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The Wasted Youth

By Ken Anderson

Chapter 2 - A Night in the Heights

---

Holy shit...

What's happening?

I feel as if I've just awakened from a long, beautiful dream...

"Jake! Hey! Are you all right, man?"

The voice sounds like a whisper; so far away... Is it real?

I utter a gasp as someone punches me lightly in the shoulder. My body shakes, my pulse quickens, and my eyelids flutter as I slowly start to come around. I can feel some sort of pressure on my right wrist. Tilting my head down, I blink several times as I try to squint through the foggy haze. The first thing that comes into focus is the empty syringe being slowly pulled from the crook of my arm. Suddenly, the paw gripping the syringe shakes, and the needle jerks around under my skin. I grit my teeth and wince against the pain.

A spike? Oh, shit...

Tracing my eyes up towards my shoulder, I notice the thick leather belt wrapped tightly around my bicep. I let out a sigh of relief as somebody unbuckles it for me, and it loosens and slides away.

What the hell am I doing?

My mind races as I struggle to figure out how I came to be in this situation, but before I can come to a conclusion, I feel the paw tapping against my shoulder once again.

"Jake! Hey, man, don't pass out. You almost had me scared for a minute... How are you feeling?"

I turn quickly to face the muffled voice, and my muzzle almost impales itself on the well-built bison's massive horns. In my current state, I can barely make out the blurry outline of his hulking form, but I notice that he's seated next to me.

What was his name again? Daryl? Dan?

"...Dave?" I whisper. The buffalo nods. "What the hell did I just do?"

From across the room, I can hear a symphony of laughter. For some reason, I seem to be the butt of some unknown joke. I feel a deep rumble shake the walls of the small walk-in freezer as Dave loudly clears his throat to get their attention. The laughter instantly stops, and the room soon becomes eerily silent. Dave turns his attention back to me.

"Take it easy, man..." He instructs me. "It was just a little oxy. It should take care of that pain in your leg for a while..."

I let out a quiet string of giggles as he tells me this. I'm starting to feel the second wave coming on. I exhale a loud sigh as my mind starts to wander.

Wonderful...

The refrigerated air feels cool in my lungs as I draw each slow, deliberate breath. Now I know why they call this stuff "hillbilly heroin."

This kind of temperature would have most people shivering, but strangely, I don't feel it at all. The only thing I can feel right now is that familiar tingling sensation in my limbs. That warm rush that seems to find every ache in your body, every knot in your muscles, and just flush it all out.

All around me, the world seems to be engulfed in this soft, bluish glow. Everything around me has a pulse. I can feel it...

The world breathes, little bells ringing in my head like angels singing. Dave? What about Dave? Dave is a statue, sitting there, smiling and watching over me like some omnipotent deity. He's shaking his head like he can't believe what he's seeing, sitting with his huge arms crossed over his barrel-like chest. In the background, I think I can hear my dad. Charlie is on the airwaves, and the familiar notes of his new single are pouring softly from an old battery-powered radio that's been set up in the corner. The soaky, nostalgic feeling of his music reminds me of exactly how much I miss my family. I try my best to tune it out. It's just too depressing.

I'm on the nod, and I feel as if I'm floating around through this awful place, a ghost that nobody can see but me. I'm wrapped in the warmest blanket I've ever owned, I'm smiling the biggest smile of my life, and all my problems are like little droplets of water, little raindrops, trickling and dripping and falling slowly away from my mind. Slowly away from my soul...

The pain in my leg is gone.

But not the pain in my heart...

My mind may be willing, but my body has decided not to listen to Dave's advice.

My vision slowly fades and the room goes black. I can hear my heart beating softly with each breath as my body goes slack against the ice-cold steel wall, my mind and my spirit drifting slowly away. The last thing I see before complete darkness is Dave, staring down at me with this ear-to-ear grin on his face.

---

Her name was Ariana, and she was the captain of the cheerleading squad.

No, wait, allow me to correct myself.

Her name was Ariana, and she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on.

When I'd first met her during my freshman year at Harbor Hills, I thought I was gonna pass out on the spot. She was a literal knockout, and she had the personality to match. After I'd known her for a while, however, I came to realize that she had this effect on a lot of guys...

She was the finest lioness at Harbor Hills High, and including myself, she had no shortage of obsessive admirers at school. Her silky, tan fur was the envy of every female on campus, and the fact that she was known for flirting openly with whoever happened to catch her eye didn't do much to help. Her perfect, sapphire-blue eyes seemed to stare right through me whenever she'd look in my direction, as if she could see clear hrough my mind and into my soul.

Yeah... I had a thing for her...

Ariana had a reputation for stringing guys like me along. She would use us and abuse us, and according to those who'd had the privelege of receiving such treatment, she would make sure that we enjoyed every waking minute of it. It goes without saying that she also had a reputation as being a cruel, heartless bitch when she couldn't get her way. I've heard plenty of stories, wandering these halls; stories that would convince any sane person to stay as far away from her as possible. But me? No... In my eyes, she could do no wrong. I once heard that she dumped the school quarterback after she caught him messing around with one of the other cheerleaders. Apparently, she confronted him in a crowded hallway, and after chewing him out for a good ten minutes, she proceeded to slam his locker directly into his muzzle. The word on campus was that the guy couldn't breathe through his nose for a week.

Honestly, if you asked me now, I still couldn't tell you what it was that I saw in her. All I know is that no matter how hard I tried, I really couldn't stop myself.

I had to have her...

Her name was Ariana and she was the love of my life, and it's because of my obsession with her that I ended up doing shit like this...

---

"Bobby, slow down, man! Are you trying to get us all killed?!"

I have to brace myself against the passenger door as he suddenly slams a foot on the brake and sends me jerking forward in my seat. Thank god for locking seatbelts. Behind us, I hear a few loud 'thuds' as our unfortunate guests are sent tumbling into the rear windshield. A loud chorus of curses filters its way into the cab through the open windows, and I shake my head as the driver behind us begins to honk his horn impatiently. I turn to have a look at my best friend, and heave a sigh.

Bobby's got a serious case of the jitters. This, as you must know, is very bad...

The driver in a heist only has two jobs, and most of the time, one could argue that these jobs are relatively simple to perfom. Basically, he has to get the team to the location, and extract them from the location once the job has been completed. Preferably in one piece. To perform his tasks, the ideal driver needs to be cool, calm, and clear-headed, not to mention skilled behind the wheel. But right now, Bobby is nowhere near calm. In fact, Bobby is as far away from calm or clear-headed as you can possibly get. He got nervous and decided to show up for the job stone fucking drunk on a bottle of cheap vodka that he'd swiped from his parents' liquor cabinet.

There are five of us piled into the front and rear of Bobby's old F-150; Greg the keg, Eddie Thompson, the captain of the school track team, Will Austin, the bass player from our band, and finally, Bobby and myself. Most of my little crew, you already know, so this won't take too long. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us. Let me tell you about the ones you haven't met.

