Wife of the Consul

[Yvette]

The Wife of the Consul
Book I: For Me
Chapter One
The alarm-clock began the day with a screech. As soon as it gave the unwanted toll Adelaide knew that it was 6:45 A.M, on a Monday, during the blackest, coldest part of winter. She knew this even though she was still too half-asleep to remember her own name, to realize why Monday was so terrible, or even to raise a paw to shut up the obnoxious alarm. Perhaps her almost instinctual dread had to do with the hungry pit in her stomach, or the breeze that blew in through the open window. Whatever its cause, it was a cruel reminder that life is hard, long, and filled with cold Monday mornings.

After several minutes of pretending to be asleep, Adelaide groaned, arched her back, and forced her crusty eyes open. The sun was shining opaquely through the morning mist, and the warm smell of coffee had already filled the house. It was time to get up.

“Adelaide,” a servant called from below, “Adelaide… You must come down immediately! With all due respect, you’ll certainly be late if you dawdle any longer.”

“Yeah, I know Hugo,” the wolf snapped, perhaps more irritably than she meant. “Gimme a minute, alright? I gotta shower…” Few, had they seen her, would have disputed that; her silver fur was a hopeless ganglius of greasy wire, and the girl fairly reeked of her own juices; but, grooming herself back to her normal, cleanly state (which the more blunt would be tempted to call perfectionism, or perhaps even schizophrenia) would take hours.

“Ma’am, I don’t wish to contradict you, but we will depart in forty-five minutes, or arrive tardy! Do hurry…”

Addy fought down a scathing retort; she knew, on some level, that she was fortunate to have someone like Hugo, spurring her along. It had to be someone, and her parents certainly didn’t care if she got to school on time.

Adelaide opened the first drawer on her dresser. From it, she drew out and stuffed herself into an outfit she had arranged the night before. It consisted of: a pair of blue-jeans, a hot-pink Heather Ringer T-shirt, and a pair of Clorox-white Tennis shoes, all (shoes excepted) at least one size too small for her. This was her winter apparel. Yes, she would freeze in her under-heated school, (“The nerds” had nicknamed their “sub-arctic abode,” Stalingrad), but, as she never tired of telling herself, “beauty is painful.”

Adelaide must not have been hurting enough that morning. No matter how attractive her clothing might have been, she simply hadn't washed up. Her fur was unkempt and lack-luster, her eyes red and puffy, and the evidence of a head-cold still clung around her nose. She pulled a comb from the jeans’ back-pocket (she kept a comb in every pocketed article of clothing she owned), and tried to fix what she could. It was a vain effort. She needed to wash, shampoo, condition, dry, and curl her pelage, and there was no way around it. She had been doomed since she had decided to go to bed without the curlers in.

“Mistress.. please!” Hugo sighed, now outside her door, “If you’re late, you know how dreadfully irritated your parents will be with us! Do hurry…”

Adelaide gave an exasperated groan, stood before a mirror on her door, and gave herself a last once-over. She did her best not to cringe. It was going to be a long day..

“You’re a beautiful, sexy vixen.” She told herself with a forced grin, as she twirled her tail. It was, in her opinion, the most attractive part of her body, and she was very proud of it. Even on her worst days, she took pleasure in her full, long, glossy posterior, “And no matter how much dirt your fur happens to be carrying, that's always going be true, and nothing and no one's going take it from you.”

Hugo, who was by now on the other side of the door, did his best to ignore this “self-esteem builder” the family psychologist had reccomended.

“Are you prepared to depart, dear?” the man sighed. He had by now, of course, given up all hope on getting her to school on time.

“Not even close,” she replied decisively, “I don’t care what you say. I’m not going to school smelling like Aunt Delilah, and don’t argue, because I’m sure Mother and Father would agree with me. I’m gonna take a five-minute shower, and when I come out, I expect you to be ready.”

Hugo shook his head, sighed, and chuckled, quietly. “Of course…” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to slow you down, now would I?”

Hugo was a very stout, middle-aged human man; his “penguin-suit,” as Adelaide had called it when she was young, bulged to at least five feet in diameter at his stomach, and trembled like a lake under a gale when he laughed, or made any sudden movements. His beard, which looked like something from the 1800’s, was very long, curly, and grey. He fancied, with humble accuracy, that he looked like President Taft, with General Grant’s beard.

