Okay, so if I'm suspended, then how the heck do I explain that to my mom? I mean, she's always called me her 'little angel,' so I can guarantee that she won't be expecting this, of all things.
You should have thought of that earlier.
Okay, I have enough problems, and I most definitely do not need to be talking to myself right now. Look, my mom knows I'm a good kit, I mean, she tells everyone that she meets that she has the most wonderful son (at least, that's what she tells me that she tells them), so what the hey is she going to think when she finds out that her little angel has been suspended indefinitely?
She'll blow her stack, that's what, and it's time to face the music.
"Hey, Mom?"
"What is it, Nick?" she said, turning away from the pot of simmering water that she had on the stove, along with -ooh, tomato sauce with lots of garlic, just how I love it. But I don't think I'll be eating any. No, I'll be grounded and in my room with my tail tucked between my legs.
"Weeeelllll, do you remember how I was planning out a sort of 'Diversity Day' for school with Judy and the rest of my class so that we could show mammals that they didn't just have to be what their species' stereotypes said that they were; that they could be more?"
"Uh-huh, I do," she said, nodding slowly. "Did it not work out like you had hoped? I see your ears are droopy, and that's never good."
"No, you're right, that's never a good thing, but think about this, Mom, things could always be worse, like, I don't know, me being suspended for pretty much ever…"
"What?!" she almost exploded, jumping straight up out of her seat, ears scraping the ceiling of the burrow. "What do you mean, 'suspended for pretty much ever'?"
"Exactly that, Mom." My ears pressed themselves as far as they could go into the back of my skull, my tail doing the same to my feet and a cold wash of fear came over me. "That plan that we set up to tear down stereotypes…"
"Ye-es…"
"Yeah, well, it worked, and the principal and the superintendent weren't too happy about that. Apparently they like stereotypes, because they suspended Judy and I quote-en-quote 'indefinitely.' I get the feeling that it pretty much means we're expelled, and not just for the rest of the year, for good. Time for us to find a new school." Then I had an idea. "Judy wants me over at her house this afternoon, I could talk about it with her parents then."
"Oh, no you don't, mister fox, you're staying right here."
"What? Why?"
"Here's why, Nicholas Peter Hopps, you're grounded."
"But Mom-"
"No buts. And quit complaining, or I'll swat your fuzzy one until you scream bloody murder. Got it?"
"But-" I tried to protest. This was so unfair!
"No. Buts. Don't try to squirm your way out of it either, you troublemaker." With that, she stormed out of my room and through the living room, and a few seconds later, I heard her slam the front door shut behind her.
I'm such a bad son. Go on, admit it, Nick, you are a Bad Fox! Go on, admit it, you know it's true. With all that tall talk about breaking stereotypes, I guess now you've just given in to them, haven't you, huh, Mister Bad Fox?
"NO! I'm a better mammal than that, I am! I know it! I'm not going to let two stupid sheep break me. I may be a fox, but most days I feel like I'm mostly rabbit. I'm a lover, not a fighter, so why was I fighting all of this?"
You know why. It's because you can't come to the realization that most everyone else in that school did today, that you're prejudiced against yourself.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
A mammal's greatest strength lies not in their spirit, not in their heart, not in their depth of conviction. No, a mammal's greatest strength (or should I say weakness?) lies in putting themselves down; even if they shine and sparkle and look like everything's just peachy in their world, it's not, they're blaming themselves for everything. Use yourself -me, you, us, as an example, because that's exactly what you were just doing.
"Geez, surprisingly profound. Eeesh, I'm turning into a nerd. Oh, wait, I already am, with these stupid glasses and -ick, got some corn stuck- braces. Oh, geez, now I'm the one stereotyping. What next, I'll be a con artist? Yeah, like hell I-" I would keep going, except that there's someone at the door.
"Who is it?" I ask, not unlocking the door.
"You know who it is, Nick, unlock the door."
"Oh, hey, Mom. One sec, I'll be right there." I scurried on over to the door, twisted the knob, and opened it up, expecting to find- well, I don't quite know what I was expecting, exactly, but it sure wasn't this.
"Nick, you furry screwball!"
"Oh, hello to you too, Miss Wilde," I said, trying not to laugh. That effort failed miserably, and I burst out laughing, holding my sides and feeling like they were going to split.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing, just this whole situation, I mean, you don't exactly come across as the kind of mammal who's ever gotten yourself into trouble of any kind, let alone a suspension that pretty much equates to being expelled." She didn't answer. Instead, she frowned, brows creasing.