Eddie Thompson is extremely well-known around the neighborhood. His reputation, as they say, precedes him. He's a cheetah with faded brownish spots, and over the years, he's been constantly referred to both as Harbor Hills High's most promising student athlete, and its least likely student to make it to graduation alive. He currently holds the record for the hundred-meter dash, and has posted some of the fastest relay times ever clocked by a student on campus. Everyone and their mother has had really high hopes for this guy over the years; he's supposed to be a role model for the rest of us "scumbags" and "delinquents" to look up to.

What a load of shit... We all know better...

No matter how often the staff and the coaches have tried to put Eddie on a pedestal and brag about his achievements at pep rallies, those of us who actually knew him would gather at the back of the auditorium to swap stories and laugh at the whole debacle. Obviously, there was another side to the guy, a side that those ignorant old suits had never seen before in their monotonous lives. Add that to the fact that he was typically on and off when it came to his progress, both in class and with the track team, which didn't seem to bother the teachers much.

And why was Eddie so unpredictable? Well, 'cause, you know... the whole hard drug thing. Truth be told, Eddie Thompson was a junkie and a hustler, plain and simple. He just liked the attention that came with being an athlete.

We called him "Fast Eddie" whenever his name came up in a conversation, and it wasn't because of his legendary speed. No; Fast Eddie Thompson was always on the lookout for the easy money. This guy had almost no sense of morality or honesty when it came to business; he'd hustle his own mother if it meant getting another dollar that he could use to live through another day. He also didn't have much of a conscience when it came to using violence to get what he wanted. This made Eddie the ideal sociopath; the conniving, seductive con man, the sneaky pickpocket, and the reckless, gun-toting thief all molded together into one fiercely intelligent feline package. I always kind of admired the guy on a purely professional level. I would give anything to have his charm. Greg the keg, however, would like nothing better than to slit his throat and watch the junk bleed out of his veins. He hates him with a passion. Thankfully, so far, I've managed to keep them from trading blows.

On any given school night, Fast Eddie could be found at any one of the six or seven dive bars scattered around the decrepit, lower-middle class wasteland of Harbor Hills. If you managed to find the right bar, you would find him busy drinking soda by the gallon and hustling the local barflies for their beer money. He never touched booze when he was out on the job. He actually prefers opiates. Kind of reminds me of James, actually... Anyway, at the beginning of each night, Eddie would load up on smack or pills before heading out to take over the pool tables in these shady places. He'd bang up a twenty bag and reel around the neighborhood bar scene, setting up games of eight-ball or nine-ball, depending on his mood, and he would charge you a fair amount of your drinking money to get your ass handed to you from the break. Hell, even I've played a few games against the guy, and I gotta admit, he's fucking unstoppable. I don't think he's ever missed a shot in his life, at least not from what I've seen.

I once heard that he tried to take a guy for five grand by betting that he could clear the table in one shot on the break. When he then proceeded to perform this feat in front of a full crowd of people, and the guy could only cough up half the money, Eddie took a barstool to his head and pocketed the keys to his brand-new Mercedes-Benz. He didn't show up to school for three weeks after that night. I guess that's how long the money and dope lasted. Even the best, most profitable hustles can only get you so far...

The neighborhood pool halls and bars aren't his only sources of income, however. Fast Eddie is the kind of guy who you'd swear lives by the motto, "High risk, high reward." If there's a huge heist going down in the city, like, for example, raiding a scumbag drug dealer's apartment for some free dope or snatching a couple of kegs for a high school house party, you can bet your ass that Eddie's gonna be riding shotgun, carrying a duffel bag and a .45-caliber pistol so he can score some booze or drugs for himself. No scam is too far out of line for this guy. No job is too crazy or insane. In my line of business, a guy with Eddie's talents can either be extremely useful to have on your side, or a total, unmanageable pain in your ass.

Needless to say, I try my best to keep on his good side, so as to avoid becoming the target of one of his more elaborate scams.

The last member of our group is Will Austin, our bass player. Billy, as we call him, has a bit of a troubled history with our group. He's a brown-haired buck with white spots on his chest and neck and an extremely shy personality. I first met him during his freshman year. It was the first day of school, in fact. The first day of my sophomore year.

The story behind our meeting is this: every year, on the first day of class, the juniors and seniors all take part in a tradition which they affectionately call "Fish Day." Personally, I never understood it. To them, it was all in good fun. It was a tradition that dated back to the first graduating class of Harbor Hills High. To the freshmen who had to endure the punishment, however, it was pure hell and misery, and Billy was unfortunate enough to be chosen to suffer the worst of it.

You see, Billy had found himself in a unique situation, in which he was presented with two very obvious problems which had no apparent solutions:

The first problem was that he, or rather, his family, had a troubled history with my own. His dad, the leader of a local biker gang known for causing trouble around the city, has had a grudge against Charlie that goes back for several years. No matter how often I ask, my dads still won't give me all the details. Billy hasn't been able to get anything from his dad, either. I guess there are some family secrets that are meant to remain secrets... Maybe one day I'll find out for myself. But I don't hold it against Billy; it's not his fault.

The second problem was that he was neither a canine nor a feline; the two most dominant species at Harbor Hills High. He was a "hoofer," a "grass eater," and "That guy with the antlers." Simply put, he was different.

When you're different and you end up in a place where conformity is the social norm, it's usually expected that people aren't going to take too kindly to your presence. In fact, some of them might find it outright offensive. Me? I honestly don't get that racist bullshit. But around here, the people who like to call the shots have developed extremely painful and humiliating ways of showing their hatred towards those who can't help but be different.

The short version? They sawed his antlers off on the first day of school. Yes, both of them. And they bragged about it to everyone. And they thought it was all fun and games...

When I first met Billy, he was sitting on the dirty, urine-spattered floor of one of the school's rarely-cleaned restrooms, his back resting against the dirty tiles on the wall. He had his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his hands, and he was crying.

There were two short, uneven stumps on his head where his antlers should have been.

From where I was standing near the door, I could clearly make out the small piles of bone shavings scattered around his trembling body as he wept. As I got closer, I could see the handle of the small hacksaw sticking out from behind the toilet in a nearby stall. This is when things start to get hazy.

If you ask me, I must have said something. I can't remember what it was, but I must have said something...

I must have said something, because before I knew what was happening, I was standing toe-to-toe with the leader of the school's largest feline gang, challenging him to a fight over the fact that a few of his newest recruits had been seen flashing Billy's severed antlers in the halls during the lunch period that day.

I don't really remember the details of the fight. What I do remember is the beginning and the immediate aftermmath. I remember the crowd that had gathered around us as we had circled one another in the hallway. I remember the blood on my knuckles as I kept swinging despite the fact that he was already on the ground. I remember standing over his crumpled body, panting loudly and bleeding from the mouth, where I'd lost a tooth and my gums were spurting crimson-red blood. The recovered antlers were gripped firmly in my paws.

I was suspended for a week. The cat suffered a concussion, a broken jaw, and the loss of respect amongst his peers that every gangbanger truly fears. I think he still has nightmares about that day. Whenever he sees me walking through the halls, he tries his best not to be noticed. That doesn't stop him from buying my pot, though.

