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Sticks & Stones What Could it Hurt?

(December 4th)

"You're really going through with it, aren't you?" Scott asked, sitting shirtless on the edge of his bed.

And the raccoon in his dresser mirror looked back at him, but the real James did not turn. He simply went about buttoning his shirt and dressing for their Wednesday night outing to the Bacchanalian, as he answered: "Of course I am."

"James..." Scott began...

...but his raccoon cut him short, "I know, Scott. You don't approve. You think I'm wasting my time. I get it: you've already made your point." He sighed and shook his head, "I don't expect you to go with me, I just-"

"Wait," Scott stopped him, "...you don't think I'd go with you?" Soft and silent -- the lithe form of a fox -- he rose from the bed and joined his lover by the mirror, "James, if I can't talk you out of this, I...at the very least, I'll make sure you don't have to face it alone."

At times he wished he knew what James was thinking. He wished he could step inside his boyfriend's head and make sense of what was inside. But at other times -- such as this moment, watching the embarrassed and apologetic smile split James's muzzle -- he didn't need to.

James finally looked him in the eye, beyond the reflection in the mirror, "But...you still think you can talk me out of it."

"I do," the fox nodded.

"You won't, though," James argued. "This isn't like what happened with Tony. Regrets aside, I get how dangerous that was. You were right to stop me. And it's not like Hunter's suspension, either. I was powerless, then." He flashed a confident and defiant smile, "But I'm not powerless here. I'm not in danger. And I'm tired of rolling over."

"I'm not asking you to roll over; it's just that..."

"Okay," he held up his stark black paws. "Okay, say your piece. Get it out of your system." "I'm telling you: it won't change a thing...but I'll hear you out."

Scott had to be right. He had to put a stop to this. And so he nodded, and drew in a deep breath, "The whole point of this...it's to protect Hunter and his friends, right?"

"Well...in the short term, sure, but..."

"I know," he nodded. "I understand the long term implications. But right now, it's about Hunter, Elliot, and their little group of friends, right?" He waited for his lover to nod, before he continued: "Do you really think this is going to make anything easier on them?"

The raccoon just shrugged, "It's the plan."

"The plan? The plan is to out them to the whole school? To the faculty and maybe even the media? Right now they're just dealing with one bully and a few of his friends. But you're talking about..." Scott paused, searching for the right image, "...you might as well dress them in a rainbow flag and march them through the halls!"

James, though, just laughed, "You think it's not already that bad? There isn't a student at the school that hasn't seen the pictures of Hunter and Michael. And Elliot and Donald might be less exposed, sure. But twice now, Brandon has made a spectacle out of fighting these boys in the middle of the commons, for everyone to see. And I promise you: the other students know why." He shook his head, "I won't be outing these boys, Scott. That ship's sailed."

"And what about the faculty?"

"Hmm?"

"The faculty," the fox repeated. "You said that the pictures have been seen by all the students, but what about the teachers? You know if those pictures had gotten into any faculty paws other than ours, they would have ended up in Rivers' too. And if HE'D seen them..."

"This would be a very different situation," James admitted. "I know."

"See my point, then? You're still outing them to the teachers. To a faculty that you've already said you're weary of. Because, that's what this is about, right? Implementing new rules, so the faculty can't discriminate against queer students?" Scott crossed his arms, leaning back against his dresser, "But if you fail, what happens then? You've just let the entire staff know that these boys are gay, and set them loose with no rules to stop them from treating Elliot and his friends however they want."

"That's no worse than it already is," with a shrug, the raccoon turned and made his way to his fox's closet, continuing on as he flipped through the shirts inside. "Chaney already knows. His actions have made that perfectly clear. And if HE knows, then it's only a matter of time before everyone else does, too. Or, at the very least, the ones we don't want to." He paused, examining one shirt in particular, "Besides...you're worried about the kids, right? You're worried how this could affect them?"

"I'm worried about a great many things. But yes," Scott nodded...

...and watched as his lover turned back, shirt in paw. Silently, as to not interrupt the conversation, the two flashed a few quick, silent glances. James's eyebrows rose and fell inquisitively as he displayed the shirt on its hanger. And the fox nodded, happy with his boyfriend's suggestion: a favorite of both the raccoon's and his own, and one which nicely complimented his pants.

And as James pawed it over, the raccoon continued: "Okay, then. Consider how it would affect them tonight, if I don't show up. Win, lose, or draw, doesn't matter. If we fail, we fail...and nothing changes. But what if I don't even show up? If they sit through that meeting tonight, and the ONE adult who's been willing to fight for them abandons them? What then?"

"Wait," Scott paused and blinked, as he pulled the shirt from its hanger, "They're gonna' be there?"

