ONE
Early morning sunlight seeped into the office. Instantly brightened, the personal space of Principal Talbot was, at once, devoid of the shadows that had previously filled the room.
Talbot smiled. Bathing in the sunlight, he laced his fingers together and propped them under his chin. Sitting behind his desk, he eyed the door. Any moment now, he knew, Alvin would be shoved into the office and a teacher would be breathing down the chipmunk's small neck.
Shaking his head, Talbot closed his eyes. He was very fond of Alvin. Certainly, the boy was a pure menace, a criminal mastermind of the highest order, but Talbot's job would've been less interesting if he didn't have Alvin. The little devil brought unpredictable adventure into a crippled, old man's life.
A throbbing pain suddenly shot its way through Talbot's leg. Grimacing, he gripped his knee with a shaking hand. Frantically sweeping his eyes about the workplace, he searched for his restored cane.
He eventually spotted the staff. It was propped up against an old shelf that was half hidden by piles of paperwork.
Grunting, Talbot lurched to his feet. He was staggering toward the cane when a swift knock struck the door.
Talbot hissed with pain. Trying not to cough, he hollered, "Come in!"
The door thundered open. Talbot swerved around. He blinked at the shadowed figure that was hunched in the doorway.
"Mr. Talbot, I have grave news for you," an ancient, grating voice emanated from the small, dark form which confronted Talbot, who readily snatched his cane from its perch. Extending the staff out before him, Talbot prepared himself for a possible onslaught.
Its shoulders rolling with mirth, the short figure cackled with mad, high-pitched laughter. Conducting a stylized flourish of its cape, the strange creature revealed its true form.
Talbot lowered his cane. With a faint smile gracing his rough-hewn expression, he painstakingly lowered himself to his guest's short level. "Alvin. I should've known that was you! Why are you without a teacher?" he inquired, placing a firm, yet friendly hand over one of the chipmunk's rolling shoulders.
"Oh, Mr. Talbot, you should've seen you're face!" Alvin, doubling over with laughter, clutched his stomach. Giggling uncontrollably, he sunk to the floor. "It was so priceless!"
Talbot's smile faded. Now supporting the chipmunk with both of his big, calloused hands, the bemused principal gave the rodent some advice. "You should really be in class."
Alvin made a face. "Why?" he asked, glaring defiantly up at Mr. Talbot.
The elderly man sighed wearily. "What did you do this time?"
Alvin smiled sheepishly. "Nothing, I swear." He crossed his fingers behind his back.
Talbot wasn't buying the act. "Where are your brothers?"
A thoughtful light flashed across Alvin's mischievous eyes. He mused, "Well, let's see…Simon's in class, Theodore's at home with a cold, and I'm right here!" He grinned. "Isn't that great?!"
Put off my Alvin's enthusiasm, Talbot gingerly leaned backward. Being in a crouch, his knees were starting to ache. He rose slightly and studied Alvin. "Something's happened to the teacher," he determined, not stating a theory. He knew Alvin's class was having a substitute today.
Alvin rolled his eyes. "You've read my mind again. Mr. Talbot!" He jovially clapped his furred hands together. Collectively interlacing his tiny fingers, he innocently wondered, "How do you ever do that?"
Talbot raised his eyebrows. "I'm old. I have had my experiences, Alvin." He gripped his cane. "You should know that better than anyone."
Growing restless, Alvin eyed the staff, which was topped by a silver wolf's head. "Hey, you got it fixed!" he noted. His heightened interest swelled the room with energy. "That's great, but…Why the wolf head again?"
Talbot fondly stroked the metallic surface of the wolf's skull. "I have nothing personal against the wolf, Alvin," he revealed. "It's a graceful animal, a powerful hunter." He closed his eyes. "I adopted it as my personal guardian after my legs started acting up again."
Alvin's face went blank. "What happened last year? At the school rap party? How did you make all of those cool dance moves?" Producing gleeful sound effects, Alvin swept his draping, crimson shirt around his feet, performing an odd little twirl.
"Slow down, Alvin! You're going to make me dizzy!" Talbot joked. He rubbed his palm across his creased forehead. "I'm just getting old…Say, could you ask Dave if you could come over to my house this weekend? You can bring Simon, too, and Theodore if the boy is feeling well."
Alvin ceased his spinning. "Really? You would let us in that big house of yours! All right!" He danced out of the office before Talbot could explain anything.
After the boy's departure, Talbot eased himself onto his chair. Leaning his head back, he raked his fingers through his dark, red hair. Wondering what he had gotten himself into, he suddenly remembered Miss. Charlotte. He hoped the poor woman was all right.
