Boston's Freshman Year
Boston's Freshman Year
*RIIIINNNGGG*
The bell announcing first period was about to start rang out loudly over the school grounds. Daniel Travis, or Boston as he was known as, sat idly behind a tree at the edge of the campus. He was Fifteen, and he was a freshman. He was also pretty damn high right now. He coughed one last time as he flicked the small roach left from his joint into the weeds after crushing it out against a rock. The border collie sighed, stood up, and hoisted his backpack over one shoulder.
The young dog walked his regular path back to the school, satisfied by the music playing in his ears, and the jingling of his dad's van keys in his pocket. His father had let him take it every day since he got his drivers permit. The older collie knew that his son would not get pulled over. He knew the laws better than most cops, after all.
Little Boston. A nickname given him by less friendly kids, due to his size. Boston hated that. He was shorter than most his age, and scrawny to boot. His frame was deceptively small, one would never guess he was actually pretty strong. The border collie's dad had enrolled him in Judo and Tae Kwon Do classes on the weekends as well to accentuate his small size and quick reactions. The pup had only been in classes a little over a year and was already the instructor's assistant in the Judo class. Boston accelled at throws, counters, breaks, holds, and grappling.
All Things his dad had taught him he'd need. He had also became more bubbly and personable. No longer a shut in loner, he was actually well liked amongst most of the school or at least ignored. This was for the better, little Daniel junior had a tendency to lose control at times of extreme anger. His father had told him that he may produce too much adrenaline too quickly, leading to this. Boston knew he was just, not the same as most others.
He knew he was dangerous.
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The longer bell announced the beginning of first period.
"Great," the border collie sighed aloud, "late again."
The teacher old wolf teacher yapped on about her experiences in the war and how women too did their part. History, and taught by a feminist-she-nazi at that. Should be called "Why females are tough, and my dad didn't rape me!" class.
The collie chuckled to himself. The nervous look in her eyes, the uneasy postures she'd assume when guys were hitting on girls. He could see it plain as day. He grinned and snorted in a bit of laughter.
"Ahem! Mr. Travis, did you have something to add to my account of the war, fixing our soldiers after we forgot them when they came home?" The wolf eyed Boston sternly, the rest of the class stared at him as well. One of them spoke sarcastically in an unseen voice.
"Bad dog Little Boston!"
This earned laughter from the class, as well as a snarl from the border collie, balling his fists and scanning the room as he stood. The class ceased laughing, replaced by a cow-like "ooooh" at the assertive move.
"Do you plan to fight in my classroom Mr. Travis?" The wolf pushed her small reading glasses up on her nose. Boston ignored her.
"Who said that?" The dog growled. "I'm not in the mood today, who said that?"
"MR. Travis? Do you want a detention slip?"
"Shut up wolf, this doesn't concern you. Someone called me out, and you don't do shit. I laugh at a joke in my head and I'm threatened?" The collie was panting a bit, his tail still.
"I would like you to go to the office, Daniel!" The wolf stood up, scooting her chair back with a metallic squeal.
"My name is Boston, and I would like whoever the fuck said that to stand up and stop being a bitch!"
The teacher had been struck by a nerve, slapping her desk and making the class jump. All except the border collie who's fur was bristling on his neck.
"Daniel Travis! Don't ever use that word in my classroom!" The old wolf was angered greatly, but seemed more scared than anything, ears flattened slightly back and her whisker s trembling visibly.
Boston grinned to himself, turning his anger to the teacher. He had stockpiled his weapons already.
"A scary male. That's what I am. Isn't it?" The border collie walked to the teachers desk, his muzzle pointed low, eyes locked into the old wolf's. He moved slowly, gracefully, but covered the ground to her desk quickly. He passed the students who only stared. This wasn't normal.
"Da-" Boston cut her off.
"I think you see all males as your father. We are all going to grow up to rape our little daughters and bleed them of all life. Am I right, Miss Malor?" Referring to the wolf's single status was an added burn.
"D- Mr. Travis please go to the office."
"Miss Malor, please suck my cock."
The room, already jaws agape, now gasped in unison.
The office was invented to be boring. Strategically designed to cause you to think As detention was a warm up to In school suspension. I.S.S. was a warm up to Alternative Education Programs. A.E.P. was a warm up for Juvenile Hall. It was, from kindergarten, a warm up for jail, the border collie thought.
He sat in a hard, uncomfortable chair, stared at a wall covered in the same five positivity posters he had memorized. Boston especially liked the one with the young puppy looking at the older kids smoking weed. It was quite amusing. The puppy looked terrified.
"lightweight." Boston snickered, earning a nervous glance from a random parent, the cheetah squirming uncomfortably on her chair.
"Daniel Travis! Come in." The young collie sighed and slapped his knees before standing up to go see the principle again.
"It's Boston!"
I.S.S.
He had received a week of in school suspension. It was a fate of unfathomable boredom and quietness, like a group sensory deprivation chamber. Designed by a nazi for sure.
Boston growled at himself as he stumbled back to his next class, reading the note. It was to begin tomorrow and he could finish the day as long as he avoided his history teacher. The wolf was terrified of him and asking him to be exchanged from her class upon threat of quitting.
He shook his head and growled, thinking of the kids in his next class. Their jeers, taunts, laughs. He was already worked up and probably should just go home. Boston decided this was indeed the good idea, his dad would be proud too.
