FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Taylor sprinted up the steep incline of the hill toward the bus stop as quickly as his slender legs would carry him. His shoes hitting asphalt in earnest, the young red panda struggled against wind and gravity to make it to the bus stop. "No!" he called after the bus as he heard the hydraulic hiss of the brakes releasing as it slowly groaned into motion. "Wait! Wait for me!" It was useless. On the first day of a new school term, starting at a new school in a new city, Taylor was already late and lagging behind.

The red panda slumped down on the bench of the bus stop, letting his bag of books roll of his bony shoulders and plunk to the concrete. Great, he thought. Just great. My first day and I overslept. How typical of me. Gosh, I'm such an idiot. Taylor was so busy chastising himself that he didn't take notice of the shadow that had fallen across him until an unfamiliar voice sounded, "Hey you."

Taylor looked up, shaken from his stupor, and made a visor with his hand, squinting in the morning sun and looking up at the bicyclist who was stopped in front of him. When his vision adjusted, his jaw dropped. Before him was perhaps the most beautiful person he'd ever seen-a tall, slender fur, dressed impeccably in outlandish punk-urban fashion, bewitching crimson eyes set fixedly upon him. The cyclist ran his ringed-fingers through his luxurious, winter-wheat colored hair. "Missed the bus, eh?"

All the panda could do was nod breathlessly. The stranger's eyes looked him over carefully. "You look small. If you can fit on my bike, I'll give you a lift. What school do you attend?"

"Uh... oh, um, well I just transferred to Scarborough High."

The other grinned broadly, so radiant a smile that Taylor couldn't help but blush. "Perfect," he said. "That's where I'm headed too."

"You're a high schooler?" Taylor gawked. "You look... you look so..."

"Like a high school drop-out?" the cyclist laughed. "I get that a lot. 'Specially from my parents."

The red panda cast his eyes down. "No, I just meant... you know... you dress..."

"Hey don't be bashful. Everybody's got their own style. Some styles are more shocking. At Scarborough people dress however they want. But you'd better hurry if you don't want to be late on your first day, mate."

"Oh, right!" Taylor grabbed his knapsack and trotted over to the stranger.

"Get on the back. You can ride side-saddle if it's more comfortable or whatever. Make sure you hold on to me tightly though; I pedal pretty quickly." He flashed a grin.

"I will," Taylor agreed, seating himself behind his new friend and gingerly wrapping his arms around the cyclist's slender waist.

"I'm Wyatt, by the way," the stranger said as he began to pedal the bicycle into motion.

"I'm Taylor," the red panda replied. "If you don't mind me asking, what sort of fur are you? You have a really unusual look that I've never seen."

"I'm a mongoose," Wyatt said. "We're somewhat of a rare breed here in the city. Not too many people take kindly to us, 'specially snakes. When I first moved here, there was a small gang of snakes I used to get into a tussle with regularly. But..." he paused a minute. "But, well, that's over with now."

"A mongoose," Taylor wondered. "I've never met one before."

"There's a first time for everything," Wyatt countered as they gained speed on the opposite slope of the hill. Taylor held onto Wyatt more tightly. "So why'd ya transfer?"

"Oh... well... I sorta made a big mess of my old school. Made a lot of enemies and flunked a few classes. My parents decided it was just best to move."

"You don't look like the sort who would make enemies easily," offered the mongoose, glancing over his shoulder at Taylor. "You seem pretty agreeable to me."

"I'm shy," the red panda admitted. "Some people get the wrong idea."

"Nothing wrong with being shy. Just takes more work meeting people, is all. I used to be shy when I was younger... say, how old are you anyway?"

"I'm fifteen," Taylor replied.

"Fifteen. That's about right then. When I was fifteen I guess you could say I was pretty shy."

"How old are you now?"

"Seventeen. Just last month."

"Happy birthday," Taylor smiled. "I wish I'd been here for it."

"It was pretty bleak, actually," the mongoose frowned. "Things have been sorta... rough for me lately."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Taylor said.

"You don't have to apologize to me. I'm feeling much better now anyway. 'Specially now that I've made a new friend."

Taylor reddened. "I'm glad."

