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Ket felt like he was dragged through his dream out of his sleep.

The alarm blared in his ear with what sounded like the decibels of a thousand air-horns. He pushed up, his arms tingling from pins and needles. He glanced at the clock even as it screeched: six fifty-three.

He was late.

Way late.

Horribly late.

He was also a mess. He hadn't taken a shower last night because he was so out-of-it. He hadn't even changed into pajamas.

He should shower.

But he didn't have time.

Maybe he could hurry?

He could hurry.

His hand whipped across the alarm to shut it off, and it was knocked on its side from the extra force. He hurled himself from his bedsheets to his dresser-drawers, and blindly grabbed all the essentials: shirt, shorts, socks and underwear. He turned on the water, stripped, and jumped in before it was even warm, sending shivers up his spine and his fur puffing up like a porcupine.

He shampooed everywhere at the same time, one hand running through his hair and the other running over his torso. Frantically he scrubbed like he was cleansing himself of an entire bed's-wrath of fire ants.

Five minutes later and he kicked the knob back in to cut the water off; he would clean all the fur later. Before he was even fully dry, he was getting dressed again. He was still patting down his scalp as he ran down the stairs.

The phone was ringing.

It was seven oh-four.

"What are you waiting for?" He snapped at the caller as soon as he picked it off the cradle.

"You are late, mister. Mom says: 'you better not be playin' hooky!'"

"I'm sorry," he growled, "I woke up late and had to take a shower."

"Cool your jets," she replied calmly, "S'okay. Did you eat breakfast?"

"Screw breakfast! Have your mom drive you today, don't wait for me to take you."

"Grab something to eat, then; I'll wait for you." She told him, calmly.

"No don't wait," he spoke loud and a bit angrily, "have your mom drive you."

"See you in a bit!" She said with cheer.

"I sai--" The phone clicked, and he was cut off.

He let out a frustrated growl, and slammed the phone back into the cradle. His feet thundered as he went to the front door and hurled his nearly-empty backpack around so hard his own momentum crashed him against the wall.

He slammed the door shut and started to jog away, only to realize a minute later he'd forgotten to lock it. He ran all the way back, locked it twice for good measure, and then took off in a sprint.

The clouds were dark overhead. The air was cool and the wind blew in a gust. After a few more minutes passed, and the clouds began to weep.

The droplets of water were tiny, trickling down more like a fine mist than a rain. But it clung to whatever it touched, dripping off of mailboxes, stop-signs, and tree leaves.

Almost as soaked as he was during his shower, he arrived at the gate to her neighborhood. Yards away, as he approached it, he could see the red umbrella, held by the little white-furred hand.

He slowed his approach, and was met with expectant eyes that glowed in the subdued, overcast light.

She held a small silver-colored packet, which was proffered.

"I told you to eat breakfast," she admonished.

"And I... Told you... To go with... Your mom." He half-huffed, half-growled back, speaking more doubled-over toward the ground than toward her.

Eagerly, he bit into the raspberry Pop-Tart. "Jus' b'cuzz--" he swallowed. "Just because I get my ass out of bed late doesn't mean you have to be late, too."

A soft thunderclap boomed overhead, giving just the right amount of emphasis to his words.

She only smiled at him for a moment, her head tilted so her temple rested against the pole of the umbrella,as if to say Are you done, silly?

He sighed, and reached for the umbrella. "All right, fine. I'll walk you to school, then."

She dodged his reaching hand and lashed out with hers, grasping it. She coiled her fingers about his wrist, and then slid her grip down to twine her fingers with his.

"Uh-uh-uh," she said playfully, but she was met with a terribly serious look, so she very tenderly squeezed his hand.

"Today, I'm walking you to school."

* * *

The hallways were empty when they arrived, at Emeral's leisurely pace. The tardy-bell had long-since rung. It was no surprise that they opened the door to their classmates' awkward stares.

Ms. Hupp was speaking and writing on the board.

"So, when you model a sentence, first we ask ourselves: 'what is the action?' In our example: 'Ben jumped over the fence,' jumped is the action. Then we find the subject by asking: 'who jumped?' Ben jumped..."

The door shut, and a sudden silence fell about the room.

Ms. Hupp twisted around and glanced at them for a full eight seconds with lips lightly pursed, before she hastily finished drawing what looked like a stick-diagram and capped the marker. "Have a seat kids," she instructed. Her voice was subdued, tense, and maybe a little nervous. "Class, if you'll excuse me, I'll be back in just a bit."

