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Crossroads--Chapter One--Day One

The worst day began with something that, as always, scared him half to death. The alarm clock blared with its usual buzzing and Charles "Chance" Argent jumped up. He glared at the small device on his bedside table, immediately scowling as he silenced his phone's alarm clock.

I need a quieter alarm, he thought disparagingly as he glanced out the window. The sky was overcast, just as it had been the previous day and night, and Chance felt the dread that such a day would bring. No good day ever had a dark sky, his father had once told him.

Moving his attention to the room, he felt another pang of depression. The room was still new and unfamiliar; he had yet to impose his personality on the plain, off-white walls or even to unpack the numerous boxes and two suitcases that were scattered haphazardly throughout the room. Even as he started to open them, rifling through to find something to wear today, he felt that vain hope inside him that, soon, his father would decide to go back home where they belonged.

Even as the thought raced through his mind, there was a knock on the door. Chance glanced up for a moment, pleased to see that it was his father, not that bitch walking in. David Argent looked at his son with a scowl, glaring around the room with those emerald-colored eyes.

"It's been a month and you still haven't unpacked?" David questioned.

"Because I'm hoping you'll start thinking straight again and we can go home," Chance replied, moving over to another box.

"We_are_ home," David countered. "We both needed a change of scenery. You better have all this stuff unpacked by Friday night, okay?"

"Fine," Chance sighed bitterly.

"Michelle is cooking breakfast for us," David continued. At once, Chance stiffened. "It'll be ready soon. I expect you to join us for breakfast."

"Do I have a choice?" Chance asked, withdrawing a t-shirt and jeans from the untidy mess within.

"No," David replied. "I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Yes, sir."

"I suggest you take a shower as well," David continued.

"Are you calling me stinky?"

"Yes," David remarked and he walked out.

Chance rolled his eyes as he gathered his clothes and went to the bathroom. He paused after shirking off his tank top, glaring at the scrawny, white-furred wolf-dog that gazed back at him with green eyes in the mirror. Even his underwear looked baggy on his thin frame. A long scar ran across his muzzle and another one below his left eye and still another one over his chest.

Still so fucking scrawny.

Chance had only just stepped out of the shower and started to dress when his father's voice rang through the house, powerful and commanding.

"CHANCE! YOU BETTER BE ON YOUR WAY IN HERE! BREAKFAST'S ON THE TABLE!"

"OKAY!" Chance yelled back. He dressed rapidly, throwing on a striped t-shirt and dark blue jeans. He examined himself once more in the mirror before throwing his usual knit cap over his head, his ears peeking out from the top. Pleased as he could be with himself, he started to make his way to the kitchen.

"CHANCE!" David shouted once more.

"God, you don't have to shout, I'm right here," Chance snarled as he walked into the kitchen, absently picking his teeth with his finger. Chance glared over at the female Labrador who was also seated at the table, dressed in her usual white chef's coat with her long, dark hair pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head. "Oh, you're still here, huh?"

"Chance!" David snapped.

"What?" Chance said lazily.

David took a deep breath. "Shut up and sit down," he ordered. Chance sat down quietly, looking down at the plate of food before him: bacon, eggs, toast. He frowned; for someone who made cooking her career, she had certainly cooked some low-quality stuff for breakfast. "Doesn't it look good?" his father remarked. "Perhaps you should thank Michelle for taking the time to cook for you."

"Meh, thanks," Chance said in a detached tone.

"Chance, thank her for cooking for you," David ordered.

"Thank you," Chance said in a teasing, jeering voice.

"CHARLES!" David hissed, using his son's real name as he did when he was frustrated.

"It's alright, David," Michelle Argent said, looking at her fiancée. She held her head up in a dignified manner. "I don't expect him to be grateful. He never is."

"I'm plenty grateful," Chance countered. "Just when there's something to be grateful about."

"Perhaps, then, you should cook your own meals," Michelle suggested calmly. "I'm sure you'll enjoy your burnt bacon and toast."

"I can cook better than you can!" Chance retorted.

"That's enough, Charles," David interjected.

"She started it," Chance huffed, taking a bite of his eggs. True, the eggs were strangely tasty but he longed to find something to dislike about them.

"So," she said kindly, "how're you this morning, sweetheart?"

"I'm doing just fine," David answered, steadily calming. "How about yourself, my dear?"

"Wonderful," she answered with a smile. She looked down at the ring of platinum on her finger, studded with a single, blue diamond. "Still on cloud nine."