“Well, I’ve done my best,” he sighed, as he slowly lowered his orbile body into a nearby chair. He had a tendency to talk to himself, “No one can claim I don’t try. I should really take a harder line with her, but… oh,” he chuckled, “I suppose there’s no real excuse. I’m simply too fat and lazy, and a sucker for a pretty face. ”

Hugo was not being entirely fair to himself. By the time Mr. and Mrs. Leblanc had hired him, Adelaide was already six years old, and spoiled out of her mind. At first, it had been all he was capable of to make her bathe without sending her into hysterics, and it was a miracle the girl didn’t get him fired. But, at the time, Mother and Father were too preoccupied with pressing business (The family company had been flirting bankruptcy) to notice that Addy didn’t like the strange new man. Slowly, the little mistress got used to the idea of a servant at her disposal, and Hugo learned not to fight her too hard. Hugo could not, as he put it, “take a harder line,” without risking a rupture in their delicate relationship, which would undoubtedly lead to his dismissal.

Finally, after thirty minutes, the shower shut off, and five minutes after that, Adelaide came yawning and stretching out of her room. She was still not half as well-groomed as she would have liked, but she was presentable.

“I made you an omelet, as you requested last night…” Hugo sighed, as he struggled to his feet.

“Yeah, I know,” Adelaide interrupted, “I can smell too you know; but like you said, I don’t have time. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “I prefer my figure to yours. Feed it to the dog; I’ll have a power bar.”

“The… poodle, ma’am? Heavens! The omelet’s bigger than she is, and besides...”

“Then you eat it! Just get me to school on time. How long do we have, anyway?”

“Five minutes, ma’am,” said Hugo

Adelaide rolled her eyes, gave an exasperated sigh, and shoved the servant out of her way. She flew down the spiral staircase, and shot out the mansion's front door into the waiting limousine. Hugo smiled, despite the knowledge that Adelaide would scold him the entire ten minute drive to school, and waddled after her. She was the center of his job, his life. Whatever she was, however she acted, he couldn’t help but love her. On some level, though Adelaide would never have admitted it, she felt the same way about him.

[Yvette]

The Wife of the Consul
Book I: For Me
Chapter two
“Tch, tch, tch, Addy. Late to homeroom on the first day of the week? Hah, I pity you. So… What happened, anyway? Did the pet hamster get out, and mistake your fur for its nest?”

Adelaide had to bite her tongue to hold back a rather unwise retort. She glared down through slits at the speaker, a silver vixen around 16. She was dressed almost exactly like Adelaide, except that her T-shirt was lime-green, and had a different caption; Adelaide’s boasted “I’m hot, but don’t blame me for global warming,” whereas the vixen was of the “I’m just like you only better” variety. The line seemed to suit the fox: She was one of those people, that through a combination of personality and talent, seemed to tower over the rest.

“Oh no, Renee.” Adelaide said as she slammed her locker shut, “Things like that may happen all the time at your house, but everywhere else, it’s kinda rare..”

Renee laughed, as the two walked down the hall, and back, their crowd of friends in-tail, as was their daily practice.

“Good one! Still, the facts do seem to suggest otherwise, eh? I mean, how would you describe your fur? It’s hideous! I mean, Addy, I realize that a lot of it has to do with what you were born with, and I don’t blame you for that. Some of us are just more … eh, gifted, than others; but even on a normal day you look better than this!”

Adelaide gave a beleaguered “haha.,” and threw back her hair as she picked up her pace down the school’s main hall. It was no use fighting back just now, and Adelaide knew it. She looked little better than she had at seven O’clock that morning. Her long-time rival, on the other hand, could hardly have looked better. The best Adelaide could do then was claim the moral highground, and masquerade as the “victim who takes it quietly.”

Even that option, however, was botched. Had it been Renee on the floor, Adelaide would have been doing the kicking, and everyone knew it. Besides, it’s unlikely that the crowd would have cared even if she were genuinely of a moral constitution; they were of the vicious sort, that liked to scavenge off any weak or exposed ego, to rend feelings to solace their own. No amount of goodness or kindness, or any other redeeming quality could have shut off the torrent of insults that Renee had started.