"Most of them. In fact, I expect Brandon will be, too." The raccoon chuckled softly, "Word travels fast."

"So, you're saying you're committed," Scott concluded as he slipped into his shirt and stepped to the mirror.

"Committed is an understatement," James corrected him. "I can't leave these boys alone. I can't just let this go. And, I damn sure can't let Brandon and the Sutela family be the only voices heard tonight...assuming they show up."

"I get that. I do."

"But..." he smirked, "you still have more to say."

The fox stalled, buttoning his shirt in silence before finally drawing in a long, slow breath to ask: "What if it outs us, too? Me. You. Our relationship?"

But James showed no hesitation: "Small price to pay."

"Is it?" Scott turned back to look his boyfriend in the eye, "Principal Rivers told you, himself: we could lose our jobs!"

"We?" For the first time, tonight, real frustration crept into the raccoon's voice, "Scott? Since when is it 'we'? I mean, I appreciate that you'll be there with me. Really: I do. But you'll be out in the audience. You won't be speaking, and I won't be mentioning your name." He tossed up his paws, "Even if the board rallied the assembly into a pitchfork wielding mob, I'd be the only one chased out of the building. You're safe."

"That's not fair," Scott growled.

"What isn't?"

"Trying to paint this as me being selfish! Like I'm just worried about myself." Damn-it. This wasn't the way he wanted this conversation to go. He just wanted to talk, not to argue, but the timber of his voice betrayed him. "I mean: sure, I'm scared of being outed. We both know I can't risk that kind of scrutiny. But I don't want to see you lose YOUR job either!"

"Oh, come on now. It wouldn't be so bad," James smiled and stepped closer, an unexpectedly playful tone replacing the frustration that had clouded his voice only moments before. "You've got a nice big house, here, and we've been talking about me actually moving in for a while, as opposed to just having these extended visits." And he shrugged, "If I was suddenly unemployed, it would finally give us an excuse."

But his fox was in no mood: "This isn't the time for jokes, James."

"No. It isn't," soft but resolute, a third voice interjected itself. "It's time we did something."

And Scott turned to find his kitten in the bedroom doorway, "Jeff?"

"James is right," the cat was blunt, as usual. "My friends are being bullied, and he's the only one protecting them. If there's a chance he can change that...he should."

"It's not that simple," Scott tried to argue...

...but Jeff was no easier swayed than James, "You say that! You say that a lot. But it IS that simple." The boy furrowed his brow in thought, before he explained: "There are always bad guys, dad. Someone who hates you, or ignores you, or wants to hurt you. My father, Tony, Brandon, Elliot's mom, this Chaney guy. We can't change that. But we're the good guys, right? Maybe we can't make the bad guys disappear, but isn't it our job to stop them?" Determined, he looked his father right in the eye, "When we can? If we can?"

The fox's first instinct was to fall right back into those four easy words: 'it's not that simple.' Because it was the truth. He knew it was the truth. Even if it worked, all they were talking about was a new policy. In the end, what good would it really do? How much would the situation change? And what of the risks: to James, to Scott, and to the life they were trying to build together? Or even to the children the policy was designed to protect?

He needed to explain it all. He needed to make them understand the need for caution: the utility of fear. They could call him a coward. They could call him selfish. But at least they'd all be safe.

Before the first word could leave his lips, though, Jeff continued: "I just think it's time we did something. We can't just sit back and ignore this. Not again."

Again? Damn-it.

"Haven't we done that enough?"

~

(December 5th)

"Next we have a motion from Mr. James Callaway: a new history teacher at the high school," the powerful, gravelly voice of the school board president -- a gruff, old lizard -- echoed off the walls. "Mr. Callaway, if you would step forward."

Twenty-four hours. One day since he and Scott had the same old argument: action versus caution. One day since a few short words from Jeffery finally forced their fox to stand aside. One day since Nikki and the Bacchanalian afforded them their moment of escape

A stack of papers in paw, James rose from his seat, before the school board. At his side, Scott remained seated, a supportive smile trying in vain to hide the fear beneath. In seats along the far wall sat Hunter, Michael, and their shepherd friend...but, of course, not Elliot. And from somewhere, the raccoon could feel the eyes of a wolf, Brandon's piercing gaze, upon him.

Silently, he approached the podium in the center of the room...

...and another member of the board, a middle-aged, female husky, spoke. "You have the floor."

A husky on the board? Two in fact, counting the male sitting at the far end. He really shouldn't be surprised...not in Sibirskaia. But it was still something James hadn't gotten used to.

"Thank you," the raccoon began with a polite little nod. "I'm here this evening to propose a change to the district's anti-discrimination policies. I'd like to suggest the addition of-"

"Yes, Mr. Callaway," a third board member, a young, female cat, sharply cut him short. "We know why you're here. We've read the proposal." She tapped her claws on the crescent shaped table before her, "But you're here to convince us that this is a good idea. To explain the 'why'...not the 'what'."

