Chapter 7: Loud as a Whisper

Like infant Aquatian carps being flung into the deepest pond with the expectation to swim on instinct, the New Cadets were immediately thrust into their new routine within the first week of arrival: Early rises, non-stop drilling, obstacle courses, and strict exercises, all chipping away at their enthusiasm and tolerance for each other, one day at a time.

Today's exercise, Terrain Basics, was no different. If there was one arena that wasn't going to improve the Cadets' sense of teamwork like James McCloud hoped, it was this class. If anything, racing through the obstacle course laid out across the Academy grounds, driven through mud and the all-too-authentic humidity of the Academy's artificial morning sun, only brewed their sense of fierce competition to a seething boil. Sweating through their fitness clothes and expelling angry, determined breaths, they all fought to outpace each other. There weren't any lofty thoughts about impressing the Drill Instructor; the only reason anyone cared about getting first place was to reap a more tantalizing reward—being dismissed early to a nice cold shower, and the chance to climb back into bed. The trouble was, barely anyone could keep the lead. Regardless of what species they were, nothing could nab them the upper hand—not feline lungs, not velvety pigskin to traverse the mud, not a reptilian spine to slither more efficiently through the hoops and barbed wire. Everyone was plagued by the same clumsy inexperience. Their cushy teenaged lifestyles had left them physically inept, and unprepared.

Wolf had foolishly believed that he'd have the upper hand over these other kids with all the physical endurance he'd accumulated back on Venom. Instead, however bad everyone else was doing, he was doing terribly. He'd only been running a few minutes, and he was already hoarse and staggering. Every aching bend of his knees served to remind him that he wasn't as fit as he thought he was…

At least, when he and the others weren't constantly being reminded by the voice of Sergeant Carver nipping at their heels. He was the monstrously-tall Painted Hunting Dog that served as their drill instructor, a man whose neck practically disappeared into a broad tower of muscle and sinew, his veiny arms barely contained under his CDF jacket. His small, beady gaze tracked their every movement, with an arsenal of degrading insults prepared for even the smallest sign of slowdown:

"C'mon, MOVE IT, you good-for-nothing lowlifes! Is that the top speed you can kick out of those weak, noodly limbs of yours?"
"If that's how you run, I'd hate to see how you walk!"
"I wouldn't have you enlist as a flag-carrier at that speed!"
"Move, move, move! I'll get proper movement outta those bones even if I have to break 'em!"

It would send a jolt of panic into the kids' legs, making them mess up. They would stumble, stagger into the plank wall, or give into their exhaustion, just long enough to watch in dismay as the other kids sprinted past and gobbled up their lead up whatever fleeting lead they had struggled to get. It happened to Wolf so many times that he began lagging several yards behind everyone else, only scaling obstacles like the rope wall and the climbing portions after multiple tries.

Surprisingly, Falco and Katt were the only ones breezing through. Where even the more competent trainees were still struggling to move quickly, the two proved to be terrific sprinters; leaping, ducking and weaving through the low-hanging barricades, hanging nets and climbing walls with freak agility.

Katt especially was making the obstacle course look preposterously easy, in complete defiance of her dainty appearance. Vaulting and gliding in a black streak through the wooden obstacle hazards, she barely stopped to catch her breath. Every time it seemed like she was going to stagger, she would just pick up speed or spring into action in snappy fashion the second she landed back on her feet in the mud. In the process, she appeared to be enjoying herself far too much, smiling confidently behind the mess of sweaty bangs flying past her face. However they'd gained it, she and Falco clearly had a lot more experience at running and improvising than everyone else...which of course, only served to irritate the bitter trainees staggering several yards behind them.

Stephanie finally managed to catch up with her, her spotted shoulders heaving side-by-side to Katt's. Through her sweat she could see the feline smirking at her, causing her to huff and push on with the sprint determinedly.

Up ahead was a long pool of mud, in which sat a large stepping stone positioned to tempt anyone agile enough to leap to it from flat ground, and avoid trudging through the pool's depths.

Beside her, the hyena saw Katt flash a daring smile, one that clearly said: Think you can make it before me? Steph scowled, broke into a leap—and undershot it. She landed face-first into the mud.

Katt effortlessly leapt onto the rock, regaining the lead and calling behind her. "Never bite off more than you can chew, darling!"

Steph furiously spat out a log of mud out before beginning her slow trudge across.