Some ventured to suggest that Adelaide’s fur really had nothing to do with it, and that it was a surplus of fat, unevenly distributed, that disrupted Adelaide’s figure. Others pretended to not see a difference, and scolded the others in regards to their “unkindness to the brainless and ugly.” This, of course, accepted that they were being unkind to Adelaide, and all but the most transparent pretentions at tact were immediately dropped in favor of more direct attacks.

One or two boys screwed up enough courage to defend Adelaide, but this only made the situation worse; If Renee and Adelaide were the nobility of their society, these boys all belonged to the rank of Zitty Untouchables, or at least the Greasy Working Class. This opened up a whole new line of jokes concerning “birds of a feather,” and “doves with doves and snakes with snakes.”

It is a statistical fact that embarrassment speeds the digestive process by a power of ten. Even when this fact is taken into consideration, however, it seems unlikely that Adelaide's dry, power-bar breakfast really justified tha bathroom-break she suddenly rushed off to.

“Come on…” Addy muttered to her flushed reflection, as she struggled to curve and shine her fuzzy, poofed-up fur. “Renee’s a pretty slut, but you have brains. You got on top here, good looks or no. Renee can be dealt with if you play your cards right. Just think about all you’ve done, all that you could do to her…”

For a moment, Adelaide paused in her frantic scratching, and a flame began to glow behind her canine eyes. Then, it contorted with rage. It is fortunate that the school’s late-toll was loud and long. If it had not been, the profanities Adelaide screamed at it might have stained the ears of an adjacent preschool class.

[Infinity]

You write very well, but I get the sense you disembowled a thesaurus while writing this. Not necessarily explicitly, but the description seems to pile up to hide...nothing. It's packaged nicely, but there's no substance beneath it all.

I'm sorry if any of this sounds harsh, but any story that begins with an alarm clock, whose chapters are pitiously short and without contribution to the story, whose main characters attend highschool and expect us to feign interest, merit nothing but my deepest, most sincere disgust.

Once again, I'm sorry. You write well. I'll give you that. But for every ounce of grammar and turn-of-phrase and vocabulary you possess, you are lacking something that I personally believe to be infinitely more important.

But you do write like an angel.

[Yvette]

I understand precisely what you mean. As a fifteen year old American girl, I have almost no perspective or experience in life, and have a very poor grasp of what it means to be human. My characters, therefore, are shallow, my plot is laughable, and the overall substance, as you point out, is nil. I suspect, however, that this will amend itself as I mature, and gain a better conception of myself, other people, the world around me, and what it all means. I apologize if this was a waste of your time.

I would also like to say that while I am shallow, I am not quite as shallow as the first five chapters would suggest. I pray that you might stick with me a bit longer, and further critique me in order to assist me, if only in a small way, in growing into a more mature writer-hobbyist. The story will no doubt continue to bore you, and if you stick with me, you will only be sticking around as a benevolent critic. I do not expect you to turn around and change your opinion because of what follows. I only hope that you might make more specific insights into what my characterization and plot lack, that I might, in some way, grow not only as a writer, but as a person as well.

The Wife of the Consul
Book I: For Me
Chapter Three

Most of us, when we think about middle-school, remember something about the terrors of young romance. There is something peculiar about the age that is at once shy and desperate, lusty and pious. Everyone reacts in their own way, but they all feel the same. They are desperate for companionship, and yet completely incapable of handling it. Loneliness and the self-loathing that results are the chief tormentors of the teenage crew; and those fleeting moments of success, seemingly trivial in retrospect, are the highlights of weeks, remembered for months.

Renee was no stranger to this aphrodine delight. She was both beautiful and manipulative enough to attract and hold a boyfriend, a talented mutt named Lucas. As was befitting a girl of Renee’s status, Lucas was the crème le de crème, an intellectual, a philosopher, and an athlete. Above all, the dog was the top of whatever he chose to do, a quality which he did much to maintain. There are now many shattered egos, being nursed to health in psychiatric homes, who can trace their problems back to the mutt, and their own temerity in competing with him.