"Me too," David answered lovingly, looking at his own wedding ring.

"Ugh, I've lost my appetite," Chance remarked, pushing his plate away. He stood and started to walk off.

"Sit," David ordered. "I didn't dismiss you from the table yet."

"I've got to get going or I'll be late."

"I'll drive you," David remarked. "Sit."

"If he wants to walk, let him," Michelle said. "It's not so far away."

"But it's about to start raining," David answered, "and I don't want him getting sick. Please, sit down, Chance."

Michelle huffed. "You know, if he wants to leave, let him," she admonished. Chance, who had started to sit back down, paused. David turned to her, listening intently. "If he gets sick, he'll learn his lesson. Sometimes it's best to let cubs learn their lessons on their own."

"That's funny coming from a barren old dog like you," Chance snorted. David's eyes widened with rage.

"And, if you weren't so easy on him, you he wouldn't dare say things like that," Michelle continued. "I don't mean to tell you how to raise your son, but perhaps it's time you became his father, not his friend."

"Perhaps it's time you went back to whatever shithole you crawled out of!" Chance snapped.

His father stood, paws slamming down on the table with such force that Chance was amazed the table didn't collapse. At once, his bravado crumbled away into nothing as his father stood to his full height, dwarfing his son. But Michelle, too, stood, straightening her coat.

"I'm going to go to work, sweetie," she said. "I hope you both have a nice day."

"Michelle, wait," David insisted, but she shouldered her purse and made her way to the door, silent. "Michelle! He didn't mean it! Michelle!"

Chance sank back down into his chair, head throbbing in his annoyance. In the distance, he heard Michelle's car start and drive away. Then, heavy footfalls warned him of his father's impending wrath. He didn't dare move or speak when his father reentered the kitchen, eyes wide and wild with fury.

"HOW DARE YOU! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"

Chance looked at his father's posture; clenched fists, shaking frame, teeth bared--yes, he was about to get his ass kicked. He carefully stood, making sure his chair was between himself and David.

"You're not going to hit your only son, are you?" Chance ventured nervously.

With speed and strength that Chance was unprepared for, David grabbed hold of his shirt, pulling him close. Pulling powerfully--and Chance was too frightened to dare to fight back--David pulled his son into the living room, throwing him onto the couch.

"Why do you insist on acting out like a child?!" David roared. He began to pace the floor, trying to reign in his anger.

"I'm not acting out!" Chance said. "Michelle has been nothing but a bi--" He stopped himself, catching his father's eye. "She's been mean to be since day one and has always talked down to me! She criticizes everything about me!"

"Maybe if you showed her something better than acting like a fucking brat!" David countered.

"I tried! She does nothing but talk down to us like she's the fucking Queen of England!"

"You're being melodramatic," David said, "as usual! If you had this much passion about your schoolwork, maybe you'd get a higher GPA than you did in middle school!"

"You have to see it too!" Chance insisted. "Why are you settling for her? Aren't you lowering your standards a bit?"

"I am not lowering my standards!"

"Is it cuz she's a lab like Mom was?!" Chance dared.

David seemed to settle almost instantly. "Is that what this is about? You know that I loved your mother but things change. If I had my way--"

"So why are you replacing her with some bitch you barely--OW!"

Chance let out a cry of pain as David gripped his ear, squeezing it in his paw. When his father released him, Chance rubbed his ear gingerly, whimpering and eyes watering as his father began to pace once more.

"I will talk to her," David said, "and ask her to be nicer. We can work this out. All of us, which means you have to put in an effort as well."

"Fine," Chance answered meekly. "Only if she does."

"That's fair," David said. "Now, we both know you crossed a line."

Chance's ears flicked upwards. "Me? What about her?"

"She might've gone overboard as well," David said, "and I'll talk with her about that. But you went above and beyond. Two weeks. Grounded."

"What? Why?"

"Because she raised a good point," David answered. "I've been very lenient with you since we moved here. And I've noticed a change in you that I don't like. You're acting out more and more and I'm sick of it."

"Maybe because you're acting dumb," Chance scoffed.

"What?" David said warningly.

Chance swallowed. "Nothing, sir."

"Good. Get your shit. I'm driving you to school."

---

So, this was Briarwood High? A vast school of so many students, a "high-quality" (according to whatever website his dad had seen) staff and a wonderful curriculum? From the outside, it looked more impressive than Chance had expected. A sea of students was rushing into the building from buses, cars and others just walking in. As David pulled up to the door, he spoke in a low tone.