"And 'why' does seem to be the pertinent question here," the female husky agreed. "After all, we have policies against bullying and discrimination already. And I fail to see the efficacy of implementing even more."

"With all due respect, Ma'am," James answered with a smile, "you seem to misunderstand the point of my proposal."

And she returned the smile with a soft flick of her wrist, "Then enlighten me."

"This isn't about stamping out bullying, or implementing new bullying policies. This is about making sure our staff enforces the policy already in place, in a..." he paused briefly, to select the most professional phrase: "...a balanced and equitable manner. And making sure that they face repercussions if they don't."

"But there are already repercussions, are there not?" the husky asked. "If one student were to be hurt by another -- no matter the reason WHY that student was being bullied -- and it could be proven that a faculty member intentionally turned a blind eye...that they could have stopped it sooner..." she explained, "...there are already disciplinary measures in place. Up to and including termination."

"That's true," James granted. "But for that to be the case, in regard to LGBT students, the situation has to escalate. It has to actually reach the point of personal injury." He decided to offer a more concrete example: "Consider this. If a teacher allows a student to be bullied based on that student's religious beliefs or species, they can be penalized for discrimination long before it reaches the point of harming the student. All I'm saying is that the same standards should apply to LGBT students, as well."

The well-spoken husky smiled and nodded, seemingly won over by his explanation, but her fellow council members were not so easily swayed...

...and the feline spoke up, again, "But the problem, Mr. Callaway, is that there's no legal precedent. Federal law leaves this sort of thing up to the states, and our state's anti-discrimination laws don't include sexuality. And I don't feel it's our place to supersede the state."

"Why not?" James rebutted. "Everything has to start somewhere. There are federal laws that were state laws, first. And there are state laws that were county laws, or even city ordinances first." He switched gears to clarify: "I mean, we probably wouldn't even be the first school district in the state to do something like this. But even if we WERE, what's wrong with that? Everything has to start somewhere," he repeated. "Why not here?"

"So you're asking us to...what? Be heralds? To try and change state law?" The cat scoffed, "Don't you think that's a bit much for a school board to tackle?"

"Ma'am, I'm not asking you to change the world. Or even our state. Would it be nice if we could? Of course. But this isn't about the rest of the world, or even Brooksboro and beyond. This is about our kids," he tapped his palm on the papers he'd placed on the podium. "It's about protecting our students."

"Protecting? Or coddling?" the president's booming voice entered the fray. "The world is full of bullies, Mr. Callaway. And it's damn sure full of prejudice...especially when it comes to gays." The lizard shook his head, "We shouldn't be sheltering our students from that. We're here to prepare them for the real world. And the real world is harsh...and full of hate."

"So..." certainly, James had heard that wrong, "you're saying we shouldn't have ANY anti-bullying measures?"

"In fact, I am," the lizard nodded. "I wasn't in support of the ones we have now."

After a moment's thought, James withheld a tiny smirk as he pointed out: "But they're still in place. Despite your misgivings, you had to acquiesce. Correct?"

The president simply sighed, "I did."

"Then...and I don't mean to sound disrespectful, sir-"

"You can sound however you like. When I was a child, I WAS bullied. It was a fact of life," he recounted with nostalgia and pride. "I have been more than prepared for the real world. I'm not afraid of a few harsh words."

James couldn't help but meet the old Lizard's claims with a laugh, "Well, then. You've already had to grin and bear the current anti-bullying policies, right? You may not like it, but you've had to deal with it. To, uhm...shut up and take it."

"I have," he nodded.

"Then, really...what what's the difference if you have to grin and bear just a little bit more?"

And with a little laugh of his own, the lizard nodded, "Fair enough."

"Is it?" the fourth of five members of the board asked the lizard. The young eagle, though, turned her sharp eyes to James before her president could answer. "What's the difference, you ask? You want to know the difference?"

"I..." James stammered, taken off guard by the question, "...yes. I do."

"The difference is: this is a choice these children have made. No one's forcing this lifestyle on them, and they certainly weren't born into it." Scorn in her voice, she counted off: "We're not talking about a student's species, physical appearance, or economic standing. Those are all things beyond their control. THIS is not."

James wasn't surprised. He'd expected this. In fact, if he was surprised by anything, it was that this eagle was the first to say this. After all, this is exactly what he was here to fight. Right now, though, what was important was that he keep himself calm...stay professional...even if some members of the board did not.

