"Wilfred Longtreader, for the love of Natalia, sit still." Wilfred, frustrated but not willing to protest his aunt, settled back into his seat. Hattie had already dragged them all over the city-and now he was forced to sit and wait at the tailors? It was unbearable. Since their old school uniforms had been destroyed in the fire, Hattie had taken it upon herself to supply new ones. While Wilfred was certain his mother was grateful, he certainly wasn't pleased by the amount of shopping that had been done in the previous few days. Even Lucy, so amiable normally, was sick and tired of the marketplace. Hattie had taken quite a shine to her young grandniece, to poor Lucy's displeasure. She hated sitting inside doing needlepoint or listening to her aunt's endless stories. Even if she did use crutches, she'd never liked it indoors very much.
Lucy had been let out of the hospital about a day after the Goodsons' impromptu visit, much improved but still not fully healed. She wheezed and limped around the house, coughing. Hattie's hovering-while well-intended-was not helping matters. Lucy was sitting in between Garten and Whittel, and Whittel was beside Wilfred. Whittel had his head buried in a library book, Garten was attempting to defy the laws of Physics and spin a toy top on the wall (It wasn't working) and Lucy was tap, tap, tapping one of her crutches against the floor. She used two outside of the house. Wilfred was just waiting for this nightmare to be over. The bench wasn't extremely comfortable.
"Ah, the Longtreaders. I have those school uniforms right…. here!" The doe working the counter fumbled through a rack of clothing and brought out four uniforms: three for the boys, one for Lucy. As Hattie took the garments, Garten turned and pleaded,
"Please Auntie, can't we go out now?" He was not above begging when the situation called for it. And it was ridiculously hard to resist him too; he had that kind of magnetic charm that would have made him incredibly popular had he not also been horribly argumentative. Lucy sprang up, both crutches hitting the floor.
"Yes, please auntie?" She asked, adding her voice to Garten's plea. Those two could be an unstoppable force when they wanted to be.
"And where will you be going?" Hattie asked, her mouth twitching with a smile.
"The ballfield!" They all cried at once. Hattie let out a laugh. She had warmed up to them; Wilfred fancied she was even beginning to like them.
"Oh, why not? Get along. But be home in time for supper!"
Wilfred was wishing that they were on that ball field the next day when Alyss woke them just as the sun was rising. Things did not start off well. Whittel couldn't find his glasses. Lucy had to take her inhaler. Garten stubbed his foot and let out a string of curses so bad that Daniel thrashed him. Wilfred himself discovered that three buttons had come off his uniform. Breakfast was presided over by Hattie, who had her authoritarian nature back and was not happy about Garten's language or the fact that Wilfred had lost most of the clasps to his (brand-new) clothing.
Things didn't improve after breakfast. Lucy cried because she couldn't find her slate, Whittel came near tears of frustration for his lack of vision, (And then promptly found his spectacles sitting next to the fireplace. He said he hadn't put them there. No one believed him) Wilfred felt like crying just looking at his math textbook, and Garten remained in a stony, sullen silence. Whittel pouted-in Wilfred's opinion at least-over the fact that there wasn't any lettuce for their lunch pails. Garten finally snapped and yelled at Lucy, who yelled back, and things were only halted from getting physical by the appearance of Thane-who was very drunk.
Promptly shoved out the door so that the old drunkard could be dealt with, Garten and Whittel proceeded to quarrel all the way to the schoolhouse while Lucy tripped over potholes and skinned her knee. Wilfred lost his slate to the mud and angrily threw his chalk-losing that in the grass of a nearby field. Everyone stopped fighting for a few minutes to search-but they turned up empty-handed.
Things did start to improve when they reached the schoolhouse. Children were put into twelve grades in six sections with two grades per section. Whittel was in Wilfred's section, and Garten was just above them. So, luckily, no teacher would have to deal with having both Garten and Whittel in the same class-ever. Splitting ways, Lucy hobbled off to a group of does from her section, Garten hurried to the far side of the school yard, and Whittle and Wilfred headed into the large schoolhouse to find their classroom.
"I bet that the administration thanks the Leapers that you and Garten will never be in the same class." Wilfred remarked as they searched for room 7/8. Whittel rolled his eyes.
"You're no better." His voice died down as they entered the room. It was packed. The girls were all huddled on the far left-hand side, there was commotion occurring in the front of the room, and in the back Ian was sitting patiently, calmly watching the chaos unfurl around them. Whittel immediately made a beeline for the back.
"C'mon Whittel, at least try-" too late, he was gone. Wilfred sighed. Deciding to go and discover what-or better, who-was inciting the commotion, he moved to the front of the room. "Jupiter…." he growled.
"What?" The younger buck blinked innocently down at him. He was holding a frog and standing on top of the teacher's desk.
"You and I both know your mother would skin you alive for this." Jupiter's mother, Queen Dahlia, was known for being strict. Jupiter shrugged.
"What she doesn't know can't hurt her."
"You get down now, Jupiter Goodson, Or I'll tell her!" Ian shouted from the back.
"Do it! Do it!" Poppy chanted. "Dare you! Dare you!" Perkin added, pumping his fists. Jupiter grinned. What a menace. Wilfred thought. He's going to give me white fur before I'm even out of school! Suddenly the bell rang. Eyes widening, the young rabbits all fled back to their chairs as quickly as they could go, all except for Jupiter. And in strode Professor Fletcher; known for his rules. He stopped in his tracks and stared at his desk. And there stood Jupiter, open-mouthed, right on top of the stack of new textbooks, holding a frog, and looking as pale as a ghost.
"Prince Jupiter Louis Goodson!" Fletcher roared. "Get down from there now!" Sheepishly, Jupiter obeyed. Striding forward, Fletcher towered over the younger buck. "Would you care to explain to me why-" He gestured to the amphibian in Jupiter's hands- "You thought it necessary to bring such a creature into my classroom?"
"Ummm, science?" Jupiter suggested, laughing nervously.
"Release it outside the window. Now!" Fletcher ordered. Jupiter obeyed. "I had hoped that the stories I had heard from my colleagues were simply that-stories. It appears not." Fletcher continued. "Well, princeling, that will not be tolerated here. Hold out your hand." Jupiter, realizing what was about to happen, went even whiter than he had been before. Should have thought of this before he tried that trick. Wilfred thought grimly. When Jupiter didn't immediately obey, Fletcher snapped, "Now!" Complying reluctantly, Jupiter laid out his right hand on the desk. Fletcher gave it five sharp raps with his ruler, and then said, "And you will stand at the front of the class for the duration of first period." Jupiter may have been a prince, but he could be humiliated just like any other buck in the room. Wilfred even spotted him glancing at Glen, only to receive an eye roll and a raised book in return. The boy's countenance dropped even further. He felt the humiliation keenly, just as much as those hard raps that had surely bruised his fingers.
"Do any of the rest of you have anything you would like to add?" Fletcher asked, glaring at the room. Poppy raised her hand, unafraid. Fletcher raised an eyebrow at her. She stood beside her desk.
"Are you going to tell our mother?" Perkin let out a snort of contained laughter, knowing full well that the answer was a yes, and that Dahlia was going to have Jupiter's hide.
"Why, of course." Fletcher responded, glaring at Perkin-whose antics were not unknown to him either, if Wilfred had to guess. Jupiter's fate was sealed.