"Here. Three o'clock. No delays. No exceptions."

"What if it's a good exception?" David glared at his son, who chuckled nervously. "Right here," he affirmed with a weak tone. "Three o'clock."

"Good. Out."

Chance climbed out and walked through the doors, joining the throng of entering students. He kept his head down and, at his first chance, pulled off to the side, eager to double-check his schedule and locker number, to match them with the map he'd been given, marked with his classes and locker location. He glanced over his surroundings. So, his first class was upstairs? And his locker was on the other side of the school?

"Fantastic," he murmured to himself as he started to move. But no sooner had he moved did he feel himself bump into something--someone.

He backed away sheepishly and looked up at the most intimating jackal he'd ever seen. Jet-black fur framed an emotionless face, but those dark eyes seemed to radiate hate. Tall, muscular, and dressed almost entirely in black and crimson, the jackal looked over him analytically.

He's cute, he thought. Then, he's going to kill me.

"Stay out of my way," the jackal rumbled.

"I didn't see you," Chance replied meekly.

"Watch where the fuck you're going then," the jackal snapped. "And don't run into me again."

"Or else?" Chance grumbled before he could stop himself.

The jackal took a single step forward and, instinctively, Chance took a step backwards. But he tripped over himself, falling backwards. His backpack ripped open and he heard its contents fall out, sliding across the floor. But the jackal seemed satisfied that he had instilled the proper fear and chuckled to himself, a cold distant sound that sent shivers down Chance's spine.

"Bitch," the jackal snorted and he walked off. And for the first time, Chance realized that the small altercation had been watched; students had observed carefully and now their eyes followed the jackal's gait down a hallway and around a corner. And once he was gone, they seemed to lose interest, turning back to their friends or resuming their walks elsewhere in the building.

Sighing, Chance stood up and, retrieved his two empty notebooks. As he reached for the third, another paw reached down and grasped it, handing it over to him kindly.

"Think you dropped this," said the paw's owner, a thin fox with a bushy tail and reddish-orange fur.

"Thanks," Chance answered, taking it back. He shrugged over his backpack and looked at it; the zipper had broken when he fell.

"Are you okay?" the fox asked, looking down.

"Little embarrassed, but could be worse," Chance answered, "but I'll live. Least I'm not bleeding."

"I'm still surprised Zack didn't knock you around," the fox noted. "He's normally not so nice. Everyone knows to stay out of his way."

"Except me," Chance said. "My first day and I already fucked up."

"Day damn one, right?" the fox chortled. "I can understand that. Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Briarwood. I'm Junior."

"I'm a sophomore."

"No, everyone calls me 'Junior'," the fox answered. "Or AJ."

"I'm Charles but everyone calls me 'Chance'."

"Pleasure to meet you, Chance."

"Likewise."

"So, need any help looking around? Find your locker and everything yet?"

"Not yet, but I'll figure it out."

"Well, I'll be glad to help," Junior offered with a smile. "I've got nothing but time."

"Don't you want to meet up with your buddies?"

"Nah, it's fine," Junior said dismissively. "It's my duty as a good person to help."

---

Throughout the first half of the day, Chance found his attention ebbing consistently, so by the time that his fourth, PE, came around, he had scarcely taken any notes in any of the three classes he had--geometry, English, chemistry. His next class was PE, so he stopped briefly at his locker and toss his notebooks--and new textbooks--inside.

When he approached the gym, he noticed a thickly-built, though not overweight, dog greeting the approaching students. When the dog eyes fell on Chance, he waved him over. Chance approached calmly, though intimidated by the dog's frame. Was everybody in the world bigger than him? The dog pulled off his hat before he spoke.

"You must be Charles Argent, right?"

"Y-yeah..." Chance muttered. "I prefer to be called 'Chance'."

"Fine, fine," the dog answered. "I'm Coach Salt. Do you have a gym uniform?"

"No, haven't gotten one yet."

"Then hope you don't sweat too much in your clothes," Coach Salt said. "I'm going to give you the same warning I give every student that walks through those doors." He pointed absently towards the doors to the gym. "I expect you to give it your all. If I see you slacking, I'll work you harder. If by the time you leave here your legs aren't tired, I'm not doing my job."

"Yes, sir."

"We always start by jogging round the gym until everyone's out of the locker room. You can get started on that now. And you don't gotta look so scared," Coach Salt added, putting a paw on Chance's shoulder. "I don't bite."