After about twenty minutes, the pair reached the front entrance to Scarborough High School. The building was much larger than Taylor had anticipated, at least several times the size of his last school. He guessed that in the city, most things were bigger, something else he'd have to grow accustomed to. The main arch itself was mesmerizing, a large set of bronze gates engirded by statues of headmasters and headmistresses of old. A long pathway of white stone lead directly to the colossal, five story building in which the school was housed.

"It's huge!" Taylor gaped as Wyatt's bike came to a stop.

"Yeah, that's most people's initial reaction. It's the largest-and oldest-school in the district. As a first year, you'll hear all about it from Mr. Duncan. The old badger just can't help himself from going on and on about it."

"Mr. Duncan?"

"Yeah, he'll probably be your history teacher. He teaches history to all the freshman classes. His class is a real sleeper, but pay attention, 'cause his tests aren't a joke."

"Thanks for the tip," Taylor noted, climbing off the bicycle. "And thanks for the ride too, Wyatt."

"No problem, kiddo," the other smirked. "If you ever... oversleep again, just look for the mongoose on the bike and flag him down."

Taylor giggled school-girlishly. "You got it, Wyatt."

"Catch you around, Taylor."

The second Wyatt strode away, he was instantly assailed by a maelstrom of girls that he deftly weaved through, coming up alongside a wolf with whom he did some sort of a secret handshake and struck up a conversation Taylor was too far away to overhear. Suddenly, a familiar voice caused his ears to perk up.

"Oh my god, Taaaaaaaylor!"

The red panda swiveled just in time to brace for the impact of a glomp from a Siamese cat with long, braided hair and crystal-blue eyes. She threw her arms around him and pulled him tightly against her until he thought he would suffocate. "Taylor, you really made it!"

"G...Gretchen?" Taylor stuttered.

"Of course it's me, silly! When you sent me that email saying you'd enrolled at Scarborough I was ecstatic. Like, oh my God, now we're in the same school again just like elementary before my parents moved. Isn't it great? Wow it's so awesome you could make it."

Taylor's eyes widened as he looked his childhood friend up and down. This Gretchen was certainly not the boyish, stout Gretchen of old, but rather an attractive feline with budding breasts and a truly promising feminine physique. "You... you got... older."

"Well of course I did, numbskull!" Gretchen said, wrapping her arm around Taylor's shoulder like a guy would. Her body might have changed but her attitude hasn't, the red panda thought. "You'll have to meet my friends. We're all starting freshman at Scarborough. It's like, totally the best freakin' school in this city. They only accept like... something like... uh... I think fifty percent of all the kids who try to get in here. We're all really lucky. A few of my friends even got rejected. That's a bummer, but hey, at least most of the gang's here right? Taylor, I'm so thrilled you're here! Old buddies reunited at last!"

"Yeah, it's cool," Taylor agreed, but his thoughts still lingered on Wyatt. For some reason, he couldn't get the boy out of his head.

Fortunately, Taylor's inaugural first-day was made less awkward and difficult by the presence of Gretchen who shared his first period class which was directed by the very instructor the mongoose had warned him about. Mr. Duncan was hump-backed, salt-and-pepper badger with thick-rimmed glasses and small, beady eyes. His voice was low and gravelly, austere even.

"I am your first period teacher, Professor Walter Gregory Duncan. You may only refer to me as "professor" or "Professor Duncan", and nothing more subordinate than that, for I assure you, my young, little, small-minded students, I have earned my title with ample service in the academic world. I will also be teaching your history lectures. Those who take good notes and mind my words will succeed in my classes; those who don't will doubtlessly fail..."

As Mr. Duncan continued to ramble on ostentatiously, Gretchen leaned over to Taylor who she was seated beside and whispered, "Don't you think it's kind of funny he has three first names?"

"Yeah I guess."

"Kind of a snob too, right?"

"I suppose he is."

"If he's got so many credentials, why is he teaching here instead of at a university?"

"I haven't a clue."

Gretchen continued to pester Taylor throughout the majority of Duncan's Sermon on the Mount. When the didactic lecturing had finally ceased and half the class was effectively asleep, the bell saved them all from a dreadful fate, and the class quickly emptied out into the hallway, each student heading toward their lockers to mingle for fifteen minutes before the morning classes began. Gretchen and Taylor parted ways, and the panda procured the locker assignment slip from his backpack and went on his first adventure of the day: locating his personal high school vault.