Exciting a side fire escape, the collie ran across the small field to the apartment parking lot he his his van in. Cranking the engine, a shiver ran from his footpaw, through his spine. He loved driving now. Almost as much as, well, as his other desires.
Rumbling off down the road, he decided to stop for a soda for the ten minute drive with no air conditioning. Pulling into a store and noticing two bicycles, he entered the small convenient store. Boston grabbed a soda and was paying for it at the counter when a voice behind him made him bared his teeth.
"Oh look its Little Psycho Boston!" the fox jeered at his own joke, the dumb tiger laughing as well.
"Fuck off Jake. You too Nathan. I'm not in the mood." Boston walked outside, being followed by the two. He did not take not of the old cougar behind the register, watching keenly for a fight.
Boston sipped his cola and stared at the two bullies as he did so, not breaking his eye contact. The steady gaze of the border collie did not bode well to the tiger.
"What are you gonna do?" The tiger growled loudly.
Boston continued drinking his soda, even as the other two flinched when the store owner slammed the door open behind the collie.
"You two get out of here! Get! You, you don't have to leave. I saw them bullies messing with you. Go on ahead and drink your soda." The cougar put a paw on the dog's shoulder before walking back inside after the two bullies rode off in different directions, waving goodbye to each other.
"Fags" Boston chuckled. He gingerly sipped his drink, tossing it in a trash can before driving off in the direction of home.
And the fox.
Jake peddled slowly, as bullies tend to do, down the long, empty streets that connected things in this area. There were so many routes to any spot, that one could not see another driver for an entire drive. The dumb fox did not even pay attention as the van slowed behind him, engine rumbling as it cruised at an idle speed slightly slower than the fox's peddling.
After a moment the fox craned his neck around, seeing the border collie, gazing at him from the drivers seat.
"Fuck you!" the fox yipped, tossing a brown furred middle finger into the air to emphasize the fucking.
"Boston's eyes narrowed. He knew he could do it. All by himself, too. He was ready.
"No. Fuck you, fox." Boston checked his mirrors, and scanned for others, there was no one to be seen. The border collie Pressed the accelerator down firmly, the old V8 engine not tuned for fuel economy but for massive amounts of torque when needed. The van kicked dirt up, knocked into the fox on the bike, and threw the vulpine into the dirt, scratching and bruising him up as he tumbled.
Boston quickly hit the brakes, at the slow speed the van was going it was almost immediate. The dog ran from the van and kneeled by Jake.
"You FUCKER I think you broke my wrist!" The fox was holding his brown gloved paw and whimpering, yet his teeth were bared threateningly. Boston grabbed him by the bad wrist and yanked him up to his feet, eliciting a scream from the young vulpine, who quickly stood to alleviate to pain to his wrist. Boston dragged him into the van and tossed him in the back, hoping in with him and eyeing the outside through the windows. Alone.
Van stopped in the dirt road's shoulder, in plain sight. Boston drew out a sharp pocket knife and flicked it open with his thumb before twirling it into a reverse grip."I'm sorry.. I don't have much time." The pup looked sheepish, and leapt.
Boston grabbed the wide eyed fox's bad wrist and bent it back over his back, twisting jake around and kicking his foot out. The vulpine dropped and Boston wasted no time in pinning the creature's head to the floor of the van with his knee, drawing his blade up and savoring the moment.
"You're a real asshole, you know that, Jake?" The fox started to reply.
"WHAT?! What are you doing you sick fucking fa- AHH!!! AHHHH!!!"
*shick, shick, shick, cick,* The smooth edge blade hit bone. His dad had taught him all about serrated edges and their general lack of use for combat. Those nice little 'throat saw" looking edges on some so-called fighting knifes, will knick on a bone, and pull the blade right out of your paw on a withdraw. Or even worse, it could bring you to your enemy and cause a loss of balance.
*shick, shick, shick* the screaming was now a crying, soft, guttural moan that barely registered in boston's black, floppy ears. He looked around out the windows quickly, making sure no one had driven up or was about to. The collie looked down admired the now curled up fox, crying and shivering.
"Not such a bully with seven knife wounds? Do you want to say something about my mom? Call me a fag? Threaten me? Anything, fox?" Boston waited, only sobbing was replied. "Ok, then."
The collie descended again, drawing the knife over and over into the fox's sides and abdomen. Painful non immediate. Not kill strokes at all. He was meant to feel this, and he did. The vulpine screamed out anew, clawing and spazming, riping his own town belly open more with his struggles. Jake reached up and back to try to stop the assaulting knife, yet to no avail. Blow after blow from different angles.
The fox ran out of breath finally and sobbed on an inward, rattling breath, tears streaming his eyes and coughing up blood as he tried to heave.
"Twenty seven, now!"
Jake choked and sputtered. Shuttering in a painful breath he screamed again, the knife to his back silencing him. "Sorry, out of time."
Boston pulled the blade out and tossed it next to the squirming, gasping fox. The torn lung limiting his sounds to scratching and gurgling breaths, blood bubbling up through his white chest fur. He stared at the ceiling of the van and watched silently as his bicycle was tossed ontop of him, his close paw reached for Boston, for help. It was shoved away.
"Get the fuck off me!" the collie slammed the doors of his van. With the sound of dirt hitting up against the van, he sped off towards his home for cleanup. The fox died in the back, to a radio advertisement for a mattress company.