From that day forward, Billy and I became fast friends. We would meet up at Hoover's on most days to walk to class together, along with Bobby and sometimes Eddie, depending on whether or not he decided to attend class that day. Even Greg would hang out with us from time to time, provided we stay safely out of sight of the members of his gang. The five of us always seemed to be drawn together for some unknown reason. It was a gathering of Harbor Hills High's junkie elite. The best of the worst. The deranged, the victimized, and the predators.

After he'd hung out with our little group for a few months, we finally learned that Billy could play the bass. And man, did he have talent. I began to think that if I'd met him sooner, we'd have been able to save him a lot of grief. Billy turned out to be the one missing link in our chain. With his arrival, our clique was complete.

One Saturday night during spring break, Bobby and I had been asked to play a few covers of some of my dad's songs at a small house party. Naturally, with Bobby on the drums and me with my guitar, I figured we'd be able to pull it off, right? Imagine my shock when Billy showed up at the party with his bass strapped to his back and a large amplifier cradled in his arms. The two of us were understandably hesitant in using Billy for the show; neither of us had ever seen him play. Our fears were quickly alleviated, however, when Billy plugged in his bass and began to slap the strings in perfect timing with Bobby's rhythm. I kid you not, he played every fucking song like a pro.

Eventually, we officially made him a member of our band. Now, after a year or so of putting in the work on our little musical project, we finally have all the instruments and people necessary to make things work. Hopefully, soon, I'll be able to convince Charlie to help us record a demo. We're set.

Well, the band is set...

I also have to consider the fact that the guy is totally in love with me. Billy is openly gay and completely honest about his desire to be with me, and even though I've found it funny and even a little cute at times, I actually prefer that we not take our relationship any further than being friends. That doesn't stop him from trying, though. I don't mind; being bi, I find it strangely flattering. I guess I get that from living with my dads...

Needless to say, after Billy started hanging out with us, he was off limits to anyone who might try to cause problems for him. Nobody wanted to have Greg the Keg or Fast Eddie to deal with because they said the wrong thing or hurt the wrong guy. Nobody wanted to deal with me...

To tell the truth, I never really understood what was so intimidating about a junkie hustler and a gangbanger with a taste for violence... I never understood what was so intimidating about me. I just want to be like everyone else, you know?

I just want to be normal...

---

"Jake, wake up! We're here!"

I let out a quiet groan as I slowly open my eyes. Bobby's paw smacks painfully against my shoulder, causing me to shift in my seat. My vision is slightly blurred as I try to open my eyes. I must have passed out. I guess we're here...

Stifling a yawn, I rub my eyes as I scan our surroundings through the windows. My instincts were right.

We've arrived at the alley behind Fender's pub.

I clear my throat loudly, and turn around in my seat to find three annoyed faces staring back at me through the rear windshield. Damn, how long was I out? Whatever...

Heaving a sigh, I reach under the passenger seat and retrieve Bobby's trusty crowbar. Rolling down the window, I stretch my arm outside and toss it over to Eddie. The back door has a padlock on it, but it shouldn't take too long to get it off. Craning my neck out through the window, I check to make sure that I've got everybody's attention.

"All right guys, listen carefully. This is how it's gonna go down..."

Five minutes later, I'm standing in the cold wind in front of the bar. My paws are slapping noisily against my pockets as I search for my lighter. The unlit cigarette shakes precariously between my teeth as a heavy gust blasts against my muzzle and makes me shiver. After a few seconds, I finally find what I'm looking for, and my thumb rolls over the flint wheel as I spark the flame.

I'm seriously going to hell for this one...

Shaking off my worries, I take a deep pull on the cigarette before stepping cautiously towards the front entrance of the bar.

"Everything's gonna be all right," I tell myself, "There's no way you can fuck this up."

My paw trembles slightly as I reach for the handle jutting out from the wooden door. My arm flinches as my fur comes into contact with the cold, polished brass. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves as I consider what I'm about to do. If I manage to fuck this up, I'll never be able to come back to this place. If something goes wrong, I'll probably end up in jail or on the streets.

After what seems like an eternity, I finally heave a sigh, pull open the door, and step inside. The time for worrying is over; I have to act fast.

The clock is ticking. The game has begun.

The first thing I notice when I walk into the bar is that the place is nearly empty of customers. The tables are vacant and have been recently cleaned. The pool table is in its usual spot in the far corner of the bar, looking lonely and unused. Even the jukebox near the door is silent, giving the place an almost depressing feel. At first, I think it's weird, considering that the place is usually packed to capacity around this time of the night, especially on a Friday. Then, I remember that tomorrow is Saturday, which is the night that Charlie and Chaos Theory usually perform their free shows. For some reason, it kind of makes sense that everybody would want to hang onto their drinking money for the night to come. Hell, Fender usually sells out of beer on show nights. He even promotes the shows online.

The usual haze of pot and cigarette smoke is notably absent as I slowly approach the bar. The two lonely patrons seated in front of the counter, a large grizzly bear and an aging wolfhound, take notice of my presence and give me cool smiles as I nod in their direction. Everybody knows me around this neighborhood. That's why I don't usually do shit like this. I've got an image to uphold, you know?

Old Mr. Fender is busy washing out a pint glass when he notices me standing in front of him. A delighted smile crosses the old weasel's muzzle as he sets the glass behind the bar and extends a warm greeting.

"Well, well! If it isn't the budding rock star! How've you been, Jake? Haven't seen you in a while."

He stretches a paw over the bar, and I give it a single shake. I shrug my shoulders as I reach for a bar stool and belly up to the counter, leaning on my elbows as I give him a smile.

"I've been alright, you know?" I say. "Still going to school and everything."

"Still selling pot to the neighborhood kids?" Fender asks, matter-of-factly. "Some of my regulars came in the other night with a bag of your stuff. They said it was the best they'd seen in years. You're makin' a lot of noise around here, kid."

I can't help shaking my head as I let out a soft chuckle. If there's anyone who's always listening to the neighborhood gossip, it's Fender. I guess word gets around, though. When you're selling a great product, it's only natural that people would want to talk about it.

"Yeah, something like that.." I say. "I don't really like to brag about my stuff. Say, do you think I could get a brew? It's been a long day and I could really use one."

Fender's skinny shoulders seem to sag a little as he heaves a sigh and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Come on, kid... You know the rules. You remember what happened last time?"

"Yeah, but I was downing shots of vodka like water!" I complain. "I'm just asking for one beer, man. Look, I'll even hook you up for it."

I stuff a paw into the pocket of my faded black jeans, and start rooting around for the personal bag of pot that I keep stashed. After a few seconds, my knuckles brush up against the plastic. My paws wrap around the small, potent buds, and I pull the sack from my pocket.

My ears suddenly perk up when I hear a soft crashing sound coming from the hallway near the storeroom. They've busted the lock. Fender seems to barely notice, turning slightly on his heels as he registers the sound. I quickly toss the bag onto the bar and clear my throat loudly to get his attention. He seems to take the bait as he turns back to face me.