"That is your opinion, Ma'am, and you're more than entitled to it. But the scientific and psychiatric communities do not agree," he argued, despite himself. He knew it would do no good. It would be better to deflect: to change the focus. "More importantly, we're not here tonight to debate those opinions. The fact of the matter is: we have homosexual, bisexual, and probably even transgender students at our high school. Students who need our protection. And if even if you think that that was their choice, we protect other students based on their choices all the time: be it their style of dress, their friends, the music they listen to, or so much more."

The eagle just rolled her eyes, "Homosexuality is quite a different thing than someone's peer group or taste in music, Mr. Callaway."

She was a lost cause. He knew that, but the other board members were listening, and he had to make sure they heard HIM...and that she couldn't sway them. "And again, you're entitled to that opinion, but it doesn't change the fact that we have students who are not currently entitled to the same protection as their peers."

"Perhaps so," finally, the fifth member spoke up. The second husky broke his silence, "But her opinion is a popular one in this area. This is a god fearing town, after all, and many of the parents here won't stand for being told they have to tolerate homosexuality, or that their children could be punished for expressing their religious viewpoint."

James smirked. That was his only argument? This would be easy. "The current policy extends to non-Christians, too, right? Muslims, wiccans, atheists? I'm sure the parents weren't very happy with that, either."

"No," the lizard laughed aloud, out of turn, "they most certainly were not."

And the male husky went on: "So you're asking us to court even more controversy?"

"No. What I'm asking is that you extend the same protections to everyone. The current policy states that faculty cannot discriminate against students or parents based on," he looked down to read from the papers in front of him, "species, breed, national origin, age, religion, or biological gender," of course, the policy only read 'gender,' but he knew what it meant. "I'm simply proposing that sexual orientation and gender identity be added to the list. Nothing more."

At that, the president addressed his fellow board members: "In all fairness, it seems like a simple enough change to the policies already in place."

"And one which may curtail a much larger problem before it begins," the female husky agreed...

...but the feline to her side did not. "But, as stated, it would controversial to say the least. If we do this...there WILL be fall out."

The lizard simply nodded, turning his attention back to James, "Thank you for your time Mr. Callaway. All we can say for now...is that we'll take it under advisement."

And as James nodded and stepped quietly from the podium, the eagle asked: "Would anyone else like to speak on this matter, before we move along?"

"Yeah! I got somethin' to say!" James had barely made it back to his seat, before a certain angry, young wolf was up and out of his own. "I think-"

"No. Step forward, please," the female husky stopped him, motioning to the podium.

James watched the wolf from his seat, as he felt Scott's paw discretely wrap around his own. The boy was clearly agitated; his face alone spoke volumes, let along his gait as he stormed the podium. But, in strained silence, he did exactly as the husky asked...

...and as he drew to a stop, she bid him: "Please state your name."

"Brandon..." he hesitated, clenching his jaw, "...Sutela. Brandon Sutela."

"You have the floor," she motioned for him to begin...

...and his barely contained anger exploded on cue: "Mr. Callaway is damn a liar!"

"Mr. Sutela! Control yourself!" the president roared back. "This is a formal assembly, and outbursts like that won't be tolerated."

The male husky far to the side, though, came to the wolf's defense, "He's a child, and he's upset. Cut him a little slack." And he nodded with a soft smile at the boy, "Go on, son."

In an assertive tone, though, the lizard added: "Calmly."

Brandon took in a breath, and then on he went. "Mr. Callaway wants you to think this about his students. He wants you...he wants everyone here to think he's doin' this to protect some poor, bullied kids. To protect...them!" he stopped to point in the direction of Hunter, Michael, and Donald. "But he's not! This is just all..." he paused in thought, "...self-interest!"

"How so?" the feline member asked.

"You don't know?" he recoiled in surprise and confusion. "He's gay too!"

The eagle's sharp eyes widened immediately, "And how would you know that?"

"Everyone does! My parents, other students...it's all over town," the wolf boy swung his arm in a grand, sweeping motion. "There's some queer joint down town, Baccha-somethin', that he goes to all the time...apparently he even used to date some rainbow painted fox that works there." He grimaced and shook his head, "The point is: the only thing he's tryin' to protect is his job. If anything, instead of talkin' about some discrimination policy, we should be talkin' about firing his ass!"

"Mr. Sutela!" the president snapped again. "Watch your language."

As the female husky to his side addressed the boy more gently. "Brandon. May I call you Brandon?" She paused so he could nod. "Brandon, what you're talking about is called a rumor. Neither we, nor Principal Rivers, nor Superintendent Miles have it within our power to fire someone on the basis of a rumor, let alone-"

"It's not just ANY rumor, though!" Brandon cut her short. "It's not like I'm sayin' he's an alcoholic or havin' an affair. This is somethin' that affects US!" he pounded his chest...