Up ahead, Falco raced alongside the inky feline, who flashed a cocky grin to him.

"Planning on—huff—coming in second place, hon?"

"Keep talking—I'll hand you—your ass in a minute—" Falco sneered between pants.

Up ahead was an unavoidable bed of mud under a maze of barbed wire that required wading on one's belly. Falco and Katt improvise immediately, breaking into a slide belly-first and worming their way in perfect sync, buried up to their chins.

When Wolf reached it, he tried not to rush, and only succeeded in getting one of his legs sucked into a shallow part of the pool. He grunted, cursing as he tried to maneuver himself through the viscous sludge. He watched a few other students caught up with Falco and Katt, while he and a number of other stragglers continued to shamble behind. Wolf gritted his teeth in humiliation, spitting out chunks of mud as he waded.

Part of him retained some relief to see that even Fox was struggling just as much as he was. The boy was smaller and skinnier, and there was no way he'd get far ahead—

At least, that was the thought before Fox began using his elbow more, mashing the wet sludge and vaulting himself forward. Wolf watched in disbelief as he wriggled from under the barbed wire and joined the others.

Great. Wolf thought. Now I really have lost to everybody...

All of them finally swarmed the finish line, gulping air as they were weighed down by their sopping, muddy T-Shirts.

Cursing under his shambling breath, Wolf was among the last to trudge over, feeling like every ounce of energy had been sapped out of his wiry and lanky physique. Evidently, it wasn't just time he'd lost, being cooped up in the Juvie Facility...

What a joke. I've gotten clumsy, slow…practically inert. His face soured. If I'd been like this on Venom, I never would've lasted. Something would've eaten me within a day.

Katt was the only girl who wasn't recoiling and squirming at the layers of mud packed on her, and the only one who hadn't hesitated when diving into the mud pit. She turned to Falco. "Looks like you're losing your touch: I beat you by a few seconds."

"If Zonetians were meant to excel on the ground, we wouldn't build our cities in the skies," Falco huffed.

"Excuses, excuses." Katt squatted to stretch. "Sounds to me like someone needs more practice."

Carver blew his sonic whistle for them to form up, glancing at the bird and feline at the front. "Impressive work, Cadets…much as I hate to admit it. You could use more finesse with scaling the walls, but that was still as close to perfect that I've ever seen a first-timer get on the Level B course. That earns you an early leave…Dismissed!"

Katt managed to muster the energy to leap up triumphantly, giggling and dragging Falco along by the arm. There was hardly anything conceited or facetious in her antics, but that didn't stop the trail of scalding glares from the girls behind her.

"Un-freaking-believable," one of them hissed. "Where did she even learn to run like that?"

"I'm not convinced it was all her own doing," grumbled a plush Mink. "I mean, look at her: she's got the same physique as the rest of us. How much you wanna bet she took a fitness stim or RLX-AmpliGO before class?" She folded her arms. "There's no way she's a better runner than Steph. Everyone knows she's the best runner here."

Even under the weight of her involuntary mud mask, the Hyena's red mane rose in quiet anger. "You can stop sugarcoating things to cushion my ego, Bryce."

They all turned at the sound of her voice. "…Steph?"

She folded her arms, her voice filled with loathing. "That Monroe girl beat us, fair and square. I don't know how, but she did." Her spotted ears flattened. "What I do know is that the next time I'm up against her, I'm winning. Just to wipe that smug look off her face."

Their muttering was cut short by the loud voice of the Drill Instructor.

"…As for the rest of you," The D.I. continued, curling his lip uncharitably. "I hope you enjoyed your leisurely stroll through the course, 'cause that's the only thing I could call that miserable showcase. Were you even TRYING? That was pathetic." His voice catapulted to a shout, spraying spit over the gloomy Cadets. "I dunno how your parents haven't died of shame by now. I certainly would, if my genes had cranked out something so feeble and inactive. Well, I'm going to succeed where they failed." He jerked a thumb out. "Back to the starting line."

Fox raised his mud-caked face wearily. "Can we at least take a break to wash up? There's no way I can run covered in all this."

Carl snarled over him. "You can, and you will. Lookit them Simians over there—"

He pointed at an open hangar where some dirty Venomian worker were running in and out with soapy buckets, exhaustively washing the docked ships.

