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Fox 003: Still a Fox
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[AN: This is the third in the Fox Tale series. Please read them in order.]
[Creative property of Lady Quindecim]
Part Three: Still a Fox
The look she was giving me was somewhere between surprise and confusion. Eyebrows raised, eyes bright and round, head tilted just a bit and her tiny mouth was in this little, almost "o" for a moment, hanging there, before finally, "What?"
"Your hair... it has... ears." It clearly, I could see now, did not have ears. It was messy and pushed up at angles and the light just kinda played with it just so. The messenger bag she had slung over one shoulder had a flap and trim that gave a vague impression.... no, I was just silly and wrong. She looked at me with growing uncertainty, mouth tightening in to thin line. I try and recover the moment, "Never mind. Jet-lag."
The girl nodded. "Fox," she held out her hand.
"Yeah..."
"Well Foxtrot, but no one calls me that," Still holding out her hand.
"Oh!" I take her hand numbly. "Chole."
"Yeah." She tries to flatten her hair down a bit.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, word spreads," she said with an odd sort of resignation in her tone.
I still looked confused and Fox pointed to the wall behind me.
There was like a shrine, almost, in the trophy case. Awards, trophies, plaques, and portraits all framing a large, near-life-sized photo of their hero, Cole Johnson. I had wondered if, based on the shrine to the guy, perhaps there was some tragic death that earned him this exalted recognition, but no. According to the signs, he simply graduated some three years sooner and went off to the state university.
I take a step closer to the glass-fronted case to get a better look at the star athlete. Shifting my gaze to my reflection, I look at my long, curly blond hair, bright blue eyes (which are currently squinted in scrutiny,) fair skin, rosy cheeks, full pink lips. At least we look nothing alike, aside from hair and eye colour, and rosy cheeks and full, pouty lips. I mean, his pale just looks healthy while mine looks.... pasty.
Conversation turns me back around to see Fox and 'Melvin' standing, facing each other. Fox's slender arm is reaching out like she was going to shake his hand stiffly, theatrically, from a far away as her reach would permit. I tried to replay the sounds I had been tuning out to see if they were words, and was pleased.
"Fait avec mon livre?" The French stood out, harsh, or rather, sharp but welcome to my ears.
"Uh, Yeah."
"Said it was good, eh?"
"Uh, Yeah."
"Can I have it back?"
"Uh, yeah, it is, uh... just right..."
When he finished fumbling in the bag over his shoulder, he produced the borrowed book and presented it, outreached, permitting me a view of the cover.
"The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us."
They both turned their heads to look at me as if they had forgotten I was even there. I don't know why I said it and felt stupid for the intrusion.
"Huh... She can read too." Fox, now in possession of her book, strode the hall towards the exit door.
"Uh, she's okay." 'Melvin' said as he meant to follow, but I don't know just which of us he was trying to assure was 'Okay' or to whom the comment was made. Maybe it was only meant for himself.
Nevertheless, I headed for the exit as well in renewed pursuit of food. It was bright and sunny, but the air was chill and the breeze cold. I pulled my coat closer around my chest. From the upper landing just outside those doors that had known so freaking many passers-through, I could see burger places, sandwich shops, pizza parlors, regular sit-down restaurants, and what looked like should have been a snow-cone stand or photo booth, but sold hot-dogs, sausages, fries and the like.
To my surprise, Fox and 'Melvin' were still there on the landing, surveying their options as well. It was like the 'Melvin' kid said, people just ate wherever they wanted.
Fox pointed across the street to some little bistro-looking place. "That's where your kind go."
I was stunned beyond words. I was hurt, shocked, angry, scared, lost and confused all at the same time and I think my mouth was hanging open, waiting to be given instruction on what to say.
Before I realized she had moved, she was gone leaving me with 'Melvin' standing there looking up at me. "What?"
"Don't mind her, it's just that all the good-looking and popular people go there."
I could not make out just what 'Melvin' meant, so, "So she was joking?"
"What? No. That and it was Cole's place. Not like, he owned it or anything, just that it was like he owned the place, except that he didn't like, really own it."
"Fine, I get it," she saw that 'Melvin' had a sack lunch in his hand. "By the way, what's your name so I can quit calling you 'Melvin'?"
"You didn't call me 'Melvin'?"
"Mmm... no, but,..." I trailed off.
"Oh, I'm Sam. Sam Wise." But he did not offer his hand.
"Really? Samwise?" I asked, sure he was having a laugh at me.