I just need to keep him busy for a few more minutes...

Fender lets out a long breath as he stares down at the bag. I can hear his feet tapping rapidly against the wooden floorboards behind the bar. His tail is twitching nervously behind him, coming dangerously close to knocking over several half-filled bottles. He's having a hard time coming to a decision, and I'm in no hurry to speed things along. More time is exactly what I need.

I really wish they could work faster.

Finally, after a few nervous minutes that could've made a multi-kilo smack deal feel like buying groceries at wal-mart, the old weasel shrugs his shoulders, reaches out a paw, and snatches the sack off the bar. I watch as he crams it ito the front pocket of the vintage denim vest he's wearing before turning around to grab me a fresh beer from the cooler. Everybody has a price.

From behind me, I suddenly hear the faint sound of a car horn coming from the intersection down the street. I'd recognize that noise anywhere; it's Bobby's truck.

The job is done. It's time to leave.

I'm already out of my chair by the time Fender has his back turned. In front of my seat, on top of the bar, I've left five crisp, ironed-flat hundred-dollar bills. Hey, I said I was gonna steal some beer and liquor for the party. I never said I wasn't gonna pay for it.

As Fender turns to face my empty seat, open beer in hand, I'm already tearing ass down the street towards the waiting pickup truck, idling in the shadow of an old building.

"You know, kid, one of these day's I'm not gonna-- HEY! Where'd he go?"

I was out of there. I let out a loud whoop as I leap into the bed of the truck, bracing myself between Fast Eddie and two kegs of ice-cold beer. Greg and Billy both give screams of triumph as Bobby throws the truck into gear and slams a foot on the gas pedal, sending two tons of steel, aluminum and alcohol screaming down the street.

It was gonna be an interesting night. It was time to cut loose.

It was time to party!

We all remained silent for most of the ride. Greg passed around cigarettes, which we all took gratefully. He even gave one to Eddie, which, I think, is a good sign. If they can work together, maybe they won't spend so much time trying to slit each others' throats.

Greg gives me a nod as he hands over the smoke.

"You've got some balls, man!" he shouts over the rush of the wind. "Even I wouldn't steal from Fender!"

"Yeah!" Eddie agrees. "That old bastard caught me hustling pool one night, and he pulled a shotgun on my ass! I haven't been back there since! That was a nice lick, man! Your dad would be proud!"

I let out a loud burst of laughter as I shake my head at their compliments. They're absolutely right. My dad would be proud... Well, one of them, anyway. Charlie always did have a thing for reminiscing about the "old days." I decide not to tell them that I've actually left behind more than enough cash to cover everything we stole, and then some.

I'm just gonna kick back and enjoy the moment.

We've got a long night planned, and it's only just begun...

---

Twenty minutes and two stops later, we've arrived in the Heights.

This is the worst part of town to be in after dark. That goes double for kids like us; anybody who lives in Harbor City could tell you that. But right now, we don't care. We're tearing ass down the dirty, narrow streets, pushing the busted pickup to its limit as we pass the bottle and the blunt between us, oblivious to the world and everything in it. Bobby's popped in a CD, and Black Sabbath's "Children of the Grave" is blasting out of the windows at full volume. Those of us in the back of the truck are either taking hits from a blunt or passing around a bottle of hundred-proof whiskey to keep warm as our bodies get blasted with the chilling, ten-degree winds of the Harbor City winter.

Fast Eddie punches me in the shoulder, and I turn my head to see him offering me the whiskey bottle. I don't even think about it; my reaction is automatic. I snatch the bottle of bourbon out of his claws and tip it over my wide-open muzzle, slowly draining the contents. I can hear Greg and Billy cheering me on; their shouting is nearly as loud as the music. I pump my fist in the air and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to force down the massive moutful of liquor, coughing violently as the booze leaves a white-hot burn in my throat. Eddie laughs heartily and slaps me on the back as I double over, still coughing. I feel like I'm about to puke up my lunch.

"Don't hit it so hard!" he screams over the music. I try to muster up a response, but all I can manage is a bunch of choking noises as my stomach muscles try to force the liquor back up my throat. I hold up one claw. I need a minute. Hell, screw a minute; I need a chaser.

The excitement seems to die down a little as we come closer to our destination. Soon, the narrow, cracked asphalt of the city streets will give way to the winding, maze-like neighborhoods of the Heights-area suburbs. This is where Harbor City's less-fortunate live; those families with incomes that put them so far below the poverty line that even the uptown homeless communities take pity on them. These are the people for whom day-to-day life is literally a struggle to survive. I used to stay around here myself, back when I was doing speed. On any given night, there was no shortage of abandoned or forclosed homes to break into if I found myself in need of shelter and a warm place to sleep.

Some of the houses had furniture. Some were even lucky enough to have running water. To me, it felt like a punishment that I wouldn't have wished on my worst enemy. It wasn't an easy life...

The truck cruises down the dark, deserted road at the speed limit as we approach a sparsely-lit side street coming up on the right. I can feel the truck slowing down as Bobby taps the brakes and flicks on his turn signal. He turns the wheel and the truck makes a smooth right turn down the nearly-empty street.

The loud rock music cuts off abruptly as he switches off the radio. My ears perk up as they start to pick up the deep, pounding bass of dubstep music. As we get closer to the sound, the ground seems to pulse beneath us, sending vibrations coursing through the truck and our bodies. Goddamn, that's loud! What the hell kind of sound system do they have in there?!

Gripping the side of the truck for balance, I pull myself to my feet to check out the scene up ahead.

As we near the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, I notice that both sides of the street are packed bumper-to-bumper with parked cars. Everywhere I look, small cliques of cheerful partygoers are mingling freely, making their way across the street to a lone two-story house on the corner before the dead end. I can see a long line of people waiting anxiously to get inside, their paws clutching cigarettes, cell phones, and bottles of beer as they attempt to push their way to the front. It looks like the kind of party that everyone's gonna be talking about for months to come. The whole scene brings an excited smile to my face.

The house itself is nondescript; a two-story house with fading light-blue paint on its false-wood exterior. The lawn looks like it rarely gets mowed, and there is no real sign of life coming from the place except for the people that can be seen mingling inside. Near the front porch, I can see several people passing joints. From a small balcony overlooking the front yard, a couple of seniors are hurling half-empty cans of beer at freshmen waiting in line to get inside.

Yeah... My kind of party.

The crowd near the door quiets down as the truck rolls to a stop in front of the house. Paranoia seems to have spread like a wildfire, silencing them as they turn to make sure that the we aren't cops who've arrived to shut down the festivities. A few curious partygoers manage to make their way over to our truck, and they lean against the tailgate and eye the massive amounts of booze with envy.

Nobody moves until Greg, passed out from the ten or so pre-game drinks he'd taken, pops out of his whiskey-induced coma just long enough to jump to his feet and shout,

"The kegs are here!"

With that, his legs promptly give out and he falls into the bed of the truck, knocked out cold.

