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The tiniest smirk on his muzzle. Smarmy bastard thinks he's hot shit. Of all the absurd--"HRNK!" I snort.

Yeah, yeah, you got me, but two can play this game. "Don't worry though, you're in good paws. We'll pray all that heretical nonsense out of you in no time. Why just today, I almost said a Hail Mary, but I found it within myself to stop short of committing such blasphemy. In fact, I might be able to pull some strings with Cedric and see if we can perform an exorcism after dinner. Speaking of which, we should get going. You hungry?"

The Lion looks amused. Good for you. "Yes."

"The food here's fantastic. Oh yeah, almost forgot. Since we're the only ones living on campus, we take turns helping out in the kitchen. The schedule's posted in the lounge."

Since going back out the way I came in would zig-zag me down the same boring path, I lead him out the fire escape. He seems fine not initiating conversation, which is okay by me since I need to process our first interaction. The unassuming tone, the knowing grin after the fact, it was sarcasm performed by an expert practitioner--I should know, we can smell our own kind-- and not twenty minutes into his stay. When I first arrived, it was a good week before I felt it was safe to let loose around Roebear and Jibreel (and then they decided to let loose around me, dirty popcorn and all). I've already admitted to myself that he's cute, but now the evidence is saying that this lion's probably not in it to win it, so to speak. This could be dangerous.

But then again, Danger's my middle name.

No it isn't. It's Lillefyr. "Little Pine." How Cute. Blegh.

It isn't far from the dorm to the cafeteria. Large swinging doors beg to be kicked open for a grand entrance, but I restrain myself. We walk in among the low chatter of the rest of the group and take our seats, which are located conveniently, coincidentally, next to each other.

"Hello, everybody!" chimes Cedric, at the head of the table. "I've called dinner early because we have a new resident come to join our happy family. Please give Efrim your warmest welcome.

"Hello, Efrim," we all drone in unison, like in an AA meeting. Or a cult.

"Before we dig in , we're going to give Efrim a proper welcome with an icebreaker." Stomachs rumble a collective groan. I really hate icebreakers; an assembly line of Shit I Don't Give Two Fucks About. "I'm sure most of you know the drill, but for those of you who don't, just say your name and something interesting about yourself. If you've done this before, feel free to share something new! I'll start and we'll go around the circle starting from my left. My name is Cedric Fredericia-Diaz, " and I mean well, but I'm severely repressed, which is a damn shame because I'm _fine_as hell. Next year I will be discovered blowing Scotte in the dormitory lounge (Photos courtesy one Mykah Roberts). "I'm twenty seven and I'm a grad student in psychology at Orem Thummond University." After the bible, my favorite book is the DSMV-II. "And I'm an alumni of this very program!" Surprise, surprise.

The black hare is next. "My name is Scotte Avila," and I creep, yeah, just keeping it on the down-low. "I'm twenty and also an alumni. I go to South Canyon University and I'm majoring in Political Science."

"My Name is Jibreel Karong-Saipha." I'm a complete head-case and can't decide if Jesus is the man for me or the bratty fox who keeps crawling into my bunk three times a week. "I'm just turned sixteen last month, and I play soccer." Perfectly boring answer. I have nothing against Jibreel. When I first arrived, he seemed naive and confused and I honestly think Roebear might be taking advantage of him. He's clearly in over his head.

"I'm Mykah Roberts," I've been here for almost three years and give zero fucks. "Though you can call me Roebear. I'm seventeen and I enjoy going to the movies and eating popcorn." He's such a fucker. If I were Jibreel, I'd be furious. Sometimes, I actually admire Roebear's flagrant disregard for the rules, as long as he keeps it far away from me. I think if I met him outside of HTBA, we'd probably be best friends. Maybe I'll call him up in a few years and see if he hasn't gone completely insane.

Oh, hello. It's my turn. " "My name is Yindi Vinterboern, I'm seventeen," My dad is dead, my mother went crazy religious before the divorce, I turn eighteen in December, and when that happens, I can collect what my father left me and get the fuck out of here. "I like to play guitar." This is also true.