Chance nodded and started his way inside the gym. Soon, his heart skipped a beat--Zack, the jackal from that morning, soon left the locker room and began to jog around the gym. Chance hurriedly stepped away when Zack passed, hoping to not be recognized. Soon enough, the gym was filled with jogging (or lazily walking) students and Coach Salt called to them. Following the rest of the students who gathered in a half-circle around the coach, Chance did his best to stay unnoticed, though he was sure several of them had noticed the new, shy wolf who had joined their class.

"Hope you all have had a good weekend," Coach Salt called off-handedly, a clipboard in his hands. "Today, we're going to keep it simple and break in some new blood." New blood? Really? That's what you call me? "Dodgeball." The class cheered happily and Chance felt his blood run strangely cold. "Can I trust you all to split up evenly?"

A halfhearted round of confirmation rang through the students and the coach disappeared into a storeroom. The class quickly separated into halves and Chance did his best to keep himself from Zack's team. But when the coach returned, carefully setting down several rubber balls in the center of the gym, he did a quick cursory glance at each team and shook his head.

"ARGENT! GRADY! OTHER SIDE!" he called.

Chance flinched at the sound of his name and, fully aware that all eyes were watching his awkwardly stiff walk to the other side, wished he could disappear. Or that Coach Salt had called on someone else. But he and a cocky-looking cat crossed over. And then the whistle blew.

A wave of chaos filled the gym as the game began and Chance tried to stay out of the way. He kept himself dodging oddly, trying not to be hit. But he watched Zack in amazement. Not once was he hit and he threw with an expert precision. He never missed and--

Chance let out a small squeak as a ball nearly struck him. But a black paw had caught it before Chance was hit and tossed it back with such force that its target fell backwards. Chance carefully looked up to see Zack, glaring down at him with a weird glance.

"Pathetic," Zack snarled. "Step back and stay out of the way."

Indignantly, Chance stood up straight. "I'm not in the way!" A ball struck the side of Chance's face and he fell backward. "Ow..."

"Of course not..."

---

"You look sad."

Chance looked up from his notebook (and his sketches) at Junior who seated himself at Chance's previously empty table. Chance smiled, though judging by Junior's knowing smirk, he could see straight through the forced gesture.

"Rough day?" Junior asked.

"Kind of," Chance replied. "Not exactly easy."

"Nope," Junior confessed, "but you'll get used to it."

"Wouldn't you rather sit with your friends?"

"I am," Junior answered, lifting his sandwich up to his mouth. He took a bite and seemed to swallow without chewing. Chance watched in surprise. "What?"

"Do you chew?"

"Only when necessary."

"Which is never," said a female. Two more were joining at the table--a fox who, apart from the feminine style, reminded Chance of Junior and a sleepy-looking bear with light brown fur. "You must be Charles."

"Chance..."

"You were right, Alex. He is cute," she remarked to Junior, "and such pretty white fur."

"Lexi!" Junior gasped. He looked over at Chance who was sure his fur was turning pink in his embarrassment. "Sorry, this is my sister, Lexi. She kind of talks without thinking. And this glutton here"--he motioned towards the bear--"is Benny."

"Nice to meet you," Benny tried to say through a mouthful of food. However, his words were far too garbled to be intelligible.

"Hi," Chance said, failing to hide his revulsion. "I'm Chance..."

Benny swallowed. "Sorry. Just really hungry. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Chance replied.

"So, how's day one treating you?" Junior asked. "Not too bad, right?"

"Suppose it could've been worse," Chance said. His eyes surveyed the cafeteria, settling on the familiar form of a black-furred jackal. "Guess I just need some time to get used to it..."

Junior looked over, following Chance's line of sight. "You haven't crossed Zack again, have you?"

Lexi's eyes went wide. "You got into it with Zack Bailey? Are you nuts?"

"No, I'm perfectly sane," Chance scoffed. "And no, I didn't. Not ready to pick that fight. Though, we're in gym together."

"What happened?" Junior inquired.

"Dodgeball."

"How hard did you get hit?"

Chance winced. "Pretty hard. Hurt like hell. But he didn't throw it," he added rapidly. "Actually, he kept me from getting hit once."

"Well, could've been worse," Junior said. "At least he didn't kick your ass."

"He probably doesn't want to get sent back to juvie," Benny suggested offhandedly.

"Did you draw these?" Lexi asked suddenly.