"Way to go, Alvin," Simon sarcastically praised his younger brother. "You managed to frighten another poor lady out of her wits."
Sitting at a lunch table with his brother, Alvin smiled sheepishly. "Why, thank you Simon, you've made me terribly happy," he smartly remarked. Gnawing down on the sandwich Dave had fixed him for lunch, he smiled with his mouth full. He hadn't done anything harmful to Miss. Charlotte, who was perfectly all right. The old woman had just feinted after discovering one of Alvin's little, pain-inflecting contraptions in her seat.
"What did Mr. Talbot have to say?" Simon wanted to know. Alvin gulped down a hunk of bread.
"He seemed okay when I went to his office," he said, taking a sip of his juice. "He realized something was up, though. The man knows me too well." He shook his head.
"The man wasn't exactly thrilled when he walked in our classroom and found Miss. Charlotte passed out on the floor," Simon dryly recalled. Having finished his lunch, he rolled up his sandwich bag. Coolly tossing his garbage into a nearby trashcan, he added, "Wait until Dave finds out about your detention this weekend."
Alvin groaned. "Oh, please, Simon, not now!" he pleaded. He finished off the rest of his sandwich. Tossing his waste at the garbage canister, he sighed, "I always miss that stupid garbage…" His sentence trailed off into a series of angry grumblings. Seething, he rose from his seat and went to pick up his tossed bag, which had obviously failed to reach its appointed destination.
"I don't think I've got anything to worry about this time," Alvin told Simon after he successfully aimed his bag into the trash bucket. Beaming, he informed Simon of Talbot's invitation.
Simon's bespectacled eyes widened. "You're joking," he said, never taking his gaze off of Alvin. "He couldn't have…Ah, I see. He's got a punishment planned out for you," he theorized.
Alvin, gaping at Simon, demanded, "What are you talking about?" He was dumfounded. "Mr. Talbot would never punish poor, little, old me!"
Simon grinned. "We'll see about that, Alvin." He got up to head for the cafeteria's exit.
Alvin lowered his eyes. Following Simon toward the doorway, a painful realization hit him.
His popularity was endangered. Suddenly, for some abnormal reason, his loving classmates and admires were turning against him. When Miss. Charlotte collapsed, his whole class voted for him to be the one who informed Mr. Talbot of the accident.
Why was all of this happening in such an abrupt amount of time?
Before Alvin could sort out his unspoken fears, a large foot, jutting out of nowhere, sent him sprawling to the floor. Obnoxious laughter filled the lunch room.
"Aw, look, guys! The poor little chipmunk fell down!" The jeering stung Alvin's ears. Grimacing, he felt the blood tickling down from his nose.
"Hey, what was that for?" Alvin squeaked. He shakily got to his feet. He tasted blood in his mouth. Looking up, he glared at his assailant.
Jake Carter was looming over Alvin. Revolting and belligerent, Jake was very unpopular with the ladies. Finding true solace in his unpleasant gang of 8th graders, he wasn't very sociable with other students.
"That was highly unnecessary, Jake," Simon spoke. Bending over Alvin, he steadied his beaten brother's swaying form.
"Aw, shut up, Einstein! You're no fun!" Marcus Rogers, one of Jake's blubbering cohorts, complained. "Why did your brother have to mess with the hot teacher anyway?"
"Yeah, she was very pretty!" This witty remark came from Jason Smothers. Idiotic and brainless, Jason was the oldest member in Jake's gang. He had failed 8th grade twice.
"Because he's gay," Jake answered. He took hold of Alvin's shirt collar. Roughly shaking the bedraggled chipmunk, he snarled, "Right, Alvin?"
Angered by Alvin's unresponsive demeanor, Jake spun his unyielding captive around in a furious, circular swing.
"Alvin!" Simon shouted when Jake mercilessly hurled Alvin at the wall. Simon winced.
'Boys, boys! Break it up!" The order was issued by one of the cooks, a woman who was wringing her hands through a spaghetti-caked apron. Her plump face red with fury, she shoved Marcus and his thugs toward the door. "All of you are going to the Principal's office, now!"
"What about Alvin?" Simon glanced worriedly toward his brother, who was slumped limply against the wall. The cook sighed.
"He's going to the nurse, first," she decided. She dragged Simon away from the scene.
In his mind, Simon began to prepare a plausible explanation for Mr. Talbot and, for later, Dave.
In Mr. Talbot's office, Jake and Marcus flanked Simon, who shared a sofa with the thugs. On the phone, Mr. Talbot was talking quietly to Dave.