"They've gotta scamper about, head-to-toe dripping with oil and muck and whatever else comes out of a ship's exhaust. And they don't get to wash up till their work is done. Do you see them having trouble moving around? Hell, I bet Emmet here could run circles around you bunch." He laughed in the direction of one of them. "Couldn't you, boy?"

The Venomian he called out to, a spider monkey who was already sweating hard enough to fill the buckets he was carrying, broke his sprint to acknowledge him. "…Oh. Yessir. Whatever you say, sir."

The D.I. rolled his eyes and pushed him along. He adjusted his cap and turned back to the Cadets. "If these sewer-born monkeys can run around without muck slowin' them down, you little pampered rosebuds can too. Now, back to the finish line. MOVE IT!"

Wolf and the others stood there with sopping clothes and fur, groaning at the sky before making their long way back.

"I told you this place would be a breeze," Katt gloated in a whisper, as she and Falco scooted their way down the cafeteria line. Having enjoyed a shower to rejuvenate her silky fur, she was back in uniform and riding on high spirits. "If that stint back there is the hardest they're going to push us, it's gonna be easy living from now on."

She hummed, fingers dancing indecisively over cafeteria's selection of soda cans.

"And you were molting feathers about us having it hard around here."

Falco sighed, impatiently picking one of them up and shoving it into her hands. "Don't kick up your feet and congratulate yourself just yet. We've still got four more classes today...and I'm pretty sure you can't outrun textbook questions you can't answer."

"Relax—doing some boring school crap is still miles better than what we used to do to get by. Hell, I don't think we've ever had it this good." Katt sighed wistfully. "If I knew military school was going to be this comfy, I would've enlisted years ago."

Upon reaching the end of the countertop, she was greeted with the domed head and cheerful synthetic chirp of the Server Bot, each of its six arms busily preparing steaming portions.

"Welcome to the Academy Refreshment Bay. Today's Breakfast Options are: 1) Shrimp Omelet with Melted Butter, 2) Salmon Hash with Tuna-filled Deviled Eggs, 3) Baked Cod with Mashed Potatoes. …Gravy Dishes are over at the Salad Bar. Please make your selection."

"God, just look at all this," Katt hissed, her violet eyes becoming huge. "These people eat like kings...it's almost criminal." She sighed dreamily. "If they make it this good everyday, I'm going to lose my perfect figure."

Falco snorted. "Can't lose what was never there to start with."

She ignored him, still in the middle of making her selection when her eyes fell upon a lonely cheesecake sitting in an otherwise empty dessert tray. She motioned to reach for it, only to be dismayed when the Possum Cadet in front of her nabbed it first.

Katt's was swift, altering her voice to just the right dulcet, sultry tone that would pull his gaze toward her. "Um, is that the last one?"

"Hmm? Oh!" The Possum straightened alertly at the pretty girl talking to him. "Y-Yeah, I think."

"Oh." Katt's ears wavered slightly, her doe-eyes traveling downward in uncertainty. "Hey, I feel unbelievably petty asking this, but would you mind letting me have that? I don't really feel like waiting for them to make a new batch…" She bit her lower lip in faux nervousness. "If you don't mind, that is…"

The student's cheeks flamed a searing pink. "N-No, not at all! I'm actually not all that fond of these. Here, you can go ahead and take it."

Katt beamed, giggling in an airy and angelic way that made the student flush. "Really? Oh, you're such a darling. Thanks so much for putting up with me and my little antics, I really appreciate it."

"N-No problem." He smiled, seemingly stunned that a pretty girl like Katt would give him the time of day. Euphoric happiness and shyness caused him to wave and walk off with a slight skip in his step, one Falco watched with an irritated scowl.

"Real class act there. You're just an ocean of subtlety."

Taking a greedy bite of her cake, Katt resumed her normal voice in a heartbeat. "What, you want me to turn down an easy dupe when I see one? It's just a little fun."

Falco glowered. "I don't know if I like you throwing yourself at every male specimen that walks by."

"We both have our ways of getting by in a new place." She licked a bit of icing off her whiskers, smirking. "Don't be mad that charm is mine."

"You aren't just doing it to 'get by'...you've been doin' it every five seconds since we arrived, getting favors from every Tomcat, Duck and Hare around here by makin' pretty eyes at 'em."

