FSE

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He stood on his front walk, listening to the fan in the car engine. Crickets chirped nearby. Otherwise, his suburban street had settled in for the night, at the late hour of 9:32, by his cell phone. Slowly, his heartbeat eased. He was waiting, he realized, for his mother to come out and tell him to come back in, whereupon he could angrily tell her that he didn't want to come back in, could turn his back on her pleading.

He folded his ears down against the breeze. What had just happened here was a real event, not just a fight, the culmination of the past year of Kory's growth apart from the path his mother had so carefully laid out for him. He'd started to hide things from her, not just little things like the occasional beer or the pictures he found on the internet, but big things like his relationship and his work at the Rainbow Center. She didn't even really know him anymore, not the things that were most important to him. He glanced back at the house and felt in his heart that it was just his mother's house now, no longer his home. That quickly, he'd cut himself loose.

Freedom felt terrifying and invigorating. He could walk down the path and up the sidewalk and make his own way through the dark neighborhood, the quiet streets. A car drove slowly down his street and turned at the end. He followed it with his eyes, wondering where it was going, and then wondering where he was going. The places he could stay tonight were few enough that he could count them on one paw while still holding his cell phone.

There was the Rainbow Center, of course, if the buses ran this late. He had his cell phone, and twenty-six dollars in his wallet. Not much to go on. The list of friends he could impose on for one night's stay, let alone an indefinite stay, was depressingly short. His aunt--his mother's sister--was out. His only option, really, was Sal.

Unless he wanted to go sleep at the bus shelter. He'd only seen people do that downtown. He suspected that if he were to try it here, he'd meet a policeman in short order, and then there would be explanations and his mother would be forced to be involved again. He dialed Sal's number and held his breath.

"Of course you can come over for the night," Sal said. "Just let me tell Mom. Why? What's going on?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. Can you pick me up at the Hilltop Shopping Center?"

"Sure. Be there in about twenty minutes."

Kory took a look at his phone. 9:38. He looked once more back at the house and then started walking.

His familiar street comforted him, the smells and the configuration of the yards, promising that outside his house, the world was going on as it always did. The people in those houses, relaxing after dinner, had no idea what had just happened, and if he knew his mother, they likely never would. That was fine. It crossed his mind that he might never call this street home again, but he recognized that that was his dramatic imagination. Right now he had no desire to come back, but what else could he do, in the long run? They had a college visit planned for the end of the month. College? How would he afford college without his mother's help? And anyway, he couldn't stay with Sal forever.

Forever was a long way away. He just had to get through tonight. He pushed away thinking about the fight and realized he had to call Samaki. He weighed the cell phone in his hand. It was late, he thought. He might be disturbing the household. And how would Samaki react? Would he tell him it was better to get it out in the open? He'd be thinking that, anyway. But he'd be sympathetic, too. And he had to call him. This couldn't wait until the morning.

Mrs. Roden answered the phone, panting slightly, and he could hear Ajani and Kasim arguing in the background; they'd just gotten home. She fetched Samaki without any questions, and when the black fox came on, Kory could hear the concern that he'd felt just a couple hours earlier, when Samaki had called him off their normal schedule.

"I got kicked out of home," he said.

The silence on the other end lasted for so long that he put one paw to his ear so he could hear the fox's soft breathing. "Samaki?"

"I'm here. What happened? Are you okay?"

Kory glanced around the street, standing at the corner where he had to turn away from the bus stop and his familiar morning route. "I'm fine." He started walking along Salmon, the winding street that would drop him behind the shopping center. "We had a fight about Malaya. I told her about us and she told me to get out."

"Just like that?"

On Salmon Street, the strange smells and lights quickened Kory's pace. He began to realize how vulnerable he was out here in the dark. "I kinda told her what we'd done. I might have cursed, too." The memory of that word brought a flush of shame to his ears.

"Oh, hon. Are you okay?"

"I am now. I think. But she knows for sure, now."

Samaki sighed. "I guess we knew she'd find out sooner or later. Wish she hadn't taken it so hard. Do you need somewhere to stay tonight? I can come pick you up in a couple hours when my dad gets home. Or I could ask my mom if you need a ride right now."

"I already called Sal," Kory said, watching a car approach and pass him. A large Jeep, with a hare at the wheel who ignored him.

"Okay." Samaki was quiet for a moment. "I guess I won't be staying over for a while."

Kory chuckled. "Yeah. Me neither."

"Well," Samaki said, "I mean, you'll be back home in a day or two, right?"

Now Kory remained quiet, until Samaki said his name again. "I don't know," he said. "I don't want to go back."

"What did she say?"

He could see the words as though they were written in fire in the air before his eyes. "She said we defiled her house. She wanted to send me away to one of those ex-gay summer camps to 'fix' me."

"Just give her time to cool down..."

"She doesn't need time to cool down. She needs a complete brain transplant."

Samaki paused, and then said, "Well, you can stay in our basement if you need to. I'll ask Mom, but I'm sure she won't mind. And we don't have to worry about them finding out."

"You're lucky," Kory said with only a little bitterness. "She had that stuff about the camps all teed up. She must have been reading about it."

"But she didn't figure out about us?"

He scuffed his feet along the sidewalk. "She's freaking paranoid. She probably had drug rehab camps and alcohol rehab camps and weight loss camps and loss of faith camps and every other behavior modification think for disobedient teens all ready. Probably she was happy just because now she knows it's not one of those other things. Now she knows what's wrong with me."

Samaki said instantly, "Nothing's wrong with you."

"No," Kory said, as another car rushed by him, on its way home, no doubt. "I know."

In the background, he heard their house phone ring. Samaki ignored it. "So you want me to come by tomorrow?"

"Maybe. I can probably stay at Sal's for a while. They have a lot of room there, and it'll be easier."

The pause that came before the fox spoke again didn't register immediately with Kory, distracted as he was with thinking about staying at Sal's place. Later, he would remember it. "Okay," Samaki said. "I'll still see you this weekend, right?"

"Sure." Kory's ears flicked against a chilly breeze. "I have to call Nick and get him to bring my stuff to school tomorrow. I'll call you tomorrow night."

"Sounds good." Over the fox's soft voice, Kory heard Mrs. Roden, her voice raised as he'd never heard it. "I'll see you Saturday, too. And don't worry. It'll be okay."

"Thanks." He put his smile into the word.

He said good-bye, closing his cell phone and walking around the next curve. The night still seemed ordinary, the shopping center just ahead of him already closed for the night. The only cars in the lot were a few employees still closing up shop. Kory looked from the center down to his phone. He and Samaki had talked as if him leaving home was ordinary, was just something to be gotten over, not a life-changing event. The impact of it hadn't really hit him yet, but it was starting to, now that he was thinking of the one person he had left to call.

After hitting the speed dial (his brother was '3', just after his mother and voicemail and just before Samaki), he hesitated over the 'Talk' button. What if his mother was in with Nick now, monitoring the phone in case Kory called, or just taking out her anger on him?

There was no help for it; he had to get his schoolbooks and notebooks and some clothes before tomorrow morning. He couldn't--wouldn't--go back to the house, so he stabbed the Talk button and took a deep breath.

Nick answered almost immediately, his voice low but genuine enough that Kory knew he was alone. "Oh my God, Kory," he said before Kory could say anything at all. "Where are you?"

"Sal's picking me up," Kory said. "Don't worry, I'll be okay tonight. I just need you to grab my books and bring them to school in the morning." It was weird, talking to Nick on the phone. His voice sounded different, whether from the phone or from the stress of the evening.

"You're not coming back tonight?"

"Why would I come back? Did Mom tell you she wants me to?" It wouldn't change his mind, but it would give him a great deal of satisfaction to know that she regretted her words already.

"Nooo." Nick drew out the word reluctantly. "But where else are you gonna go? You can't stay at Sal's 'til September."

Nick was probably right, but Kory looked up ahead to the shopping center, where Sal's car was going to meet him, and he felt a burst of desperate confidence. "If I need to, I can. I'm not coming home, Nick."

"But..."

"You heard what she said about Samaki. What she said about me! I have to do the right thing for my life, and I'm tired of her roof and her rules and her narrow-minded bullshit!" The word felt dangerous and good to say. He threw in a "God damn it!" at the end just to punctuate it.

Nick didn't respond immediately. Kory's triumphant bravado faded, leaving him feeling a little dirty about the swears. Finally, Nick said, "I'll bring your books to school tomorrow. I can bring 'em to your homeroom."

"I'll meet you at the bus when you get there," Kory said. "Thanks, Nick." And then, because his brother sounded so tired and forlorn, he said, "Hey. I'm still your big brother. I'm still gonna look out for you."

"Maybe I should be looking out for you," Nick said, in a cheerier tone.

Rounding a corner, Kory saw another set of headlights, and this time recognized Sal's car. "Sal's here. I'll see you in the morning, Nick."

"Kory?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

His throat closed up for a moment. "Love you too, Nick."

If the first words out of Sal's mouth hadn't reminded Kory of his mother, he very likely would have told his friend to drive him back home. But Sal said, "So what'd you say to get kicked out?" and Kory remembered his words, and his mother's, and the anger came flooding back as he curled his tail around behind him and settled back into the seat.

"I think I called her a goddamn bigot," he said.

"Wow." Sal chuckled. "Pulling out the name of the Lord in vain. That's, what, three Hail Marys?"

"None for me, now," Kory said. "You have to repent to do penance."

Sal whistled. "Harsh. What'd she say to get that?"