The entire front yard erupts in cheers as crowds of minors start massing around the truck, asking for free booze. None of us knows how to react. It takes a few minutes before Eddie finally breaks the ice, if that's what you want to call it. Chuckling to himself, he hops out of the truck, opens the tailgate, unzips his two duffel bags full of hard liquor, and starts chucking random bottles into the crowd. His actions quickly result in a feeding frenzy, with numerous people coming up to grab a bottle or two out of the bag before shuffling off to the party, their future drunkenness nestled securely in their paws. I just sit with my back against the rear windshield, watching the whole thing. The guy's clearly insane...

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a small group of obvious freshmen, about four of them in number, leaning against the truck as if they own the damn thing. Moving closer, I find that I can eavesdrop on their whispered conversation. I crack a smile. It's the same trick I used to pull. These guys are actually thinking about stealing a keg! I say nothing at first, content to listen to their impossible schemes and snicker at their ridiculous ideas. I can't believe I was ever that naive...

Finally, after their leader, a tall, lanky jaguar, suggests that they should try to overpower Fast Eddie to take his liquor, I've had enough. I can't take it anymore.

"Hey, you! Fish!" I shout over the music, pulling myself to my feet.

Their conversation suddenly stops altogether. A split second later, the jaguar whips around to face me, his fangs beared in a snarl. I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head, chuckling in disappointment as I stare down at them. One of the freshmen places a paw on the jaguar's shoulder to get his attention, and pulls him aside. A few seconds later, they reappear next to the truck. The jaguar seems a bit shaken, as if he's seen a ghost. He slowly walks up to me, his gaze averted towards my feet.

"I'm sorry, sir," he mutters under his breath. "I didn't recognize you."

That's better.

"You guys trying to get into the party?" I ask. The four freshmen exchange excited glances. The jaguar, his courage restored, gives me a wide, toothy grin and nods his head wildly.

"Hell yeah! We've been trying to get in for the past two hours, but the chick at the front door wouldn't let us inside! I don't know how she does it, but when someone like that tells you to fuck off, it's just... scary, you know?"

My heart starts to beat slightly faster than normal. I can feel my tail wagging back and forth behind me. The corners of my lips twists upwards in a smile. There's only one girl they could be describing...

"Let me guess... Blue eyes? Tan fur? The sexiest cat you've probably ever seen?"

The jaguar lets out a forced laugh before nodding his head once more. "That's the one, man! Why, do you know her or something?"

"Only in my dreams..." I mutter, as I start thinking about the last time I saw her.

Ariana...

"Hey! Dude!" The jaguar shouts, waving a paw in front of my face. "Mr. Clayton!"

The fantasy ends as abruptly as it began.

"How're you gonna help us get inside?"

I clear my throat and straighten out the black hoodie I'm wearing, trying to regain my composure. Finally, I point down at the kegs and nod towards the front door.

"You guys get these kegs inside the house in the next three minutes, and you can say that I invited you." I tell them.

The freshmen waste no time going to work. The jaguar hops into the bed of the truck first and starts trying to lift up a keg.

"And from now on, call me Jake," I say, as I vault over the wheel well and jump to the ground. "My dads are both Mr. Clayton. It sounds creepy, and I haven't earned that title yet."

I smile and give them a wave as I depart, slowly marching up the concrete pathway that leads to the front door. Greg the keg and Fast Eddie are close at my heels, with Billy trailing behind them, trying his best to keep up with us. Bobby's waiting for the freshmen to finish unloading the booze from his truck so he can find a parking space. He refuses to entrust his prize possession to the paws of some clumsy freshman straight out of driver's ed. That truck is his lifeline.

The crowd parts faster than the red sea as we approach. As if by some unspoken command, a path has suddenly been cleared all the way to the door. People on both sides of us give us nods and quiet greetings. I exchange handshakes with a few of my classmates from Harbor Hills. Eddie walks calmly behind my left shoulder, his paws jammed into his pockets and his eyes tracing the ground at his feet. Greg puffs out his chest and throws menacing glares to anyone who has the misfortune of looking in his general direction. Nobody says a word to either of them as we pass. Billy lags just behind them, his eyes focused straight ahead as he tries to get over the fact that everyone's staring at us. He has a problem with crowds...

My paw is already rising to press the doorbell as I step up the small flight of stairs leading to the entrance. Before I can ring the bell, however, the solid oak door flies open, and loud dubstep music crashes painfully against my eardrums. My heart skips a beat as I catch a flash of tan fur. My eyes go wide as she steps fully into view. There she is...

Ariana...

She catches me staring before she even steps outside, and she lets out a burst of laughter as she sees my mouth hanging wide open in awe.

"Oh, hi Jake!" she calls over as she steps out of the doorframe. I can tell that she's had more than a few drinks by the way she walks. With the help of a light breeze blowing across the porch, I can barely make out the hint of rum on her breath.

"I didn't think you were gonna make it!" She giggles, as she struts her way over to me. My eyes roam over her lithe form, tracing their way over her skin-tight black halter top and matching jeans. My body goes rigid as she closes the distance between us and slowly traces a sharp claw across my neck and up to my chin.

"I was really hoping to see you tonight..."

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as she lets out a seductive purr. Behind me, I hear muted complaints coming from the crowd as the group of freshmen pushes their way to the front, lugging the heavy kegs.

"Put em' in the living room, boys!" she shouts over the music. Her tone is sharp, almost commanding. The four young students give her quick nods and scurry inside, eager to get out of her sight.

"So... Wanna have some fun?" Ariana asks me after they've left. My speech comes out in stutters and nonsense syllables as I struggle to find the words to form a proper response. She just leaves me speechless, you know? It's not often that I have a hard time expressing my feelings...

She chuckles softly as she shakes her head in disappointment. I have failed her test, and now she will play with me. Anybody but me would've seen this coming. She lets out a long sigh and moves in even closer, her large breasts pressing up against my chest through the fabric of her top. I can't stop the needy whimper from passing my lips as she leans in to whisper in my ear.

"I may have some some party favors upstairs..."

My eyes are nearly bulging out of their sockets. Upstairs? As in, her room? As in, "Her room, upstairs?" My knees are starting to buckle as I furiously nod my head. I need to find somewhere to sit down before my legs give out.

"Upstairs? Y-yeah, I'm totally down for that." I stutter in reply. "Why don't you lead the way?"

"Good..." She whispers, stroking the fur on the back of my neck as she hovers inches away from my muzzle. "But first, I've gotta take care of a few things... I'll come and find you in a few minutes, all right?"

I nod my head once more. "Y-yeah, that's cool. I-I'll be near the kegs..."

With that, she turns and makes her way back into the house. Every bone in my body is telling me to follow her, to take the initiative, but my legs aren't listening to my brain's commands. I'm frozen stiff as a statue, my breath caught in my throat as I try to process what just happened. There's gotta be some sort of logical explanation for this. Ariana's never been this direct in her advances towards me.

Should I be worried? Should I be concerned? Should I be responding in kind?

What the hell do I do now?

A paw suddenly slaps against my back, and I almost jump out of my skin. It's Eddie. My heart is pounding in my chest and I'm struggling to catch my breath as he walks in front of me. "Hey, good job, man!" he shouts over the music. "You haven't been here for five minutes, and you've already scored a personal audience with the Lion Queen! She was all over you!"