Katt rolled her eyes impatiently, dragging him out of line and lowering her voice. "Look around, smart one. Maybe you haven't noticed, but we're surrounded by a lot more teenaged boys than back when we were on the streets. The 'sheltered, innocent' act works fine around adults, but in a circus of hormonally-driven chumps like this? We gotta shake things up. Accrue favors another way. Adapt."

Not looking all that convinced, Falco grumbled under his breath. "You seem to enjoy 'adapting' a little too much for my taste."

Katt's hands fell to her hips confrontationally. "You know, I'm not on some kind of leash…and neither are you, for that matter. You're free to do the same. Flex those muscles a bit, flash a smile. I'm sure you can get a small parade of fan girls to squeeze a favor or two out of."

Falco grunted. "I'm good. Watching you do it is nauseating enough."

"Then suck it up and stop with the jealous act already."

"Jealousy ain't the problem. What if one of these guys you're nabbin' favors from decides he wants more than a curtsy and a pretty smile?"

"Yet another scenario where those muscles come in handy." A devious smile played on Katt's lips. "I'm sure you won't just stand around when that happens."

Falco's fist tightens around his tray, glaring lethally around the room. "Damn right, I won't."

Katt gave him an affectionate, patronizing pat on the cheek. "Good boy. Now, c'mon, let's find a place to sit. The tantalizing smell of this fish is killing me."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bristling cloud of seated children, Wolf dragged his feet through the slide door and into the room with an exhausted groan. His knee joints felt like they were being held together by wax; not just because of the grueling extra laps he'd been forced to run, but from the eternity he'd spent in the showers trying to wash all the mud out. He hadn't scrubbed that much color out of his fur since that time he and Lucy had gotten into a bucket fight while painting the picket fence around Peppy's house…an incident that, of course, Lucy now aggressively denied having ever participated in, much less started.

Eyelids hanging in a jaded scowl, Wolf was practically ready to give up on the rest of the day, when a glance above softened his mood. The lunch room, just as elegantly furnished as the rest of the school, was doused in a calming, dreamlike turquoise filter thanks to its decorative centerpiece—the massive, sprawling aquarium that made up the ceiling. Yet another personal touch of the Academy's designer, it cast ripples of caustic light over the room, spilling and dancing over the marble floor and tables. The interior was a splendid collection of undersea baubles, from lush corral to aquatic flowers in exotic shades of magenta and orange, along with glowing anemone that spontaneously glowed as the room's overhead light source.

Wolf could practically lose himself looking up at the ceiling, and quite often did. It was the most relaxing way of recovering from the grind of training, or getting into a calm headspace before classes.

Ugh…'classes'. Wolf grimaced exhaustedly. I better eat something if I want any hope of staying awake for Professor Dunaway's lecture.

Yawning, he seized a tray and made his selection over the counter in the same motion, barely feeling himself do it. When he was sleepwalking his way out of line, he heard a robotic chirp.

"Excuse me, you are the First Year Cadet operating under the designation of: Zero Six Four, correct?"

"Hmm?" Wolf groggily looked up at the Server Bot. "Oh. Yeah, that's me." He gestured towards his sleeve-patch.

The lights on the robot's dome-top head blinked sporadically, and with one of its many arms, it pulled out a small crumpled paper and plopped it on Wolf's tray. "I have been assigned with special protocols from the Faculty Office to deliver this to you."

Momentarily confused, Wolf eyed the lump of paper, and then groaned. He was certain that it was that time of the week again, for the Security Office to pester him about stopping by for the routine recalibration of his Anklet.

Nothing like being tracked at all times to make me feel at home with all the other kids…

"Let me guess. From the Security guys again?"

Red lights blinked on the dome. "Negative. The message comes from the Planetary Campus, courtesy of Professor Hare."

Wolf's jaded look vanished, suddenly shaken out of his tired stupor. He snatched up the paper lump immediately, nudging his way out of line and opening it. To his surprise, he found two snickerdoodle cookies inside—the kind Lucy used to make—alongside a note scrawled in a familiar, untidy writing

Hey, champ. Word on the grapevine is that you start Flight Practice today. We thought you could use the encouragement…and a little something from back home. We're both cheering you on. Show everyone what you can do!

P & L

Wolf glanced at the cookies, and felt a knowing smile emerge on his face, his morning fatigue relieved only slightly.