"Oh, um..." Kory looked out his window. "She was saying stuff about Samaki. And his family."

"The fox? You got kicked out of your house for a fox?"

He could see Sal's reflection, looking at him, more amused than anything else. His friend's equanimity helped him relax. "Well, she's been going on about them for months. I just got sick of it."

"So you cursed at her and she kicked you out? That don't make sense."

"We were fighting already," Kory said, "about..." He couldn't think of a plausible lie, and realized he didn't want to. He turned to his friend and sighed. "Sal, pull over here a second. I need to tell you something."

Sal listened to his confession, his eyes barely widening. He shrugged when Kory was done. "Dude, that's cool. You never seemed really happy with Jenny anyway. Makes me feel a little better, you know, about all those times you wouldn't come out with me."

"Huh?"

Sal grinned. "I mean, it wasn't me. It was just that you didn't like girls. Good thing you found out early, or you mighta been really fucked up."

"Thanks," Kory said. "I mean, really."

"Also explains your mom flying off the handle. I guess she just found out tonight too, huh?"

"Yeah." Kory laughed shortly. "The number of people who know just doubled. Well, not counting the kids down at the Center."

"The Center?"

And then he had to tell Sal about the Rainbow Center, and he was surprised at how good it felt to open up. Sal nodded, pulling back onto the road partway through the story. When Kory reached the part about Malaya being in the hospital, and came full circle to the argument that had led to him being in Sal's car, Sal was just pulling into his driveway. He parked to one side, both parents' cars taking up the garage, and they got out just as Kory was finishing up.

"She said she was going to clean the carpets?" Sal whistled. "No offense, dude, but your mom is a little bit nutso."

"More than a little," Kory said, following Sal along the stone path across his lawn.

"S'okay, so's mine. Just not in ways that get me kicked out." Sal grinned at him. "I'd take you in by the pool, but if you've just got those clothes, we should keep 'em dry."

"Good thinking." Sal's family lived in a large three-story house on the side of a hill, with a yard that extended all the way around the house that Kory had sometimes helped mow in the summer, and a large outdoor pool that connected with their indoor pool but wasn't heated. The taupe-colored stone walls blended with the green grass to make it appear that the house had risen organically out of the hillside, an impression reinforced by the rounded corners and oval windows. 'A lot of personality,' Sal's dad said about their house, which also boasted pools on the upper floors and water slides running down through the walls.

Because of the upper-story pools, they had to climb almost twenty feet of stairs to get up to Sal's room. Kory waved to Sal's parents on their way past the rec room; they waved back, looking up from the TV for only a moment.

"You can stay here," Sal said, opening the door across the hall from his.

Kory stepped inside and looked around. "Your mom redecorated again."

"Yeah, she's all into this 'colors of the seasons' crap now. She tried to paint my room in greens and yellows for spring, and I told her no fucking way."

Kory looked around at the brown walls, the artfully bunched orange and red curtains, and the coordinated drying mat and bed with the maple leaf pattern. "I think it looks fine," he said.

Sal snorted. "It's not your room."

"Is now."

They grinned at each other, and then Sal punched him in the arm. "So how long you think before this blows over?"

Kory shook his head, tired of thinking about that question. "I don't know. I don't care if it lasts 'til I go to college."

For the first time in a night of revelations, Sal's eyes really widened, and his ears came up sharply. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Seriously."

His friend whistled again. Kory rubbed a paw over his eyes and through his head fur. "Look," he said. "She can't accept what I am and she can't accept Samaki, and I'm not going to give any of that up just so I can live with her. I'm almost eighteen. I don't need her."

Sal nodded, rubbing his whiskers, and said, "So you're really into that fox, huh?"

"Pretty serious."

"Cool." Sal tapped his arm again. "I'd like to meet him sometime."

Kory smiled and punched Sal back. "You will." He loved Sal for that.

"Well, I gotta finish some homework. I guess you don't have any?"

"It's all at home. But it's mostly done, and Nick's gonna bring it tomorrow."

"Cool." Sal waved. "Good night, then. Tell me if you need anything. Towels in the usual place."

Kory waved good-night, and when the door was shut, he took off his clothes and slid into the water. Its warmth surrounded him, penetrating and relaxing. More words circled round his head: The prisoner escapes into the dark water, his chains lie piled on the shore. He flees the judgment from above, he runs from fear to love. That word again: love. He thought it about Sal; he felt it for Nick; he remembered it for his mother. What did it mean for Samaki? Some combination of all of them? He set the word aside and played with the lines of poetry until they became abstract, and he stopped thinking about the fight with his mother. When he felt himself slipping out of consciousness, he slid up onto the drying mat and went to sleep, one arm stretched out as though searching for someone by his side.

*

For a moment, when he woke the next morning, everything was normal. Then he looked around at the turning leaves, the bookcase that was too small to be anything but decorative, the unfamiliar rough ceiling, and the posterless walls, and he remembered.

Trepidation warred with elation, a battle he was becoming familiar with and tired of. Freedom, not only to go where he wanted, but from his mother's expectations and prejudices, buoyed him, but the currents carrying him away from her didn't tell him where they were taking him. The river ahead looked huge and unfamiliar, making him close his eyes for a moment and wish he were back home in his bed. Then he wished Samaki were there with him, and he found that the anger at his mother was not all exhausted after all.

He used its fierce flare as impetus to get up and get dressed. School, at least, he could count on being constant. Nobody knew what had happened, except for Sal and Nick, and he could make sure they didn't tell. If it got out that he'd been kicked out of the house, there'd be explanations required. Being out to Sal was a good feeling, as if he'd crossed a chasm safely, but the rest of the school was unlikely to react as well.

Through breakfast and the pleasantries exchanged with Sal's parents, to whom he said only that he wanted to hang out with Sal more and work on their college applications, he thought about the black fox and missed him, wondering what breakfast would be like in their house, just the two of them. Maybe, he thought, he and Samaki could just get an apartment together, somewhere in the city. Get jobs, earn their own money, start their own life. Nobody would have to know what their relationship was. There were plenty of friends who rented apartments together. He and Sal had talked about it, jokingly and half-seriously, the summer before last, when they'd both been grounded for being caught with beer.

Sal punched him as they got into the car, because he'd mentioned college, but when Kory pointed out that it was probably the one thing that had stopped further questions, Sal laughed and agreed, not really mad. Kory envied him the freedom from caring about what his parents thought, but Sal had always been that way. Kory was the cautious one, the one most likely to ask, "What would your mom say?" Sal forged ahead on his own path, not uncaring of others, just independent of them. Even when he lost a girlfriend, he was more annoyed at the loss of sex than he was about the relationship. When Kory asked him not to mention to anyone else that he'd been kicked out of his house, much less the reason, Sal shrugged as though it hadn't even crossed his mind to talk about it.

Kory waited outside for the bus while Sal walked in to homeroom. When Nick got off their bus and saw Kory, he ran to him, but pulled up short a foot away. "Here," he said, holding out Kory's backpack.

"Thanks." Kory took it and slung it over his shoulder. He looked back at his brother's blue eyes. "How you doing?"

"Me?" Nick forced a grin. "I'm fine." He put out a paw and patted Kory's arm, as close as they'd come to a hug on school grounds. "You?"

"I'm good." He wanted to tell his brother more, but he didn't know what. "I figured I'd come home and get some stuff after school, before she gets back."

His brother's ears perked briefly at the word 'home,' then lowered again. "Okay."

Kory reached out and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "You want to come over to Sal's sometime next week? Maybe you and me could go out for pizza?"

"Yeah." Nick flashed him a smile as the five-minute bell rang. They walked into the school together and Nick went off to the tenth grade wing while Kory walked down the hall to his homeroom, rummaging through his pack to get his books ready for his first class.

Fortunately, his first class was trig, which he'd already done his homework for, and he was able to surreptitiously finish his homework for English while Mrs. Molken was droning on about sines and cosines in her high-pitched ferrety whine. By the time he got to the end of the day, he'd gotten the majority of his work done.

He actually stepped up onto the stairs of his bus out of habit before remembering that Sal was going to pick him up. "Not today," he said, waved to the driver, and stepped down. Nick came running for the bus, but stopped when he saw Kory.

"You waiting for me?"

"Nah, Sal's going to pick me up." Kory looked along the front of the school for Sal's old black car. "You want a ride?"

They rode back to Kory's house in silence, Nick in the back seat, Kory in front. Sal tried to start talking about his day, but Kory, running through the checklist in his head of things he was going to have to get out of his room, didn't encourage him, and Sal eventually shut up. Computer, of course, Kory thought, and clothes. Some music and books, but only the essentials. His photo albums from growing up. He wanted to take his toy chest and box of mementos, but that was already going to be more than would fit in Sal's car. He asked Nick if he'd be willing to keep some stuff in his room to keep it safe, and his brother responded with a subdued "Yes."

The house already felt strange to him, like a copy of something he'd once known intimately. Kory walked with only a slight hesitation over the spot he'd stepped when his mother had told him to get out, and crossed the small bridge over the pool in the living room into his room, with Nick and Sal behind him.

"What do you wanna grab?" Sal was rubbing his paws together, looking around as though they were doing something excitingly illegal.

Kory tossed a suitcase from his closet onto the bed. "Can you pack this up?" He started pulling shirts, pants, and underwear out of his dresser. "Nick, can you get my other bag from the hall closet?"

His brother left the room without a word, returning a moment later with the big blue bag and throwing it onto the desk beside the first. Silently, he walked over to the bookcase and started taking Kory's books.

