So I know these two kids. They really are nothing without each other. They have every class together, and are completely glued at the hip, always. Everyone says they've been like that for as long as they've known each other. Recently, one got suspended for being in a perfectly legit fight. For three days, the other one was completely miserable. Then, on Friday, when the one who had been in the fight came back, the other was so incredibly happy, on a personal high all day. I dunno, 'twas inspiring. Really kind of sweet.
Jake seems younger than Chance, huh? I can see him skipping second and third grade. You know, cause he's so smart? x3
Swat Kats not mine and whatnot.
Swat Kittens!tiem, y'all.
"I-Is Jake there?"
The tabby clutched the phone, nervously twirling the cord around his extended claw.
He had never called Jake at home before.
The girl seemed to think for a moment, and then laughed shrilly. "Oh- Jacob! Whaddya want with him?" She giggled, momentarily prompting Chance to wonder how old she was. "Jacob's 'n trouble- can't come to the phone, can't go nowhere, can't watch TV- nothin'!"
"Oh..." Chance, downcast, began to speak, "well, could ya... could ya tell 'im...?"
He jumped when a sudden peal of laughter erupted from the other end , and a shrieking voice ordered the girl to get off the phone. He heard scuffling, untrimmed claws scratching at tile, and an angry voice drawing nearer. The phone slammed down on the receiver.
He waited anxiously for a little, as if someone would pick up the phone again. At the sound of a voice, he began quickly to speak again, planning to ask a bit politer this time.
"May I please speak-"
"-rry, please hang up your phone and-"
He slammed the phone down.
*****
"Hey! Furlong! Where's yer girlfriend?"
Chance scratched, agitated, at the little groove on his desk, eyes trained on the chalkboard, elbows and knees locked carefully, shoulders hunched.
The droning of his teacher, pointing out mathematical nuances with the tip of her ruler, could only block their voices for so long.
"I'm talkin' to ya, Furlong!" The same voice hissed.
Chance showed no sign of having heard, save the quickening of his claw against the desk.
"Ya got it wrong, Larry-" snickered a voice from the other side, "I'm thinkin' that Furlong's the girlfriend now. 'Specially since-"
The yellow tabby kat whirled around.
"Where's Chris?" He snapped, as quietly as he could. The other boys fell silent, glowering at the smaller kat. Chance glared into each of their eyes, first Robert, then Larry. All three kats' faces were filled with pure, childish hatred.
"Yeah, 'swhat I thought."
He spun back around to face the front, habitually glancing at the empty desk in front of him, but quickly retraining his eyes. After the older boys seemed to gather their wits, Larry muttered darkly, "Ya know, Furlong, Jackie's real small. 'S'not Chris's fault the little brat plays dirty and-"
"Lawrence!" The ancient teacher snapped, finally noticing the disturbance in the back, "If you don't stop talking and pay attention, I'll move you to the front of the room!"
"But Mrs. Grimals, Furlong was-!" the oldest began to whine. The class tuned in, interested in the kit's public humiliation.
"No buts- and you certainly cannot afford to lose focus, with your grades the way the are as of now!" The teacher retorted swiftly, smacking her ruler across her paw. "One more word, and I will be seeing you in detention!"
Excited titters swept across the room.
"Yeah, Lawrence," Chance drawled loftily, "Grimal's might jest cough up a fur ball if you 'n Robert fail fourth grade fer the third time, and she has ta teach ya again..."
"Do you want detention, Chance Furlong?"
The venomous voice silenced every giggle and snort in the room.
Chance smirked slightly and shook his head, glad of his triumph.
Mrs. Grimals then sniffed and lifted her defined nose.
"A pity that Mister Clawson is not here to keep you in check."
Barely restraining a growl as the teacher turned her back to the class once more to teacher, Chance gripped his desk angrily, claws digging in wood.
"A pity, ooooo" the boys cooed behind him. "A pity-"
Chance, agitated, began clawing at the little groove in the surface of his desk once more.
*****
"Chance? Is everything okay?"
He knew exactly what his mother was referring to, and ignored it. He threw down his backpack and plopped in the chair, in front of the waiting juice and banana.
"Yeah. School was just a bit cruddy today, Ma," he mumbled, peeling the banana.
Sighing deeply, she turned around.