He folded the note and its contents away in his jacket, and walked off. It was only when he found himself standing in the crowded room, blinking about, that he was suddenly rendered wide awake by a new dilemma, one that made his stomach sink.

Normally, this would have been the time in which Wolf would have taken his lunch outside to the school grounds, to enjoy it under a tree or on the lawn in solitude. But it was a long walk through the numerous corridors to the foyer, and the morning's training had left his legs in an exceptionally rubbery state. The obvious solution for anyone else would have been simple; just grab a seat and eat with the other students.

But that wasn't so easy of an option for Wolf.

He hesitantly faced the rows of tables, at all the "normal kids", chatting the lunch away. He'd managed to dance around socializing with the other kids; always taking the backmost seat in every room, remaining the quietest person in every class, and let people like Fox McCloud and that Monroe girl steal all the attention…leaving him completely ignored. All to remain invisible.

Deep down, however, he knew he couldn't run away from social interactions forever. By now, Lucy would have probably chewed him out for putting it off for so long, berating him for not taking advantage of his clean slate. But he couldn't help it: he was so terrified of saying the wrong thing, of turning an interaction into a confrontation…but what if the time came where he had no other choice but to talk to one of the other kids? Then all this avoidance would come back to haunt him, sting him royally when he'd next open his mouth and try to be sociable, only to realize he'd forgotten how. Unable to stop stuttering or maintain eye contact, completely oblivious to the right slang or social cues…he'd be the oblivious cave child all over again.

On the other hand, the silence and invisibility bought him so much breathing room. The guarantee that he wouldn't stumble into trouble, or start any quarrels. That he wouldn't wake up in the aftermath of some grisly incident, some angry bloodbath that he didn't remember starting…

Wolf straightened up. Come on, man up, you coward. That's not going to happen here.

No one's asking you to be a social butterfly…no one's even asking you to make any friends. Just sit somewhere and chat. Be normal. Hell, just be the fifth wheel in a conversation that smiles and nods like a holographic news anchor…

Swallowing any lingering reluctance, he began surveying the bristling sea of white and blue uniforms. Some of the students were exchanging FREAK mixers and headphones, while others were huddling together around a new issue of Celebrity Star Cluster. Everyone that would usually smoke in the school halls refrained from doing so, now under the scrutinous gaze of stern-looking Junior Officers standing at the door. Some of the girls were adjusting their towering perms, or making educated guesses at the number of calories in the school meal.

At one of the busier tables, surrounded by upperclassmen with the collars and gloves of Ace Pilots, was a student Wolf recognized. A handsome Retriever, fur combed back in a dapper style and a sleeve-patch designating him as Cadet 999.

Wolf had seen the guy around school once or twice before, but didn't know much about him. He was clearly a Senior Cadet, but he seemed like a cool guy; in fact, he seemed to command quite a bit of respect and popularity with everyone else. Half the time Wolf had seen him, it was either lounging on the school grounds with a small army of friends, or climbing out of the cockpit of one of the upperclassmen ships to a supportive uproar from said consorts, usually after pulling off some kind of artsy airborne trick or difficult training course. Right now, he was surrounded by his usual posse—his Doberman friend on one side, his stunningly-pretty Polecat girlfriend on the other—lost in some carefree conversation, occasionally cracking a prankster's smile and making a remark that sent whole table laughing.

Wolf adopted a nervous smile, already starting to walk over. He seems like a cool guy. Couldn't hurt to try to make friends with him.

"Hey!" Before he made it even three steps towards the table, an obstructing elbow came down in front of his ribs. He looked up to find a Shiba Junior Officer barring him. "What d'you think you're doing, Cadet?"

His aggressive tone made Wolf pause, wondering if he was in trouble. "Nothing…I was going to sit here. Is that okay?"

"All these seats are taken. And it looks to me like you've got plenty of other places to sit," he remarked chidingly, with a glance around the room.

Wolf stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. "What're you on about? There's like eight empty seats, I'm looking right at them."

"You don't hear very well, do you?" The Shiba's voice spiked impatiently. "Let me spell it out, since you clearly don't get it. You can park your ass at any table you want, you just can't sit here. They're reserved for better people than you."

That made Wolf's eyebrows launch, his polite tone vanishing. "Sorry. I think I missed the part of school rules that says seats can be reserved."

"They can, and they are," He said flatly. "If you don't have permission, you don't sit. Period."