As Emeral led Ket to his desk, the class of eyes followed their every step. She let him go for just a moment as she went to shake her umbrella out and put it near the backpacks. She returned to the desk and offered to take Ket's backpack. Reluctantly, he handed it over to her. When she finished placing it on its hook, she went and sat next to him in the empty desk that would belong to Beck.

A few moments ticked by.

Fifteen pairs of lidless eyes gazed upon them, as if they were two strangers that had taken an unwelcome residence.

Ket did not gaze at any of them; he kept his focus upon the desk before him.

But Emeral was not so reclusive. She matched every pupil with her own glare; alert, and piercing.

Lyza matched eyes for a moment, way across the room, but her eyes were soft and friendly, so she received naught of the tigress's cold attention.

The classroom door abruptly opened, and immediately all focus was upon its motion.

Mr. Pretty was the first to walk in. His height, along with his black, pressed suit, caused many to slink back just a little in their chairs. Some eyes preferred to fall upon Mrs. Oulryk, who was last; Ms. Hupp made up the middle of the three.

Mr. Pretty stopped just a few feet from the back-center of the room; Mrs. Oulryk stood to his to his right, and their teacher to his left.

"Mr. Rachaun." The voice was militaristic; it sent a pulse of panic to the frailer hearts.

Ket finally matched the principal's eyes. "Yes, sir?" He replied in a subdued breath.

Emeral clutched her left wrist in her right hand. She flexed her fingers, curling them as if quelling her desire to lash out at something. She watched Ket from the corner of her eye, waiting to see what he would do.

He stood up from his desk, in utter silence.

Shivering from the damp rainwater that still saturated his clothes, and marking the carpet with wet footfalls, he trudged to his backpack and retrieved it from its perfectly placed perch upon the hook. The shoulder-strap chuffed as it scraped across his shirt and he tightened it since his backpack felt heavy.

He turned toward Mr. Pretty and associates, and began walking.

A loud slam caused many to jump, and a chair fell over, setting off three muffled taps as it rocked back and forth before settling on its side.

"Stop." Commanded the bold voice to the tiger.

"Excuse me, young lady. What is the meaning of this?"

"He's not going anywhere," she declared.

She stood with her arms outstretched, facing the adults. Behind her, Ket stared over her shoulder at the principal, whose orange fur mixed with a little red.

"Sweetie," he said not-so-sweetly, "this doesn't concern you, please go back to your seat."

"Ket is my friend. I demand full disclosure on the context of this situation."

"My goodness," Mrs. Oulryk chimed, "such a vocabulary."

"Hush, please, Mrs. Oulryk," Mr. Pretty spoke sotto vocé. "What is your name, young lady?"

"Lyza." The rabbit spoke defiantly, with a flare and cadence of the tongue that only a few of her classmates had ever heard before. "Lyza Leonidovna Alatyrtsev."

"Miss Lidiya, I'm afraid that this outburst is not appropriate. Furthermore, I cannot tell you--"

"I apologize," the rabbit interrupted audaciously, "you must have misconstrued me. I'm his friend. Ergo, I have sincere concern for the reasons my friend's mere presence apparently warrants the attention of the school administration."

Mr. Pretty's mouth twitched in hesitation.

"Lyza, dear," Mrs. Oulryk said softly, "I am terribly sorry, but Ket has to be suspended."

"That's ludicrous," the girl stated matter-of-factly. "No he does not."

"Mrs. Oulryk, do not let these children--"

"Mr. Pretty," the old bear spoke softly, but with great authority. "They will find out eventually. You might as well tell them now, before the rumor-mill begins to turn."

The principal glared at the head counselor for a moment, and then sighed. "Fine, young lady; and the rest of the class, I guess. I'm sure you all know what happened before the end of school on Friday." Though it wasn't a question, the class nodded. "Richard is fine, first of all. However, he will not be returning to school--to any school, in this district.

"Furthermore," he added, clearing his throat, "The school board, after three hours of discussing yesterday evening, has decided that your classmate, Mr. Rachaun, is to be suspended for the rest of the year."

"And that's ludicrous!" the rabbit declared, again.

"Lyza, please," Ms. Hupp knelt down and reached out to grasp the rabbit's hands. "You have to understand, that this is very small compared to what could have happened. He'll only be staying home from school--in fact that's kind of a nice thing, really. He gets an early summer."