When the two had first gotten together, the school greeted the couple warmly, but whispered dubiously behind their backs. The pairing seemed far too obvious, a match made more in opportunistic minds than heaven. Such couples are found often in high-school, and have no more constancy than the social climate or hormonal season.

However, whether this idea was borne of jealousy or of stereotyping, it ultimately proved untrue. Luke and Renee had maintained very warm relations for over a year, and if anything, their romantic fervor seemed to flourish with time. Their banter grew keener, more flattering, and more overt, as they shattered every discretionary rule in the proverbial book.

This is not a love story, however, nor is it a school story, and we shall not dwell here long. All we need to know now is that, without hyperbole, Renee loved Luke more than most girls her age would have thought healthy, which, considering that she was sixteen, is saying something.

She had been changed remarkably through knowing him; she was kinder, humbler, and happier in his presence. Even her enemies, and those who opposed romance in any form, had to step back and admit that the girl had begun to mature, or at least display pretentions at such, through this romance.

* * * *

Adelaide burst from the restroom, her fur in worse shape than it had started. The hall, which had formerly been congested by a mass of students, was now empty. In the place of cacophony and clatter, rang only silence, and the sound of Adelaide’s feet pounding against the tile floor. There was to be no mistake; Adelaide was late for the second consecutive time that day.

Adelaide’s entrance to 8th grade English was, at best, clumsy. She first pulled frantically on a push door for at least a quarter of a minute, growing more and more enraged with its impotence every second, until at last she yielded, and pushed. Then she ran, or more accurately, fell into the room, ripped her over-stuffed backpack wide open, and dumped herself and every school-article in her possession onto the floor. All the while, she was shouting apologies to a frightened class, and a rather puzzled teacher. One can hardly blame the woman for her bewilderment, though. This entrance was, after all, intended for 10th grade Algebra.

“Uhm… dear, I think you have the wrong classroom.” The teacher said slowly, “Luke, Alice, why don’t you help the dear with her things…”

Adelaide looked up, her expression something between surprise and horror. She bent down, and automatically began to stuff her things into a ruined backpack. Her face never lifted from the class, as though she couldn’t register what she was seeing. Then, she shook her head, and began to swear damnably under her breath.

“Dear…” the teacher said sharply “That’s really not appropriate… Hardly the language befitting…” The class giggled profusely, cutting the teacher off, as Adelaide let loose a particularly juicy exclamation

Adelaide wasn’t listening to any of them. She had no time for teachers she had never met, who seemed more afraid of the students than they were of her. Adelaide hoisted up her pile of book and shuffled next-door to her class.

* * * *

The first thing Adelaide saw was Renee and Lucas, snogging. As if to mock Adelaide’s anxiety, the teacher was nowhere in sight. The other students stood in small clusters, talking among themselves, and generally behaving as grazing cattle. Their collective noise came together to form a roar to rival a barbarian war-cry, the unmistakable sign that no teacher is near.
Obviously, Adelaide had nothing to worry about, but if the flush in her face, and her taught
jaw meant anything, she didn’t care anymore.

It was no secret that she had fancied Luke from day one. It had even once seemed that her aspiration would be fulfilled; before Renee had come, Adelaide had served in her office, as the most respected female student of the grade. Luke was, by self-description, the best in all areas. Had the girl only been quick enough, surely thing would have been different.
Now she could only stand on the sideline and watch.

The Wife of the Consul
Book I: For Me
Chapter Four

While the class tumult went on, Renee was thoroughly enjoying herself. The ecstasy that Lucas gave her when his lips met hers was one she had known for a long time, but never grew tired of. It was more than simple pleasure, though there was plenty of that. It was a reminder that she had a place in life, that she somehow mattered. If she looked into the big scary world, and felt small and worthless, all it took was Lucas’s arm around her shoulder to put things back into the correct proportion. In Lucas’s world at least, she was at the center.