"What is this, the Cornerian Embassy? I don't need any permission to sit where I want. Now get out of my way."

Looking mildly disturbed from all the raised voices, the Retriever leaned over lazily, and called out, "Everything alright there, Barney? What's all the ruckus?"

"Nothing I can't handle, Fritz," said the Shiba, in a far more cordial voice. "Don't worry about it."

The Retriever shrugged and whispered something to his girlfriend, who started giggling. The Shiba, meanwhile, turned back to Wolf.

"Listen, Cadet. You seem reasonably intelligent…take a friendly warning. If the Aces want you to sit with them, talk to them, or even look at them, they'll come to you and say so. Until then, you look and sit where I tell you." He gave him a rough shove that almost toppled his tray over. "Now, beat it, before I introduce you to a seat made of Cornerian bootleather."

If it hadn't been for his food, Wolf would've easily shoved back. A stubborn part of him still wanted to. But a quick, wary glance at the line of Junior Officers a few yards away made him stop. Clearly, they had some kind of arrangement with the laughing table of Ace Pilots, some unspoken hierarchy where the latter at the top. Wolf scowled bitterly, having learned a long time ago to avoid school factions and cliques like a backworld planetary disease. He didn't know how they could exist in a military school…just that wasn't about to stick his nose into one now. He eyed the laughing, fair-furred Retriever with a newfound bitterness.

Hmph. Maybe he's not the sort worth socializing with. Clearly, I'm not even good enough to sit with His Majesty...

Tray in hand and walking down the rows of tables, he saw that his other options weren't much better; Each mob of students didn't seem particularly keen to let him sit with them, choosing to either scoot down or swing over their furry or scaly tales to discourage newcomers.

Table after table, Wolf's enthusiasm to be friendly floundered, and was virtually out the airlock when he found his last resort, a secluded table with a number of neglected trays and spills.

Strangely, the table was completely empty save for a sole occupant: a Frog, and an odd-looking one at that.

He was alarmingly short, his bumpy head barely even rising to the height of most girls in the room. Stubby limbs stuck out of his pudgy physique, and a ribbon of freckles adorned his remarkably-doughy cheeks. Instead of the standard issue boots, he wore grubby sneakers that barely grazed the floor as his small legs dangled over the bench. All these things made him look like a child in a room full of teenagers, even though his jacket had the markings of a first-year Cadet.

He ate his lunch hunched over, reading an open comic book open on his lap. He barely took up space at the table, yet sat entirely alone.

Wolf tilted his head curiously, wondering why this table was being deliberately neglected by everyone else. Forming cliques at lunch was made enough sense, but outright avoiding every empty seat at this table? That was a new one. He regarded the boy's tiny green outline at the end of the broad table, feeling a tug of empathy.

Then it dawned upon him. Maybe this kid was just what he needed. He wanted to brush up his social skills, and someone like this wouldn't snap to judge him for being awkward or socially alien...if anything, the poor kid would just be happy for the company.

Confidence sped Wolf's walk over. It was the answer to his problems, with zero risk attached. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

I need to cut my teeth on chatting up other kids, he needs a friend... everybody wins.

"Hey. D'you mind if I sit here?" he asked, plopping his tray down opposite to him.

The boy froze, eyes still on the comic. His eyes slowly drew upwards, eyebrows locking together.

"I mean, I saw that the table was empty, so I just…y'know…" Wolf tried to sound friendly, or at least, emulate the agreeable tone Peppy always used, minus all the Fichinese hospitality.

Inexplicably, the Frog just stared at him, fork frozen in his hand, looking like a creature caught in a speeder's headlights. The only part of him that moved was his startled blue eyes, darting behind him and then back again, as if confused as to who Wolf was talking to.

Wolf gave him an odd glance, before continuing. "My name's Wolf…er, Cadet 64," he said. "And you are…?"

The Frog just responded with more perplexed silence, mouth clamped shut…a gesture that convinced Wolf that he was probably too shy to introduce himself.

"That's okay. Cadet 13 works, too," he offered kindly, glancing at the boy's sleeve patch before giving him a closer look. "You know, I don't think I've seen you around…but to be honest, it's a nightmare keeping track of everyone in a school this huge." He cocked his head. "We don't have any classes together, do we?"

Stone-faced, Cadet 13 kept his gazed lowered to his food.