"But... That's... That's not the point, Ms. Hupp," she protested, though her voice had traded it's defiant zeal for soft reasoning. "This is unreasonable. It was self-defense; he didn't choose to get into a fight--it was instigated against him. He shouldn't be punished for defending himself from a perceived harm."

"Sweetie," Ms. Hupp replied, "even if it was self-defense, he hurt Ritzer. Don't think of it as a 'punishment;' think of it as... Just a consequence."

Ms. Hupp let go of the rabbit's hands and stood up, tousling her head.

Lyza stared at the floor a moment, and then looked back up at her teacher, her ears wilting.

"Please go take your seat, Miss Lidiya," the tall fox said.

The rabbit sighed. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"It's all right," Mr. Pretty excused, "come on, Mr. Rachaun."

"I'm sorry," Lyza repeated again, and then her ears sprang back up, and she raised her arms once more. "But if you're going to unduly punish Ket, you're going to have to punish me, too."

"This is getting out of hand." Mr. Pretty crossed his arms. "Young lady, you will stop your shenanigans and take your sea--"

Another clank; another triad of thuds as a chair settled to the ground.

Lyza glanced to her left as a hand latched onto hers.

"Principal Pretty, sir," the pristine voice spoke. "My name is Rebecca Ingrid Naomi Isonheim..." She took in a breath, as if not quite sure she wanted to continue. But she managed to keep her stance. "And if you suspend Ket or Lyza, you will have to suspend me, too."

"Girls," Mr. Pretty began, uncrossing his arms and leaning over them just a little, "I understand how you feel; really, I do. But you're making a mountain out of a mole-hill. This is not difficult."

"Absolutely, it's not." Lyza agreed, her eyes squinting and her chin tilting inward with rage and offense. She proceeded with a diatribe that almost sounded rehearsed:

"Mr. Pretty, for the last couple months, I've been... Really frustrated. Anxious. Angry. Agitated. Stressed out.

"I didn't really talk to anyone about it, and people kept their distance... Except Ket. Every once in a while, he'd talk to me, or... Just, he'd tell me about times he got angry and frustrated, and what it was like for him.

"He's never done anything to make anyone feel threatened or wary; I've never once seen him be aggressive. So I feel like there's a lot of context that's missing here.

"He's already had to defend himself. Suspending him is just adding insult to injury. That's just... Not fair. Not at in any conceiva--"

"Honey, I appreciate your enthusiasm," the principal interrupted. "And I'm sorry about whatever it is that's frustrating you. But, right now, you're getting in the way of administrative duties. So I'm going to ask, just this once, for your and your friend to go back to your seats, a--"

"Oh my," the old bear muttered, as another chair scuffed across the carpet.

This time, it was not followed by the clatter of the chair falling, but rather the thud of the person who tried to dash forward. He grunted as he hit his knee against the carpet, but he recovered as quickly as he could.

No one so much as smirked at his poorly executed interruption. The boy, huffing and puffing, jogged up to Lyza's other side, and took her other hand, extending the buffer.

"My... My name is Rob... Robert Pan," he panted, "And if you... Hiff'oo..."

"Let me guess," Mr. Pretty finished wearily "If I suspend them, I suspend you too, is that right?"

"Uh huh!" He said with a stomp. "Ket covered for me when I didn't do my homework. And I thought that was cool, but I felt really bad. So I've been working harder and I'm making better grades. And... And also Ritzer picks on me a lot--and other kids, too. But when Ket's around, no one bothered us. Plus, he's nice, too."

"If you're not going to reconsider this atrocity," the rabbit said, "then, as his friends: if Ket has to walk..." She held the hands in her grasp tightly. "We walk with him."

The other two nodded.

Mr. Pretty sighed and scratched his head. The students looked up expectantly. "...Fine," he said, slapping his leg with his other hand. "I don't have time to goof around. If you kids are going to do this, then I'll have to suspend you for misconduct."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Mr. Pretty?" Mrs. Oulryk interjected. "I'm sorry to mention it, but this is a very tricky situation, and we need to think about it very carefully..."

"No, Mrs. Oulryk, it seems clear to me. If they," he gestured, "will not return to their seats, then they are misbehaving. They are also interfering with administrative action. I see no complication if I have to suspend just a few extra children that are insubordinate to the decision of the school board."

