Chapter 2

Diners in the middle of downtown Corneria City rarely had a free moment after seven a.m. The morning commute started at six thirty and steadily gathered steam all the way until nine, slowing down a bit then but picking up again during lunch and the afternoon rush; from the moment they opened, most cheap coffee shops and cafes, especially the ones close to subway entrances, enjoyed a steady stream of laborers stopping in for a bagel, yuppies reading the morning paper over a warm drink, and the occasional college student staring at the menu, deciding between a smoothie or a hot mocha. Rainy mornings were good, most shop owners found, and snowy days were the best; the more miserable the day was, the more appetizing hot drinks and quick meals sounded. December was the best time of year for diners in downtown Corneria City.

Today had been particularly miserable. A light drizzle and impenetrable cloud cover had dominated the morning, causing a minor catastrophe when a hot chocolate machine broke; around lunchtime the temperature had dropped and the sleet had begun, briefly turning into snow but dissolving again, creating mounds of slush on every sidewalk. Cornerians walked with their hands in their pockets and their heads barely visible underneath hats and scarves. They sighed with relief as they entered the diners. Now it was six o'clock and the sky was just beginning to darken; a spot at the counter had just freed up when a young fox walked in and began to shake the water off his jacket.

The bear washing a coffee spill off the countertop looked up and smiled. "James! Hey there. Usual?"

James nodded and blew warmth into his hands as the bear went to the cappuccino maker. "How's it going?" he asked. "FREEZING out there."

The bear laughed and yelled over the din of the machine. "I wouldn't know. I haven't stepped outside all day."

James grinned. "Lucky you. I had to go get vaccinations today."

"Oh!" The bear handed him his drink. "For school?"

"Yup. The academy requires all sorts of crazy shots. I've got welts running all the way down my arm."

The bear grinned. "It's for a good cause."

James grinned back, took a sip, and quickly spit it back into the mug. "Mmmmph! HOT!"

"Uh, yeah. I'm glad you noticed." The bear looked at the clock behind him. "What time is…hmm. I think I'm gonna run down to the newsstand really quick - you wanna come after you finish?"

James began to shake his head, then stopped. "Well… actually, yeah. Why not?"

"Why the sudden change of mind?"

James shrugged. "I dunno. I got a feeling." He drank his cappuccino, put his coat back on, and the two walked out the door, each instantly receiving a faceful of sleet.

"Man! Whew, you weren't kidding!" The bear pulled his collar up over his scarf. "Jeez. So you lookin' forward to school?"

"Oh yeah." James plunked some change into a beggar's plastic cup. "I've been looking forward to it since I was a kit. You should see how proud my parents are."

"Your dad's a pilot too, right?"

James nodded. "Yeah, and my grandmother before him, and my great-grandfather before her. It's kind of a genetic thing."

The bear chuckled. "Good, good. Maybe your kids'll grow up to be pilots."

"They'd better," James said, and they laughed. On their left they passed a fiddler dressed in a shabby coat and fingerless gloves.

At the newsstand the bear picked up the evening news and they quickly headed back, experimenting with every possible permutation of their coats to cover more of their bodies. "Oh, did you hear?" the bear asked. "General Vessic is running for office again."

"No kidding? Didn't he give up after the whole bikini fiasco?"

The bear shrugged. "Eh, apparently not. At least no one can say the guy's not tenacious."

"Ugh," James said. "He's so slimy. If he ever becomes Prime Minister the whole solar system's doomed. All of Lylat - gone. Bye bye."

"You can say that again," said the bear, and James did.
As they passed the fiddler again, he shook some snow from his long ears and began to play.

"Hold up," James said, slowing down. "That guy's pretty good. Wanna listen?"

"Aw, come on," the bear said. "It's freezing and my break's almost over." He stopped and looked at the fiddler, who was now churning out a lively reel as onlookers clapped and dropped coins into his open violin case. "Haven't you seen this guy before? He performs somewhere along this street almost every night."

James shook his head, not wanting to mar the music by speaking. The fiddler, a brown and white hare, looked to be about James's age, barely over seventeen. Poor fella, James thought. Must be a runaway or something. The fiddler finished the reel and the bear tapped James's shoulder. "I gotta go," he said.

James nodded, his eyes on the fiddler. "Okay. Sorry. I'll catch you later?"

"Sure," the bear said, gave James a pat on the back, and walked back to the diner.

After playing four more reels and two ballads, the fiddler bowed modestly, quickly gathered up the change, and began counting it, his brow furrowed. James, thoroughly interested, gently pushed his way through the crowd.

