't like horns either. Nice sweatshirt? But it really wasn’t. It was old and worn – having once depicted some rock band whose image was now so faded as to be almost imperceptible. There was a discolored patch on the sleeve that may have been caused by contact with bleach, and dirt stains on the cuffs and around the neck. Keeli wasn't giving her a lot to work with. She was just such a shabby dresser.

You dress like a male! Was what Yanna truly wanted to say, but Yanna Alix wasn’t a “tough love” kind of person. If anything, she was a stickler for the rules, and her rules said things like that were better left unsaid. So, she had replaced them, instead, with an invitation for assistance.

The least I can do is try to help a sister out! She told herself.

Keeli, being no dimwit, had caught on to what Yanna didn't say. Mostly the movement of Yanna's eyes up and down her wardrobe had done the talking.

“Yeah, sure. I'd love that!” She said, in response to the invitation. Though she was sure she wouldn't enjoy one more moment with Yanna Alix than she had to spend.

“Great!” Yanna grinned, then spun on her heels and continued her trek to their shared classroom. 

Have you ever had any mud on you that wasn't for your complexion? Keeli seethed at the retreating blond mop. Yanna wasn't the only one who knew how to keep unsavory thoughts to herself. 

“Oh no!, Wolo!” The sight of her friend limping along on his crutches chased Yanna right out of Keeli's head. 

“Did he blame that on us?” Jireh asked, coming up behind Keeli and pointing to Wolo’s cast. It was their fault, somewhat, and Jireh was usually no shirker when it came to responsibility. It was just the thought of being judged by Wolo’s father that had him riled.

“Leave him alone, Jireh!” Keeli ordered. She kept her back to him as she tried to tend to her “Little Buddy.”

Wolo winced when her hand touched his back, and both of his friends knew why. It was not their first encounter with the aftermath of Jek’s parental guidance. Jireh had expected it, and that expectation had increased his anxiety, and his feeling of guilt this morning.

“Who would do something like that to their kid?” He asked, pacing angrily.

Keeli was careful to keep her own body between the two males - not that Jireh was any threat to Wolo - It was just that, “He's sensitive, Jireh, and you're scaring him!” She told the larger boy.

This was the only thing that had ever been known to get Jireh’s goat, and his agitation was having a definite effect on the little lamb. 

“How bad is it?” Jireh asked. Keeli started to answer, then realized that Jireh's question wasn't targeted at her. She hadn't noticed Sid's arrival, even though he had come up behind Wolo, in her direct line of sight.

Great! She thought. I’m outnumbered!

Sid lifted the back of Wolo's shirt a few inches before she could decide who to try and block, him or Jireh. It wouldn't matter. There were two of them, and only one of her. They were bound to find out. She touched Wolo's cheek reassuringly. “It's OK, buddy.”

Sid's expression was cold. A slight shake of his head told Jireh all he needed to know. He didn't have to see the strips of fleece-less skin on Wolo's back, or the red and purple streaks there. Jireh turned and walked away, punching a locker as he went. 

Keeli was the nursemaid of the group. Wolo was in good hands, he knew that. Sid would help. Anyway, none of the things Jireh wanted to do involved the youngest member of the Mank family, and he knew there wasn't really anything he could do to the elder Mank, either. As strong as he was, he was still just a kid. Jek L. Mank was a full-grown male - not to mention an upstanding member of the community. And Wolo, also, was just a kid - Jek's kid. No one would care. Jireh had considered telling someone, but one thing creats weren't very good at yet was telling other creats how to discipline their kids. So, there wasn't anything he could do.

Not yet. But someday. He told himself.

Meanwhile, Yanna had stopped to take compliments on her outfit from a gaggle of girls that were clogging up the exit Jireh was aiming for.

“Excuse me!” She said, as a gruffle of orange hair and muscles pushed past her. It was probably the nastiest thing to come out of Yanna's mouth in a long time - the tone, that is, not the words themselves. Jireh had been so busy contemplating the downfall of the Reverent Dr. Jek L. Mank, that he hadn't noticed the sunny blonde obstacle obstructing his path.