...and in the audience, James was shaking. This was going downhill quickly. And it was only the firm paw of his fox keeping him from true panic...especially as he watched the postures of both the eagle and the male husky change. The casual bigot and the God fearing Christian leaned forward, their eyes narrowed, and a smirk lit upon the dog's muzzle. Brandon had their attention...

...but it was the cat who spoke, first, "How, exactly, does it affect you?"

"He's...he's gay!" Brandon stammered, clearly and visibly distraught that his point wasn't clear from that simple statement, alone. "He's a predator and a pervert! And he's workin' as a teacher, with innocent kids. How long until somebody gets hurt?"

"That's a bit of a stretch," the feline shook her head...

...but the eagle wasn't so quick to dismiss it, "Is it, really?"

"It most certainly is!" the female husky answered firmly for them both. "And even if it weren't, this is still no more than a rumor. No one is going to be fired based on partial information and-"

"This is bullshit!" Brandon barked...

...and finally, the old lizard had had enough, "MR. SUTELA! You've been told repeatedly to control yourself AND your language!"

"What??" the wolf threw up his paws. "You expect me to just lay down and be okay with this? Okay with the fact that a dangerous pervert gets to keep teachin' at my school!? With you leavin' me and my classmates in danger from a predator!? With these faggots," he pointed again, to his classmates on the wall, "bein' allowed to do what-the-fuck-ever they want!?"

"That's enough," the president leaned back, arms crossed. "Security? Someone? Escort Mr. Sutela from the building."

"I can find my own way out!" Brandon snapped again, shoving over the podium in a rage and marching toward the door. James watched as the boy rushed past everyone in his way, even knocking away a security guard's arm when they tried to lead him to the door, "Get your paws off me!"

But, even as he was guided outside, it wasn't Brandon who really caught the raccoon's attention. It was Michael. From his seat by the wall, Mic stood to watch the bully leave. His face, though, was neither twisted in anger, nor lit up by vindication. Instead, he was worried. Concerned.

And without so much as a glance to the tiger or shepherd he left behind, he followed the wolf out the door.

James was afforded no time to process that turn of events, though, and definitely no time to bring it to Scott's attention...as his name was called, again, almost the second the doors swung closed.

"Mr. Callaway," it was the eagle. "Step back to the podium, please."

His mouth dry and his legs weak, the raccoon turned back to the board and stood, watching a second security guard upright the podium as he approached. Twenty-four hours. One day since he told Scott he was prepared for this: that he was ready to be outed to the town, and to have his career put on the line.

It was a lie.

But as he stopped before the podium, clearing his throat and staring up at the faces of the board, he could only repeat his own words to himself, again and again: a mantra for the strength he would so desperately need. 'Small price to pay.'

The male husky was the first to speak, and somehow James felt that he and the eagle would be the only board members who would, "Do you have anything to say in response to this student's allegation?"

"I really don't," James shook his head.

"So you're denying this, then. You're not a homosexual?" the eagle asked...

...and the male husky mused: "Come to think of it: I don't think I've ever seen a heterosexual fight so hard for queers."

"Y'know, I suppose it makes sense that you've never heard the term ally," James was defensive. He could hear it in his voice, already. But he couldn't hold it back. "But there are plenty of straight people, male and female, who support gay rights. You don't have to be gay to believe in equality."

"That's not an answer Mr. Callaway," the husky growled...

...and James tried to ask: "Why does it matter, whether or not I-"

"It matters because we say it does!" the eagle cut him short. "Answer the question."

And the dog asked it again: "Are you or are you not a homosexual?"

James had done his best to skirt the issue: to deflect the question. But there was nothing left to do. He could lie. But Hunter and Donald were watching. And what message would that send?

So, he took a breath, and he nodded, "I am. But I fail to see how that is, in any way, relevant to the matter at paw."

"It's more than relevant, Mr. Callaway," the husky responded. "Like young Mr. Sutela pointed out, himself: this is a clear conflict of interest. How can we be sure this isn't just some personal ploy to protect yourself and your job?"

And the eagle added, without giving him a chance to respond: "Not to mention the fact that you failed completely to disclose this information when you were hired."

"A hiring, I should add, which was very recent!" the dog went on, and James simply stood frozen, as the two berated him...first one, then the other...again, and again. "You have done nothing to build any sort of reputation or trust for yourself within the district. We don't REALLY know who you are...do we?"

"And you've come here, asking us to protect our students?" the eagle scoffed. "It seems to me like you might be a bigger threat to them than ANY amount of bullying."

"How can we be sure that you won't be a repeat of what happened with the coach in Brooksboro?"

But those words from the husky would be the last of their assault...