"You know what I mean, Chance Furlong," she sat directly in the chair in front of him, while he did his best to avoid her eyes.
His mother had always been sickeningly perceptive.
Chance squirmed, and took a drink of juice. He always found it hard to lie to her, especially when she stared at him with those tired eyes.
"Jake always comes for dinner on my days off, Chance. Every Tuesday and Wednesday since you two met, he's been here." She reached across the table to hold his paw. "Now tell me, " she said softly, "Why Jake wasn't here yesterday, and isn't here now? You didn't..." she continued softly, tightening her grip, "...say something to him, did you?"
"Ma-!" he tried to begin, but she cut him off.
"I know things have been hard around here lately, and that you are under a lot of stress. And the first few times, I understood, Chance. I still would. But still-"
"Ma! He's sick," Chance snapped, trying not to get angry, "like I told you. Sick."
He met her eyes by accident and suddenly noticed her graying fur, her frazzled hair, her jagged nails.
She looked exhausted.
"...Really, Ma-" He insisted, gentler, anger fading, "he's got some stomach bug. Threw up on the playground 'n everything."
A year ago, maybe, she would have offered to cook up some soup and go check on the kit herself. Now, she only sighed, looking slightly relieved.
"If you say so, Chance." She loosened her hold on his paw. "I trust you."
She got back up and turned to the stove.
"I made extra spaghetti and everything," she said to the pot, stirring again, "Poor kitty..."
She mumbled for a while about how horrible it must be to get a stomach virus in such cold weather, then turned the conversation to Chance's day at school.
Chance relaxed in his chair.
A year ago, maybe, he would have felt bad about lying to his mother. Now, he was just glad she had one less thing to worry about.
*****
The tabby kept his head laid down on the desk.
The kid two seats ahead was using the empty desk in front of Chance to keep his backpack off the floor. One strap dangled off the edge.
When no one was looking, Chance twisted it in his toe and tugged, sending the bag clattering down, papers flying, and a handheld game system clattering across the floor.
Chance watched a battery roll slowly across the floor as the kid, seemingly bewildered, dropped to his knees to gather back his things, sending Chance the occasional confused glance.
Serves you right, Chance thought, not acknowledging the incident in any way. That seat ain't a cubby for your stuff.
*****
Chance was so tired of being the dumb kid.
He glared at his homework. The numbers and bars danced around the page mockingly. Whenever Jake explained it, he understood perfectly. When he was on his own, understanding kept only a claw's length away from his outstretched arm.
Growling, he balled up the paper and tossed it.
He didn't used to be dumb. He was real smart, before his dad had died.
Stupid Dad, he thought furiously, dying and taking my smarts with him. Before, everyone used to go to him for help. Then his dad went and got shot up in some robbery at the bank where he worked and he couldn't pay attention and he was so angry all the time and had to beat people up when they made fun of him for being so dumb-
Chance almost screamed and stomped his feet like a little kitten, but remembered just in time that his mom had to wake up early for work, and settled for biting his knuckles instead. His sharp teeth sunk in deep.
Stupid Dad, he thought, blood trickling over his paw and in his mouth, making Ma go and work all the time and get so tired and never being here and always being so old and tired and worried and tired-
He didn't want to be here anymore. He couldn't stand it. Everything in his room reminded him of how much of a failure he was, how much trouble he put his Ma through.
Although he knew his mother wouldn't be awake to check on him at night as she used to, he locked his bedroom door. Just in case, he bunched up the pillows under the covers.
With practiced ease, he opened his window and swung outside on the fire escape soundlessly. He scrambled down the ladder, feet hitting the pavement and not stopping. He didn't even feel the bitterly chilled city air.
He didn't know it until he was already on his way, but he knew exactly where he was headed.
And Jake had better be awake.
*****
He could never remember the name of the foster home Jake lived in, but he knew exactly where it was, it being the sole building in its area with only two stories.
This would be the second time he'd come here. Chance only knew where Jake lived because he had tailed tailed him out of curiosity and slight admiration for the little boy genius, wondering bitterly what kind of rich family he'd come from, and why he didn't talk to anybody at school if he was popular enough to walk home with at least six other kits. He had been shocked to see Jake, wordless, disappear into a foster home with those other kits.