Of course Nick would know that he'd want his books. Kory leaned against the closet, just watching his brother, feeling the emotion swell in his chest. It would be so easy just to wait until his mother got home, wouldn't it? It would save him all this trouble, and he could stay with Nick. He swallowed. "You know," he began, but Nick's expression stopped him.

"I know," he said. "It's about her. And you gotta, you know, stand up for what's right. Don't you?" Kory didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. Nick put the books on the bed, facing away from his brother, his ears and tail drooping. "You won't be that far away."

"Never," Kory said, and when Nick turned around, he hugged him tightly. He wanted to stay more than ever, but he would only be doing it for Nick, and Nick had just explained exactly why he had to leave.

While Sal and Nick carried his bags out to the car, he took his computer apart. With the wires packed into a plastic bag, he looked around his room, at all the trappings of his childhood. That was all they were now. He could take them with him, but they were mementos, not part of his life any more. The posters on the walls, the picture of his family at the ocean...he looked at that last one, picked it up, and put it into the plastic bag with the wires.

They carried his personal boxes into Nick's room, and then he and Sal carried his computer out to the car. Nick carried the small printer, lagging behind them. They stowed the equipment in the back seat, and then Kory gave his brother another hug. "See you at school," he said.

Nick nodded. "Get going," he said. "She'll be home soon."

Kory looked out his window at his brother, getting smaller and smaller in the side mirror, but the sight grew blurry and he had to look away before they'd even turned the corner.

*

Saturday morning, he walked down to the bus stop. Sal had offered to drive, if he were awake, and Kory, knowing he wouldn't be, had accepted with a grin. His friend hadn't been back at one a.m., when Kory had enforced his own bedtime, and there was no movement from his room at seven a.m., when Kory's computer beeped to wake him up.

Once he got to his accustomed transfer point on the bus, he got to the Rainbow Center as easily as ever, enjoying the familiarity of those surroundings. Margo, it turned out, had been to visit Malaya the previous day, and planned to go again in the afternoon. She invited Kory to come along, which he gladly accepted. Samaki arrived just in time to hear an update on Jeremy's situation: the skunk was doing much better and had told Margo that he wanted to go live with his aunt and uncle in the northeast. "It helped," she said, "that his aunt and his mother had a falling-out. I could just hear her thinking about boasting that she could take better care of Jeremy than his mother could. It's not the healthiest environment for a boy, but it isn't for long, and he did used to live in that town anyway." She shook her head. "Sometimes it takes a little crisis for a boy to come to a decision. How are you doing, Kory?"

"Oh," he said, "fine." He started to tell her about his own crisis, but he was too familiar with the questions that would raise, and he was tired of them already. He just wanted this day to be normal.

When Samaki arrived not too long after, Kory asked him not to mention that. "Sure," Samaki said, arms still around the otter. "It's your business. How are you doing?"

"Fine." Kory nuzzled him. "Sal's place is nice and I'm all set up there."

"How long do you think you'll stay?"

Kory shrugged. "I really don't know. I just don't want to think about that."

Samaki released him, stepping back. "Because you know, you could stay in our basement. Mom said she'd love to have you there."

Kory nodded. "I know. I just...Sal has pools, and his parents are..." Well-off, he started to say, but snapped his mouth shut before the words escaped. He didn't want Samaki to think it was all about the money. "...they're cool with it. And it's closer to school and stuff."

"Yeah, okay." Samaki's tail dipped, but his smile didn't fade too much. "Oh, I didn't tell you last night. When you were talking to me on Thursday, your mom called my mom."

Kory felt his fur prickle. "Why didn't you tell me last night?"

"Oh, we were talking about school, and I kinda forgot," Samaki said. "It wasn't a big deal. My mom hung up on her after about fifteen minutes."

Kory groaned. "What'd she say?"

"Mom wouldn't tell me. But I heard Mom saying 'we know, and we love our son.'"

"Tell your mom I'm sorry."

Samaki squeezed Kory's arm. "Why? Not your fault."

"I know, but..."

Samaki kissed his nose. "She knows you're going through a rough time. She actually can't wait to see you tonight. Be warned," he grinned, "she's feeling really sorry for you. Be prepared to eat two desserts."

"I think I can manage." Kory smiled.

Delicate fingers caressed one of his ears. "You doing okay?"

"I guess." Kory closed his eyes.

He heard toeclaws clicking on the floor as someone walked by. "Get a room, you two," Jeremy said lightly, pushing open the door to the back yard.

"We'll be out in a second," Samaki called. "I can't imagine getting kicked out of my house," he said, more softly.

"Well, you like your parents." Kory opened his eyes, resting his chin on the fox's shoulder. On the opposite wall, a small rack of brochures for the kids hung. He could read the big black text on one: "YOU'RE OKAY." Next to it was a space that he knew was waiting for a new shipment of "YOUR PARENTS LOVE YOU."

"We always talked about your mother freaking out," Samaki said. "Was it bad?"

"It was a scene. Poor Nick was caught in the middle."

"What did she say, besides the camps?"

Kory shrugged. "The usual stuff about homos being evil. She wanted to protect me from them."

"I still can't believe she mentioned those camps." Kory felt rather than heard Samaki's low growl.

"Don't worry," Kory said. "I'd run away before I went to one of those."

"You already did." Samaki leaned back to look him in the eyes. "Anything you want to talk about while we have time here?"

Kory smiled and touched his nose to the fox's. "I don't want to ruin today. Let's work on the yard while the weather holds. We're going to go see Malaya this afternoon."

"Okay, lead on," Samaki said. "Oh, I filled out my application for State last night. Just like applying for a job at the supermarket."

"I haven't looked at mine," Kory said as they walked to the back, where the boys were already working on laying some paving stones. Kory could see that while the porcupine, Jano, was just laying the closest stones within his reach, Jeremy was trying to sort them by size and color. The stones had been donated, so this was not a simple task. "I don't even know if I can go to college now. Who's going to pay for it?"

"Your mom will. She has to." Samaki bent to lift a stone.

Kory paused, staring beyond the fence. "I don't know if I want to take her money."

The fox placed the stone down for the boys to tamp into place. He turned to look at Kory. "If it's a choice between going to college and not?"

Kory shrugged. "I can work for a year. Earn money. Maybe I'll join the Army or something, get them to pay for school."

Samaki giggled. "I can just see you in the army."

Vic, the weasel, looked up. "I thought gays couldn't join the army."

"I wouldn't tell them," Kory said. They stared at him until he pinned his ears back and reached for the tamper, pressing the stone Samaki had just laid into the sand.

Vic shrugged. "Who wants to go to college anyway? I've had enough school already."

Jano said, "You've gotta go to college. That's where you start the rest of your life."

"I'm ready now," Vic said. "Starting here." He fitted a stone next to two others and eyed it. "What do you think? Does that work like that?"

They all looked it over. He'd placed a reddish clay stone in between two slate-blue ones. "Looks great," Samaki said, and Kory nodded his agreement.

At the hospital, they found Malaya alert enough to roll her eyes as Margo, Kory, Samaki, and the boys trooped into her room. "They said I need peace and quiet," she grumbled, but Kory saw the hints of a smile under the bandaged ear.

She told them the story again, more coherently: her father, seeing her leafing through Vogue while talking on the phone about how pretty some of the models were, had assumed she was talking to a girlfriend, which she didn't deny because it was, in fact, true. "And maybe I was talking about how much I'd like to do some of those models," she said, "but it was just talk, that was all."

They laughed with her for a while, and she pretended to hate it. When Margo announced it was time to return to the Center, they all said their goodbyes, and she waved at them and told them to get out. Kory and Samaki, planning to take a bus, started out to walk down with the rest of the group, until Malaya called, "Kory?"

He turned and saw her beckoning. "Go ahead," he said to Samaki. "I'll be down in a minute."

When the others had gone, he sat by Malaya's bed again. "What's up?"

She shook her head. "Remember what I told you about hope?" He nodded. She waved toward her smokeless muzzle with one hand. "See? Given it up."

Her eyes defied him to contradict her. Normally he would have skirted around the issue, but his own recent wounds were too fresh. "I got kicked out of my house," he said.

"For a night?"

"I'm not going back."

He hadn't expected her to be shocked or impressed. If she was either, she didn't show it. "Seems like we're in the same boat. You staying at the Center?"

He shook his head. "With a friend."

"Well, hey," she said, "good for you. I don't know anyone I can stay with."

"Go back to the Center. That's what it's there for."

She coughed. "It's too much sunshine and brightness. Life sucks, and I'm okay with that, but it's bad enough without people pretending it's all gonna work out okay. I'll probably end up there for a little while, but as soon as I can find somewhere else to go, I'm gone."

"The Center's not so bad," Kory said.

She nodded at him. "What'd you do to get kicked out?"

"Blew up at my mom after we left here." He looked at the window, at the bright day outside, away from Malaya. It was hard, realizing he'd told personal details of her life to someone she didn't even know, but he owed her that explanation. She listened calmly as he gave it, and then nodded.

"She's probably a closet dyke," she said.

"What?"

"It's the closet cases that are really homophobic like that," Malaya said. "I read about it. They've got all this self-hatred going on and they take it out on other people. Kinda sucks for you, though."

"I don't really think...she's just really into religion, is all."

Malaya nodded sagely. "A lot of 'em do turn to religion. It helps 'em overcome their horrible urges."

Kory stood up. "I gotta get going. Glad you're feeling better. Uh, see you next Saturday."

"Sure." She waved a hand and gave him the ghost of a smile.