"WHAT!?" as, across the room, Hunter leapt from his seat. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Son," the president held up a claw. "We've already had to eject one student, tonight. We won't be tolerating anymore outbursts."

Hunter, though just blinked and shook his head, "So, I'm supposed to just sit here and let those two attack Mr. Callaway? A-and he's supposed to just stand up there, getting called a rapist and a pedophile with no one to defend him!?"

The lizard sighed, "There is a proper procedure to-"

"FUCK your proper procedure!" the young tiger screamed. "I'd rather be taken out in handcuffs than let this go on!"

"Well, if that's what you want, then-"

"No." A single word from the audience, and proceedings ground to a halt.

The old lizard stopped and turned his eyes to the crowd, as James felt his heart stall and sputter in his chest. That voice? That was Scott. The raccoon, too, turned, following the president's eyes, along with Hunter's and all the others that had so often been volleyed about the room, this evening. And there he was, confident and strong: the fox James loved. The fox who saved Jeff from the street. And not a sign of the scared and timid thing he'd become.

There stood Scott Hammond. "Excuse me, but no. The tiger boy is right."

"Mr. Hammond!" to the raccoon's back, the old lizard called out. And every bit of the tone in his voice had changed. Chipper, friendly, and welcoming, as if meeting an old friend, he laughed and greeted the fox. "I didn't realize you were here tonight!" And he cleared his throat to officially state: "The board recognizes Mr. Scott Hammond. You may have the floor."

"Thank you," Scott nodded to the lizard and shot James a single, resolute glance, before looking to the tiger against the wall, "Hunter. Sit down." And as his student took his seat, Scott faced the board...but he did not move to approach the podium. "So...the thing about bullies is this: they don't just attack everyone. They don't even attack everyone who they might hate or disagree with. No: they like the easy targets. And I don't just mean the weak, and the quiet, and those who can't stand up for themselves...but also, those who no one else protects. And here, unfortunately, that would be our gay students."

"You are in support of Mr. Callaway's proposal, then?" the female husky asked.

"I am," Scott nodded. "But, more to the point: you know who else is an easy target? A brand new teacher, who hasn't had the opportunity to build years of history and standing in the community. Someone who has no record to point to in his defense. Someone like that: they might seem like the perfect target for," he turned his gaze on the eagle and the male husky, "bullies, zealots, and bigots."

"Are you..." the eagle arched a feathery brow and laughed, "...are you accusing US of being bullies?"

"I thought that was clear," Scott's own brows pinched into a defiant glare. "But I'm also saying that I DO have a record! I HAVE worked here for years, and I have NEVER hurt a student. And unlike James, I have a standing and a reputation in this town that you couldn't HOPE to tear down with your insults...and your bigotry...and your ignorance. And if you want to start a witch hunt, tonight: you can start with me!"

"Scott?" The president, the fox's old friend, asked slowly: "Are you...are you trying to say that you're gay, too?"

"I am," he answered without a moment's hesitation...

...and yards away, his raccoon's head spun. His knees nearly gave way. And only a tight grip on the podium at his back kept him on his feet...

...as Scott continued: "So, if we're gonna' do this, let's do it right. No more easy targets. You want someone to attack? Here I am," he held out his paws with a dark, inviting smile. "Come put my record to the test, and let's see where it gets you."

~

Michael Taylor might not have known much, but he knew he was a good friend.

A simple enough, little mantra. A happy, convenient excuse. A lie. He never needed to take life seriously, to give any real effort at school, or to find himself involved in any real controversy. So long as he played the role of the simple, ignorant hyena -- and, more importantly, so long as he believed the lie -- he could always escape the nagging frustrations of guilt and accountability. He could pretend his grades were beyond his control. He could pretend he had no real opinion on any serious topic of discussion. And no matter what might go wrong around him, he could rest easy behind his disguise: he could shield himself with the illusion that there was nothing he, of all people, could have done to prevent it.

The problem, of course, was: he knew far more than he was willing to admit. He could tell the difference between the actions of malicious bitch, and those of a loving mother making a terrible mistake. He could see the cracking foundations of a once loving relationship, now all but doomed. He could navigate the truth behind a lie: catch the errant twitch of an eye that betrayed a secret desperately hid. He could appreciate the necessity of that lie, both legal and social, and know to let it be. And he could see the sparks of new love...and the fire to come.

For the most part, he was able to turn a blind eye. Elliot's home life was his own, and Mic could do little to change it. Nor was it his to judge, or probe. Elliot, Hunter, and Donald would do what they would do, and they didn't need the hyena sticking his nose in, for better or worse. And no one, least of all himself, could hold him liable for the fall out.

Sometimes, though, his lie -- his convenient mantra -- forced his paw. After all, at least one part of it was true: he was a good friend.