Wolf frowned, wondering what was up with him. Part of him wanted to ask why he was sitting by himself, but then thought better of it, choosing instead to steer things into more casual waters. He gave an exhausted sigh to his surroundings.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this place. How big everything is, how tough all the classes are…or their insistence on putting fish on the menu every damn day." Wolf curled his snout at his tray. "Seriously, I can't for the life of me get this Cornerian obsession with seafood. Just because they built their capital city on an oceanfront doesn't mean they have to put fish in fucking everything." He cracked a smile at the boy. "But you probably enjoy it, huh? Being Aquan, and all."

But not even a polite smile materialized on the corners of the Frog's mouth. Instead, Wolf watched in dismay as he began squirming in his seat, seemingly desperate to avoid eye contact.

What am I doing wrong? He felt a pang of discouragement that he didn't allow to bleed into his voice:

"Come to think of it, I think you're the only Aquan I've seen around here so far." Internally, he wondered if that was the source of the boy's insecurity. "I'm kinda shocked to see one, honestly. From what I hear, most of you guys wind up in that Undersea Science Institute…but here you are, at the Corneria Flight Academy of all places. That's pretty cool."

The boy continued to avoid his gaze, staring at his lap.

"…That's pretty cool," Wolf repeated, nudging him encouragingly. "You looking to become an Ace? Or d'you have your eye on something higher?" He shrugged. "Maybe a spy. Y'know, since you love stayin' so quiet—"

He was still mid-sentence, cordial and smiling, when the Frog finally slid his own tray away from to the far end of the table, scarfing down his food as if bent on getting away from as fast as possible. It wiped the smile clean off Wolf's confused face, scarcely believing that he'd have the nerve to do something so shamelessly blunt.

"Hey!"

The loud spike of irritation in his voice sent the Frog's blue eyes as wide as the marine life swimming overhead.

"What's your problem? Are you mute? Do you just…not want to talk to me?" He spat out the last part with brutal honesty. "Is that the problem? Is it me?"

The boy's eyes darted from his surroundings to Wolf, giving him a silent pained look before shaking his head frantically, as if trying to make him understand. But that only served to frustrate Wolf.

He sighed, voice faltering with a pang of humility. "Look, if I…y'know…said something to make you uncomfortable, I didn't mean it. Really, I—"

Before he could finish, the Frog began shaking his head even faster.

"Well, what is it then? Why won't you say anything?" He folded his arms. "C'mon, spit it out!"

The Frog popped his mouth open for a second, and then helplessly closed it. Wolf was on the verge of shouting in exasperation until he noticed how all the color was drained from the boy's lips. His green skin had quickly started to become shiny, as beads of sweat began to feverishly pour down his cheeks.

"Whoa, whoa—hey, I-I didn't mean to…" He felt his stomach lurch, afraid he'd accidentally triggered something. "You look like you're about to faint. Do you want me to get a Junior Officer?"

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say, as it seemingly launched the kid into a new state of panic. He began shaking his head violently, to where it was about to fall off.

"Really, it's not a problem. I can get one, just stay here—"

Before he could say another word, the Frog seized his tray and sprang up, blue eyes wide with terror. In the mad scramble to get up, he wasn't looking when he turned around, and collided head-first with a passing student.

The Frog didn't wait for him to finish. Looking absolutely terrified, he surprised Wolf by seizing his tray and bolting to his feet at a speed that the latter didn't think he was capable of with his stubby legs. He was swept up in such a frantic rush of movement that he didn't see a flock of female Cadets walking by, even when he turned straight into them, tray wobbling in hand—

There was a startled yell. He collided with a female Blue Jay, uncontrollably splattering his food all over her crisp white uniform.

"UGH!" She shoved him off, revealing the growing stain on her front, before letting out a repulsed shriek. "Slippy!"

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean—!" The second it slipped out, the Frog's hands flew over his mouth, but it was too late.

The frantic yelp had torn across the room, bringing all the chatter to a standstill and all heads over to him. It wasn't at all the voice Wolf had been expecting: it was abnormally high-pitched and breathy, almost hitting a girlish falsetto. Nothing about it suited his age or appearance, sounding more like he was saddled with some kind of vocal impediment that kept it locked in a wince-inducing scale.

There were a few awkward laughs in the room, which would've made Slippy shrink more if he wasn't too busy cowering under the Blue Jay's blazing eyes.