As if he needed one more thing to think about. His mom? He brooded over it all the way back to the Rodens' house, until Samaki asked him what was wrong. He said he was just thinking about Malaya, and they talked about the fruit bat and her family trouble, and he put the conversation about his mother out of his mind.

Mrs. Roden fussed over him without ever directly mentioning his situation, until Kory came in to help her do the dishes while Samaki was still talking to his father. The slender vixen put an arm around his shoulder then, her ears cupped toward him. "Kory," she said, "you know that whatever happens, you're always welcome here."

"Thanks, Mrs. Roden," he said. "I'm okay where I am right now."

"I know." Her voice cracked a little. "I just don't want you to think you have nowhere to go. We're an independent family, you know. Everyone makes their own way. So even if we don't offer help out loud, it's always here for you. You've been really good for Sammy, and we'd like to--we do consider you part of our family."

The last bit came out rather defiantly. Kory stood awkwardly, looking at her, and because he knew he was expected to, he said, "Thanks. That means a lot."

He didn't tell Samaki about it, but the brief exchange left an uneasy feeling in his stomach for the remainder of the night. He couldn't say why Mrs. Roden's kindness seemed unnerving. Perhaps it had gone too far, or perhaps he couldn't stop thinking about his own mother and the contrast between her and Mrs. Roden. He looked around at the house and tried to imagine himself living there, but it would never feel like home, he thought, and he still felt like an outsider in this family of foxes.

They lounged on Samaki's loft while Ajani and Kasim played some card game over on Kasim's desk. Samaki had propped up some pillows against the wall and was leaning on them, his tail draped over the otter's hip as Kory lay on his side, propped up on an elbow. He rested one paw on the fox's foot, rubbing the fur gently, and Samaki trailed his fingers up and down Kory's calf. They had gotten out the applications to State, and Kory was filling out his in between conversations about school and science fiction books and anything but his living situation.

They finished the form in forty-five minutes. "This kinda sucks," Kory said. "I mean, not that I want to write those essays for Whitford and Gulliston, but at least it felt like they weren't going to let anyone in who can spell his name."

"It's a place to get an education," Samaki said. "It is what we make it. There's resources there we can use."

"At least I can afford the tuition," Kory said. For in-state students, the amount was ridiculously low, something he could make with his savings the first year, and a part-time job the rest of the time. Looking at the numbers made him realize for the first time how poor Samaki's family must be, if they couldn't spare the amount of money he had in his savings.

That thought led him to wondering how much of his savings would be used up paying for food and clothes now that he was on his own. He had many years of birthday checks and a small inheritance from his grandfather, but he wasn't sure it was enough to last a year. He shook that thought aside and returned to the applications.

"You know," he said, "Mr. Pena's an ass, but he did say that there were lots of scholarships available out there. Some for ethnic minorities, but some just for talent. We should look around for some. Not for Whitford, or anything like that, but at least for something..." Other than State, he started to say, and then stopped himself. "...different."

Samaki chuckled. "Okay, I'm game. I think the computer's free. Want to go look now?"

An hour and a half later, they had a list of six nearby universities with likely scholarships, and a pile of applications. "Great," Kory moaned, "more paperwork."

"A few hours now could save us hundreds of dollars." Samaki pointed dramatically to the Esther J. Dobson Grant For Aquatic Writers, which awarded $250 per year to students at tiny Haverlawn College in the south of the state.

"Haverlawn's cool," Kory said. "They have a self-grading policy."

"They're cool, but they're also ten grand a year. Two-fifty isn't going to make much of a dent in that."

Kory rummaged through the printouts. "That's why you also go for the, um, Tilford Times Journalism Award. That's a thousand."

"Still not beating a free ride to State."

Kory shrugged. "This Drew Fortunas one for foxes looks good. Full tuition to Forester, and all you have to do is mentoring your junior and senior years."

"Thought you didn't want to go to Forester." Samaki held the paper as he said that, scanning it.

"You said it was getting more progressive."

"I said it might." He flipped to the second page. "'Submit essays on previous mentoring experience.' Hey, I could actually do this one." His ears perked as he looked down at Kory. "Is there a way you could afford Forester?"

"Maybe." Kory called up their financial aid package again. "They have a good work-study program, and if I'm on my own, I qualify for more loans."

The fox put the paper down and nuzzled Kory's small ears. "Okay. We'll have fun with those next weekend. Let's do something else fun now. Any good arguments going on anywhere?"

They read newsgroups and journals until midnight, then kissed and went to their separate beds. Kory lay alone in the darkness of the basement, wondering what it would be like to live here. It wouldn't be that much different from living in Sal's spare room, would it? Samaki's parents hadn't known him as long, but seemed more genuinely interested in his predicament and had said they regarded him as family. But he remembered, too, the small amounts of tuition for the state college, and he couldn't bring himself to take their food.

And it was really more convenient for school. Vacations and weekends he could come over here, but it would just be better off for everyone if he stayed at Sal's rather than here.

But when they got to school...he turned over uneasily. He'd want to be near the fox, of course, but could they keep their relationship secret from everyone in their dorm? Would Samaki even want to? Kory stared into the blackness, deeper than the fox's fur. Samaki wouldn't, of course. He wanted Kory to go to his prom, which Kory had not yet committed either way on. One day it seemed like a fine idea; after all, who down at Hilltown P.S. knew him there? If Samaki wanted them to know, they were his friends and it was his lookout. The next day it seemed insane to Kory. Gay couples at the prom were still news, they were strange and unusual and drew attention, often unpleasant. Why couldn't they just be boyfriends and not tell anyone about it?

The questions had no answers, but at least they could be put off by the merciful darkness of sleep.

*

Sal picked him up Sunday morning, greeting Samaki cheerfully when the fox walked out with Kory to meet him. They chatted only briefly, because Kory and Sal had to get to church. "See you next weekend," Samaki said, waving as they pulled away.

"Nice guy," Sal said, watching in his rear view mirror, and grinned at Kory. "I guess I can see where you'd think he was sexy. Nice butt, if you're into that."

"Cut it out." Kory forced a grin, but felt himself flushing at the tips of his ears.

Church was a surreal experience. He was so used to Father Joe that going to a different church with Sal was like changing religions. He'd have to get used to it, though. He couldn't go back to his church, not while his mother was going there. But the priest in Sal's church, an old lion, wheezed through a sermon decrying the evil inherent in all people, whereas Father Joe's sermons had always focused on the love of God and the positives in life. Kory listened to the rheumy feline voice, whose words did nothing to help his general feeling of unease. When he tried to talk to Sal about the sermon afterwards, Sal's only comment was, "You stayed awake through the whole thing?"

For the rest of the day, he helped Sal with chores and then talked to Nick on the phone. His brother had calmed down since the night he'd left, but still held out hope that Kory could come home. When Kory asked whether their mother had cooled down, though, Nick was silent, and then changed the subject. They arranged to go out for pizza the following Wednesday night, and Kory hung up feeling homesick and angry and frustrated, all in one uncomfortable emotional lump that sat somewhere just above his chest.

Even though it wasn't their scheduled night, he called Samaki, needing something reassuring to counteract the rest of his day. The fox answered with some apprehension in his voice, which vanished as soon as Kory explained that he just wanted to talk about his day. He told Samaki about church, about his call with Nick, and about his general feeling of being adrift.

"You could always come here," Samaki said.

"It'd take me an hour to get to school," Kory said. It sounded stupid as soon as he said it, but fortunately Samaki didn't press him on it.

"When do you learn to drive?"

"I don't even know how that's going to work now. I guess I can take the class at school, and Sal can take me over to get my permit." He pressed his fingers to his muzzle, rubbing his whiskers. "I don't wanna think about it."

"It's not that hard," Samaki said. "I can come pick you up this weekend. My mom has off for some holiday."

"Cool." Kory smiled at the warmth that thought generated. "I miss you."

"Miss you too," Samaki said, and they hung up soon after, with Kory's jumbled feelings only slightly better. He never thought he'd be thankful to go to school, but he was actually looking forward to class on Monday.

*

Wednesday night pizza with Nick became a regular thing, in the shopping center where Sal had picked him up on that night he'd left home. As they munched their anchovy and oyster with extra cheese, they talked about school and TV shows, and only rarely about their mother. Nick did bring up the subject a month after Kory'd moved out, when one slice of congealing pizza remained in the box.

"I guess you're used to living with Sal now," he said.

"I don't really see him a lot," Kory said. "Meals, and going to and from school. He still likes to go out at night, and I'm trying to get all these college applications done."

"How are they going?" Nick asked.

"Ugh. I'm glad I have Samaki to talk to. So much paperwork and they all want these stupid essays."

Nick grinned. "So use the same essay for all of them."

"I can, for some of them. The hard ones, anyway. And I have that college prep class, which is giving me some good ideas."

"Whitford has a swim team. If you go there, I could try to get a scholarship."

"I'm gonna need one to be able to afford to go," Kory said.

Nick acknowledged that with silence, looking away before asking, "Where else are you looking?"

Kory rattled off the schools, and saw Nick take mental note. "Wherever I end up," he said, "it'd be great to have you there in a few years. Just make sure you're well-rounded." He made sarcastic air quotes for that last phrase. In Physics, he learned that fluid materials like liquid and gas would naturally flow to a spherical shape, and whenever Mr. Pena said "well-rounded," he imagined some kind of spherical otter who was the perfect college candidate, all his skills the same perfect distance from his perfectly centered core.

"We should order another pizza, then." Nick patted his stomach.

Kory laughed. "I'm glad we get to have pizza together."