Earlier, Adelaide’s pained face had given her a feeling like this kiss. It, and the feeling of having a mob at her back filled Renee’s chest and made her laugh, quietly and under he breath on the outside, but in a wild cackle underneath. Yet, when she saw Adelaide come in the door now, she cringed. She didn’t understand why, exactly, but Renee always felt strangely prone to guilt around Lucas, and Adelaide’s presence always made her feel awkward. She was a “friend,” and a much abused “friend.” It was nothing out of the ordinary. They were expected to pay each other lip service, while plotting the other’s demise. Lucas himself did it, with his friends. And yet, the ecstasy of romance, and the pleasure of kicking Adelaide’s ego didn’t seem to mesh.

“Stop…” Renee muttered, as she pulled away from Lucas. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly, looking at some speck on her foot, “I just… I dunno. People are staring…”

Lucas frowned. “That’s never bothered you before… but… well I guess…” He looked uncertain. He seemed put out, not exactly angry, but hurt.

“Yeah.” She finished. There was an awkward pause, and Renee felt the need to fill it. “Hmm.. It’s odd that the teacher’s so late, don’t you think?” she said in a rush, “Mr. Breslin’s usually so punctual,”

Lucas looked up at the clock. The teacher was indeed ten minutes late. “Hmmmm… yeah.”
It’s amazing how heavy a silence can be in even the most cacophonous of places. However much the kids might have screamed, the silence with which Lucas greeted this remark made Renee feel as lonesome as though she were in a graveyard.

“I’m sorry,” Renee muttered, looking up at Lucas, “It’s really nothing you did... I just… I dunno, I feel awkward all of the sudden, if you can understand…”

“Right.”

Honestly, Renee herself didn’t know why she cared. She loved being on top, and nothing proves one’s domination, like the ability to hurt someone beneath. And yet, there was some mysterious something about Lucas. It wasn’t as though he and her social desires were opposed. He was just as dirty, and manipulative with his inferiors. It simply didn’t sit well with her, for reasons she wasn’t consciously aware of.

Renee had just opened her mouth to try again with Luke, when she heard her name mentioned in the clamor. She turned toward where it had come from, and quickly identified the speaker as a young, female hare by the name of Yvette. The lepite, as she was prone to be called, was a rather homely thing. Her almost wiry fur was a very plain tan, although her eyes were lined, and her ears tipped with a reddish tinge. Her teeth, as is the unfortunate nature of most rodents, hung well below her lip, almost touching her chin (which was covered in a number of scars, one of which was fresh. This was infallible evidence to any well-mannered hare that she did not file her teeth half as often as she ought to have). This, combined with her bulbous eyes, scrawny neck, and dirty, second-hand clothes gave her a very impoverished, and stupid appearance. As is so often the case, however, this was far from the truth. As anyone could tell from her speech, Yvette was very intelligent, and, truth be told, anyone that could afford to pay for school in those days was fairly well off. Yvette simply didn’t care for appearance.

“Yes, I know she wasn’t in the best of shape today,” Yvette sighed at the fox she was talking to, “But that’s no reason berate her about it. Adelaide is a perfectly valuable creature, as we all are. She has feelings, and desires, like me and you, and Renee. Just as you and I long to be cared for, to feel important and worthwhile, to be loved, she strives after it. And, just like us, she has nights, no doubt, where she lies awake, wondering what exactly it is that she’s giving to this world. She feels alone, and worthless, and longs for some greater purpose, or else to simply give up, and stop caring, or feeling. And, when you start treating her like slime on the wall, basically because she didn’t wash her hair thoroughly enough, I don’t doubt that it just kills her inside… Surely you know what it feels like, what you’re doing to her?”

Renee couldn’t help but chuckle. It was typical Yvette. She defended anyone and everyone, from the gnat you squished on the doormat, to Adelaide. She would impart her naïve view to everyone who would listen, and before she was done, her audience would generally “Be moved,” just as this fox seemed to be as she fell silent, and her lip began to tremble. But, as Renee had noted, the “Naïve little kids,” were always back to their normal, callous selves in a matter of hours.

