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The story's main character is bi, so don't read if you don't want to. As ever, your thoughts and criticism are welcome so that I can get better. Is it believable? Did something in my writing style bug you? Should I have more/less of anything? Did you like the characters? The plot? Did it raise any questions?

Thanks for reading!

• Xi

All's Fair - Part 6

I got out of the hospital a few days later - a Saturday, incidentally. Ivan, obviously, did not visit me. Jake didn't either, thank God; he sent Amy again, but maybe he was worried that I'd run off again if he showed up in person. He shouldn't have been; I couldn't run if my life depended on it. I sincerely hoped it wouldn't for the near future.

I spent most of the first full week in November catching up in my classes and learning how to walk on one crutch - I couldn't use two because of my broken arm. It wasn't the most fun I'd ever had, but I pushed through to the weekend. That was it, though.

Sunday found me collapsed on the spindly wooden chair in my cell, trying not to scream. The problem with broken bones is that they never really stop hurting until they've healed, and even in casts you're always jostling them when you move. For once the doctors were pleased I didn't want their drugs since they were worried about me getting addicted after a month of continual use.

There was a soft knock on the door, making me squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath in an attempt to get myself together. "What is it?" I called after a moment.

The door opened to admit a middle-aged racoon who always smelled like apples. I liked her more than most of the furs at the center because she didn't pretend to be cheerful, just businesslike. I don't remember her name.

"Hello, Nick," she said, standing by the door - she even shut it behind her - until I realized she wouldn't sit on my bed without permission. I like her. Standing, I indicated the chair with one paw and fumbled to turn it around to face the bed. She stepped forward to help, but I moved between her and the chair, trying to make it look accidental. When I finally got it around, I sat on the bed and looked at her expectantly.

She sat very straight in the chair. "I'll get straight to it, Nick. We have a program where we foster some of our older kids out to different families around the town for a semester. It's a very good way to let you get a feel for being outside the center, to prepare a little for when you leave." She smiled faintly. "It also lets you get out on your own for a while." And vice versa. "You'd be leaving at the start of winter break, for the rest of the semester."

She stopped, perhaps waiting for me to say something. I didn't bother. Part of me wondered if it was an effort to keep my face expressionless, or if I even could do otherwise.

After a short pause, she ran her claws through the thick black fur on her head and went on. "I can understand your feelings -" can you, indeed? "- but it's been quite successful with our other kids, and most of them really enjoyed it. But you don't have to if you don't want to. It's up to you - we can notify the volunteer family with no difficulty at all." She waited, but I still didn't say anything. "Well, I'll let you think about it. We don't need to know for another week or so."

Just as she was about to close the door, I looked up. "Who's the family?"

She consulted her notepad. "It's the Alteras. They live in the north part of town. They have one child in high school and a couple lower down, but I don't know who they are." She left quietly.

I flopped onto the bed once the racoon had left, and suddenly it was all I could do not to laugh derisively. Or scream. I bit my tongue until my eyes watered.

"Well, what did you expect?" I asked the empty air, my voice dripping scorn. "Is he supposed to drop everything to come panting at your feet?" I snorted. "Do you think the center would let him if he did? He's not from a 'socially acceptable family'." I swung out of bed and started to head out, but stopped with my paw on the door. Then I turned and started to kick the chair, but stopped that too. Instead I sat gently down in it, stretching my bound leg in front of me.

Ivan's last name was Lovan.

I didn't know any Alteras. Ecept the one, I don't usually bother with last names. Idly I wondered if they'd specifically asked for me; the racoon had said it like perhaps they had, but I couldn't think of anyone that stupid. Suddenly I snorted in amusement. Maybe it was Jake. He'd do it out of sheer perversity or whatever misplaced overbearing nobility complex he had. Thank God he didn't like me any better than I liked him. Besides, Amy would kill him.

I tried to tell myself I should go find someone and say yes. At least it'd probably be easier to get out; the family probably wouldn't pick me up every afternoon from school, probably wouldn't mind me leaving for a while, the whole bit. Then again, they must have been warned about me. But still.

I didn't say anything. Eventually I went to bed.