"I'm terribly sorry about all of this, Mr. Seville," the principal apologized. Every once in awhile, his wizened eyes would flicker hesitantly over the boys. "If there's anything I can do, I would gladly help you."
Faintly, Simon could hear Dave's wearied reply.
"Yes, sir, Alvin's alright," Talbot assured the fretful father. "He's in the nurse's station." He nodded his head. "Yes, Simon's fine. He's here with me. Would you like to speak with him?" He looked over at Simon. "All right, then. I'll make sure the boys stay here until Miss. Miller picks them up. Yes. Thank you." He hung up the phone.
Simon, ignoring the leers he was receiving from the gang, explained everything. When he completed his version of the tale, he fell completely silent. Unable to meet Talbot's withering stare, he hung his head.
"Thank you, Simon. Do you boys have anything to say?" Talbot directed the question at the chipmunks' tormentors. Simon was pleasantly surprised to see a shadow of fear flash across the bullies' distorted expressions.
"No, sir," Jake mumbled in a low voice.
Simon concealed a grin with his hand. Jake and his friends were afraid of Mr. Talbot!
"Very well. Return to your classrooms. Simon, stay here with me, please. Your guardian will be here shortly to pick you up," Talbot informed the chipmunk once Jake's gang was gone. Simon nodded.
"Yes, sir," he agreed. Talbot's mouth curved into a diminutive smile.
"Why don't we play a game of chess while we wait?" he offered. Simon beamed.
"Yes, sir!" He enthusiastically repeated himself. For Simon, a good, challenging game of chess always brightened a grim day.
An hour later, when a flustered Miss. Miller arrived at the school to take the boys home, Alvin was released from the nurse's station. He was placed in Talbot's office, where he dully watched his brother's brewing chess match.
"Oh, my poor, little Alvin!" Miss. Miller wailed. Catching sight of Alvin for the first time, she groped the chipmunk frantically. She didn't stop sobbing until she held him securely in her enormous arms.
Too pain-wracked, Alvin didn't even bother to protest.
"Careful with the boy, Miss. Miller," Talbot advised. He made his last move. Simon quickly overtook him.
"I won!" Simon exclaimed. He tried to act surprised. Talbot chuckled.
"Indeed. I knew you could. I'm getting too old for this game," he yawned. Simon stood up from his chair.
"You played an excellent game, too, Mr. Talbot," he commented. Splaying a hand over one of the principal's broad shoulders, he added, "I had a great time." He headed for the door.
"Goodbye, Simon! Good luck with Dave," Talbot shouted.
Already down the corridor, Simon could only nod his head. He was going to need all of the luck he could get.
With the harrowing Monday coming to a close, Alvin surrendered himself to exhaustion. Extending himself across Miss. Miller's living room sofa, he attempted to fall asleep. His mind reeling, he struggled to block out the screaming Chipettes.
"How can you believe him, Simon?!!!" Brittany's bloodcurdling shriek rose above her sisters'.
"Why would he lie about something like this, Brit?" Jeanette's meekly, timid voice, dwarfed by the girls' heated squeaking, barely reached Alvin's ringing ears.
"Please! Don't' argue!" Eleanor squealed. "Theodore's sick and Alvin's not feeling well!"
Alvin suspected Simon was hiding away in the kitchen, doing his homework on the table.
"Watch this!" Brittany snapped. "We'll see how badly off he is when I'm through with him!"
Alvin roughly shoved his cap over his narrowed brow.
"Alvin Seville!" Brittany gasped wrathfully. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" She roughly cupped her fingers over the brim of Alvin's cap, which she yanked rudely from his head.
"Hey! Give that back!" Alvin snarled. Snapping his head up, he reached desperately for his pilfered hat.
"Wait a minute," Brittany urged. Twirling the cap around her finger, she dodged Alvin's swinging fist. Sitting beside him on the sofa, she proudly positioned the hat atop her head, concealing her swinging, golden hair. "What's wrong with you?"
Alvin, completely appalled, gawped at her. "There's nothing wrong with me!" he admitted. "Give me back my hat!" He desperately reached out for the cap.
Brittany clicked her teeth together. "So you faked the whole thing?" She sadly shook her head. "Alvin, Alvin. This is the worst trick you've ever pulled."
Alvin went immobile. "Trick? You actually think I would do something like that?" Aghast, he flung his arms akimbo. "They really did beat me up! I have proof! See?" Alvin pulled his breeches up, revealing his scabbed knee,
Brittany solicitously tapped her chin. "Your loosing your popularity!" she assumed, all too pleased with herself.
