Nick hopped down the stairs as fast as he dared. His mind was still groggy, having just been awakened from his slumber mere seconds ago, and more than once he almost lost his balance as he descended from one step to the next. To make matters worse, he was still trying to put on his shirt. At first, he had somehow managed to stick his head through an arm hole, and he had to navigate the stairs blindly as he tried to fix his mistake. The combination of his sleep-deprived mind and the shirt impairing his vision made for an unusual trip down the stairs, and he was genuinely surprised he was able to make it as far as he did without falling down.
Eventually, though, he got his head through the correct hole in the shirt, then his arms, and pulled it down snug. Finally, he was able to see exactly where he was going, and to his amazement, he had made it all the way down to the final step. He gave himself a congratulatory smile, and raised his foot to step off the stairs. However, he hit a snag—actually, it was his tail. His foot tripped over it, and before he knew it, he was falling forwards. He instinctively closed his eyes and threw his paws out in front of his body, mentally preparing for the hard impact that was sure to come.
It never came.
Nick waited an extra second or two, just in case he had misjudged the distance to the floor, but still, nothing happened. He cracked open one eye, and to his relief, he realized he was suspended in midair, a few feet above the ground.
"Nicholas Wilde."
His relief disappeared. He turned his attention to the fox beside him—his guardian angel, as it were, who had caught him by his trousers just as he had fallen off the stairs. She was holding him with one paw, the other on her hip, and a stern expression was on her face.
Nick forced an apologetic smile. "You know what they say." He gave an exaggerated shrug, his paws raising nearly up to his ears. "It's not the fall, it's the last few inches."
His mother glared at him, unamused. He feared she was going to give him another lecture on how he needed to be more careful, but after a few seconds, she simply rolled her eyes and set the fox kit down on the floor, much more gently than he would have landed otherwise. "We've talked about this, Nick," she sighed. She rubbed a paw into the top of his head, trying in vain to smooth out some of the messiness in his hair. "You can't keep sleeping through your alarm clock."
Just as his mother had said, Nick had slept through his alarm that morning. He had hit the snooze button one too many times, and as a result, he did not have enough time to properly get ready for school. The fur on the top of his head was scrunched up on one side from where he had slept on it the night before, his shirt was only half tucked-in, and even worse, he now had very little time to eat breakfast before he had to rush outside to catch the school bus.
Breakfast was the most important thing on his mind at the moment. He ran past his mother and into the dining room beyond. "I'll do better, Mom!" he promised. His words barely left his mouth before he sat down in his chair, grabbed the box of cereal sitting on the table, and poured it into the bowl that he was sure had been waiting for him for over half an hour by now.
His mother let out another sigh, though this one was less annoyed than before. "Oh, sweetheart…" She walked into the dining room and patted her son's shoulder. "What am I going to do with you?"
"How about keep him and love him forever?"
Nick raised his head at the sound of the new voice. His father was just walking in from the family room. The brown suit he wore was spotless, having been freshly picked up from the dry cleaners earlier that morning. His tie was perfectly centered on his neck, held in place by a small emerald tie pin. He held a briefcase with one paw, which matched his suit perfectly.
Nick knew what that meant, and a giant grin emerged on his face. He set the cereal box back on the table and waved excitedly with both arms. "Dad! You're working today!"
John Wilde had a grin on his own face that rivaled Nick's. "That's right, Son, I sure am!" He turned to face his wife and raised his free paw. "Viv, give me some paw!" Vivian, however, was not smiling. She was standing there, arms crossed, tapping her foot. His grin slowly disappeared. "Was it something I said?"
Vivian turned and looked at their son, who was now working on pouring milk into his bowl of cereal. "Nicholas," she sternly encouraged, "why don't you tell your father what you were doing last night?"
Nick nearly dropped the milk. "Oh." He set the milk back on the table before he had a chance of spilling it. Then he sat quietly and stared straight ahead, paws in his lap. "You know about that?"
"I'm your mother, I know everything." Vivian turned back to face John. She spoke to him slowly and clearly to ensure Nick heard every word. "Last night, our son decided that rather than trying to go to sleep, his time would be better spent prank calling ZNBC and reporting a 'mass elephant migration' in Sahara Square."