Monday lunch found me in the composition classroom with bruises all over me for fighting with a cougar outside the door before class. He'd been bugging me for a while, and he tried to get on my case for acting fey. Anyway, it is even more difficult than it sounds to scrub desks with a broken arm and leg. The Royal Marine sat behind his desk at the front to make sure I kept at it. It was a new position for him, since he usually walked back and forth in front of the blackboard or around the edges of the room.

About fifteen minutes in he sighed and set down the papers he was reading. "You were doing very well, you know," he said quietly in his smooth baritone. "I don't know about ouside of my class, but here you were doing well." I stared at him, but blushed and looked away when he looked straight back. I couldn't place his expression. It wasn't sympathetic, or happy, or disappointed, but it reminded me of those a little. "You're one of my best students academically. You miss a lot of assignments when you're in the hospital, but your work is good." He shrugged. "Just so you know. You'd best get moving on those desks."

I was glad for the rest of the scrubbing; it gave me time to think. I didn't dare look at the Royal Marined except out of the corner of my eyes, but he seemed to be engrossed again in whatever he was reading. I didn't say anything, either, but I silently called myself all kinds of names for the warm little glow of pride in the back of my throat.

When I got out I'd missed Ivan and Jake in the cafeteria, so I skipped lunch and went hunting. I couldn't find them, though, until, a little frantic, I saw Ivan and his gang coming back from off campus with the remains of a bucket of french fries about a minute before the bell. I tried to get over to him, but on crutches I couldn't pull it off fast enough, and I had to go to history. I still didn't know where Jake was.

A couple days later I remembered to tell the furs at the center that I wanted to do their program. Predictably enough, in retrospect - if that's not a contradiction in terms - they all acted very pleased and immediately doubled their hounding to make me study for my end-of-term examinations. After all, they said, it was important to keep my grades up so as to make a good impression. They never actually came out and said that if I did otherwise they wouldn't let me go; I don't know if they would have or not. I studied. It ate into my time for rule breaking so that my handlers began to think maybe I was doing okay. They let me hang out with Todd and Becky and occasionally Claire - nominally because I shared classes with them. Jake came by once too, and I had to sit through an hour of him helping me with trigonometric identities. The worst part was that I understood them better afterwards. He seemed uncomfortable through it too, as though he kept biting back what he wanted to say, so I can hope he didn't enjoy himself.

The examinations themselves were hardly difficult. The only way to make them hard is to fear them. As I handed my paper to the Royal Marine I looked at him, wanting to ask what he'd be teaching next semester, but afraid of all the indifferent furs in the class behind me. I couldn't even wish him a happy holiday; I just swallowed and hurried out. Thirty hours later, the semester was over for me.

I wandered aimlessly through the empty halls. The examinations were staggered thoughout the week, so fewer than half the students were there and most of those were still in the classrooms. It left the campus feeling hollow, and my crutch made a heavy, echoing clunk every time it hit the old tile. Most of the lockers at this point stood open, emptied for the winter. I stopped by mine. It was open as well; all I had were some pencils in my pocket. The rest of my academic life had been taken back by the center or burned unceremoniously in a trash bin I'd found halfway across town. I took the pencils out and set them gently at the bottom of the aluminum cavity and shut it. Maybe someone would find them there when they had forgotten theirs.

I looked fondly at the dumpster around back where I'd first gotten onto the roof and nearly gotten choked by Ivan. I set my crutch on it, then made a one-legged jump and a one-armed catch to get on top of it. The impact made my broken bones throb, but not badly anymore. I'd be able to take the casts off in a week and two days, just a week before Christmas. I repeated the process to get to the roof and sat clumsily on the parapet while I watched the hours pass by.

I didn't realize the voice calling "Mr. Donovan!" was for me until it reverted to "Nick!" Looking around, I spotted an older white tiger looking for me. It must have been later than I thought; I'd been too busy feeling the cold wind in my fur. But I dutifully barked an acknowledgement and dropped my crutch to the ground, then followed it. I botched the landing and wound up lying on the gravel pretending to be a clerk while various body parts registered their complaints. By the time I'd fumbled up to my feet the tiger had rushed over.

"There you are, Nick! Come on, we have to get you cleaned up. Your foster family is coming to pick you up in half an hour, don't you remember? You're supposed to be packing!"