"I miss you at dinner," Nick said.

"I miss you all the time," Kory said. "Dinners and breakfast, and whenever I sit down to watch "Dr. Otter," and Rob Travis says something funny and I want to turn and laugh with you about it. I miss being able to swim over to your room. Sal's pool is big and complicated and I slid downstairs by accident three times the first week. I even miss..." He paused. "You know I make myself eat all my vegetables now?"

Nick shook his head. "I get even more vegetables now. Plus I get lectures if I don't eat 'em."

"Stuff like, 'careful you don't turn out like your brother'?"

"Nah. Just, 'I try so hard to put good food on your plate.' That kinda stuff." He eyed the last slice. "You miss that, too?"

"I miss her," Kory said. "Just not when I think about Samaki. You can have that slice if you want."

Nick didn't need any further encouragement. "How's he?" he mumbled around a mouthful. "Surprised you didn't move over there already."

"Yeah," Kory said, remembering the silence when he'd first refused that offer. "Sal's place just works better for school, and I don't feel bad eating their dinners. They can afford it."

Nick looked up. "You going to get a job?"

"Huh?"

"To pay for your dinners."

Kory poked at a piece of anchovy in a pool of congealing cheese. "Maybe."

"Jerry Tamrin's older brother is a waiter at DeMarco's and he gets his dinners for free."

"I don't have any experience being a waiter."

"Well, I mean, then you wouldn't have to eat the dinners at Samaki's. You could just stay there." Nick chomped down the last couple bits of crust.

"Maybe," Kory said. "It's still a pain to get to school."

Nick licked his fingers and shrugged. After a moment, he said, "You guys basically lived together all summer. I felt like I had another brother."

"That was different."

"How?"

A skunk couple Kory didn't recognize from his high school sat down at the next table with their pizza. Kory watched them share smiles and pizza, watched the boy's paw creep over to rest on the girl's. He lowered his voice. "I dunno. It just was."

Nick glanced over his shoulder at the couple, then back at his brother. He matched Kory's near-whisper. "It's not a big deal," he said. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Kory said automatically. Then he looked at his brother's earnest expression. "What if it is a big deal for me?"

Nick grinned. "Then you need to get over it. What would you have done if Jenny said 'I want to go out with you but we can't tell anyone'?"

"It's different," Kory said. "Anyway, you know."

"Yeah, but I know a lot of things." Nick grinned.

Kory brushed his claws through the fur on his arm. "And Sal knows."

"What about Aunt Tilly?"

He snorted, so loudly that the skunks looked over at him. He lowered his voice again. "I'm sure Mom's told her."

"What about--"

"What's your point?" Kory leaned back and folded his arms.

Nick shrugged. "You left home for him."

"That's Mom's deal."

"So you had nothing to do with it." Nick rested his elbows on the table. "You were furious when you called me about what she said about him. Remember?"

"Yeah." Kory looked his brother in the eyes. There wasn't anyone else he could ask this question of. "So...Nick, why do I feel so weird about going to live at his house?"

"I dunno," Nick said. "But you should maybe figure that out, huh? Hey, ask Father Joe. He asked me to invite you to come see him on Saturday. He said something about your issues. I think he knows, too. Maybe Mom told him."

"This Saturday?" Kory asked. "Did Mom ask him to?"

Nick shrugged. "Maybe. He's been trying to corner me for a few weeks now."

They walked out together to where Kory would have to catch the bus. "Okay," Kory said finally. "I'll go see him."

*

Afternoon light set the trees in the churchyard blazing a bright, fiery red. Kory's paws crunched through piles of yellow and reddish leaves on his way to the small office in the back. The door was closed, and when he knocked, Father Joe came around the corner of the building, dressed casually in an oxford shirt and jeans. "Hello, Kory," he said, and extended a hand. "Thanks for coming to see me."

"I guess my mother asked you to talk to me," Kory said, grasping the large white hand in his brown paw.

Father Joe shook his head. "You think I wouldn't notice when you stopped coming to church? I asked your mother, but she...well, she didn't tell me how to get in touch with you."

"Oh." He knew he shouldn't feel disappointed, but he had been hoping, without realizing it, that his mother had asked the priest to talk to him. He kicked some leaves and shrugged. "So you heard the story?"

"Not from you."

"Oh," he said again. Father Joe put a hand on his shoulder, gently.

"Let's walk. I like to be outside this time of year, to enjoy the weather before it gets cold."

They walked around the churchyard, Kory telling his story over the rustling of the leaves. He referred to Samaki only as a 'friend,' but told all of Malaya's story and his mother's reaction, his mounting anger, her sharp words and his reaction. In Father Joe's silence, he felt a judgment, and reliving the story after so long, he felt the old anger surface again. With it now, at the priest's side, he also felt unsure of himself. "I guess I sort of overreacted," he said, and when Father Joe didn't respond, added, "Are you going to assign me penance?"

The Dall sheep shook his head. "This is not the confessional, Kory. I'm disappointed that you felt you had to resort to harsh language, and that you failed to honor your mother, but I won't assign you any penance. I suspect you're living your penance."

"But she was wrong too, wasn't she?"

Father Joe sighed. "I presume you would not want me to render my judgment of you to your mother, would you? Then allow me to reserve my judgment of her for a time when she comes to seek it."

"Sorry." Kory folded his ears down.

The priest returned his hand to Kory's shoulder. "I am sorry for you, Kory," he said. "I wish I could say that the road ahead will get easier."

He looked up and saw resolve in the wide brown eyes. "I will give you penance, of a sort, after all," he said. Kory nodded. "But no Hail Marys, no Our Fathers. Your penance is to love your mother."

"The prayers would be easier," Kory said, joking to overcome his surprise.

"Of course they would. But this should not be hard. I am not asking you to forgive her, or even talk to her. I'm asking you to love her. Understand her actions. Don't carry hate in your heart. That is not for her sake; it's for yours. Okay?"

Whenever he thought about his mother, his chest tightened and he felt his paws want to clench. But he nodded and said, truthfully, "I'll try."

"You don't try to do penance," Father Joe said with half-playful sternness. "You do it. You're still going to church, right?"

Kory nodded. "St. Lutris."

"Oh, Father Brewer. I do hope you'll say my sermons are better than his."

"I miss your sermons." Kory grinned back up at the sheep.

Father Joe nodded. "I know it's uncomfortable with your mother, but I'd be glad to see you here once in a while."

"I'll try." He grinned. "I mean, I will."

He'd thought that would be the end of it, until Father Joe made no move to dismiss him, instead looking up at the trees. "How are things with your friend?"

"Huh? Oh...fine."

"Does he have your best interests at heart?"

Kory tilted his head. "I think so."

"What I mean is, he's allowing you to make your own choices, and not pressuring you into something you don't feel comfortable with?"

"Oh." He shoved his paws into his pockets. "Yeah. I mean, yes, we talk about stuff all the time. He didn't tell me to yell at my mom."

"No, that sounded like it came from your heart. I just want to be sure that the decisions you're making are your decisions. It is often easy to become tempted into alluring unknowns when we are fleeing a too-familiar known."

"Better the unknown than the known, sometimes. Like for Malaya," Kory said.

The tall sheep bent his head gracefully. "I hope the worst is over for her as well. She's lucky to have friends to help her."

"It's hard to get her to take help, though." Kory sighed. "She's so stubborn and independent."

"So many young men and women are." Father Joe smiled. "That is our delight and our frustration with the young. Did you tell her what I told you about God, this spring?"

"Once," Kory said. "She said it sounded like your God was nicer than hers."

Father Joe laughed. "She sounds like quite a personality."

"She is," Kory said. "I don't know what she's going to do now, though. She won't be happy at the Center, and she can't go back to her father. She has grandparents in the south, but she's already threatened to run away again if she's sent there."

"Often," the priest said after a moment, "God selects the challenges he sends us for a reason. They are not to punish us, nor to test us, but to make us stronger. But it is up to us to meet the challenge, to face it and respond to it, not to flee it."

The word 'flee' reminded him of the door of his house--his mother's house--slamming behind him. He shifted from one foot to the other, rustling the leaves. "She's had a lot of challenges," he said.

"So have you." They had reached the churchyard fence. Father Joe stopped to lean on it, looking out over the houses below. "I gather you're living with a school friend now, not your other friend?"

"No," Kory shook his head, then hesitated. "He wants me to move in. They have room in the basement and they say I'd be welcome."

"But you haven't made that decision yet."

Kory shook his head. "They're not that well off. I don't want to take their food unless I can pay them for it."

Father Joe turned his head towards Kory. "That's remarkably considerate. I don't know many young people in love who would have that much restraint."

Kory fidgeted, looking at the reddish leaves over the green grass. "It's also just not convenient. For school and stuff." After the conversation with Nick, his arguments sounded hollow, but the more direct question lodged like a lump in his throat. He swallowed.

A bird sang in the tree above them. Father Joe and Kory both craned their necks to look at it. When it was silent again, Father Joe said, "I think you might want to spend a little time thinking about yourself. It's difficult to let yourself love another if you don't feel you yourself are worthy of love. It's always good to start with God at times like that. He always loves you, Kory."

"I wrote an essay about that." Kory had revised and revised it, only stopping because he was tired of reading it.

"Really? I would like to see it."

"I'll bring it over."

The sheep bobbed his head. "Thank you. How are the college applications going?"

Kory snorted. "I don't know. I think I need to eat more."

"Eat more?"

He held his arms out at his side, as if curved around a wide belly. "I need to be more well-rounded."