He gives me another pat on the back and throws a long, skinny arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards the door.

"She said she'd find you later! Now, come on! Let's go play some beer pong!"

"Okay, okay! You're choking me, man!" I shout back as we step into the house. I peel his bony arm away from my neck and tell him to lead the way. After all, it is a party, and I should be having fun, right? What harm could a game of beer pong do?

And why the hell do I feel so nervous?

Billy follows closely behind me as Eddie leads us through the maze of people standing in the main hallway. Greg has split off to join up with a few members of his set, probably to see what kind of shit they can steal while they're here.

The walls are all painted with a soft shade of tan, almost sand-colored. My eyes trace over the framed family photos which adorn the hallway, and I find it strange that there are no pictures of Ariana. Oh, well... I continue on.

The loud dubstep music continues to rattle my vision as the three of us weave a path through the sea of raging teenage madness, pushing our way towards a large, open den area at the end of the hall. Billy jogs to catch up with me, and gives me a nudge on the shoulder to get my attention.

"Jake! Hey, I don't know if you've noticed, but something doesn't feel right here, man!"

"What're you talking about?!" I shout back. "It's just a party, man! Have some fun!"

"I'm telling you, I've got a bad feeling about this! Maybe we should just have a couple of beers and cut out!"

I stop walking and cross my arms over my chest. Heaving a sigh, I slowly shake my head in disappointment. I'd completely forgotten. Billy is almost religiously anti-social. He doesn't really enjoy the party scene like most of us do. With the way he sounds right now, I'm actually starting to feel bad for dragging him along...

"Come on, Billy, chill out! Everything's fine! Look, just have a few beers or smoke a joint, man! The party's just getting started!"

Billy's shoulders seem to sag as he hangs his head in defeat. That's not good. Now I feel like shit. My arms fall to my side as I slowly make my way over to him. When I get close enough, I wrap an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, cheer up, all right?" I say, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's Friday night, and we've got the whole weekend ahead of us! You should at least try to enjoy yourself. You could meet some new people, you know? You might even get lucky tonight..."

I can see his smile starting to return as I give him a playful punch on the shoulder.

"You know I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, right? I just want you to try to have a good time. Do you think you can do that? For me?"

His expression seems to brighten a little as he slowly nods his head. I can see his cheeks starting to turn red as he blushes.

"All right, I'll try..." he mutters, "... For you."

With my free paw, I motion towards the den, where I can hear Eddie shouting over the music for beer pong challengers. Billy gives me a single nod, and stays close by as we continue down the hall. I'm gonna have to keep an eye on him tonight...

---

Twenty minutes and two rounds of beer pong later, Ariana still hasn't entered the den. My mind is racing to come up with explanations for this. I'm starting to wonder if she's forgotten about me...

A restless crowd has gathered in a large circle around the long, rectangular beer pong table. Our opponents, a zebra who's already polished off a bottle of scotch, and a white tiger, who looks like he's the runner-up for first place in a bodybuilding competition, are jeering at us from across the table as Eddie and I prepare to take our shots. There are three cups left on their side, aligned in a small triangle near the edge of the table. Our side of the table holds six cups, sitting in two vertical rows of three cups each. At the current rate, to say that we're kicking ass would be an understatement.

The crowd is cheering us on. Eddie responds to them by tossing his ping-pong ball smoothly behind his back and into the leftmost cup. The crowd screams. More cheering. Someone reaches out to pat him on the back. Those rooting for the losing team let out a chorus of groans and curses as they protest the validity of the shot, trying to blame it on the wind or some odd stroke of luck.

Most of the guests at this party aren't actually students from Harbor Hills High. I could tell from the moment they started betting money on our opponents. Anybody who went to Harbor Hills High would know exactly who Fast Eddie Thompson was. Everyone who'd placed bets in our favor knew exactly what they were getting into. The whole game was nothing but a hustle. In fact, it had been one of the first scams I'd learned. Having Eddie on my team just made it easier to win.

Eddie gives me a hearty laugh as he nod towards the ball clutched firmly in my right paw.

"Jake, it's all on you, bro!" he shouts, egging me on. "If you can land this shot in the same cup, the game is over! We get three hundred bucks! Three bills, man!"

I give him a few quick nods to shut him up and take a deep breath to calm my nerves as I try my best to ease the shaking in my paws. My heartbeat begins to slow down as my claws roll the ball against my palm, trying to find a nice grip.

Don't rush it...

Take your time and make it count.

Everyone seems to hold their breath as I cock my arm back and take careful aim. Exhaling softly, I flick my wrist and the ball is sent sailing through the air. The world seems to slow down as the small, white sphere flies upwards in a perfect arc, before angling down towards the table. All eyes are on the ball as it hits the rim of the first cup, bounces, and lands directly on top of the first ball in the target cup.

The room explodes in cheers. We've won the game.

Eddie does a two-foot leap off the ground as he pumps his fist in the air, screaming for joy. You know how some people get a rush from gambling? They'll hit the jackpot, jump on the table, and start screaming it out to the world? That's Eddie.

He lets out a few more shouts of triumph before turning to face our challengers, who are still trying to finish the remaining beers.

"Hey, you two!" he shouts over the roar of the crowd. "You owe me some money!"

The thick, well-built tiger shouts back with a snarl, "Get fucking real! That wasn't a match, we got played! We want a rematch!"

Oh, shit...

This isn't gonna end well.

"Screw that!" Eddie retorts, "We won that match fair and fucking square! You all saw it!" he waves a paw over the crowd, which elicits shouts of agreement. "So pay up! I wanna see that cash on the table right now!"

The tiger lets out a loud roar of anger as he grabs the table and flips it over, knocking the empty and half-full cups of beer to the floor.

"We ain't payin' you shit!" he roars, "That match was rigged, and you know it!"

A collective gasp comes from the crowd. My eyes go wide. If Ariana sees this, she's gonna fucking kill me! The spilled beer is one thing, but if these two decide to go toe-to-toe, I'll be lucky if they don't destroy the house!

I can hear Eddie growling next to me as he readies himself for a fight. The fur on his tail is standing on end. His fangs are visible in a menacing snarl, and I can tell that he's tensing up to deliver the first blow. I'm about to step between them and intervene, when suddenly, he snaps.

In a drunken rage, Eddie yanks off his shirt and charges towards the two pissed-off losers, fists balled. Thankfully, I manage to reach him before he gets close. I throw my arms around his waist and hold him back as he lets out a string of curses and racial slurs directed at me and our opponents. I keep yelling at him to '_please shut the fuck up' _ as I drag him away from the beer pong table, him kicking and screaming the whole way as I quickly pull him into the hall, away from the crowd.

"You fuckers are DEAD! YOU HEAR ME?! DEAD!" he roars as I drag him out of sight towards one of the vacant rooms. As I push him through the doorframe, I turn back to face the crowd. The white tiger throws up his paws and dares us to come back.