"Hey," he said, and the fiddler looked up quickly, startled. James noticed that he discreetly tucked the money into his fist. "You're really good," James said kindly. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

"Oh," the fiddler said, relaxing a tiny bit. "Oh, I dunno. I've been playing since I was a kid. Thank you."

"No problem. I mean, no, I really meant it." The fiddler gave a quick smile and kneeled to pack up his violin. James stood by awkwardly as he stood up again, gave another smile, and began to walk away. Oh well, James thought, before he noticed that the fiddler was shivering.

"Hey, buddy," he called, jogging after him. The fiddler stopped, froze, and turned around again warily. "Listen," James said, feeling moronic. "Do you - do you have a place to stay? Do you need a place to crash or something? You look like you're down on your luck."

"N-no," the fiddler stammered, fidgeting uncomfortably. "No, I'm fine. Thanks, though." He began to walk again.

James watched for a moment before saying, "James."

Again the fiddler stopped and turned around. "That's not my name," he said.

"No," James said. "It's mine."

"Oh," the fiddler said. He suddenly cracked a lopsided grin. "Y'know, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to hit on me."

"What?" James said, laughing. "Me? No. Sorry, I don't swing that way."

"Oh, darn. You got my hopes up." They both laughed. "The name's Pollux," Peppy said.

* * *


"It's not much, but I've gotten by for the past few months," Peppy said, flipping on the light in the small bedroom. James had never been inside a hostel before and it wasn't as bad as he had expected; the room was a simple white thing with a bed and a dresser, very clean, very sensible. A large backpack slumped against the wall and out of it poured a few changes of clothing and some careworn books. Some stationary was scattered at the foot of the bed. Peppy set the violin case down next to the backpack and turned to look at James. "I've gotten by," he repeated.

An hour and a half ago James had decided that it would be a good idea to get dinner on the way to wherever they decided they were going; they had stopped at the diner and the bear had given James a startled and disapproving look at the sight of scruffy, tattered Peppy beside him. Nevertheless, he had ordered a good dinner for himself and, despite frantic protests, Peppy, too. The hare had stared at his dinner guiltily for a full five minutes until James demanded that he eat and not reject the hospitality; once he got started, though, he had wolfed down the food as if he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Which was probably true, James had thought.

Now James looked at the room and nodded. "I have no problem believing that." He leaned against the wall. "So…you use the money you get from playing the violin to pay for this?"

"I have a day job working at the drycleaner down the street. The room's four hundred a month which gives me just enough money to pay for food." Peppy shrugged. "But, I mean, whatever. I'm moving out in a few weeks."

James, thinking of dinner, fought the urge to ask exactly how much a month was spent on food. "Where're you going? If you don't mind my asking."

"School," Peppy said. "Do you live here in the city?"

"Yeah. I live uptown, near the museums. It's nice."

"Cool," Peppy said, grinning. "I've never been here before. Well, I mean, I've been living here but I don't really get out much. I haven't had time to see anything."

"Where do you come from," James asked.

Peppy hesitated a bit. "Selente Province," he said.

"Oh! Okay. That's not too far. What city?"

Peppy looked almost frightened. "Oh, you wouldn't have heard of it -"

"Nah, nah, I've got friends there."

"…Oh." Peppy fidgeted. "Um. Fort Saul."

James nodded. "Ah. Okay. The people I know are in Rocksford."

"Imagine that," Peppy said with a weak smile.

There was an awkward silence and they both looked around the room as if studying it. James was suspicious. If Pollux is from Selente, he thought, why does he seem so ashamed of it?

"So," he said finally.

"So," Peppy replied.

"Really?" James asked.

"Yeah," Peppy said. They both laughed.

"I didn't ask you," James said. "Where are you going to school?"
"The Cornerian Defense Academy." At this Peppy spoke a little louder, and even puffed up a bit in pride.

"What?" James nearly leapt forward. "You're going to the academy? Are you a freshman? I'm a freshman too!"

Peppy blinked and stepped back. "Wait, what? You're going to the academy?"

James was grinning. "Yeah! Wow, that's great! I'm majoring in aviation. You?"

"Foreign relations," Peppy said quietly, the fear amplified in his voice. He smiled nervously. "You… you wanna be a pilot?"

James decided to ignore whatever was bothering the hare. He was performing on the street for god's sake, he thought. I shouldn't be surprised that he's a bit weird. "Yeah, I want to be a fighter pilot for the Starforce."

Peppy's eyes widened. "A fighter pilot! Crazy."