He walked to the side of the building, skulking in the shadows. Chance was confident he could find Jake's room. The dark kit had bragged once about being so good, he was moved with the older kats to the only room on the first floor with a window.
His eyes already adjusted to the dark, the tabby quickly located the window, and knocked quietly in a steady beat.
Not for a second did he consider the possibility that anyone but Jake might notice him knocking.
To his immense luck, the blue curtains parted, somewhat hesitantly. A green eye peeked out, and widened. Seconds later, it seemed, Jake was standing next to him, awed and disbelieving. His jaw dropped, and he seemed ready to speak when Chance grabbed his elbow and began to run, pulling Jake along with him. If he'd his wits about him, he would have been surprised at the scrawny kat's lack of resistance.
They didn't stop running until they'd reached the front of the school, both doubled over and gasping for breath. Away from the oppressive foster home, the tiny kat seemed able to speak.
"Chance-" he wheezed between pants, "why're you- why'd you...?"
Chance didn't answer, instead releasing his grasp on Jake's arm.
Jake, having regained his breath quicker, gaped at Chance, as if he had never seen his friend before. Chance turned his back to him, and tried to slow his heart, it being harder to do after all he had run.
Minutes crept by.
While Chance had his breathing under control, he still could not bring himself to face Jake.
Jake, unsure, tired of waiting, began speaking slowly.
"I- I can't believe you came to the home. How'dya know where it was?" Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "They almost took me outta the good room- but I begged and begged and they let me stay. I tried to call you, but Samantha was guarding the phone- she's such a snitch."
Chance stepped a bit further away. His friend tilted his head, confused at the tabby's silence.
"Chance? Buddy?"
Jake took a few steps to close the distance.
Even he didn't know he was going to do it until he did.
He ended up closing the distance between him and Jake with his fist.
He couldn't have punched Jake that hard, he didn't feel anything crunch. But, in quick retaliation, the kat fell and rolled away, widening the gap between them again.
"What the hell was that about?!" Chance screamed, his voice blending with the honks and shrieks of the city night. Jake, standing now, was holding his face with one paw, blocking his front with the other. Managing to keep himself composed startlingly well, Jake rolled his eyes to retort shakily, "Chance, ya big idiot- you're the one that just clocked me!"
"Ya know what I mean!"
Jake narrowed his eyes, prepared to defend himself. "Chance, if I knew what you meant-"
"Fine! Ya wanna fight so bad-" Chance hurled himself at his friend, who sidestepped, tripping the bigger kat. "I'm not gonna fight you, moron!" Jake snapped, backing away from Chance, sprawled face-down on the ground. "I don't know what you're so tailhurt about, but if you don't quit being stupid, I'm gonna leave!"
Heaving himself off the ground, Chance glared at his best bud in the world, wanting so badly to hate him. "Leave then! I don't need ya, ya scrawny little egghead!"
Words not having the desired effect at all, Jake's expression softened somewhat. "What's wrong?"
Chance only growled.
"C'mon. Really."
He felt that he was going to attack for sure. Instead, his shoulders slumped, and he plopped again to the ground. "Jake, buddy, do ya have to go and do everything better than me?" he mumbled to the grass with a sigh.
Whatever Jake was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. The dark kat dropped his stance. "I, uh- what?" he articulated intelligently. Chance scowled at him pettishly. "I know yer smarter than that, Jake. And ya know what I mean."
He continued to the kit's blank look, "I was the class genius, for a while, ya know. Everyone asked me for help, all the time. 'Chance?' that old Grimals would say, 'why don't you go and help James with his arithmetic?'"
"...Yeah? I know you're not dumb, Chance, you're actually-"
"Then-" he was not about to go on about his Pa, uhuh no way. "-then you came, straight from the second grade. And now I'm stupid. Ma loves ya ta death, won't shut up about ya half the time. Same with Grimals. Ya know she told me yesterday that I look like a lost..." he paused to wrinkle his nose, "puppy without ya?"
Jake had to good sense to look offended on his behalf. "Yuck."
"Yeah," Chance sighed. "Everybody seems to think I need ya." He chose to omit what the nasty bullies on the playground had a habit of saying about them. "And then, on top of all that, yer skinny tail decides ta go and steal my fight!"
Jake looked ready to object, but let Chance finish.