“You object to hunting, but you don't seem to have a problem obliterating a herd of lettuce!” He yelled at Yanna, finding a direction for his pent-up rage. He was nearly as shocked at what was coming out of his mouth as she was but made no effort to stop the flow. Everyone knew she was a vegetarian. She made no secret of it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. His anger had chosen her in the heat of the moment and targeted the only abnormal thing about her – her diet.

“Plants aren't alive!” She responded, snidely. The surprise assault had knocked her rules right out of her sight. She wasn't sure why they were having this conversation, at this very moment, so she just repeated an argument she had used before – only louder.

Who yanked your chain, you big, dumb ape? She wanted to ask, but held it in. No, Yanna, that's not nice, she reminded herself, returning to the safety of her rules.

“Really? Really Yanna? Plants inhale and exhale! They move toward light! They react to sound!”

“They stretch out in their search for nutrients!” Sid added, coming up behind Jireh and blocking any chance Yanna might have for escape.

All of his concerns from the previous evening had been forgotten when he saw the whelps on Wolo's back. Jireh was his friend. Yanna was not. He knew whose side he was on.

Her eyes darted between the two males. She still didn't know what to think of this sudden attack.

“They don't stare at you with big, brown eyes, do they Yanna? That's the real difference!” Jireh mocked.

“At least animals can run!” Sid chimed in.

“You're not gonna live any longer eating rabbit food!” Jireh said, matter of fact.

“You're just afraid to get your hands dirty!” Keeli said, launching her own shot from down the hall, where she was still tending to Wolo.

Sid had always thought that Yanna was the prettiest female he had ever seen, at least among the ones in his age group. But once Jireh had started his objection to her diet, she didn't seem so perfect anymore.

Why did it take Jireh's eye to see the flaw, and Jireh's finger to point it out? Why couldn't I have seen it for myself? Sid rarely saw the flaws in females, and he was just awakening to that flaw in himself.

“You leave Yanna alone, bully!” Ismelda, the pint-sized piglet of their class exclaimed, throwing her weight behind Yanna. She had heard the commotion from the other end of the hall and had dropped everything – literally – to come to Yanna’s defense. Other children were policing up the papers, notebooks, and folders she had let fall in her haste.

Except Ismelda, Sid corrected himself, as the new arrival pushed her way between them. We all see the flaws in Ismelda.

“Mind yours, smell duh!” Jireh was not one for name calling. But Ismelda had landed a kick to his groin earlier in the year that had made her his arch enemy for life and prompted him to brand her with the new moniker.

“A thousand years ago they would have put her to death, for that!” Wolo had noted at the time, trying to console his wounded friend. “It’s in the Scrips!” He assured them. Sid had double checked, and discovered he was correct. The scriptural punishment for kicking a male in the genitals was death by stoning. It hadn't made Jireh feel any better.

“I'll kick you, again!” She squealed, rearing back a foot. Jireh was immediately on guard.

“ISMELDA!” Miss Beagle's warning sent the tiny, pink head spinning.

“Mrs. Beagle, he's picking on Yanna!” The piglet whined, trying to deflect the trouble she sensed was coming - she was already perpetually on their teacher’s bad side.

“He's arguing with Yanna!” The elder female explained. “You, lil Jenny, are threatening violence, and I WILL NOT STAND FOR THAT!” She barked, the pitch of her voice rising with the growing fury inside her. Jireh, alone, could not claim Ismelda as nemesis. She had done her best to push every last button their teacher had, as well.

Now, Beatrice's use of the term “Jenny” stemmed from a long tradition on Creat of referring to males and females using their ancestral terms. Miss Beagle, for instance, was ninety percent canine. So, the proper ancestral term for her would be the Bitch, Beatrice Beagle. And that's what was on all her business cards. David and Davina King – whom you have not yet met -  were often introduced at upscale parties as The Lioness, and Lion, David King - the female always being referenced first in polite company. Sid’s parents, though they were canines like Beatrice, were known as the Dam and Sire Joshua Kennu. The difference being that they had a child, while Beatrice did not. Roana, who was an equus, would go by the title Stud because he had no children, either, but was married and still capable of rearing some. Had his wife been an equus, too, she would have had the title of Mare, or Dam if she had children. She was not and did not. She was an avian and so had the title of Hen. Roana, she argued, still thought of himself as a Stallion – an unmarried male equus. He, at parties, introduced himself as the Gelding Roana Ignah – implying that his marriage to her had castrated him.