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"Yes, yes you are, Nicholas. I got enough scorn at my old school in Zootopia for looking like this- 'fox-bunny,' they called me. 'Bunny-fox,' 'funny,' 'box,' I've heard them all. I don't want to repeat that same kind of miserable existence that I had there here. I hope you can understand that."
"You'd have to be crazy to think I don't. It's no better for me here, you know. I mean, it's not very often that you see a fox with purple eyes, right? The glasses and the braces don't help any either. The kids think I'm crazy because I have a bunny for a mom, the list goes on and on, so yes, Judy, I do get it. You've had enough. I've had enough. The world has had enough of stereotypes. They're impossible to get rid of, and most mammals find it easier to just give in to them and follow along, so yes, Judy, I get it. So what are we going to do about it?"
"We've tried to change them peacefully, that got us expelled. We have to think of something more, something that will make a much greater impact."
"You're right. So what are we going to do about it?"
"Why don't you think about that upstairs?" my mom, having sneaked in silently behind us, said.
"Yikes! Geez, Mom, don't do that to me. You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"I'm sorry, Nick, it was an accident, I promise."
"No worries, Mom, I'm not mad at you. Why on Pangaea would I ever be mad at you?"
"I don't know, it's just that I worry about you sometimes."
"Sometimes? Mom, you're always fretting about me. It's like a second full-time job for you."
"I know, I know, I just do, okay?"
"Okay, dear. Oh, Mister and Missus Wilde and I want to have a conversation in private, so would you two mind terribly if I asked you to go upstairs? You could keep working in your room, I'm sure it's no issue."
Moms. Such busybodies. But no, I really wouldn't mind Judy's company. I'm starting to really like this doe.
"Judy, if you want to keep planning this, my mom's right, we can go up to my room if you want. It seems like the adults want their privacy."
"Alright, let's go!"
So that's them out of the way. Yes, we do want our privacy. I'm sure they'll learn about this all eventually, but for now, we just want to make sure, just in case we're wrong. I don't want to hurt Nick if I'm mistaken.
"Mister and Missus Wilde?"
"Yes, Bonnie? It is okay if we call you that, right?"
"Yes, if I can call you by your first names."
"No problem at all. I'm Marian."
"And I'm Johnathan. What did you want to talk about, Bonnie?"
"Other than the fact that our kids get along wonderfully? Yes. I think you've figured out that Nick is adopted. I found him on the street just about fifteen and a half years ago, a tiny little fluffball with a name tag around his neck- 'Take care of our Nick,' it said. I felt so guilty, I had given up my own kit about six months earlier after the jerk that got me pregnant left me, the prick, so I took him home with me. I didn't have I dime to my name, but I couldn't take my own kit back, as she'd been adopted, and here I was, looking at a promotion at my job and a kit that had no one to take care of him. Fifteen years later, and he's the fox that's befriended your daughter."
"Well, we have a story to tell you ourselves, then. I'm guessing that you gave your kit to the orphanage on Baobab Street in Zootopia Central?"
"Yes, but how-?"
"Because we were the foxes that took her home. The same sort of thing happened to us- we were both 'let go' from our jobs and left without a scrap of spare change to support us, and not a single mammal wanted to help foxes. I don't want to offend, but we needed the money, and having a kit was the only way we were going to get anything, so we adopted a little rabbit kit and named her Judy."
"Yes, that's a little frustrating, knowing that she was only adopted because you two needed a quick buck."
"Whoa, whoa, there, Bonnie, that's not it at all. Yes, we needed the money, but after we gave up our kit, we couldn't get him back, either. We adopted Judy- your daughter- because we wanted to have someone in our lives that we could love and help and nourish and let them live, okay? It wasn't all for the money, okay? I promise. On my honor. Please, Bonnie, believe me."
"Okay," I said, sighing. "I get enough crap for being 'just a rabbit, and only good for producing kits,' I love Nick, I promise, and I would never do anything to harm him. On my life."
"The same goes for us and Judy. We treasure her more than anything. That's why we moved out here. We wanted to find some mammals that wouldn't be as judging of her or her appearance."
"So you came to rabbit country?"
"Believe me, from what Judy tells us, the schools here are much better than in Zootopia. Have we answered all your questions, Bonnie?"
"Yes, and I yours?"
"Yes, thank you. Promise me this- we tell them nothing about this until they're older. Deal?"
"You have yourselves a deal." He stuck his paw out, and I shook it. "Thank you."