Again, Father Joe laughed, and Kory shared his smile. "I think you're going to be a fine student," the priest said. "You are already a fine young man."

Kory's ears flicked at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks."

Father Joe pointed a finger at him. "I believe that. And you should, too."

He didn't. But as he walked home, he remembered the earnest openness in Father Joe's warm, brown eyes, and he resolved to try.

*

"I liked your essay," Perry told him after the college prep class.

Kory nodded. "Yours was better." He'd finally given in to the wolf's pestering the previous week, and had been depressed to read the clever essay Perry had written on how Star Trek related to the current political climate. It showed a breadth of experience--a well-roundedness, Kory would have said if he didn't hate the phrase so much by now--that the otter desperately hoped for.

"You think so?" Perry's tail wagged.

"Sure," Kory said. "I mean, mine was all just this introspective garbage."

"No, I thought yours was good. I mean, you got all that philosophy stuff in it, and you included some life experiences." Perry bobbed his head. "And then you added that bit from Dostoevsky that we did for extra credit in English. I think it really showed your well-roundedness. I just, if I had one suggestion?"

Kory stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Uh-huh?"

"Why didn't you include some stuff about the homeless kids you work with? I mean, they've got great stories, at least the ones at my shelter do, and I've only been there a month."

"Oh." Kory pretended to think about that. "I didn't even consider it. Thanks."

The wolf's tail wagged. "If you add those in, I think it's a real winner."

"Thanks," Kory said.

Perry tugged at his polo shirt. "So, uh, what would you change in mine?"

Kory pushed open the school doors, stepping into the late afternoon sun. "I don't know," he said. "It all looked good to me."

"There has to be something," Perry persisted.

Kory shook his head. "Really, it was good. I'd just go with it." He walked past the bus he'd used to take home, feeling only a little strange about it now. Sal had pulled up in the student parking lot across from the busses and waved to him. "I gotta run, Perry. See you in English."

"Yeah, okay." The wolf raised a paw. Kory didn't look back as he crossed to Sal's car and got in.

"Who's the feeb?" Sal said.

"I told you about him," Kory said. "Perry. He's in the college prep class with me."

"Figures." Sal snorted and pulled the car out of the lot.

Kory tossed his bag in the back seat. "He's not bad. Just a little too, I dunno, eager to be my friend."

Sal grinned. "Maybe he's hot for you. Is your gaydar going off?"

"Shut up!"

"What? I thought all you guys had that."

Kory folded his arms. "Look, I'm not...don't do that."

Sal made the turn onto the main road toward his house and glanced sideways at Kory. "What, don't call you gay because you're dating a guy?"

"It's more complicated than that."

Sal laughed. "Really? Cause I learned if you're straight, you date girls. If you're gay, you date guys. This isn't like experimenting in summer camp, you know. You're, like, serious about him."

Kory stared out the window and didn't respond. After a moment, Sal continued. "Dude, I told you there's nothing wrong with it. I'm cool, totally."

"You experimented in summer camp?"

"Only with girls." Sal leaned back in the seat, steering with one paw, his tail swishing lazily through the seat behind him.

"That's not experimenting. Experimenting is like when your mom makes kidney paste."

"I can't believe it tasted like vomit, it really did."

And the conversation moved on from there, even if Kory couldn't leave it quite so easily.

He studied the essay again that evening. Perry was right. It needed more of his personal experience with the kids from the Rainbow Center. It needed more of himself in it.

"So put in Malaya's story and the stuff with your mom," Samaki said on the phone that night. He sounded tired. "I don't think that should be a big deal."

Kory stared up at the ceiling. "I think I can do that. Did I tell you Father Joe wants to see it when I'm done?"

"That's nice. You going to let him see it before you send it off?"

"I think so. I'll try to finish it before Thanksgiving."

"I'm looking forward to that." Samaki perked up as he mentioned Thanksgiving. "Mom said you're not allowed to say no."

Kory grinned. "I've already said yes. Did you hear about your uncle?"

"He'll be there."

"Cool." Kory was looking forward to meeting Samaki's uncle, a confirmed bachelor who lived in the largest gay neighborhood on the East Coast.

"It's gonna be weird, isn't it?" Samaki said.

"A little. Hey, would it be okay if Nick came over too, for a bit? He'll have to be home for dinner, but..."

"Course." Samaki replied immediately. "Just let Mom know when."

Kory settled back in his bed. "Ready for your history final? Want to go over anything?"

"I'm good. How about your math test?"

"I could run through some of it if you have time." He settled back in his bed and talked math for the next fifteen minutes.

"I need to get going," Samaki said. "Going to finish up the form for that Drew Fortunas scholarship."

"Okay. I'll think of you tonight when I brush."

"Me too. Be sure and brush very thoroughly."

Kory grinned, resting a paw on his sheath. "You too."

*

November rolled into Hilltown with surprising force, a howling winter storm that Kory and Sal sat watching, guessing back and forth how many inches of snow would drop. The light flurries promised more to come, but when they got up in the morning, there was no accumulation and the busses ran as normal. Outside school, Kory found Nick and asked him when he could come by to get his winter clothes. "I wanted to use the snow day, but..." He gestured out at the barren, snowless lawn.

"Tonight's good," Nick said. "I'm not going out 'til later and Mom's going out to dinner with the Jeffersons."

"She's letting you get dinner on your own?"

"No, she's making dinner before she goes." Nick shrugged. "She lets me come to pizza with you, at least."

"I'll come by after dinner, then." Kory couldn't help but marvel at how well he and Nick had adapted, together, to their new situation.

Nick's gaze slipped up over Kory's shoulder. "Okay. See ya tonight, then. I'll call when she leaves." He moved forward to embrace Kory, and then walked off with a quick, "Seeya."

Kory caught the smell of wolf and freshly laundered shirt before he turned. "Hey, Perry," he said.

Perry's ears flicked up. His tail started wagging as he fell into step beside Kory. "That's your brother?"

"Yeah, Nick."

"So, uh, he still lives at home?"

Kory stared fixedly ahead. "Yep."

Perry swallowed a couple times. "You know, uh, you never said what happened. I mean, I just thought you were getting a friend to pick you up. When Jessica said you weren't living at home anymore, I said, I said that wasn't true. I thought you'd tell me if something happened."

"It was no big deal," Kory said. "I'm just staying with Sal for a while."

"But why?"

Perry even followed him to the door of his homeroom. Inside he could see Sal looking past him at the wolf, and rolling his eyes. "My mom just has to get some things in her life together," Kory said, "and it's better for me not to be around, and I'd really rather not talk about it. Okay?"

Perry's ears folded down, and he ducked his head. "Sure, I understand. Thanks for telling me. And if y'ever want to talk, y'know."

"Thanks," Kory said curtly, and raised a paw to wave, turning to go to homeroom.

"Looks like he has a crush on you," Sal said, first thing when Kory sat down.

"Bite me," Kory said, pulling out his books to check on his homework.

"Can't believe the stupid weather." Sal doodled the logo of Limp Foxxkit on his math book cover. Kory wouldn't have known the band a month ago; now he was quite familiar with the pounding chords he heard issuing from behind Sal's door. "Not supposed to be this cold without snowing."

"This happens every winter," Kory said. "Hey, speaking of, can you give me a ride over to my mom's place tonight? I need to grab my winter stuff."

"Sure. Right after school?"

"Nah, she's going out to dinner, so she'll be home early. Nick said he'd call when she's gone."

"Oh." Sal dug his ballpoint pen into the paper. "I was gonna head over to Life of the Party."

That was the bar over by Forester, where Sal liked to go to pick up college women. Kory had found that his ideas of his friend's success at that had been wildly overblown. Sal had gone to that bar six times since Kory'd been living across the hall from him, and had come home alone each time. He'd claimed once to have gotten a hand job from a cute ringtail out behind the bar, but the sketchy details and Sal's overconfident tone had failed to convince Kory that he was telling the truth. "Well, you can go after, can't you?"

"Why don't you come along?" Sal said. "You can be my wingman."

"Wingman?"

"You know, tell girls how cool I am."

"You don't need a wingman," said Geoff Hill behind them. "You need a complete makeover. Maybe you could get on Queer Eye."

Kory bristled at that, and Sal saw it. "Just ignore him," he said. "Seriously, come with me tonight. You never come out. It'd be good for you."

After one more glare at Geoff, Kory nodded. "Yeah, okay."

The twinges of homesickness when he visited his mother's house were fewer now. Going into his closet, he felt like an archaeologist exploring old ruins. A-ha, a valuable trove of woolen protective clothing. This civilization was obviously quite familiar with the change of seasons. He didn't voice that aloud; Samaki would have appreciated it, but Nick and Sal wouldn't have understood. He threw the winter gear into a bag and hugged Nick, then drove off with Sal.

"We going to stop for dinner somewhere?" he asked as they pulled away.

"The bar has appetizers," Sal said, navigating smoothly. "We'll just eat there."

Appetizers, Kory found, consisted of bowls of pretzels on the counter and half-congealed fried cheese sticks with ketchup. Squinting at the menu, he thought he saw fish strips, but the music was so loud that he ended up having to point to the menu to order from the bartender, and what the bartender handed him was a pile of something greyish with curls of sickly steam rising from it. It smelled of vegetables, with maybe potatoes, and there was cheese involved, of course. Everything at the bar was either fried, or covered in cheese, or both.