John immediately let out a loud snicker. "Really? That's hilarious!" When Vivian continued to glare at him, he quickly cleared his throat and turned back to Nick. "Why'd you do that?" he demanded—though his amusement was still clearly obvious in his voice.
Nick picked up his spoon. "Oh, you know how it is, Dad…" He dipped his spoon in his cereal and stuffed it in his mouth before continuing. "Wmm yff uff aa nifffg ann yff cmmm smmm…"
Vivian groaned in mild annoyance while John snorted at their son's antics. She brushed her husband's shoulder with a paw. "At least we know whose side of the family he gets his personality from," she mumbled.
She turned to leave the two vulpine clowns to their shenanigans, but John quickly placed a paw on her shoulder to stop her. "Ah, but his looks come from his mother's side," he quickly added. He spun her around so they could face each other again. "He's got his mother's beautiful green eyes, her gorgeous shade of russet fur, her soft tender paws that could heal any wound with a simple touch…" His paw left her shoulder, and came to rest on her cheek. His voice dropped down almost to a whisper, as if the beauty he described stole his breath away. "And a smile as beautiful as the setting sun."
Vivian was quiet for a moment, clearly taken in by her husband's flirting. She blushed slightly, and when he brought her face close to his for a tender kiss, she did not resist. The kiss was brief, however, and she quickly walked away. "You're not getting out of trash duty tonight," she called over her shoulder.
John stomped his foot in mock frustration. "Nuts!" he dramatically called. He trudged over to Nick at the table, flaunting his free arm all over the place. "Well, it was worth try, wasn't it, Son?" Nick was busy chowing down on his cereal, but he raised a quick thumbs-up for his father. John set his briefcase down on the floor beside Nick's chair and patted his head affectionately. "Do me a favor, though, and stop with the prank calls, okay?"
Nick swallowed his mouthful of food and glanced up at his dad. "But you prank call ZNBC all the time," he pointed out.
"Exactly! If you prank call them, then I won't be able to get away with as many…" John's attention was caught by the messiness of Nick's hair, and his paw came to a halt mid-pat. "Overslept your alarm again, huh?"
Nick replied with a sheepish smile. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, let me put it this way: they're gonna rename it from cowlick to cownick if anyone sees you like this." John raised his head and began to call. "Vivian, would you mind grabbing—"
Before he could even finish, she was back in the room, a brush in one paw. "Way ahead of you." She approached Nick and began to run the brush through the hair on the top of his head, desperately trying to make it look halfway decent before it was time for him to go.
John stepped back and let her work her magic. "You're lucky your mother is as talented as she is, Nick." He picked his briefcase back up and walked to the other end of the table, where his morning newspaper and cup of coffee were waiting for him. "She could make a pig look like a wolf." A smirk crossed his muzzle. "In fact…"
"John, that was one time," Vivian protested with a laugh. She continued working on Nick's fur, but the tone of her voice shifted, this time more serious. "Nick, we agreed that since you're seven now, you're old enough to have more responsibilities."
Nick had finished the last of his cereal, and all he could do now was sit and endure this lecture from his parents. "I know," he grumbled. "I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again."
"It had better not." John joined in the conversation, and his tone of voice matched Vivian's. Even though he had his newspaper in one paw and his cup of coffee in the other, Nick knew that he was paying full attention to the conversation. "Your mother has a lot of work she has to worry about each morning, Son. She's really counting on you to wake yourself up, without her having to help you anymore."
Nick's guilt grew the longer this conversation continued. His father was right; Vivian worked at a diner nearby, and had to be there much earlier than most other employees. Like most foxes in Zootopia, she was overworked and underpaid, but it was the best job she was able to find and she couldn't afford to lose it. Anything Nick could do to make himself more self-reliant would help her out a lot. That's why he had volunteered to start using an alarm clock, rather than relying on her to wake him up herself each morning. Today, however, was the fourth time he had overslept, and he'd only had the alarm clock for two weeks.
He must have been quiet for longer than he thought, because John piped up again. "I know you're trying, Nick." He shot his son an encouraging smile. "I've got an idea: how about we set up your alarm clock on the other side of your room? Then you'll have to get out of bed to turn it off in the morning."