Not a heartbeat after his statement, nearly a dozen more seats were disturbed.

The three adults looked on as, in just a few seconds, a phalanx of faces stared up at them, as one group. As each student took their place in the buffer, Ket was gently maneuvered farther and farther back, so that by the time it was complete, he was nearly at the whiteboard.

Even William, with hesitation, shuffled into the group, standing behind Kimberly, and holding tightly to the hand she offered him.

"Children," Mr. Pretty spoke sternly, "I don't believe you understand what you are doing. This, is an extremely serious matter, and I require your cooperation."

"We know exactly what we're doing," Rini countered.

"We're fully cognizant of how extremely_serious this matter is, and there _will be cooperation." Lyza finished.

"I've had enough!" The principal shouted angrily, stamping his ebony shoe upon the tile and flicking his fists with frustration. "I'm going to count to three, and if any of you are still standing, I promise you: the consequences will be... They'll--" He scowled, clenching his fist.

The students scowled back.

His fist trembled, and lowered to his side. "One."

The class all raised their arms, hooking hands where they could.

"Two."

They gathered just a little more tightly.

"Two-and-a-half..."

The ones on the ends of the phalanx put their hands on the shoulders of those in front of them.

"Two, and three-quarters..."

He gave a pragmatic pause.

"All right kids. You win."

"Thr--" Mr. Pretty coughed. "Mrs. Oulryk!" He snapped.

"Mr. Pretty," she replied stiffly, "The children have won."

"The kids can't win; this isn't some kind of game."

"I agree. It is not. I am sorry, but I have to respectfully suggest you stop playing around."

"I am not... Play-ing around, Mrs. Oulryk. This class is making a mockery of the situation, and I won't have it."

"You call this a mockery?"

The students looked on as Mrs. Oulryk spoke to Mr. Pretty without so much as glancing at him.

She stared at the eyes of each and every child. "This is rather very interesting."

"I'm sure you meant insubordinate because that's how the children are acting."

"No they are not, sir, I'm sorry, but I have to disagree."

"Well then, I give up, ma'am." He crossed his arms and glared at her; "If they're not playing a game, and they aren't insubordinate; what are they?"

"Mr. Pretty," the old bear said, her tone changing slightly. "What are you, at this school?"

"Are you..." He gritted his teeth. "I am the principal," he told her.

"But... As a member of the school, a place where these youth learn; does that not also make you a teacher?"

"Get to your point, Mrs. Oulryk," the fox scoffed.

"My point, sir, is that this class has learned a very valuable lesson. As teachers, it would be irresponsible of us to disregard this lesson that they have learned.

"What are we teaching them by punishing one of their peers, whom they clearly see as a role-model and example.

"I do not believe that their resistance is personally toward you, sir."

There was a moment of silence as the old bear closed her eyes, having said her peace.

"I sincerely appreciate your input, but my job is on the line, Mrs. Oulryk."

The woman's eyes flashed behind her glasses as they burst open.

"I am aware, sir. But--and I am sorry, but I only point this out to be fair--so is their friendship, and moral understanding.

"Which do you believe holds more value?"

Mr. Pretty turned to his left. "Ms. Hupp, these are your students. Help me regain order."

Ms. Hupp shook her head. "At all the school's I've been, I've never had, nor heard, this happen before. They're right, too. Ket's a good boy, and I don't think he would have hurt Ritzer unless he felt seriously threatened." She sighed and shrugged. "I agree with Mrs. Oulryk. The kids win."

At last, Mr. Pretty looked out to the children with consideration.

Their gaze was unified and stolid.

He examined each gem and jewel, and found nothing but courage and belief in every one of them, even if their posture was hesitant.

And at the very back, were two children side-by-side. On the left, a girl, who had only the slightest traces of worriment in her posture, most obvious in the way she held his hand.

Standing taller than all the rest, was the role-model. His eyes were most piercing, with a gaze that was different from all the rest. It was not smug, nor challenging, nor was it triumphant. Simply just... Mature.

The principal sucked on his lip and ran a hand through his hair. "Hokaaaay..." he commented. "Well, Mrs. Oulryk; you were the one that decided they win, so you are accepting full responsibility for the outcome of this."

The woman nodded. "I accept, gladly."

"So... What do you suggest we do from here? ...Something that will help me keep my job, please."

"I believe I have the perfect solution," the bear said with a smile, straightening up. "I think it's time that we went on a treasure-hunt."