Alvin's fur bristled. Formulating a smart comeback, he reluctantly accepted Brittany's hypothesis. He couldn't deny her assumption. For some unfathomable reason, his popularity was, indeed, diminished.
"It's true!" Alvin wailed. He leaned his head over Brittany's shoulder. "It's all true! Everyone ganged up on me today!" He blew snot on Brittany's pink shirt. "Nobody loves me anymore!"
Disgusted, Brittany shoved Alvin away. "Ugh! Don't do that!" Her face contorted.
"I've had such a rough day, Brit," Alvin sniffed. "Why won't it end?"
"I've had enough!" Brittany, fuming, quickly rose from the couch. "I give up on you! Here's your stupid hat!" She violently chucked the hat at Alvin, who grabbed for it.
"Thank you, Brit!" Alvin gratefully placed the hat on his head. "You know how much this hat means to me!"
Brittany scoffed. She stormed from the living room. Minutes later, Alvin could hear her striking another argument with Simon and the other Chipettes.
Over the deafening disputing, the doorbell rang,
"Oh, that will be Dave!" Miss. Miller blared. She instantly reached the door.
Alvin darted up from the couch.
"Alvin, dear, you're a mess!" Miss. Miller fretted. Swiftly opening the door for Dave, she scooped Alvin in her arms.
"Alvin! What happed to you?" There was genuine concern in Dave's voice. Examining Alvin, he lowered his luggage to the floor. "What did those bullies do to you?" He gently inserted Alvin into his arms.
Alvin pointed at his bandaged nose. "They broke my nose!" He started to sob. "They skinned my knee! They were going to kill me, Dave!" Crying dramatically, he tugged at Dave's damp shirt.
"Oh, Dave, you're soaked!" Miss. Miller, dragging Dave into the house, slammed the door shut. "It's raining too much for anyone to be out there!" She jerked Dave's drenched jacket from his slouched shoulders.
Dave said, "Yes, I know, Miss. Miller." Staggering, he sunk his drained body into the sofa. Still clutching Alvin to his broad chest, he ruffled the chipmunk's disheveled mane. "Still, I had to come and check on my boys. Is Theodore doing well?"
Miss. Miller grimly shook her head. "He's still coughing, I'm afraid." She plopped onto the sofa. "And he's fever's still up but I'm sure we'll have the boy's feeling better this weekend."
"Alvin has detention then," Dave muttered. Alvin giggled nervously.
"Oh, yeah, that." Alvin's chin descended upon his chest. The disappointed glare plastered across Dave's worn expression made Alvin feel just a tad bit guilty.
"They need to go easy on this poor boy, Dave!" Miss. Miller dotingly pinched Alvin's shoulder. "These big boys at school are beating him to a pulp!"
Dave frowned at Alvin. "Did you fight back?"
Alvin cried, "They wouldn't give me a chance, Dave! They cornered me! They ganged up on me! I had no choice at all!"
Dave sighed gravely. "Alvin…"
Alvin decided to change the subject. "So how did that record deal go, Dave?"
Dave's disposition brightened. "Well, the Magic Keys Record company was pretty positive about the tune I had for them. " He grinned. "There could be another album in the works!"
Miss. Miller whooped gleefully. "All right, Dave!" she crowed. "I knew you could do it!"
Humbled, Dave stammered, "T-Thanks Miss. Miller!" He nervously gripped his wavy, black hair. "If it's all right with you, I think I'll go check on Theodore now. Don't let Alvin out of your sight!" Firmly planting Alvin atop Miss. Miller's lap, he sauntered off.
"You heard the man, Alvin," Miss. Miller chided. "It's best if you stay with me."
From behind the sofa, Jeanette and Eleanor shared a bout of giggling.
Perched on the edge of Theodore's bed, Dave smiled worriedly at the bedridden chipmunk. He inquired, "How are you feeling Theodore?"
Clutching his tummy, Theodore smiled. He answered, "I'm feeling kind of hungry." His stomach rumbled. Clutching his tummy, he tentatively squeezed Dave's trembling fingers. "What's wrong, Dave?"
Dave despaired. "Oh, Theodore, you don't have to worry about me!" His graying head was pounding. "We might be able to land us another record deal soon!" He reassuringly clutched Theodore's hand.
"Why are you sad then?" Theodore, unconvinced, sweetly questioned his adoptive father.
"Oh, nothing, it's just…it's nothing you have to worry about now." Dave left it at that.