And not all of his friends had the support of their lovers and their families. Not all of his friends could help themselves. And if he knew? If he could see what no one else was willing to see? If he was watching as a friend fell to pieces right before his eyes, and he knew that he was the only one who could see it...the only one who could help?

What choice did he have? After all, he was a good friend...

"Brandon?" the hyena's voice broke the cold, winter air...

...and the amber eyes of a wolf turned, peering at him from across the shadowy parking lot. A cloud of foggy breath dissolved in the air, and the wolf rose from where he'd stood, leaning against a car, "What the fuck do you want, Mic?"

The hyena lifted his empty paws, in submission, "I'm just here to talk, Bran..."

But his old friend simply exhaled a dark, little laugh, "I don't have anything to say to you."

"I guess this'll be a one sided conversation then."

Silence filled the lot as Mic approached. He stopped close. One month ago, Brandon found him and Hunter in a park restroom. Since then, the only time they'd had reason to stand this close...was to fight. Would tonight be any different?

Well, he'd already come this far.

"I'm still you're friend, Brandon..." Mic began, "whether you want me to be or not. You can hate me. You can hit me..." he broke in a laugh, "...in fact, I expect you will. I expect to be cleanin' blood out of my muzzle fur tonight. But it won't change a thing. You're my friend. You have been for a long time. And I love you."

The wolf didn't say a word. But his teeth glinted with light from the streetlamps, as his lip curled in a snarl. His hackles spiked the fur of his neck. And his fists clenched.

"Calm down," again, Mic lifted his paws. "I'm not tryin' to get at yer dick. I don't wanna' fuck you. Love doesn't have to mean that, and you know it." And he waited, and he watched. He wasn't here for a fight; he had to make the wolf listen. And only when those teeth disappeared, and those paws fell limp, did he continue: "I just wanna' help."

"What the fuck do you think I need your help with?" Brandon snapped.

"Bran, stop it." With a steadying breath, the hyena looked his friend square in those bright, golden eyes. "I know."

And in those eyes: an errant twitch...a secret betrayed. "You know what?"

"You know what I know," he answered firmly. "I stepped over the line the other day. I thought I was just playin' into the fight, y'know? Throwin' around some insults? But when I saw how you reacted..." he shook his head. "Bran...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Shut the fuck up, Mic. Just..." Brandon's breaths grew heavy, "Just go away."

But Mic had no choice but to ignore the plea. He couldn't just leave. "I know why you're scared."

"I'm not scared of anything!" the wolf screamed, lurching forward a foot or more. Glinting teeth. Spiked neck-fur. Clenched fists. Threats. And silent as they were, they were all too real...

...but even with the smell of wolf breath filling his nostrils, Mic would not back down. "I know what you see every time you look at us. I can only imagine how hard it's been, to...to have one of your best friends turn out to be a faggot! To see me, Hunter, and Elliot every fuckin' day...and to have all those memories flood back. And now?" His voice fell to a whisper, "Now that his face is all over TV?"

Brandon began to shake: tremors so violent they fractured his ever quickening breaths, "Stop."

"You know I can't." The hyena sighed as he looked his friend, still, in those quivering amber eyes, "Brandon, I get it. Or...at least as much as I possibly could. We're nightmares, yeah? Monsters in the night. I mean, when you look at me, do you even see me, anymore? Or do you just see him?"

But those eyes fell away, with the sound of a tiny, muted whine, "I'm warning you."

"I know you are, and I'm sorry." Mic anchored himself, heels firm on the concrete, and pulled in a deep, calming breath. "But I'm not you're uncle. I'm not Tony."

Blinding flash of light.

Mic never saw the fist. Case in point, he didn't even feel it...not at first. He knew to expect it. He knew all it would take was the name. Tony. But he never saw his friend raise the paw: never saw it clenched and speeding toward his face. All he saw was the flash of light -- blinding white -- as he staggered helplessly to the left.

To the left? So, it was a left hook, then. Huh. He'd forgotten Brandon was a south paw.

When the moment of shock passed and the pain set in, it spread along his jaw, his cheek, and even into his eye. But that's not where the punch had landed. The taste of copper tickled his tongue. Metallic and sweet. His nose was numb. His lip throbbed, already...and by the time he'd regained his footing, it grew heavy with the weight of it swelling.

The wolf had hit him in the mouth and the nose.

Well...at least he'd been proven right. He did say he expected to be cleaning blood out of his muzzle fur this evening. Small victories.

Mic was nearly panting by the time he'd composed himself, heavy breaths pushing the pain away. He watched blood splatter the cement as he spat it out, and he asked: "So? Did it help? Is he gone?" He looked up to see the wolf wide eyed, but blind. His friend's gaze lay locked on the ground: on the splattered blood. "Look at me Brandon!" he screamed. "Tell me I'm bleeding for a reason!" Finally, the lupine looked up: the wide golden eyes of a scared child. And again, Mic asked: "Do you see me, yet? Or am I still Tony?"