"I'll take you two junkie pricks on anytime!" he yells. "Any fucking time!"

I've got to put a stop to this before it blows up in my face.

Upon hearing the tiger's challenge, Eddie attempts to force his way past me to get through the door, but I give him a nice shot to the gut and shove him backwards onto the bed, slamming the door behind me as I step into the room.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" I exclaim. "What the hell was that?!"

"He owes me three hundred bucks!" Eddie replies. "No fucking way do I let him get away with that!"

He tries to stand up from the bed, but I give him a hard slap across the muzzle, sending him back onto the mattress.

"HEY!" I scream. "I don't care if you beat the living shit out of them. Hell, they're a pair of fuckin' pricks, they deserve it! But not here! Not now! Not in fucking Ariana's house!"

Eddie gives me a look of bewilderment as he rubs his injured cheek. After a few seconds, he scoffs and shakes his head. "Dude..." he says with a chuckle,

"She's got you hooked... Who are you? Where the hell is Jake?"

I can't help laughing myself as I shake my head. He's right... She's got me hooked.

Heaving a sigh, I take a seat next to Eddie on the bed. Reaching into my pocket, I dig out my pack of cigarettes. Flipping open the small box, I pull out a nice-sized joint, which I stick between my teeth. I never leave home without at least two in the pack, and I really need something to calm me down right now...

Eddie nudges my shoulder, and I turn to see that he's offering me his lighter. I take it with a smile, and use it to spark up the joint. My lungs slowly fill with the thick, fragrant smoke as I take a deep breath, before passing the joint over to him. He takes it between his claws and raises it to his lips to inhale.

"You know..." I say, exhaling a thick, blue-grey cloud into the room, "That's the first time I've actually intervened in a fight. On any other night, I would've been right there with you, man."

"Really?" Eddie replies, pausing between hits. "Well, you done a good job. It's the first time anybody's ever stopped me."

He passes me the joint as we share a moment of laughter. What a night...

"Hey, I'm sorry for smacking you around." I say. Eddie gives me a nod, and shrugs his shoulders in dismissal.

"Sorry for hustling in your girl's house."

"She's not my girl..." I mutter, as I take a hit. Eddie shakes his head and laughs.

"Well, not yet, anyway!" I finish. "I'm gettin' there, man!"

"Yeah, right!" he retorts, unimpressed. "She was all over you at the door! What did you do? Nothing! You had your shot and you blew it man! Face it bro, you're screwed!"

He cracks up with laughter as I turn to punch him in the side once more. I can't help it; I'm laughing too. It all seems so silly. What's the point? Why had we fought? Why should I care if Ariana doesn't want to be with me? It all seems so pointless. My god, I'm stoned...

I'm REALLY stoned... What kind of pot is this? I can't remember...

Suddenly, the door to the room bursts open. In steps Billy, looking out of breath and nursing a cup that appears to be overflowing with beer. His entrance startles us momentarily, but we quickly relax.

"Jake! There you are!" he pants, struggling to breathe. "I've been trying to find you! Ariana was looking for you, man! She's out there in the den!"

And just like that, I'm on my feet, making a mad dash for the door. Behind me, I can hear Eddie laughing uproariously as he continues to smoke the joint.

"She's got you whipped, man! Whipped!"

I ignore him and keep walking. Pushing my way through the crowd gathered in the hall, I make a beeline for the den. I'm moving as fast as I can, scared that if I take too long, I'll miss her. As I slip past the last few partygoers blocking the entrance into the den, my eyes go wide at the scene unfolding before me.

"PICK IT UP!"

"Y-yes, ma'am!"

"NOW! LET'S GO! MOVE IT!"

"We're working as fast as we can!"

She's standing in the middle of the crowd, her arms crossed over her chest as she supervises the cleanup. The white tiger and the zebra, our rivals from earlier, are on their paws and knees, picking up the empty plastic cups and fixing the beer bong table. From where I'm standing, I'd swear they were scared of her. The scowl on her face suddenly turns into a smile when she sees me watching. After giving instructions for them to keep working, she cheerfully bounds up to me, the mess apparently forgotten.

"There you are! I've been waiting for you."

"Yeah!" I exclaim. "I was just--"

My speech cuts off as she places a single claw gently over my lips. "I don't want to know." she says. "Now, come on, let's go upstairs."

With that, she takes ahold of my paw and starts to lead me out of the room. Her fur feels soft against my own as I jog to keep up, dodging random partygoers as I follow her towards the tall, winding staircase that leads up to the rest of the house. I have to take the steps two at a time to keep up as she pulls me along.

"Hey, slow down!" I cry out, "What's your rush?"

She just laughs in response, and we keep moving. Finally, we reach the last room at the end of the hallway, where I can see a dim light shining through the crack beneath the door.

"Here we are!" she quips cheerfully, as she twists the knob and throws open the door.

My eyes are exploring every surface as I slowly step into the room, not even willing to breathe, for fear that I might break something. Ariana notices my discomfort, and quickly puts me at ease.

"This is actually their guest bedroom." she informs me, "But they never have people over, so it's usually empty. This is where I like to hang out..."

She gives me a tempting smile as she throws herself onto the bed. I can feel my legs trembling as I try to decide what I'm supposed to do next. Thankfully, Ariana gives me a cue. She motions to the empty space next to her, and calls me over.

"Why don't you come over here?"

My body remains firmly stiff as my legs somehow manage to carry me over to the bed. I don't think I've ever felt this nervous.

"What's wrong?" She asks, as I sit down at the edge of the bed. "You look so tense..."

The fur on my neck stands slightly on end as I feel her body moving across the mattress towards me. I let out a slight whimper as her paws slowly wrap around my waist, pulling me backwards onto the bed. I give in and allow myself to lay down on my back, my head nestled warmly in Ariana's lap as she stares down at me from above.

"Don't be so scared..." She whispers.

My eyes lock onto hers as she strokes my cheek with a paw, before lowering her muzzle slowly onto my own.

The kiss lasts all of three seconds before she breaks away. The most nerve-wracking three seconds of my life to this point.

I let out a loud breath as she pulls away. My chest heaves quickly as my brain tries to process the mess of emotions running through my mind. What is this feeling?

"Jake? Are you okay?"

Her voice sounds sweet, like honey. Once again, I find myself speechless, and all I can manage is a slight chuckle and a wide smile. Ariana notices my expression and laughs.

"You're so funny..." She chuckles.

I can't contain myself any longer. I stretch my arm towards her muzzle, and with my fingers, I gently trace the outline of her jaw. If only I could find the words to express the way I feel right now...

She lets out a soft purr as my claws brush over her chin, and she offers no resistance when I slowly pull her down for another kiss. This one lasts longer, and I can taste subtle hints of strawberry as our tongues intertwine. She runs her claws through the short hair on my head, and breaks the kiss by tugging forcefully on the back of my neck.

"I hear you've been asking about me..." she breathes. "There's a lot of rumors going around the school."

"Really?" I say. "Nothing too bad, right?"

She shakes her head and chuckles warmly.

"No... Nothing too bad."