Vivian brushed feverishly at an uncooperative clump in Nick's fur, though she took care not to hurt the kit as she did. "What do you think, Nick?" she asked. "Do you think that's a good idea?"
Nick felt his spirits lift at the encouragement from both of his parents. "I think that's a great idea!" he exclaimed.
John's smile broadened. "Well, look at that, Viv. I had a great idea! And your mother doubted me." He returned his attention back to his newspaper. "I'll help you get it set up when you get home from school, Son. Okay?"
"Okay!" The thought excited Nick so much he had a hard time sitting still. He loved spending time with his parents, and now he had a big reason to look forward to school ending today—besides the fact that he was not a big fan of school in the first place. Sure, he had some friends, and his teachers were nice enough, but there was nothing Nick loved more than spending time with his mom and dad. Now, with something new to look forward to, he was sure his day at school would fly by before he knew it.
Vivian paused her brushing just long enough to quickly compare the two sides of Nick's head, then continued evening them out. "So, Dear, tell us about your job today!"
John continued to stare at his paper. "Job…" His brain seemed to take some time to process the question, but after a few seconds, he snapped straight up in his chair. "Job!" He slapped his paper down on the table and stood up in elation. "I got a job today!" He leaned against the table, barely able to contain his excitement. "Nick, do you remember what I do for a living?"
Nick tried to nod, but his mother had a firm grip on his head. "Yeah, you make suits for mammals all across Zootopia."
"Not just any mammals. Bussinessmammals!" John grinned from ear to ear, exposing all of his teeth. "And I managed to find a new client today!" He turned his attention to his wife. "Do you know that big office building at the corner of Pack and Herd?"
Vivian's brushing stopped mid-stroke. "John…" For the first time this morning, she seemed to have been caught off-guard. "You didn't!"
"I sure did!" He pumped a fist in the air. "Two boards of directors and a receptionist—all in need of a new wardrobe! Today is a good day!" Unable to contain himself any longer, he left his spot at the table and ran up to Nick and Vivian. In one smooth motion, he swept his wife up in his arms, held her up in the air, and spun her around in a circle, while she let out a few involuntary squeaks in surprise. "Look at me, Viv! I finally got my client!"
Nick turned in his chair and giggled at the sight. His mother was patting John's shoulders repeatedly, silently begging to put her down, but she was laughing so hard she was unable to actually form any words. Her husband had a firm grip on her, and kept spinning around in small circles all across the dining room floor, happy chuckles emerging from his mouth.
Their joyful sounds mixed together in a beautiful cacophony that gave Nick a sense of pure contentedness. Happiness was the norm in the Wilde household, and moments like these were a common occurrence. His mother and father were more affectionate towards each other than any other adults Nick had ever seen, and they gave him more affection in a day than most other kids his age got in a month. Voices were never raised, arguments were practically unheard of, and any issues the family had were always quickly resolved. From what little Nick was able to see by watching other families in Zootopia, he knew he was blessed; his parents loved him, and each other, and he was sure that there was nothing that could ruin that.
After a moment, John set Vivian back down on solid ground. "Okay, Dear, I should let you finish fixing our son's fur." He poked the top of Nick's head playfully. "He's the son of a respectable tailor, after all, and must look the part!"
Nick once again sat straight in his chair, anticipating the feeling of his mother's brush continuing its work. However, after a few seconds, Vivian set down the brush on the table instead. She ran her fingers through Nick's fur, making sure random clumps would not start standing back up on their own, and seemed content with her handiwork. "Okay, Nick, the bus will be here any minute. You'd better go grab your backpack."
Nick obediently slid out of his chair and made his way to the family room. His backpack, filled with all of his school supplies and books, was sitting on the floor beside their big couch. His mother had filled it up with notepads, pencils, and all the textbooks he would need today, as well as enough money for him to buy lunch from the school cafeteria. It only took him a few seconds to pick it up, hoist it onto his back, and start making his way back to the dining room to say his farewells for the day.
Before he could, however, he heard his father whispering. Curiosity got the better of him, and he stopped in his tracks. He strained his ears to pick up what his parents were discussing, and he heard his father's voice first. "Also, Viv, this is important: Alex is coming for dinner tonight. Remember, he likes salmon."