James shrugged. "Well, my dad flies commercial freighters now but he flew an army transporter for a few years, and my grandmother was a pilot for the Airforce, but that was way after all the disputes moved to space, so all they did was air shows. And my great grandfather was a stunt pilot - he flew those old fashioned biplanes and would do flips and things." James smiled and looked out the window. "See, it feels like my relatives were almost in the action but not quite, you know? I want to be in the thick of it. I want all the glory."

Peppy grinned. "You can have it. I just want to travel."

James laughed. "Fair enough." He looked at his watch. "Say, you want to go somewhere? Night's still young. I could show you some of the youth clubs."

Peppy raised an eyebrow. "So it's a date, now, is it? You gonna buy me flowers, too?" And James grinned as he playfully punched the hare on the shoulder.


Thirty minutes and four subway stops later, James pushed open the door of a small underground club filled with sweaty high school students and a few young college students dancing, talking, and drinking soda at a bar.

"Soda?" Peppy asked.

"I told you it was a youth club," James said. "Besides, plenty of kids show up drunk anyway."

They took seats at the bar and almost immediately James's friends began to gravitate towards them, cheerfully saying hello to Peppy as they joked and laughed with James. He's quite the popular one, Peppy thought.

"Hey," he said a little while later. "Is there a phone here? I want to call someone."

James, Sylvie, Rob, Ira, Raj, and Judith simultaneously pointed to the hallway. "There's a payphone right next to the bathroom," James said. "You got a phonecard?" Peppy held one up and smiled as he made his way through the crowd.

"He seems really nice," Sylvie said, looking after him. "Where'd he say he was from, again?"

"Selente province, I think," James said.

"He seems so nervous," Raj said. "Kinda paranoid."

James shrugged. "I noticed that, too. But I mean, he's living in a hostel. Not staying. Living. I don't know what happened to put him in a situation like that."

"You truly are a bleeding heart, James."

"I don't know…" Sylvie was contemplative. "I lived in Selente for five years. He doesn't seem like someone from Selente."

"How so?"

"I don't know," she confessed. She then shrugged and smiled. "Well, in any case, I bet you two'll have a blast at the academy." She suddenly looked at her watch. "Shoot, guys, we've gotta go! The last train leaves in half an hour!" As everyone jumped up and began to gather their coats, Judith looked at James, and then at the door to the hallway.

"I guess you're just taking the subway home?" she said.

James nodded. "I'm not sure what I should do about Pollux, though. I hate to just send him back to the hostel but I'd feel awkward bringing him home with me."

"He'll be fine," said Raj, at the exact same moment that Rob said, "Invite him home."

"Thanks, guys," James said.

"You'll think of something," Judith said. "We've gotta go." They all waved goodbyes, demanded that he call each of them, confirmed their plans for the next Saturday, waved goodbye again, waited as Sylvie ran back for a forgotten scarf, waved goodbye again, and left.

James finished his drink and glanced at the door to the hallway. He ate a few peanuts.

"Um… I guess… black tea, please?"

James glanced to his side as the female voice chimed over the din of the music, and was caught. Sitting beside him in a dark blue skirt with a Fortunian tribal printed scarf tied around her head was the prettiest vixen he had ever seen, shyly taking off her coat. All thoughts of Peppy vanished, and he stared.

The vixen thanked the bartender as he gave her a glass of hot water and a tea bag, and she delicately tore open the paper covering and lowered the bag into the water, bobbing it up and down. James looked her over. The skirt was actually a dress, sleeveless with crisscrossing straps down the back. It ended a little below her knees, revealing ratty jeans and sneakers. Now here's a jazzy tune, thought James. She looked up and caught his eye. He blushed and looked back down at his drink.

"Hi," she said, smiling.

James looked back up. "Oh," he said, feigning surprise. "Um. Hi."

He gulped his soda and she continued to bob the tea bag. Time passed. James swished his tail nervously and felt a jolt as it connected with hers.

"Oh!" he said. "I'm... sorry. I gotta watch that thing."

"It's okay," she said. She sipped her glass and, eyes widening, spit it back into the glass. "Mmmph!" She looked up at James, embarrassed. "Too hot," she explained.

James laughed. "I did that just earlier today, actually. My tongue still hurts."

She grinned. "Really? Okay, then I don't feel so bad."

James smiled back. "You come here often?"

"No," she said. "This is my first time. I was supposed to meet a blind date here but he canceled on me on my way over." She held up a cellphone and rolled her eyes. "Figures, huh? Ever since I bought this thing it's brought me nothing but sorrow."