"Look at this! I have to go to class looking like this now! How did you manage not to see me with those big, stupid eyes of yours!"

"I'm sorry, Caroline, I'm sorry," Slippy squeaked, hurriedly providing her with a napkin with his shaking fingers. "I didn't see you coming by. It was an accident, I s-swear—!"

"An accident? Your parents giving birth to you was the accident!" She pushed past him viciously and stormed out, leaving him to stand downtrodden with overturned food around his shoes.

What lingered was the kind of laboring, awkward silence that was made all the more gaping by the size of the room, with hundreds of eyes locked onto Slippy's small round frame. No one spoke, or got up from their seat to shield him from any further embarrassment. They just sat there, letting their source of entertainment linger in place awkwardly, trying not to crack a smile.

And then a Doberman at the Ace Pilot's table lost all control, and started guffawing.

"Ha! You sure know your way around the ladies, Slip!"

"Hey, now—don't be mean, Cisco," Fritz warned, a sly smile threatening to emerge under a mock-serious look. "That frog over there's trouble. He might beat you senseless one of these days."

Cisco rolled his eyes. "Give me a break."

"I'd be more concerned if I were you," The Retriever chided him, doing an admirable job containing his mirth as he glanced around the table. "All you better watch how you mess with my boy Slippy. He's more than tough…he's competition. Mr. Lady Killer might steal every girl in the school—hell, he'll probably woo all of 'em with his voice alone."

His Polecat girlfriend scoffed. "Pfft, yeah, right. If he doesn't blend in with them, first."

It was infectious. The laughter spread around the Aces' table, all of them abandoning all pretenses of sparing the Frog any further humiliation.

Wolf was stunned. He looked around the table, at all the wide smiles and guffawing faces, all of them completely devoid of empathy, relishing in the degradation of the kid. These weren't the cruel and abusive inmates from back at Juvie hall…these were average everyday kids. The type of people he had been racing to sit next to, the people he was struggling to be like, to befriend and blend in with.

Nobody in the room spoke up for the Frog. Nobody showed even an ounce of remorse for the way he was being treated. They sat back uncomfortably, as the Aces continued to laugh.

Stranger still, Slippy didn't look surprised or hurt. There was a tired, miserable look etched into his expression. If anything, the resigned way he hung his head suggested that this was something he was long used to.

And that's when Wolf's heart sank, as he put the pieces together. The Frog hadn't been sitting in neglect; he'd purposely chosen to sit alone. It had been his way of hiding in plain sight, avoiding ridicule by eating someplace where he would go unnoticed...only for Wolf to waltz along like a complete idiot and push him into blurting something loud, and inviting the other kids to make a spectacle out of him.

He felt so much second-hand embarrassment for the Frog that he couldn't even look at him. Just by standing there, he felt himself wince, feeling the nettling sensation flushing his cheeks like an allergic reaction that the Frog was probably feeling. Slippy's actual response just made him feel guiltier. He just sighed, not crying or racing out the door: just a knowing look of misery on his face as he let his pudgy head hang over, and trudged out the door without a word.

Wolf leapt to his feet to call apologetically out to him, he was already gone. Feeling his insides squirm, he heard the laughter turn into disappointed groans, with the sound of one voice in particular turning his head.

"Hey, where are you going, Slippy? Come back!" Fritz called out in a friendly voice that had all the genuineness of a hologram. "C'mon, you don't always have to be a bad sport about this, we were only foolin' around!"

Looking around nervously, the Barney the Junior Officer walked over to cautiously mutter, "Alright, Fritz, cut it out; you know I can't cover up for you if a professor walks in—"

The Retriever put on an unassuming smile.

"Oh, relax. If he starts crying in class, we'll just say it was an accident. Even the teachers know how easy it is for him to turn into a blubbering mess." He aimed a sad chuckle at the doorway, lounging back carelessly. "Poor kid. Hope he doesn't jump out the airlock one of these days. Then what would we do for fun around here?"

His girlfriend and the other Aces let out some shocked laughs, which sent a rancid surge of disgust boiling in Wolf's throat. Part of him wanted to walk over and punch the insufferable prat, but a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach reminded him what starting a fight would mean for him. He felt the weight of the tracer anklet in his boot, and the penalty that came with it.

He sank back down, appetite having long disappeared. He looked over at the stained, ruined comic book on the other side of the table.

So much for making friends…