Chance looked at her, surprised to see his notebook in her grasp. She was flipping through the pages, though the majority of the notebook was empty. Benny was leaning over, looking at the sketches in intrigue, clearly impressed.

"Can I have that back?" Chance asked nervously.

"These are good," Junior said, looking over. He took the notebook from his sister and passed it over. "So, you're an artist?"

"Not really," Chance remarked. He glanced down at his sketches, quick drawings of random things that had caught his eye, even a small sketch of Zack Bailey's face. "These aren't anything too special. Not going to win any awards or nothing. Just stuff to do in class."

"Shouldn't you be paying attention?" Benny reprimanded.

"Ignore him," Lexi said dismissively. "But those are really good!"

"Thanks," Chance said shyly, grinning. "That means a lot."

"Yeah, I tried to draw my own comic once," Junior said.

"But he can barely hold the pencil still long enough to write his own name," Lexi said. Junior shrugged. "But you're really good! Think you can do a drawing of me?"

"Draw her like a French girl," Benny said monotonously.

Junior, who had taken a drink of chocolate milk had started to laugh, milk splashing out of his mouth. At once, Chance and Lexi jerked away. "EW!" Lexi gasped.

"It wasn't that funny," Chance added.

"He's easily amused," Benny explained in his deadpanned style, "but you'll get used to it. Hang around us enough and you'll expect it."

Junior, currently wiping himself and the table down with napkins, chuckled nervously. "That is, if you want to hang out with us."

"I suppose," Chance answered. "Don't really have any friends here."

"You've got us," Junior said encouragingly. "And you'll grow to love us!"

"Only if you keep the milk in your mouth next time," Chance said with a small, snort-like laugh.

---

"So, how was school?" David questioned as Chance climbed into the passenger seat slightly late, 3:09. He didn't look over at his son as he pulled away from the school.

"Fine."

"Make any friends?"

"A few," Chance said, grinning slightly. He thought about the group he'd spent lunch with; yes, they were odd but still enjoyable.

"Hopefully people who can bring your grades up," David said expectantly. "They're not another group of ne'er-do-wells, are they?"

"I don't know what that means."

David sighed. "You'll stay out of trouble, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have homework?"

Chance swallowed thickly; he truthfully didn't remember but he quickly said, "Yes, sir."

"Get it done before we go out tonight."

"Where are we going?" Chance wondered curiously.

"Well, Michelle wants to go out to celebrate our engagement," David said. "And yes, you're going so try not to make things so unpleasant."

Chance scowled. "If I make things so unpleasant, why make me go?"

"Since you're going, why make things so unpleasant?" David countered. "This is non-negotiable."

Chance looked away. "That's not fair..."

"Life ain't fair," David snarled. "And you'll suck it up and deal with it. Am I clear?"

"Yes."

"Speak up, boy."

"Yes, sir."

"And... I broke my backpack..."

"What? How?"

"Well, the zipper broke so I need a new backpack. Preferably one in blue with--" Chance stopped himself when he heard his father let out a small growl. "Or not..."

"You'll get a new one but you don't get to make requests."

---

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm glad to hear from you," Elaine Argent said.

Chance held his phone closely to his face, smiling happily, as always when he heard his mother's voice. He returned her greeting and quickly told her about his first day at school. She listened politely and when he finished, she replied in her calm, soothing tones.

"Eventful day, but I'd stay away from that jackal," she warned.

"Ma, I don't want to stay here," Chance said. "I want to go home."

There was a moment of silence. When she spoke again, her voice seemed pained. "Sweetie, right now, I can't look after you like your father can."

"But Ma, I can't stand her! She always puts me down and--"

"You haven't given her a chance, Charlie," Elaine reprimanded. "All I've ever heard you do is complain and whine. I'm sure if you give her a chance, you'll grow to like her. Maybe not love her, but you can like her."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Your father loved me. He had good taste at some point in his life. Maybe he's getting it back," Elaine said.

"But I--"

"CHANCE! GET YOUR JACKET ON! WE'RE ABOUT TO LEAVE!" David's voice sounded through the house and Chance sighed.

"I gotta go... Dad's forcing me to pretend we're a family."

"Try to be nice," Elaine insisted, "and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"When will I see you--?" Chance began.

"CHANCE!" David bellowed.

"Get going," Elaine said. "Don't want to keep your dad waiting." And the line went dead.

Chance heaved a loud breath. Well, the day was almost over. He just had to fake his way through this dinner and get back home in one piece.

_ Fan-fucking-tastic..._