"I'm sorry," James said. "Evil cellphone."

"Yeah, well," she said. "You here alone?"

James shook his head. "I'm here with a friend but he's using the phone. In fact..." He looked at his watch. "He's been using the phone for quite a while now."

The vixen grinned. "Maybe he fell in. No, wait, that joke doesn't work."

"What?" James laughed. "You're strange."

"Seriously, though. You should go check on him."

"Hmm..." James murmured. Or, I could stay here and look at you, he thought. "Nah, I'm sure he'll be fine. He's a big boy. My name's James, by the way."

The vixen smiled and said, "Vixy." God, what a smile.

"So," James said. "Are you in secondary school? Or college?"

"In between," she said. "I start college in two weeks. Delantey School of the Arts."

"Cool! What're you majoring in? Wait, lemme guess. You must be a painter."

She laughed and shook her head. "Nope. Piano performance. People mistake me for an artist all the time, though - I think it's the shoes." She held up a foot and James saw words and pictures drawn all over her sneaker. "How about you? Between?"

"Between," James said. "Next month I start at CDA."

"Cornerian Defense Academy?"

"You guessed it."

"Very nice," she said.

"Yeah," James said. "I'm going to train to become a fighter pilot."

"Whoa!" The vixen pretended to be blown back by an imaginary wind. "Craziness! I could never do that."

James gave her a cocky grin. "Yeah, well. I get that a lot."

"How 'bout your friend?"

"Hmm?" James continued to smile at her.

"Your... your friend. The one you said you were with."

"Oh," James said. Then, "Oh! Pollux! Yeah, he's going to the academy, too."

"Ah. You both gonna be pilots?"

"No," James said. "He's majoring in something else. I... can't remember what."

The vixen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Suddenly her cellphone rang, and she jumped a bit, and turned away from him as she answered it.

James looked back towards his drink, then at the door to the hallway. He checked his watch again. It had been almost half an hour since the hare had gone to use the phone - was he even still here? James couldn't help but think that perhaps he had left, ditching James and going back to the hostel.

"Well," the vixen said, turning back towards him and putting the phone away. "That was my date. Now he wants to meet up again."

"Oh," James said, feeling crestfallen.

"Yeah," she said. "He wants to meet at this diner down the street now. I told him yes, but... blah. I don't really want to meet him now but a friend of mine set us up and thinks we'd be perfect together so I really should go..."

"Hey, I understand," James said. "Um. Can I get your number?"

She smiled. "If I can have yours."

"Great," James said, fumbling for a piece of paper. Their paws touched slightly as they exchanged the numbers. She put on her coat, bundled it up, and hesitantly gave him a wave. He returned it, and she turned and walked out of the club, giving James the faintest hint of her perfume as she left. He continued to stare after the door swung closed.

After a minute or two he sighed, put the paper in his pocket, checked his watch, and got up to go to the hallway.

"So, how's pa? He still mad? Uh huh... uh huh... wow. That bad, huh?" James heard Peppy's voice floating down the hall and turned the corner to see him using the payphone, covering one ear to block out the sound of the thumping music. But there was something different about him...

"Couldja put Myra on? ...Myra? Hey, it's Peppy! Yeah! What? Yeah, I've been' goin'. Every sunday. They have a church right down the street from the place I'm staying at... nah, it's nice. Big cathedral. Different denomination but after a couple of weeks I got the liturgy down, so..." he laughed. "Myra, you don't get un-saved just by going to a different church."

Now HERE'S some character development, thought James, leaning against the wall and watching the hare. So he was religious. All right, fine. But "Peppy?" And what was with that accent? He sounded like he had just jumped off of a homemade raft coming up the Hamport river. James remembered Peppy's reluctance to say where he was from. His nervousness at saying he was from Selente. Suddenly it all fell into place.

James sniggered despite himself. Peppy?

"Well, I'd really better go," Peppy continued. "I've been on the phone for nearly forty five minutes. Give my love to ma, and pa, too... all right... all right. I'll talk to y'all later. Bye!" He hung up the receiver, sighed, and stood still for a moment, looking a bit sad. He then turned towards the door and jumped back as he saw James.

"James!" His face became a mask with a smile on it. The southern accent vanished. "Hey, sorry I took so long. I was calling my family, so, you know, it took longer than I thought...."

"Oh, no problem, Peppy," James replied with a smirk.

Peppy stared at him for a moment, then sighed, defeated. "All right," he said. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," James said. "I take it you're not from Selente."