“I don’t know when that girl will give up,” Renee whispered to Lucas, “She’s like my mother…”
“Well… is there anything wrong with that?” muttered Lucas, seeming oddly irritated. “So she’s an idealist…”

“Oh, no, of course not. I like it actually. It can be very uplifting when you’re looking for that sort of thing… but it’s just naïve, don’t you think? Perhaps even a little false? Surely she doesn’t expect anyone to change, because Adelaide is ‘hurting just as badly as us all?’”
Lucas nodded, “Yeah, I know… but still, if you’re the one under fire, it’s nice to hear someone defending you…”

“Well… maybe… I personally wouldn’t think much of it… I don’t need anyone else telling me that… But perhaps, those with frail little egos get some pleasure out of her… eh…”
“love?” said Lucas

“Eh… love-preaching, perhaps.”

“Yeah… well, we all have our ego boosts. Don’t make yourself out to be some sort of self-dependant…”

Renee rolled her eyes, “I keep forgetting, you’re the world’s youngest Freudian. Who are we studying this week? Dr. Spock? Mr. Rogers? Honestly Lucas, I don’t see why you care so much that I disagree with Yvette. I mean, you have to admit, it is a little naive… if I didn’t know better, I’d say she only does it, because it makes her popular…”

“You know, it’s irritating that you seem totally apathetic to what everyone else here wants and…”

“Oh, so that’s it!” laughed Renee, “And here I thought you were honestly upset. Come on, Luke, hun. Yeah, you can talk high, and righteous, and yes, you can be a good little boy, like me. But I know you, and I know what’s really wrong here. Come on now, you don’t honestly think that I don’t care about you, do you? Sure, I’m kind of apathetic to Adelaide… but Adelaide’s not you. If Yvette were giving her little sermon about…”

Luke smiled in that sort of guilty, but pleased way that people do when they tell a dirty secret. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry if I overreacted…”

For a while, the two sat in silence again. But, this was a very different silence than before (it is amazing how very many types of silence there are); this was not an angry, or lonely silence. It was more the kind of silence that comes when there is nothing left to be said, and it is enoughto simply be with someone.

“Hiya!” said a voice behind Renee, breaking the silence

“Hello, Yvette,” yawned Renee, without turning around, “that was quite a speech you gave over there… I already heard it once, and I don’t really want to hear it again. But what is it?”
“Oh nothing,” she said cheerfully, with her characteristic, toothy smile, “And I’m glad you heard thoug. You really were rather nasty… albeit descriptive… hmmm... But that’s all behind us now, I’m sure!” she laughed.

Adelaide, meanwhile, had spent all this time struggling with her backpack. She was one of those unfortunate people, who are possessed of the idea that it is somehow more efficient to stuff all of one’s earthly possessions into a single bag (and then swim through them whenever something was needed) than to use the locker between classes. As a result, getting her smorgasbord of books, papers, and lost lunches to stay inside a ripped backpack was impossible. After a long struggle, punctuated by profanities, she had reduced what had once been a torn bag into a pile of smoldering scraps, which could have been anything from a backpack, to a boy-scout uniform in its past life.

After struggling helplessly, with the mess, she gave up, and had gone out in the hall. As soon as she saw what was on the floor, however, she froze, and screamed. For there, groaning in pool of blood, was a fox that had been Mr. Breslin.

[Yvette]

The Wife of the Consul
Book I: For Me
Chapter Five

Adelaide sat in a corner, as far away from the bloody mass as she could get. The class stood around the body, silent in horror. Only Yvette was moving, as she hurried to the teacher’s side, and shoved him onto his back. An intense, acrid smell that seemed at once like burning rubber and old feces, rose to greet the crowd, as the class groaned at the deformed body. The fox’s fur had all but disintegrated in places, where his marble-white skin was covered in blisters burnt so deeply, that the bone itself was showing. Even Yvette, who until now had shown unfailing courage, couldn’t stifle a cry. Adelaide gave a great, heaving moan when she saw the corpse, and began to cry silently into the wall.

Yvette backed clumsily away from the fox, and tripped over her own feet, onto her tail. Even still, she shoved, and crawled away. “Get back!” she panted, “Th-that’s no act of violence…” she shuddered, her terror-stricken face almost as pale of the skeletal figure before her, “That’s a disease. Those holes are virucula, the warts created by a virus.” The class stared blankly on. “Damn it… that means it might be contagious! Get away from it!” the hare screamed.