"He's really good, too," says Cedric to the group, but mostly to Efrim. He's actively trying to get us to be all buddy-buddy.

"I dabble," shrug, no biggie. A phantom voice screeches "NEXT!"

"My name is Efrim Tezeta." I have the power of invisibility and I might know a joke or two. "I'm seventeen." My age, good, good, great. "I like to draw," dicks in the margins of my notebook, but my creepy old father caught me and now he's sent me here oh_no o o_...

"Anything you like to draw?" Cedric, I could tell you. Dicks in the margins. Obviously.

Efrim's taking a while. Hey, snap out of it, your navel isn't on the ceiling and I'm starving. Don't try to impress us, just say the first inane thing that pops in your head.

"I can't really say." It speaks! "I'm still learning, so it's mostly exercises. Contour line, shading, working from still-lifes, that sort of thing." Dicks in the margins, I knew it.

"Did you bring any supplies along with you?" asks Cedric. Cedric and his questions. No one else is asking questions. Save your questions for therapy; I wanna eat!

"No."

"Awww, that's too bad." I've never met anyone as sincere as the coyote. My fake sincerity is almost entirely modeled off of his supposed 'real' sincerity.

The rest of the icebreaker proceeds to the other four residents. There's the Stepford Cubs, swift fox brothers Tate and Denver, age thirteen and fourteen, who were caught getting a little too intimate together. I really wish I didn't know this information, but there's a lot of TMI going on during group therapy. The other two, Jovano, another red fox, and Cole, a raccoon, both innocently wide-eyed and here to please the parents who dumped them off to get 'better'. Except for group and bible study, I mostly keep my distance from those four. I'm not here to make friends or change minds. I'm here to get out.

I'm so bored. Please, Oh-Merciless-God, please put me out of my misery. At least my hunger's still intact. I could smell dinner as soon as I walked into the caf' and it smells meaty and crunchy. For all his faults, it's always a treat when Roebear's involved in the kitchen.

I hear a growling rumble next to me. I look over and Efrim has a paw over his stomach. His eyes are completely glazed over.

"I agree!" Cedric nods to Efrim, knocking the lion out of his stupor. "Let us conclude this icebreaker with a prayer. Then we can eat. Everyone please rise and join hands."

We do as we're told and the screech of chairs scraping against hard tile echoes through the cafeteria. Cedric leads us in prayer. "Dear Lord in Heaven, please accept us into your loving embrace as we traverse this difficult road ahead. Everyone in this room, whether a newcomer or someone who's well into his journey, is working his hardest to overcome all obstacles. In Jesus' name, we pray for the bounty we are about to receive. Amen."

"Amen," we all drone.

We line up in front of the spread, expertly cooked and layed out by Roebear, Jibreel, and Cookie, the middle-aged badger who runs the kitchen. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fluffy white rolls. HTBA's one saving grace is the food.

A steaming pile of mashed potatoes drenched in gravy. Two pieces of crispy golden chicken, also drenched in gravy. A small salad and oh, what the hell, I'll pour gravy on the salad too. Gotta keep the theme consistent.

"I'm starving," I say as I take my seat next to Efrim.

"Yeah, me too. Haven't eaten since breakfast." I look at his plate and I swear there's an entire chicken on his plate plus three rolls.

Sometimes, I wish my claws were fully retractable, like a felines, but for tearing into an expertly breaded and deep-fried chicken thigh, they work wonderfully. Since I arrived, I structure my day around mealtimes. They're my little breaks when I'm awake, where I can switch off my act and concentrate on the food. I especially look forward to dinner. My day is almost over, and that's one day closer to my exit date.

I hear a loud crunch and look over at Efrim. He's bitten a drumstick clean in half, bone and all. Cool. Wish I could do that.

***

I have the shower all to myself, a rare treat.

The water pressure's in full force; the temperature's a degree below excruciatingly hot, and I'm in heaven. Tree grit's practically rolling out of my fur. Eyelids droop in the steam. Long, slow strokes remove the fuzz from my teeth. I foam at the mouth.

Long, slow strokes...

There's no one outside that door, no one else in the other stalls; I am finally, entirely alone.