After trying to decipher what on the menu their dish could possibly be, and seeing Sal survive a mouthful, Kory decided that whatever it was would be better warm than cold, and he was hungry, having let Sal eat most of the cheese sticks. For an otter, Sal certainly didn't eat a lot of fish, but then, Nick didn't seem to want much fish when he wasn't at home either.

Kory took a mouthful and found that it tasted mostly like greasy cheese. He got half the plate down before disgust overwhelmed hunger, even with frequent drinks from the beer Sal had bought him.

Sal, on his second beer already, had pointed out a female otter halfway across the bar and was now doing his best to appear completely disinterested in her. "Tell me when she looks at me," he muttered to Kory.

At least that gave Kory something to concentrate on, though with all the natural musks and artificial scents in the bar, his eyes were starting to water already. The ceiling, though at least attractively dotted with wooden beams, was too low to allow for much ventilation. Even through his watering eyes, he had to admit that the girls here were way better looking than any of the ones in his high school. The one Sal was interested in had light streaks in her fur and two silver earrings in her right ear that glinted in the dim bar light. She and her friend, a grey squirrel, both wore low-cut dresses with shoulder straps that disappeared into their fur. Her light dress (yellow? cream? mint?) looked better on her than the squirrel's dark one did, or else she just had a better body, tight and slinky. She looked like a dancer, shifting her feet back and forth as she talked to her friend at the bar.

Around the room, the mix of species was almost as even as the boy-girl ratio. He and Sal weren't the only otter pair; two tall otters in Forester University hoodies chatted up a pair of female raccoons over by the dance floor, and a pair of female otters giggled together under a big neon sign for Huffenbrau Beer. Foxes, wolves, hares, weasels, and rats mingled, shared drinks and laughs, danced under the garish red and blue lights, and leaned against the bar. The bartender was the only bear in the room, a large brown bear who shambled from one side of the bar to the other and never seemed to ask anyone for their ID. None of the foxes were black, none as handsome as his fox. He wished Samaki were there, because he'd appreciate the silliness of this place.

"Hey!" Sal elbowed him in the ribs, hissing. "Is she looking?"

Kory snapped his attention back to the otter. Oddly enough, she was looking at them, at Sal in particular, while her friend, who had been looking at Kory, lowered her eyes to the bar as soon as he looked in their direction. "Yeah, she is."

Sal nodded and lifted his head, tipping the bottle of beer casually to his muzzle. He licked some of the foam away, lowered it, and started tapping his paw on the bar. "Still looking?"

"Yeah." The squirrel was still studiously ignoring him. Kory looked at his friend. "What are you doing?"

"Shh. Okay, get ready now."

"For what?"

Sal's tail tapped against Kory's. "When I finish talking, laugh like I told you something funny. Go on, now."

"Huh?" Sal was grinning at him in an odd, forced way, and Kory tried to find that funny enough to laugh at. He succeeded at least in opening his mouth and forcing out a "ha ha" kind of sound, and apparently that was enough.

"Cool. Now look at her and smile and nod."

Kory blinked. "I thought you were interested in her."

"I am. I mean, smile and nod like I just told you that and you're saying, 'yeah, she's hot.'"

"Oh." Kory didn't quite know how to look at a woman like she was hot, but he gave her a smile and an approving nod. She met his eyes and smiled, and then turned to talk to her friend.

"What's she doing?"

"They're giggling. Can't you hear that squeaking? That's the squirrel."

Sal snorted, finishing his beer and signaling for another. "I thought that was someone's barstool. You sure it's not her?"

The squirrel squeaked again, piercing the background chatter like a train whistle. "Positive."

"Okay, just keep an eye on them and if she looks over here again, let me know." The bear slid a mug over to him, and Sal took a drink. "This is way easier with two people. You gotta come with me all the time."

"We'll see." Kory was still on his first beer, reluctant to drink any more for fear of how it might mix with the lump of grease in his stomach. "Oh, there. She just looked over at you again."

Sal gulped down half his beer, gathered himself, then finished it. He plunked the mug down on the counter and slid off the barstool. "Let's go."

As they walked over, he muttered to Kory, "Talk to her friend."

"It's okay," Kory said. "I'll be fine on my own."

"Not for you," Sal said. "It's so she doesn't get bored and bug her friend to leave. Tell her she's pretty, pretend you're interested."

"Okay." Kory followed his friend, bewildered by the complexities of this game. At the same time, he could see why Sal enjoyed this so much. When they'd played the online RPGs, Sal had always been the one leading the hunt, figuring out the rules and going after the monsters. This was just a different kind of game, and although he found nearly every element of it distasteful, Kory could see how the gritty reality would appeal to Sal. And, of course, the more tangible prize.

"Hi," Sal said to the female otter. "This is kinda weird for me, I usually don't just walk up to pretty girls, but...my name's Sal."

"I'm Divinity," she said.

The squirrel was looking at Kory. He shook off his amusement at the name and edged around Divinity to get closer to her. "I'm Kory," he said.

"Hazel," the squirrel said. Her scent was a strange mix of liquor, artificial musk, and her own scent below it. Kory could also smell her friend, who'd chosen a much more flattering artificial musk that enhanced her natural scent rather than trying to conceal it. "Do you go to Forester?"

"No," Kory said. He remembered just in time that he wasn't supposed to say that they were in high school. He opened his mouth, but Sal came to his rescue.

"We're at Lake City College," he said. "Home for the weekend."

"Oh, cool," Divinity chirped. "I love Lake City. I go to LakeFront Mall all the time."

"I've never been to Lake City," Hazel said, and just like that, the conversations were separate again.

"It's pretty nice." Kory, who had only been to Lake City once, was anxious to get off the topic. "So you grew up around here?"

She had actually grown up in a small town fifty miles north, whose name Kory forgot the moment after she told him. Hilltown was a sprawling metropolis to her. They talked about the quaint Badger Square, because Kory knew it from his trips to the Rainbow Center, and Hazel went on about the cute little shops that she liked. She'd never been down Holly Street to the Center, of course, but Kory had been to enough shops on the Square to keep the conversation going.

At a break, he looked over for Sal and Divinity, but they'd gone. Hazel saw his look. "They're dancing," she said. "See?"

Beneath the flashing blue and red, two otters gyrated amidst the crowd. Kory had to stare to recognize his friend's compact form and characteristic dance. When he turned back to Hazel, he saw red and blue gleams reflected in her dark eyes and felt the creeping dread that she was going to want to join their friends on the dance floor. "Uh," he said, "you want another drink?"

She looked down shyly. "Sure."

"I hurt my foot," Kory said, feeling the need to explain himself.

"Oh! Sure. I'll have another Cosmo."

He put it on Sal's tab, and ordered a Coke for himself. Hazel asked how he hurt his foot, and he'd made up a story about twisting his ankle before he realized she was fishing to find out whether he played sports. As the conversation dragged on, he marveled at how anyone could ever hook up in this kind of place, how Sal could know so many of the rules. It certainly looked like Sal and Divinity were getting along well; they were bumping together now, locking arms and tails with their paws all over each other. He missed Samaki.

Samaki! He was late for the call, but on Friday night it shouldn't matter. Claiming he had to use the bathroom, he made his way to the back of the bar and flipped open his cell phone.

"Sorry I'm late," he said when Samaki got on the line.

"Sounds noisy. Where are you?"

"Oh, Sal dragged me out to this bar. We'll be here for a while. I guess until Sal hooks up or something."

Samaki sounded worried. "Then what? You ride with him in the back seat to her place?"

"I don't know. I never thought of that."

"Call me if you need a ride, okay?"

Kory grinned. "Well, maybe her friend will give me a ride."

"What friend?"

"Sal's conquest came with a squirrel. Her name's Hazel."

"Hazel the squirrel. Is she cute? Should I be jealous?"

Kory leaned back into the corner between the phone cubicle and the wall. "Absolutely. We're dancing and kissing and everything."

"Slip her some tongue for me." Samaki chuckled.

"I miss you," Kory said.

"Miss you too. I'll see you tomorrow though."

"Bright and early. Starbucks?"

"Wouldn't miss it. I'll let you get back to your dream date now."

It was amazing how talking to Samaki was so effortless, not like the strenuous uphill efforts of keeping Hazel engaged. Just hearing the fox's voice and knowing he'd see him again soon relaxed him and made him smile.

Hazel was waiting for him, looking restless, and her Cosmo was empty. "Get you another?" he said, indicating the empty glass.

"Oh, no, I'd better not. Maybe just a Diet Coke."

"Good idea. I'll refill mine." He signaled to the bartender.

"Oh, well, maybe one more," she said, as he was ordering the drinks.

They carried their glasses over to a corner of the bar where the music was slightly less loud. Kory positioned himself so he could still see the dance floor, while Hazel groomed her cheek fur with quick, jerky motions. Kory had decided that he was going to ask her what college life was like, so he could at least get something out of this evening for as long as Sal needed him to pretend to like her.

An hour later, the pretense was getting harder to maintain. Hazel's college experience, to hear her tell it, consisted mostly of her wandering around the campus with her jaw open, gaping either at the size of the buildings or the size of the boys. By this time, it had become apparent even to her that Kory wasn't interested in her, but she was clearly too timid to tell him to go away, so she kept looking around the bar at any unattached male who came within five feet of their little corner. Kory, for his part, was searching his brain for things to talk to her about, and found himself mentioning the football team.

"Well," she said, "they kicked off two of our best players just because they got in a fight with some faggot. Sorry--homosexual." She dangled her wrist as she said it, and then covered her mouth and giggled. "Oh, I'm so bad when I'm drunk! I hope you're not one of those PC cops. Take me away, officer!"