Instantly, the class disintegrated into a mob, some running back into the classroom, and some struggling to get past the body and into the main hall. All were screaming, and all had forgotten about everything but themselves. In a few minutes, only Yvette, Renee, Lucas, and Adelaide remained in the hall. Streaked, crimson paw-prints led every other direction, and by now the smell of old blood had joined that of the necrotic virus. Only Renee and Lucas seemed unmoved by the grisly scene.

“Idiot…” Renee muttered, “Now you’ve got them rushing off to their parents, or who knows where. If they were infected by whatever this is-and I’m not convinced that this is a disease by the way-You should have had the brains to keep them in one spot, at least until they could be quarantined.”

Lucas bit his lip, but said nothing. Yvette shook her head. “It’s not a virus, I don’t think,” she said after a while, “I… I just needed them out of here. I don’t know what caused this, but obviously it’s not something we need to be messing with. If we had any brains at all we’d be following them, but…”
“But you stayed back to help Breslin if you could,” finished Lucas, “I understand. I’ll stay back here, and address the blisters; you get to the office and…” Yvette nodded, and rushed off.

And, with these words, Lucas sat down by the body’s side, and began to address his vital signs. One by one, the facts rose up, and declared the fox dead. Renee stared down at the body, her eyes glazed over, and far away. Only Adelaide still lay quivering the corner, oblivious to what went on around her.

“I..I’ve never even seen death before,” she whispered between incoherent sobs. Her fingers, and face were numb. She couldn’t feel her feet, and all she could see, no matter where she looked, was her old history teacher, deformed and dead. “I feel sick,” she gasped, as she felt her stomach. “Oh please… please, I don’t want to vomit…”

Renee’s eyes suddenly sharpened, as she looked over at the trembling wolf. She bit her lip, and tried to hold down her frustration. Adelaide was pitiful. With a dead fox here, there wasn’t time to be wrapped up in their own horror. They had to do something.

“Shush,” she sighed, as she walked over to the wolf, and sat down beside her. Without saying a word, she wrapped an arm around the trembling pup, and drew her close. Gently, she stroked her back. This was the way wolves and foxes commonly showed comfort. “Listen Adelaide,” said Renee, “You need to calm down now. It won’t do to panic. We may have to help Mr. Breslin when Yvette comes back…”

“No we won’t,” began Lucas, but Renee shut him up with a glare.

Adelaide, still quivering, buried her face in Renee’s side. “Why here? she groaned, “And why him? Wh-what did this?”

“We didn’t do anything, and we don’t know who or what killed him.” Said Renee, softly, but with a certain edge to her voice, “It looks like he might have been burned, or maybe even electrocuted. His fur’s been singed off and...”

Adelaide didn’t seem to hear her. “Why…” she sobbed, over, and over again.

“Adelaide!” said Renee, as she shook the wolf, “Stop it! We didn’t do anything! Nothing! You hear me?” Adelaide said nothing, and kept on sobbing. Renee slapped the girl, and started to shout, “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Damn it Adelaide, look at him! Look at his body! We don’t know what did that to him, and it might still be here! We have to be vigilant, do you hear me? We can’t…”

Adelaide’s face flushed with rage, as she started to scream over Renee, “I can’t! I can’t look at him, and I can’t help it!” she screamed through tears, “And I’m sick of you! I’m sick of everything! I d-don’t want it anymore… I don’t want to see anymore.” Her voice cracked, and Adelaide fell back, sobbing again. Renee stood up, and stuck her thumb into her mouth. She wandered aimlessly in little circles, as her eyes glazed over again. Lucas was still attending to the fox, his back to the other two.

A few minutes later, Yvette appeared back at the far end of the hall, even more frightened looking than when she had left.

“It’s not just him,” she said quietly, as she glanced nervously around the school, “it’s happened all over the school. The office was full of screaming kids. The police are coming, and they’re going to take us home but…”
“Breslin’s dead,” Said Luke.

“No hope?”

“None.”

Yvette nodded gravely. “Alright…” she said quietly, “They’ll be out in front soon.” And with that, the four, shivering and wide-eyed made their way out.

[Yvette]

((mispost))