It's been a while. Not since I arrived, that's for sure.

A paw snakes downward. Oops, I guess I'm suffering from phantom paw syndrome. Not my fault, has a mind of it's own.

Hello old friend, come out of hiding, I see. What could you be thinking about?

Lions... Of course. Obviously.

Paw slides gracefully over the tip. I am getting close already. How embarrassing. Guess this is what three months of not jerking off does.

"Thinking about the lion cub?" Who the fuck said that? Roebear. Goddammit Motherfucking Roebear. Could he really smell me through all this steam? I could barely get anything started. "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul." A curtain flaps in the stall next to mine; pads slap on the cold tile; my once impressive waterfall reduced to a lukewarm, flaccid trickle. If he's here with me, then there's got to be someone outside that door. Can't leave two young males unsupervised in the showers. That would be irresponsible. Red Alert!

_"My_kah!" I hiss, a whisper. No one else can hear. "Keep it down! Someone's probably"--

"No one's there." His tone is both bemused and final. "It's just you"--he pokes his head right through the curtain that separates our stalls-- "and me." He withdraws in a flash.

"Asshole." I mutter.

"Relax, it's summer. So this Efran, he's pretty cute, right?"

None of your fucking business. "I didn't notice."

"Buull-shiit," he drawls. "You know, if you two become an item or something, things could get a lot easier for all of us."

He just will not let anything go. "Would you lay off? I mean seriously, I don't get it, you seem to want to break every rule here! And whatever's going on between you and Jibreel, I want no part in it anymore."

"Aww, come on, the counselors have their heads up their asses. They won't suspect a thing if you're careful."

"I'm _trying_to be careful."

"Look, I get it. Both of us know that this 'straight and narrow' stuff is just a load of crap and you've got this holier-than-thou act down pat. You've got Cedric eating out of your paws, and you know what? That's great! I'm just saying you should take advantage while the gettin's easy."

Wait, is the lion easy? "Your full of it. He just arrived! You don't know shit."

Brief silence followed by a giggle; a nasal whine that sprout wings and flaps annoyingly around my head. "I only know what my nose tells me, because the nose always knows." He pokes through the curtain again, snout only, tongue lolling, all fangy and snorking. "So many ripe fruits ready for picking." The muzzle withdraws.

"The fruits can rot."

"You're so dramatic. Why go through all the trouble of being the star pupil if you don't reap the benefits? That's what I don't get."

"There seems to be a lot you don't get. I'd rather get out sooner rather than latenot stuck here for three years because I can't keep my pants on, unlike someone I know." Hope that sinks in, the stinker.

A sharp intake of breath followed by a long sigh. "It's been two years, not three. And you should know, it's more complicated then just "I can't keep my pants on."

"I'm sure." And I am. I was just talking shit.

"I know more than you do. After all, who's been here the longest? This guy." Despite being behind the curtain, I can see both of his thumbs flick, jerk, and point at that arrogant grin. " Did I fuck up? Yes. Absolutely. But I've learned from my fuck ups. Learned what to do and what not to do, and I accomplished all this before Sexy Cedric came along with his big heart and touchy-feely BS. If you want advice, all you have to do is ask."

"Yeah, thanks for the offer." A much better one than "Hey, Jibreel's got a headache or whatever. You suck my cock and I'll suck yours, if you catch my very subtle meaning," from a few months ago.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Nothing's stopped you before."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of your boring questions." Like, it's so obvious that he's trying to make me reach some sort of epiphany. I should have left this conversation a long time ago and said good night as soon as Roebear opened his trap.

"Seriously, I mean you obviously don't like it here, and you refuse to have any kind of fun, so what gives? Like, if it's so bad here, why haven't you left? What's keeping you here?" A Long Story is keeping me here; my special plan. Of everyone here in the program, residents, counselors, and day-trippers alike, only two--Roebear and Jibreel of course--are aware that I am a complete fraud. But nobody knows of my special plan. At least nobody who matters. I'm smack-dab in the heart--the Capital--of the Bible Belt, where everyone I meet smiles with a "How do you do" and "God Bless", but behind every smile, every fang and molar, is a glint I don't trust. This is especially true for the fox. Unlike me, he grew up in this so called heartland. Cut from the same cloth as the rest. If I breath any word of my special plan to any of these people, there's a very good chance that it could travel through the Jesus Freak's passive aggressive grapevine all the way to Tiereny. Then I would truly be fucked. "You're stalling," says Roebear.