I actually didn't remember, but I dutifully followed the tiger back to the van, which took us back to the juvenile correction center. Someone had taken the liberty of packing my clothes and near-nonexistant personal posessions already. I made a mental note to set down some rules about private property with whatever fools were taking me in, and another of awe that it should even be necessary. Someone else quickly got me to brush out the dirt and bits of gravel from my fur and change my shirt. Mostly I just went passively along; everyone was making a ridiculous amount of fuss, as though by worrying they could lengthen my sojourn elsewhere.

In ten minutes I was waiting in the correction center's lobby with one suitcase behind me. At least it was a nice shade of navy blue, since I couldn't get them to go for red to match the died fur on my limbs and chest.

I could tell by the sounds from the office when the Alteras arrived, and despite myself I perked my ears up in curiosity. A moment later a well-dressed couple stepped into view looking at me as curiously as I did them. The male was a tall brown wolf, and his wife was a deer nearly as tall with very striking red-black fur. They were both in business suits. They smiled tentatively at me, and I gave them a shy grin of my own.

Then Jake walked in behind them.

I could actually feel all expression dripping off my face like so much oil. Without a word I turned around and hobbled as fast as I could back to my stripped cell. I heard voices behind me, but ignored them.

Unfortunately, when you pull a stunt like that someone always has to follow you. I'd barely shut the door behind me when it opened again to frame Jake's silhouette. With one quick glance he took in the tiny room, empty bed frame, clean desk, window, husky. I smiled, my face cold.

"Welcome to my lair," I said formally, almost hiding the bitter venom behind my voice. Jake couldn't seem to think of anything to say, so I filled the silence for him. "Do let me give you a tour. No hanging skulls or anything, in case you were wondering. Nope, just an eight-by-ten space to live. The bed, here, the desk, right here. There's a bathroom and a closet behind that door. They're all empty, now, of course, since some idiots wanted to foster me. Funny. I'd never thought you were stupid, just noble."

He finally found his voice. "Thanks ever so," he said sarcastically. "Had I known you lived in such splendor, I'd have never talked my parents into offering you a room at our place, where you can come and go whenever you want." He cocked his head to one side and continued much more quietly. "Am I to believe you don't want that? I don't like you, mutt, and you don't like me, but I thought it might be good for you."

He had me there. I ducked my head. "I'm not going to apologize to you," I said, trying to keep my tone from making me a liar.

Jake shrugged. "I should have given you some warning. But my parents and your - guardians? - are probably getting worried."

I gave a hollow laugh at his choice of noun. "Well, we can't have that." I followed him back out of the room.

Jake's parents were waiting outside with my handlers, looking very confused. I took a deep breath and walked up to them, holding out my paw to shake. It was my left, but with the other at the end of a cast I couldn't help that. "I'm very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Altera," I said. I knew my voice was clipped, but at least it was polite. "I didn't know Jake was your son. It's nice to meet you."

They seemed gratified by the attempt, and each took my paw firmly. "It's no trouble at all, Mr. Donovan," Mrs. Altera said, and her husband echoed her. "It's nice to meet you too." I nodded mutely.

They had to sign some more paperwork before we left - I laughed quietly to myself as I considered the small mountain they'd no doubt already completed. Then they led me to a nice minivan in the parking lot. I sat very straight in the back - Mrs. Altera moved her chair forward to make room for my leg. After a few minutes I tried for speech again. "It's very kind of you both to do this," I said stiltedly.

"It's our pleasure, Mr. Donovan," Mr. Altera answered from behind the wheel. "Jake told us you and he are friends from school." He sounded a little uncertain about that now.

"You might say we know each other, at least," I said dryly, looking sideways at Jake. Was he blushing? I'd never actually seen him blush; maybe he didn't lie often. "But it's just Nick, please."

"All right, Nick." He hesitated, then added "You can call us Mum and Dad, if you want."

I froze. "Um, I'd actually prefer to call you by name, if that's all right," I said carefully.

"Oh. That's fine - my name is Dan, and this is my wife Halo."

"Nice to meet you again, Dan and Halo," I said politely.

***

I think I liked this part. It could definitely be made better, but still. I hope you did too; let me know.