Archive for June, 2012

“Probably. Sampson and me studied all Sunday afternoon,” Larry said as he and Osaze made their way down the hallway. It was starting to get crowded with the student milling about, so they had to carefully maneuver their way to class.

“I bet you enjoyed the quality time with him.”

Larry felt a sudden heat rise inside his ears. “We were studying, Osaze.”

“How much studying did you actually do? As opposed to the fantasizing you actually did?”

Larry kept his beak firmly shut, and refused to look up at the taller jackal.

Osaze ruffled Larry’s head feathers with a chuckle. “I’m just kidding, Larry. You know that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I regret telling you stuff.”

“As if,” Osaze said. “You’d burst wide open if you didn’t have me around to listen to your secret crushes.”

Larry remained silent as they entered the classroom for first period English, but he knew Osaze was right, having been Larry’s friend since the seventh grade. The jackal was definitely someone he trusted, even if Osaze enjoyed teasing him a bit too much.

*

Mister Walker, Larry’s English teacher, was a tough but fair educator. If you studied, you would pass his tests without any problem. If you didn’t study, you flunked.

Larry had a problem, but it had nothing to do with the test. It had everything to do with who was sitting behind him.

Courtland Millikan had sat behind Larry after the gryphon had chosen his seat, and had starting thumping the back of Larry chair in an erratic rhythm. Not hard enough to attract the teacher’s attention, but constant enough to disrupt Larry’s focus on the more difficult essay questions.

Courtland had started his self-employment as Larry’s personal bully since the ninth grade. His flexible schedule allowed him to torment Larry every day at school for three weeks in a row once, then for no reason at all he gave himself and Larry a month’s vacation.

Knocking books out of Larry’s claws and snapping a rubber band on the tip of the gryphon’s ear were but a few tricks of Courtland’s trade, and he had the skills and enough cleverness to never perform his aptitude of bullying where he might get caught.

Worse, Larry would never fight back. The gryphon didn’t want his spotless record to be tarnished over fighting. While it might convince Courtland to leave him alone, it would go against his father’s belief that violence only caused more problems than they solved.

As Courtland thumped Larry’s chair once again, the gryphon felt a brief wave of shame as a result of doubting his father’s belief.

*

“So how’d you do on the test?” Osaze asked as he put away his English book into the depths of his locker.

“I think I passed,” Larry said as he did the same. “No thanks to that jerk Courtland.”

“What’d he do?” Osaze had never witnessed Courtland’s bullying, despite being on the lookout for it.

“He kept on bumping the back of my chair.”

“You should let me slam dunk him.”

Larry shook his head. “He’s a foo dog. I doubt you could, and besides, he’d just spin it around by saying I can’t fight my own battles.” Osaze snorted in derision. “I’m stronger than I look, and yeah, he probably would.”

Larry had decided to not remind his best friend that he looks like a telephone pole with long ears and longer arms.

“And thanks for not reminding me that I look like a telephone pole. I’d hate to slam dunk you.”

Larry gaped up at Osaze. “I didn’t say anything!”

“I bet you thought it, though.” That said, Osaze moved down the hall to his next class.

As Larry hurried to follow him, he wondered when Osaze learned how to read minds.

“It’s okay,” Larry said, the inside of his feathered ears felt flush with embarrassment. Everyone had their eyes on him now, and he felt awkward.

Sampson gripped Larry’s shoulder. “Yeah, you be sure to knock me down, Freddy. Scabs are sexy.”

Larry felt even more flushed now, even after Sampson released his shoulder. He almost wished he had been hurt. Maybe the object of his affections would have helped him up, and taken him to the hospital. A silly thought, because the last time he was hurt, going to the doctor was no fun at all. “Scabs are so not sexy,” he muttered.

“You don’t have skin, Larry Bird. You don’t know just how awesome they are.”

“Don’t call me Larry Bird,” Larry muttered as they found themselves a place at the team’s table.

Pizza was devoured by the team, though it seemed Freddy, being a quadruped, ate more than his fair share. Though by that time everyone else was full and no one wanted to take it home. Thus, Freddy was happy to eat what was left over.

After Larry and his brother made it home, Freddy immediately chased him around the backyard, claiming later it was to aid him in digesting all that pizza.

Such was life for Larry.

Sampson patted Larry on the leg. The touch made the gryphon’s heart race, and he felt an almost electrical current rush through his spine. “Well, I’m glad I got some company. Nobody else trusts my driving.”

“You just got it a couple weeks ago.”

“And I just got permission to drive into the city last week.”

Larry swallowed audibly, a lump forming in his throat. “If I’d known that, I would’ve flown.”

“Too late, Larry Bird!” Sampson proclaimed, flashing an exaggerated grin as he leaned forward, as if about to run over someone. Though with how he eased the car out of the parking lot, Larry wasn’t too sure his friend would be good at hit and runs.

“Don’t call me that, I don’t even like basketball.” Larry didn’t care for the joke about his name and the fact he was part bird. He wasn’t even sure if this Larry Bird was still in basketball.

“Sorry, Larry, but you know us kids can be cruel.”

“My brother’s worse than you could ever be.”

“I still think he ate your neighbor’s cat.”

Larry chuckled as the car got on the 395 highway. “Dude, he doesn’t eat pets. He says cats taste awful.”

“And how would he know they taste awful, huh?”

Larry opened his beak to speak, then clacked it shut. Sampson had a point, which was scary enough. “Crap.”

“All I’m saying is I’m not letting my dog out of my sight when he’s outside and Freddy’s around.”

When they reached the small shopping center that contained the Pirate’s Pizza, Larry’s sharp eyes picked out the familiar sight of his father’s truck, along with someone in the bed of the vehicle. “Oh, great,” he moaned when he saw the quadrupedal gryphon climb out of the truck. “My brother came with dad.”

Sampson pulled into the parking lot. “Good thing my dog isn’t around. I’d hate for your brother to be tempted with a canine snack.”

Larry rolled his eyes. “Freddy wouldn’t eat your dog.”

“Did he tell you dogs taste awful as well?”

Larry gave Sampson a cold stare. Crush or no crush, he wasn’t so smitten with his friend as to be blinded by his incessant teasing. Once the car was parked, Larry unbuckled his seat belt and got out. He waved to his family and teammates. “What’re you doing here, Freddy?”

Freddy’s claws clicked on the pitch of the lot as he walked over to Larry. “Same reason you’re here, duh.” He sat on his haunches and tugged on one of his gloved forepaws.

“Oh, you won a soccer match? Funny, I didn’t see you playing.”

Freddy’s ears twitched a bit as he waved a forelimb dismissively, as if dispersing a cloud of smoke. “I came for the free pizza.”

“Dad’s buying it for the team, not for bottomless pits who pose as older brothers.”

Freddy grinned, standing up as tall as he could on all fours. He was larger than a German shepherd, almost as large as a pony, but not quite able to look at his younger brother in the eye. Not unless he stood on his hind legs. “You sure do talk smart, little bro. Remind me to beat you up when we get home. We bullies always gotta beat up the nerds.”