"I could ask you the same thing. Why are _you_here after so long?" What the fox doesn't know is that I have a pretty good idea of what's keeping him here. Poor fellow.

"But I asked first!"

"So?"

"So how about a little tit-for-tat? I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours."

"Fine," an exaggerated sigh. Time to outfox the fox. "Well, you see, it's my father. He's a politician, a very conservative state senator in fact, and he's got his eye on a seat in the National House of Representatives. He discovered what I am, and he wants me out of the spotlight until I can be cured. If I don't do as he says, I'll be disowned: No inheritance. No free-ride to a prestigious university. Nothing. Zilch. Nada."

Silence again. All I here is the murmuring between the two showers. The water starts to run cold.

He starts to clap; an echoing crack like little gunshots. "Bravo. Very clever. But that's not your story. It's mine."

"I read the newspaper." There happens to be a Senator Roberts in this very city; a fox who's looking to move up in the world. I just needed to fill in the blanks. "Besides, I've already told you my story, over and over again."

"Group doesn't count. No one tells the whole truth during those things. Come on."

I shut of the water. "Do your own detective work."

"Do I get any clues?"

"Sure. It's not that much different from yours. Just less high profile." I grab my towel and make my towards the fur-dryer.

"Stingy," mutters Roebear.

I flip the switch to ON. "Sorry dude." The machine roars to life as a blast of air hits me. "I can't hear you."

* * *

Fully dressed and cloaked in the stale musk of a dryer which hasn't been cleaned in a while, I walk out into the hallway and am greeted by Scotte, no doubt keeping an eye on us troubled youth, but not doing a very convincing job of it. Sitting down, his twitching nose in a book, which on closer inspection is, of all things, The Langur, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. I'm half tempted to stomp over to him, smack the book out of his paw, and explain to him that C.S. Lewis was an Anglican heretic who's burning in Hell. (Tiereny would be so proud.) But it's best not to make a scene before bed.

"Good night, Scotte."

"'Night, Yindi." The hare lifts a lazy paw, almost a shooing gesture; his attention doesn't stray from the book. He's like the opposite of Cedric, always doing the bare minimum. I wonder if his position's court ordered or something.

I get progressively more tired as I make the trek back to the room. A tight gravity in my thighs reminds me of my earlier escapade. I haven't climbed a tree since I was a cub. Twelve, maybe. Five years ago. Damn. I'm getting old. Yindi's new goal in life: climb more trees. Now there's a happy thought to go to bed with, Climb trees. I used to be all about trees. Come to think of it, I think I remember wanting to be one of those freaks who camps out in trees when the loggers came. I told Dad about it. He was so proud.

Damn, that was a _really_long time ago.

Arriving at the room, I notice that someone has left the door open. Stepping inside, I can feel a cross-breeze blowing out the window. Next summer, I am totally sleeping naked, but for now, I'll be thankful for the moving air as I lay on top the sheets. It's quiet in here. Nobody stirs, not Jibreel in that top bunk, or the new guy in the bottom. I sneak a peek as I climb the ladder up to my own bed, but it's too dark. Just one big shadow under there. Now what was his name again...

...Efrim. That's right. I wonder if he knows what's in store for him. Nothing like a fair warning, just pop my head down there and whisper "brace yourself, things are gonna get weird."

But the freak train doesn't arrive until Monday. Tomorrow's Sunday. Lucky bastard gets a buffer day. A lot of nothing to do on Sunday except Motherfucking Church.

Oh joy.

But I'll push all that aside for now. In fact I'll push everything aside, turn off every thought that doesn't involve me right here, right now, in the present moment, trying to get to sleep. Just close my eyes and start reciting. Anything. Snippets of poems, song lyrics, anything that pops into my head until nothing but the chance at a memorable dream. Ready, set,go...