Nick's ears perked in excitement at John's whisper. Alex was his father's best friend in high school, and even though they seemed to have drifted apart in the years since then, Alex still came over for a visit from time to time. Nick liked Alex; the arctic fox had a silly sense of humor that resonated with the 7-year-old kit, and he usually brought along some candy for Nick as a present.
Nick's mother, however, did not like Alex as much. She dropped her voice down to as low of a whisper as her husband's. "Tonight? You know I don't like it when he comes here, John! He's nothing but bad news!"
John scoffed dismissively. "Nonsense." His voice returned to its normal volume. "You're just saying that because he's a poor influence on our eavesdropping son."
The sound of footsteps running up to him caused Nick to back away from the wall, but it was too late. His father rounded the corner, paws raised in a faux threat, and bared his teeth playfully. Nick couldn't help but chuckle as his father snatched him up, held him in the air, and nibbled at his neck. The kit tried desperately to push his father's face away, but he was unable, and had to endure the attack with only his giggles to defend him.
John only pulled away long enough to meet Nick's gaze with a mischievous grin. "Naughty boys deserve naughty punishments!" He then resumed his assault, and this time Nick squealed even more loudly as his father tickled his skin.
Vivian poked her head around the corner, and to Nick's dismay, she did not run to his rescue. In fact, she seemed to rather enjoy the spectacle of his father brutally bombarding him with kisses and nibbles. "I could watch this all day," she quipped, "if I had the time."
John and Nick both froze at her statement. "Time!" they cried in unison. Nick leapt out of his father's arms and grabbed his backpack off the floor, while at the same time John ran back into the kitchen to retrieve his briefcase for work.
A small smile crept onto Vivian's mouth as the two foxes dashed around in a panic. "What am I going to do with you two?"
John reappeared from around the corner. He threw his arms around his wife, nearly knocking her off her feet from the momentum. "Keep us and love us forever?" Without waiting for a response, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek, gave her a solid squeeze with his free arm, and sprinted to the front door. "Remember, he likes salmon!"
Nick now had his backpack secured on his back, and hurried to the front door just behind his father. He quickly waved a paw in Vivian's direction as he dashed past her. "Bye, Mom! See you after school!"
Vivian only had time to blow Nick a kiss before he and his father closed the front door behind them and ran onto the front lawn. And it was not a moment too soon; Nick's bus was just pulling up to their house. A few of Nick's school friends were waving at him through the windows, and the bus driver gave a friendly tip of his hat in John's direction.
Though John was in just as much of a rush as Nick, he still took a few extra seconds to see Nick off. As they approached the door to the bus, John patted Nick on his shoulder, giving him a boost to the first step. "Have a good day at school, Son!" he called.
Nick hopped up to the floor of the bus and turned back around to look at his father. He gave John a big smile and two thumbs-up. "I will," he promised. "And you have a good day at work, Dad!"
John confidently held up his briefcase and winked at Nick. "Oh, don't worry, I'm about to make a lot of mammals happy." He turned his attention to the bus driver. "Okay, Phil, I won't keep you any longer."
The driver nodded and gave a quick two-fingered salute, before closing the door. "You'd better find your seat, Nick," he told the little fox, who was still standing beside him staring at his father through the glass door.
John gave one final wave to Nick. "Bye, Nick! I love you!" he called, his voice muffled by the closed door. After Nick gave one final wave of his own, John turned on his heel and began walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, his free paw in his pocket and a cheery whistle on his lips.
Nick quickly ran to his seat near the back of the bus. He had an aisle seat, and no sooner did he sit down than the bus started moving. A few of his friends made comments about his dad seeing him off at the bus stop; one or two of them even snickered under their breath at how affectionate the two foxes had seemed. Nick ignored them; he loved his father very much, and he refused to let anybody take that away from him.
The rest of the day flew past. Nick struggled to get through math class as he always did, but history was surprisingly fun today. Lunch was submarine sandwiches—not his favorite, but at least it wasn't veggie surprise. Then science class came and went, and before he knew it, he was back on the bus on his way home for the day.
Nick practically leapt off the bus as soon as the door opened. He bolted straight to his front door, barely giving a small wave to his friends still on the bus. In no time flat, he crossed his front lawn, reached his house, and threw open the door. "Mom! I'm home!" he called.
"I'm in the kitchen, Nick," Vivian's voice called from around the corner.