Peppy nodded and looked at the ceiling. "Nope. I'm from Worlandy province. It's down south. You might not have heard of it."

"Okay," James said, trying to remember the maps from his secondary school geography class. "So why'd you lie? What, are you embarrassed or something?"

As they spoke, the accent gradually seeped back into Peppy's voice. "Well, yeah. I dunno. I'm a redneck teenager living in a hostel in downtown Corneria City. I'd get eaten alive if I didn't put up a front." He shrugged. "Wanted to make a good impression, that's all."

James looked at him for a long time. Finally he spoke. "Come on," he said. "You're crashing at my place tonight."

* * *

Peppy decided he was in love with James's father.

He was big -- not incredibly overweight, but certainly big. It was more in his presence than his body, and Peppy was reminded of his own father, except that while Tobias's size made you want to cower in fear, Jack McCloud's booming laugh and good humor invited you into his world, made you want to pull up a chair and put your feet up. Peppy felt cozier than he had in months, sitting with James and his parents in their apartment as James's father questioned him about school, and his home, and his music, promising not to call his parents. "I think you're old enough to think for yourself," he had said upon finding out Peppy's situation. "It's not my place to meddle in your affairs."

The best part, however, was his accent. James hadn't mentioned that his parents were from Wolfsfur, just north of Evanshire, although upon looking back, Peppy guessed that the name "McCloud" should have tipped him off. Both of James's parents spoke with rich Wolfsfurian tones and perked up when they found out that Peppy's specialty was Wolfsfurian reels. They demanded that he play for them sometime, and he gladly said that he would.

After relaxing for an hour or two and making sure Peppy became thoroughly aquainted, James stood up and announced that he would get the folding cot out of the linen closet, and Peppy stood up with him. Jack stretched. "Well, Peppy," he said. "I hope you enjoy staying with us. What d'you like for breakfast? You're a vegetarian, I assume?"

"Yes, sir," Peppy said obediently.

Jack smiled and nodded. "Well, Emily here knows a few recipes for your type. You two go on and get some sleep now." Goodnights were said and the two teenagers filed into the hall.

"He's such a sweet boy," Emily McCloud said, settling down and reaching for the remote control.

Jack grunted his agreement. "Something tells me they're going to be friends for a long time." As Emily turned on the television, they were met with the face of General Harris Vessic as he waved confidently at a mob of reporters.

Emily sighed. "He's a bad man," she said. "Did you hear? The latest polls say he might actually have a chance at winning the election this year."

"That'll be a sad day for all of us," Jack said.

"Aye," Emily agreed. "And with all this now about Katina wantin' independence..." she trailed off and for a moment they both watched the television. "It looks like we might have a civil war on our hands," she finished.

"Aye," Jack said, his voice grave.

In James's bedroom, Peppy examined the posters on the wall while James put some blankets and sweats to sleep in on the cot. "So what'd you think of my parents," he asked.

"They're awesome," Peppy answered. "Wow. Their voices. I coulda listened to them talk all night."

James grinned. "I'll bet they're saying the same thing about you."

Peppy rolled his eyes and began to spread the blankets over the cot. They both changed for bed.

"Seriously, though," James said. "I brought you here to show you that no one cares if you're from out of town. There are plenty of people in this city from plenty of places."

"I suppose," Peppy said. "Thanks for letting me stay here, in any case."

"You can stay for as long as you want," James said. "That room of yours didn't look like a ton of fun."

Peppy smiled. "I have to admit," he said. "I'm kind of worried about leaving my vio... my fiddle there overnight."

"It'll be fine," James said. They both lay down in their beds. Suddenly James thought of something. "Say. What's the difference between a violin and a fiddle, anyway?"

"Violin's more high class," Peppy said, and would not answer further.

"...ah," James said. "Well, goodnight."

"G'night," Peppy said. James turned off the light and, after a few minutes of rustling blankets and shifting positions, the two lay still. James listened as Peppy's breathing became slow and even. He found himself thinking of Vixy, and felt a grin pulling at the sides of his muzzle. I'll call her tomorrow, he thought, looking across the dark room to where his coat hung on the door with the phone number inside the pocket. He happily closed his eyes and, outlining her image in his mind, fell asleep.

The coat, dripping with sleet and snow, hung silently. Along its surface the water formed rivulets and slid towards the floor, pooling in crevices and pockets. The paper moved gently as the water came in contact with it, soaking through it and curling the edges. Vixy's handwriting smudged, warped, and gradually smeared into an illegible blob, staining the water and the fabric of the pocket with ink.