Suddenly, she lowers my head onto the mattress and pounces on top of me.

"WHOA! Whoa!" I cry out in alarm. "Ari, what're you--"

My words are drowned out by the feeling of her soft, warm lips pressing against my own. God, this is just too much. I barely notice when she peels away my hoodie. I don't even feel it when she digs her claws into my chest and tears away my shirt, flinging the useless rags to the ground. I don't try to stop her as she lowers her paws to my waist and starts to unbuckle my belt.

What finally brings me back to reality are the screams and shouts which force their way up from downstairs; the wave of panic that suddenly seems to be sweeping the floor beneath us. I'm not alone. Ariana notices as well.

Before we have time to react, the door to the guest bedroom flies open. This time it's Eddie, and he's got Bobby and Billy in tow.

"HOLY SHIT!" he exclaims when he sees me with Ariana on the bed, half-naked. "REALLY, Jake?! REALLY?!"

Bobby shouts something in his ear, punches him in the shoulder, and angrily shoves him aside. "Fuck all that!" he screams, "You guys can finish up later! The cops are here! We gotta go!"

"WHAT?!" Ariana and I both shout in unison. In a flash, she's on her feet, making sure that she looks decent before heading downstairs. As I'm tightening my belt, I give a nod to my friends.

"How the hell are we getting out of here?" I say. I snatch my hoodie off the floor and throw it on.

The five of us are about to head into the hallway when we hear the loud, heavy sound of police-issue boots clattering noisily up the stairs. Ariana quickly shoves us all back into the guest bedroom and locks the door.

"Shit! If they catch me with you guys, we're all screwed!" she groans.

Just then, I have an idea. Turning around, I run over to one of the bedroom's small windows. Flipping the latch with my claw, I grunt with the effort as I struggle to get it open. After a few tries, the bottom half of the window gives way and slides up completely.

"Hey, guys, over here!" I whisper. Ariana stays near the door as my friends make their way over to me at the window.

"We can make it to the backyard from here!" I whisper excitedly. "Bobby, where''d you park your truck?"

The panther makes steps up to the window, and points a claw directly behind the house.

"Over there, on the next street over. There was nowhere closer."

"No, dude, that's perfect!" I exclaim. "From here, we can jump down, hop the fence, and--"

"POLICE! OPEN THIS DOOR!"

My heart sinks as a heavy fist delivers three forceful knocks to the wood. SHIT!

"Hold on, I'm getting dressed in here!" Ariana shouts back. Turning to us, she motions frantically for us to jump out.

"Go, go! I'll follow you!"

Bobby and Eddie give her muted whispers of thanks as they pull themselves out of the small window and onto an even smaller ledge. Eddie is the first to jump, and as usual, he lands perfectly on his feet. Bobby follows, with the same result. Billy climbs out the window after them, and tucks his knees to his chest as he hits the ground and rolls to his feet. Before I can go after them, Ariana grabs ahold of my jacket and stops me.

"I'll go first!"

With that, she lunges forward and thrusts her muzzle against mine, locking us together in a quick, final kiss before backing away. I take one last look at her as she climbs out onto the precarious ledge. She looks so beautiful, bathed in moonlight...

Just then, I hear shouting and complaining coming from below. Looking down, I see my friends waving at me to hurry. Ariana's already on her feet below.

"Come on, man! We gotta get out of here!" Billy shouts.

Don't I know it...

Gripping the false-wood exterior of the house with my claws, I take several deep breaths before working up the courage to jump. Finally, with one last breath, I let out a loud yelp of panic as I leap from the roof and tumble to the ground. Eddie pulls me to my feet, and we immediately start running. We run through the grass, through the bushes, and vault the chain-link fence with little effort. As we jog across the street to Bobby's parked truck, Billy once again catches up to me and taps me on the shoulder,

"I told you I had a bad feeling about this!"

I laugh and nod my head in agreement. "Well, you were right!"

I turn to face Ariana, who's having no trouble keeping up with me. "Why are you running?! Shouldn't you be trying to get ahold of your parents?"

"I never said it was my house!" she replies with a smile. "My neighbors are out of town for a month!"

"You broke into your neighbors' house?!" I repeat, amazed. She gives me a curt nod and slows her speed to a jog as we finally reach the truck. "I do it every month! The husband works in the military, and the wife works as a curator for the science museum! They're always out on business trips!"

Raising her left foot onto one of the back tires, she hops into the bed of the truck and claims a spot against the rear window. As I take a seat next to her, she moves in closer and snuggles up to my chest. Billy and Eddie quickly follow us, and I can hear the engine roaring to life as Bobby jumps into the driver's seat and twists the key in the ignition. He throws the truck into gear and stomps on the gas pedal. Ariana grips my jacket for dear life as the truck peels out and leaves tread marks on the blacktop.

---

The dream ends in a warm, peaceful haze. I can feel my heart beating slowly in my ribcage as I breathe.

I open my eyes, and the bright light causes me to recoil in pain. I raise a paw to shield my face as I try to figure out where I am. Looking down at my body, I see that I've been wrapped up in some sort of thick blanket, thicker than the ones they usually give to the prisoners here. The fabric is green; vomit green, in fact. I almost want to take it off, but I don't. Scanning my surroundings, I notice the boxes of frozen beef, vegetables, chicken, and various deserts stacked neatly on the floor. I suddenly realize that I'm sitting in the freezer. Then I remember. Dave. Where is he? I whip my head around and see the empty milk crate sitting vacant next to me.

Where the hell did they go?

Suddenly, my ears perk up at the sound of a latch being undone. I sit up against the wall as the door to the freezer opens, and a familiar face steps in.

"Well, well. Look who's awake..."

My eyes go wide and my jaw drops as the muscular lion steps into full view. I can see two other felines standing behind him, but he holds them back and tells them to watch for guards.

"Manny? Look, man, I--"

"YOU don't get to say a fuckin' word. Not after what you did to her," he growls between clenched teeth. "The only thing I wanna hear out of you is your last breath!"

He shoves a paw into the pocket on his jumpsuit, and comes up with what appears to be a small, keychain-sized swiss-army knife. I don't even want to know how he got it into this place. Undeterred, I reach into my own pocket and retrieve the five-inch nail.

"Fuck you, Manny!" I shout, bracing myself for his first strike. "You don't know shit! You weren't even there! I didn't kill her; I loved her! "

The oxycodone in my system is making it hard to stay on my feet, but the adrenaline is beginning to take over.

"You loved her?!" he laughs. "My sister got shot because of you, you fuckin' mutt! She was the only family I had left! Now, hold still so I can slit your fuckin' throat!"

With that, he lets out a loud roar as he lunges forward. I feel my muscles tensing up as I grit my teeth in anticiption of the pain that's sure to come...

---

There's Chapter 2! I had plenty of free time after Christmas this year, so I decided to spend a day at my desk and finish it up! I hope you guys are enjoying the new storyline! Don't worry, the original characters will be making plenty of appearances later in the story. That being said, I hope the plot isn't too confusing! As always, and and all comments are apreciated. Any criticism helps.

--Ken.