Tony. On the sound of the word, the frightened child washed away, and a sudden fury took its place. Again, the fist lifted, as if on instinct, but this time it simply lingered there in the air.

"I am. Bloody muzzle and all..." Mic felt a tear rolling from his eye. From the pain, of course...but the pain of the punch, or of the answer? "...you still see the big bad wolf."

Brandon jerked his gaze aside, and his paw fell...though it was still balled in a fist.

"How many more punches do you need to throw? How much more do you need me to bleed, before you forget?" Mic had abandoned all shame. His voiced cracked as he pleaded with his friend, and as the tears he would normally fight back soaked into his cheeks. "Tell me and I'll do it, Brandon. Right here in the parking lot. If it's what you need to heal...to win back your control. If it'll finally make what Tony did, go away? I'm here. You need me to be Tony? You need a punching bag? If it's the only way I can help..." he raised his arms as a cross, an image certainly lost on the wolf, tonight, but not on him. And he closed his eyes, "I can take it."

Immediately, a paw wound itself up in his shirt, firm against his chest. All the force of a charging wolf pushed him back, and he coughed, losing his breath as his back collided with the side of a vehicle. A van? An SUV? But he didn't bother catching his breath. He curled his toes, and screwed his eyes ever tighter shut. He cried in silence. The blows were coming. Certainly. Any second now...

...the price he'd agreed to pay for a friend.

But there were no flashes of light. No fists and feet. Nothing but the firm paw holding him against the metal and glass at his back. Blinking, his eyes fluttered open...and, staring back, a pair of amber eyes shimmered with tears of their own.

Brandon's fist still lingered in the air. But the wolf, save for his tremors, was a statue: frozen and stiff. His upper lip was curled in a snarl...but the lower quivered. His muscular jaw bulged from the clenching, even as a stream of tears dripped from its darkened fur. And it had never been clearer than in this moment, that he was never simply the raging, vengeful bully. And he was never simply the frightened, wounded child.

Because he was both. Always both.

And tonight, Mic was his villain and his victim. His monster in the night. "It's okay. If this is what you need..." he turned and offered his cheek, "...do it."

The hyena, though, was wrong.

Frozen there, rattled by his convulsions, Brandon DID see Tony. But it wasn't in the face of the bruised and battered hyena. It was in the reflection of the van window behind him. Brandon saw, there, the snarling, arrogant face of a wolf. A wolf in control, reveling in the power he held over someone else...over someone who loved him and trusted him enough to surrender themselves completely. He saw Tony in his reflection...and himself in the hyena at his mercy. His tears, dripping from his jaw, hadn't come for the pain of his past...but for the reality of what he'd become.

He looked at his limp and surrendered friend. His friend. He saw the blood, and he remembered. The taste of copper. Metallic and sweet.

What had he become?

He swung his fist with all the force of his hatred and his guilt. Hatred for himself, for Tony, and for everything the Sutela name was responsible for. His fist broke. He felt the snapping of bone. But the reflection shattered. And Tony's face finally disappeared, if only for a moment.

Glass peppered them both and scattered through the inside of the van, as the wolf crumbled. He collapsed against his friend. His friend. Two strong, loving arms caught him...and he let them. They fell, sinking to the ground as he sobbed openly into Mic's chest, paws gripping and claws piercing holes through the hyena's shirt.

"It doesn't work..." he sniveled helplessly, "it never works..."

And Mic simply held him in silence, one arm pulling him close, as the second boldly petted the back of his head. Brandon flinched, but he didn't fight it. There was a comfort in the touch, and he took it...

...as he wrapped himself up in the hyena, "I can't make him go away."

~

And Sibirskaia continues...

* This particular chapter (and the rest of Sibirskaia) was written entirely by Oloroso Rhone. But it was based on characters and story lines I created jointly with my friend Phil Anthro Pist

If you'd like to go say hi to Phil, he's got an account on here at http://phil-anthro-pist.sofurry.com/ *

I have nothing to say about the ending, that it didn't say on its own.

So lets rewind from that and step back to the board meeting. Scott and James just outted themselves! Will it be worth it? Will there be any change in school policy? Has it put them in real danger? And was it all for nothing, anyway, now that Mic has finally broken through to Brandon? And has the wolf really changed...or will Brandon's little epiphany prove short lived?

Find out next time in Sibirskaia Chapter 23: "Casualties of War" Part 1 of 4

Anyway, thanks for reading! I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, add me on skype, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com

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See you around for the final 8 chapters of Sibirskaia!