Nick closed the door behind him, ran into the family room, and unceremoniously dropped his backpack in its designated spot beside the sofa. Then, without missing a beat, he turned back around and quickly ran back to the front entrance, this time continuing in the opposite direction. A moment later, he reached the kitchen, where his mother was currently leaning over the stove.
The smell that filled Nick's nostrils immediately caused him to start salivating. "Oh boy, that smells good," he moaned, trying desperately to keep his drool inside his mouth.
Vivian turned the dial on one of the burners, then turned around to face Nick. "You heard your father: Alex loves salmon." She removed the giant mitt she had been wearing, then spread her arms wide. "How was school today, sweetie?"
Nick gladly ran into her arms. He pushed his face as far into her apron as he could, and squeezed her waist with his little arms. "School was pretty good." He looked up so he could meet her loving gaze. "When will Dad be home?"
She shrugged. "You know your father," she said simply.
Nick understood exactly what she meant. Much like his mother, his father had a hard time finding work in Zootopia thanks to the prejudice foxes faced. Unlike her, however, he had not yet been able to secure a permanent job. Whenever he did find employment, it was just a one-time thing. It was very disheartening, and once or twice, Nick had heard John helplessly pour out his discouragement to Vivian when they didn't know he was listening.
But John Wilde prided himself in his work, and whenever he did secure a job, he gave it his full effort. He would make the best clothes that his clients had ever seen. The measurements would be accurate down to the millimeter. The fabric of the clothes would be free of any imperfections. The seams would be close to invisible. And when the animals put his clothes on, their faces would light up like they were wearing clothing meant only for royalty.
Every job ended the same way: his clients would thank him, pay him, and then kick him out. Never once did Nick's father have a repeat customer, and despite his stellar craftsmanship, mammals rarely recommended him to their friends for further work. But John refused to let it get to him. He would always put on his smile, come home to his wife and son, and go right back to looking for more work the following day. It was something Nick admired about his father. His father might not have been respected by the rest of the city, but he knew he was loved, and he had decided to make that his focus in life.
Vivian let go of Nick, finally ending the hug, and turned her attention back to the fish cooking on the stove. "I'm sure he'll be back in time for dinner," she assured him. "He wouldn't want to be late for Alex." She motioned in the direction of the hallway with her free paw. "Why don't you go and wash up before dinner?"
Without saying a word, Nick turned around and walked away to do just that. A few minutes later, he walked back into the entryway and sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. He hoped that, if his father came home soon, there would be enough time to move his alarm clock like they had planned earlier that day. And even if not, at least he would be able to run straight into his father's arms the second he walked through the front door.
A few minutes passed, but Nick managed to stay put, impatiently waiting for his father to walk in. Nick heard the stove turn off in the distance as dinner finished cooking. Vivian called to him, asking if he had washed up like she asked. He called back that he had, he was just waiting for his dad to come home. A few seconds later, the vixen emerged from the kitchen, a happy smile on her face. "Why don't we wait for him together?"
Nick was about to agree to her request, but a shadow crossed the frosted window at the top of the front door. Nick felt his tail begin to wag, anticipating John was about to come inside, but he was soon disappointed when the shadow stayed put and the doorbell rang instead.
"That must be Alex." Vivian started walking to the front door. Nick stood up to follow her, but she gently raised a paw to stop him. "Remember what I told you about answering the door, sweetheart?"
Nick pouted, but stayed where he was. "'Let you answer it first, no matter who it is'," he recited.
Vivian nodded, then took the last few steps to reach the door. She opened it wide, and Nick expected to see an arctic fox on the other side.
It was a police officer.
Nick's breath caught in his throat. The officer—a huge animal of some kind—stood several feet taller than the front door to the fox-sized home. Nick couldn't make out many features of the officer from where he stood, but he did see the officer's hat being held by the animal's two hooves.
Vivian seemed just as confused as Nick at the unexpected guest. She stood in silence for a few seconds, before tentatively asking, "Can I help you, sir?"
The officer's grip on his hat tightened. "Mrs. Wilde?" he asked in a deep voice. She nodded in acknowledgment, and the next words out of his mouth changed Nick Wilde's life forever.
"Your husband, John… I'm afraid he's dead."