"No," Kory said, "don't worry about it." He debated how much Sal would hurt him if he went and dragged his friend off the dance floor at that moment. He didn't really believe Hazel was drunk, but he didn't know how much she'd had before the two Cosmos. His fur had prickled with the way she'd said, 'homosexual,' a warm flush of shame creeping through him even though there was no way she could have known.

Another hour dragged by. Hazel switched to Diet Coke and took out her cell phone, checking messages and sending texts to friends. Kory lost sight of Sal on the dance floor and wondered if he'd gotten some action out behind the bar. He went to get a refill of his own Coke, stopping at the bathroom first, and when he came back, Hazel was gone.

Good riddance. He scanned the bar for her quickly before remembering that he didn't really care where she was. Sal might, if she'd taken her friend with her, but after a moment of panicked searching, he spotted the two of them on the dance floor, so Hazel had clearly taken care of herself. He settled back against the wall and sipped his Coke, thinking of all the homework he could be doing or all the things he could be saying to Samaki, and growing steadily more annoyed at Sal.

Well past midnight, his friend appeared in front of him, swaying slightly even though his tail was waving quickly back and forth to balance him. "There you a-are," he said.

"I've been here all night," Kory said. "You ready to go?"

Sal nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

He wasn't slurring that much, but he stumbled on the way out and his tail smacked the door frame. Remembering an endless drone of safe driving commercials, Kory said, "Hey, maybe you shouldn't drive."

"What, you want to drive?"

Kory held up his paws. "I just think..."

"Look, I wanna get home and...dammit, it's cold out here." Sal got into the car and started the engine.

Kory opened the passenger side door, but didn't get in. "Let me call a taxi."

"S-sure, with whose money?"

"I'll pay for it." Sal just looked at him and revved the engine. "I'm serious!"

"A-all right. Look. There's a d-donut shop down the street. One block. We'll get some coffee."

The large "24 HOUR D NUTS" sign was more like two blocks away. "Let's walk."

"It's cold out! I don't wanna have to walk b-back for the car."

"I'm going to walk." Kory slammed his door and started walking.

Sal drove past him, staring straight ahead even when he was right alongside. When Kory got to the donut shop, fluffing up the fur on his paws to keep warm, he didn't see Sal inside. It took him a moment to locate the car, parked in the shadows around the side of the small building. Sal was already sitting in his car, the windows fogged. "Enjoy your walk?" he said when Kory got in. The car was warm and thick with the smell of coffee from the one cup in Sal's paw.

"You didn't want to sit inside?"

Sal shrugged. "Car's warm and I got my tunes in here." He'd put on one of his favorites, something loud and blaring with lyrics that Mariatu could have written.

"So it didn't work out with Divinity?"

"Damn cock tease," Sal said. "She danced with me all night and then just took off. Got me all worked up, too." He took a sip of the coffee and put it down in the cupholder.

"Hazel was so boring," Kory said. "And when she wasn't being boring, she was being offensive. I don't think college girls are all they're cracked up to be." He looked at the steamy window, thinking again about Samaki.

"You kidding? They're mature, they're hot, they've got a nice rack on 'em...they know how to bump and grind and p-play the game. Ahhhh."

"It's sure a different game. I guess I never really learned..." The slow rasp of a zipper interrupted him. He turned to look at Sal. "What...?"

His friend was leaning into the angle of the driver's seat and the driver's door, his right arm across the back of the seat while his left sat in his lap, lazily stroking his unzipped erection. "That c-cock tease...fucker, I'm all worked up. Just got to take care of some business."

Kory's mouth hung open. The scene was so surreal: the steamed car windows, the glow of the "D NUT" sign through the windshield playing over the hard pink length under his best friend's paw. He'd seen Sal naked before, but never hard. The self-indulgent grin was familiar, the same expression he'd worn when he'd suggested cheating on a test in ninth grade, or when he talked about not wanting to work at his father's company. "You can whip it out too, if you want," Sal said. "Or, wait, you get to see your boyfriend tomorrow, right? Better save it." He continued to stroke himself. "Christ, that feels good."

Kory couldn't shake the dreamlike feeling. He reached for the door handle and even started to open it.

"Hey, don't go," Sal said. "S-sorry if I surprised you."

"Yeah," Kory said. "You want to wait 'til we get home?"

Up and down, stroking. He tried not to look, but it was impossible to avoid in the small confines of the car. "I was gonna," Sal said, "but you s-said I can't drive yet."

"Well, go in the bathroom in there, or something." Kory let the door handle go to gesture at the donut shop.

"It's warm in here," Sal said. "Whassa matter? I thought you liked to look at cock. Go ahead, look. You seen it before."

"That's not the point." Kory said.

"Ain't we friends?"

"Sal..."

"Ain't we?" Sal persisted. Kory couldn't keep the motion of his paw completely out of his vision. He wished Sal would finish already.

"Yeah, but..."

"And ain't I lettin' you s-stay at my house?"

"Yeah..."

Sal shrugged and leaned back again. "So just settle down. Free show." He grunted and worked himself a little harder.

Should he stay? Should he leave? Drunk, Sal might drive home without him if he left the car now. He stared straight ahead through the windshield and curled his tail under the seat. If Sal drove home without him, still drunk, he might get in an accident. Is that your responsibility? He's probably driven drunk before. Before doesn't matter, Kory thought. I'm here now. Just wait 'til it's over and then never talk about it again.

"Damn it," Sal said softly. Kory didn't respond. "Kory," Sal said. "Hey. You're good at this. Give me a paw."

Kory ignored him. Sal raised his voice. "Come on, I'm fuckin' serious here. I can't...my fingers aren't doing this right."

"What? You forgot how to jerk off?"

"Not forgot, just...c-can't make myself come. Come on, gay boy, I know you jerk off your fox enough times, right?"

Now Kory turned to him, ears flushed and folding down. "That's not..."

Sal grinned. "How m-many other boys you done? Like at c-camp, that time you were trying to get me to strip. Did you do that with all the boys?"

Kory froze. He remembers that? There was no reason he shouldn't, of course, but they'd never discussed it after, and Kory had come to regard it as his private memory. "Hey," he started weakly, "let's go home."

"C-come on." Before Kory could react, Sal grabbed his paw and brought it to his groin.

Hot flesh, not as hard as Kory would have thought, but getting harder. He jerked his paw back. "Jesus, Sal."

"You ruin my night and n-now you want to go home and s-sleep in my house and you won't even help me out?"

"Ruin your night?"

"You were s-supposed to keep her friend happy."

"I talked to her for three freakin' hours!"

Sal kept stroking himself mechanically as he talked. "Divinity took off, just like that, she must have seen that you weren't interested. Couldn't pretend to be interested in a girl, could you?"

Kory sorted through the pronouns and shook his head. "She was an idiot!" he said. "And her friend wasn't any better! If you couldn't get into her pants in three hours...let go of me!"

Sal had grabbed his paw and wrapped it around his erection again. "Come on," he said as Kory yanked his arm back. "You'll do it for Sammy but not for me? How long we been friends? Just this once."

Samaki. Kory thought about the gentle fox and how he would handle this situation. He'd make a joke, laugh, put everyone at ease, and in a few minutes they'd all be driving home, this whole tableau just an embarrassing blot on their memories. "Sal," he said, trying to calm himself down, "you know, if you wanna be gay, there's a whole list of forms you have to fill out."

His friend's eyes narrowed. "I'm not gay," he said. "Just askin' for a favor from a friend. Least, I thought you were a friend."

So much for the joke. Maybe he should just close his eyes and do it. What harm would it do? Sal was probably drunk enough that he wouldn't remember too much later. Kory could get him off and they could go home and forget about it.

Except that Kory had a boyfriend.

He wasn't sure what was considered "cheating" in gay relationships, but jerking off someone else was probably on the list. What would he tell Samaki?

"I am your friend," he said. "Not your experiment. I'm sorry." He put his paw on the door handle, and again imagined Sal, drunk and angry, careening home in his coupe, wrecking the car, or killing himself or someone else.

"Some friend," Sal said. His paw jerked up and down, now matched with little grunts. Kory pressed his gaze to the passenger window and tried not to look, listen, or smell.

The inside of the car became stifling. Sal's grunting was punctuated with pants now, and little mutters. "There we go," he said, and "oh yeah," and, once, "who needs you."

"At least," he rasped, panting harder, "get me...tissues...glove box."

Kory popped the small compartment open and found a flat box of tissues. He grabbed four and held them out. Sal took them without another word. Kory fixed his attention on the patterns of steam his breath made on the chilly window, ignoring the louder and louder grunts and the final "Uhhhhhhhhh," which he was sure was exaggerated for his benefit. He put a paw to his nose to cover up the sudden sharp musky odor that overwhelmed the coffee smell, with only partial success.

A zipper, Sal clearing his throat and repositioning himself, and the prolonged, "Ahhh," all went ignored. What got Kory to turn around was the rumble of the engine starting.

"You sober now?"

Sal rolled the car forward. "Enough to get back to my house."

Kory resumed his study of his window, fighting a growing frustration. It felt as though his relationship with Samaki was slowly bubbling through the rest of his life, tearing it down, washing old friendships and family relationships away, leaving him with nothing. At each turn, he was faced with the question of whether he would give up the fox for his mother, for his house, for his best friend. Each time, the answer was no, but if he looked at all of those things together, would he have made the same decision?

Sal would be okay when he sobered up. Kory didn't know if things would ever be the same between them, though. He suspected that his days at Sal's house were coming to an end.