"That was my ma they were talking about, Clawson! Mine! They were trying to pick a fight with me! And you had ta go and beat up Chris and make me look like a pansy. Now everybody's talkin' 'bout how I have to have my girlfriend fight for me!"
Now Jake looked offended on his own behalf.
"Hey! I beat him up! You should be the girlfriend!"
"Ya fought dirty, Jake!" Chance snapped, trying not to blush while remembering what Robert had said the other day. Jake snorted, putting his paws on his hips.
"What, because I tripped him while he charged like a bull? 'Snot like I kicked him in the beans or nothin'!"
"Point is-!" Chance barked, "That ya shouldn't have done that. Fight him, I mean." Jake looked back at Chance, petulant. "Mama Furlong is like my own ma, Chance. It made me real angry when Chris popped off bout her like that. I'll kick anyone's butt that says anything bout the kats I like."
What to say to that? "Well..." His anger was dwindling, fast.
"Felt good, when his nose broke, too. " Chance's eyes almost bugged out, trying to keep himself convinced that his buddy was not a violent kat. Jake cracked his knuckles, looking up at the moon, and went on. "'Sides, yer mom would have been real mad if you got in another fight this year." Suddenly, he looked sheepish. "She's probably mad at me, huh?"
Chance, for the first time in two days, grinned. "Nah, I told her ya have some kinda stomach bug. She thinks ya threw up in the middle of recess."
Jake smiled back, and held out his paw. "Thanks. C'mon. I gotta get back to the home."
On their way back Chance burst out laughing. "Ya know, midget, Ma thought that the reason you weren't coming fer dinner was 'cause I beat ya up."
Jake chuckled along. Then he said, almost smugly, "I guess it's not that funny. It might actually be possible for you to beat me up if I had a stomach virus."
Chance punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Right. I'll remember that. But, uh, Jake? Could ya seriously not do that again?"
Jake pouted a bit, obviously expecting more junk about making Chance look like a baby or something.
Chance averted his gaze, watching the sky as he walked. "It got kind of... boring without ya."
For a second, the kit's brow was furrowed. Then, he smiled. "Right. Course."
Chance would never admit, to himself or out loud, that by 'boring,' he actually meant lonely.
*****
"Hey! Scratchal! Where's your tailbuddy?"
Chance smirked. Ever since Jake had been back, he had been toeing the line with Chris's group. He never knew the little kat had it in him to be such a trouble maker. Or that his vocabulary extended quite so far.
The darker kat was sitting in front of him, arm resting on Chance's desk to better turn to face the back.
"Very funny, Clawson." Robert hissed back, obviously unwilling to admit that his friend was still too busy hurting to come back to school, "Enjoy the time off school with yer girlfriend?"
Chance watched, amused, as Jake managed to twist his face into confusion. "Who? Oh, I guess ya mean Chance. He was in school, ya idiot, ya sit right behind him. Or is your memory that bad?"
"'Sides," Jake went on, obviously enjoying Robert's inability to respond, "I was grounded super bad- the Enforcers came ta tell my family tat if I kicked any other kat's tail that bad again, they'd be seeing me in jail." Jake spun quickly to face the front. He was quite apparently lying, but neither Lawrence nor Robert had the opportunity to call him out.
"Clawson, you little-"
"Robert! Lawrence! What did I tell you just the other day about conversing while I lecture?"
The boys' jaws gaped like fish.
"But Mrs. Grimals-"
"Clawson- he-"
The teacher gave an uncharacteristic snort.
"Mister Clawson is a gentleman. I highly doubt he would be so uncouth as to cause a disturbance in my classroom."
Chance could tell from the perk of Jake's ears that he was giving a look of pure innocence to Mrs. Grimals, and that she was eating it up.
For the first time, he sent up silent thanks for favoritism.
"Sentences- after school! Both of you!"
As soon as the teacher turned around, Jake and Chance managed to high five subtly, ignoring the heated glares from behind them.
"'Sgood to be back, buddy." Jake whispered, snickering.
Chance only grinned.
I prefer to think that Chance is trouble, instead of a little creeper.
Swat Kats needs moar lobe.
Lots and lotsa love.
I'm definitely going to start writing stuff for it.
You know who else needs love? Chance. Even if he is just Razor's chauffeur half the time. (youknowwhoyouare =_=)
Please review? Seriously, plllleeeease.