"Yeah, really. Well, Sam. Why?" He looked honestly clueless.
"Never mind. See you round, hobbit."
I headed down the stairs and crossed the street to a bakery, hoping for just a raspberry muffin or something. The crowd at the counter was thinning, but the tables were fairly full. A couple of girls were signing to each other and I thought even sign language would have been infinitely more interesting that German. I worked my way to the display case and someone asked, "and what do you want?"
"Mmm," still trying to spot my preference, "Raspberry muffin?"
"Out. There is some raspberry danish, but it has like, cheese and stuff. Your kind don't really go for that."
I look up and Fox is looking at me from behind the counter. How she got there, I was going to have to figure out later. "Just what does 'my kind' have to do with danishes?"
"It's just that they go straight to your butt."
"My kind does what?!"
Fox's brow frowned. "What? No, the cheese."
"So you think my butt is big."
"No, it's nice," her eyebrows shot up in some kind of apparent surprise. "I mean, all the girls with their diets and watching everything they eat."
"What about you, you could use a curve or two."
"I eat. I just have a high metabolism or something."
"I'll have a salad and some water."
"Thought so."
"Only because you made me self conscious."
"Yeah... right." she said with a smirk.
I looked at the smirk appraising its meaning and coming up blank, unsure of the enigmatic girl's thoughts and just what "my kind" was to her. "Fine. Scratch that." The only people who had come in after me were being helped by others behind the counter. "Cheese danish, brownie, and a tea - with cream and honey."
She quickly handed me the sweets and an insulated cup mostly full of hot tea as she reported my total with a grin.
"Cream and honey are over there with the lids." She looked like she was about to burst with laughter and bit her lower lip. I wished I had not seen that gesture, it kinda makes me tingle inside.
I swiped my card on the reader and validated with perhaps more vigor than was strictly necessary. Then I shoved my hand in a pocket on my pants and pulled out a bill. I didn't look as I dropped it in the tip bin and collected my things, hoping it was just a one spot, maybe five, but please don't let it be something absurd like a twenty.
[You have been reading the third installment of the Fox Tale Series by Lady Quindecim.]
[If you received this text from a source other that DeviantArt, please let the author know via e-mail to lady.quindecim@gmail.com]
[I hope you have enjoyed this installment]
[Creative property of Lady Quindecim]
Part Three: Still a Fox
The look she was giving me was somewhere between surprise and confusion. Eyebrows raised, eyes bright and round, head tilted just a bit and her tiny mouth was in this little, almost "o" for a moment, hanging there, before finally, "What?"
"Your hair... it has... ears." It clearly, I could see now, did not have ears. It was messy and pushed up at angles and the light just kinda played with it just so. The messenger bag she had slung over one shoulder had a flap and trim that gave a vague impression.... no, I was just silly and wrong. She looked at me with growing uncertainty, mouth tightening in to thin line. I try and recover the moment, "Never mind. Jet-lag."
The girl nodded. "Fox," she held out her hand.
"Yeah..."
"Well Foxtrot, but no one calls me that," Still holding out her hand.
"Oh!" I take her hand numbly. "Chole."
"Yeah." She tries to flatten her hair down a bit.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, word spreads," she said with an odd sort of resignation in her tone.
I still looked confused and Fox pointed to the wall behind me.
There was like a shrine, almost, in the trophy case. Awards, trophies, plaques, and portraits all framing a large, near-life-sized photo of their hero, Cole Johnson. I had wondered if, based on the shrine to the guy, perhaps there was some tragic death that earned him this exalted recognition, but no. According to the signs, he simply graduated some three years sooner and went off to the state university.
I take a step closer to the glass-fronted case to get a better look at the star athlete. Shifting my gaze to my reflection, I look at my long, curly blond hair, bright blue eyes (which are currently squinted in scrutiny,) fair skin, rosy cheeks, full pink lips. At least we look nothing alike, aside from hair and eye colour, and rosy cheeks and full, pouty lips. I mean, his pale just looks healthy while mine looks.... pasty.
Conversation turns me back around to see Fox and 'Melvin' standing, facing each other. Fox's slender arm is reaching out like she was going to shake his hand stiffly, theatrically, from a far away as her reach would permit. I tried to replay the sounds I had been tuning out to see if they were words, and was pleased.
"Fait avec mon livre?" The French stood out, harsh, or rather, sharp but welcome to my ears.
"Uh, Yeah."
"Said it was good, eh?"
"Uh, Yeah."
"Can I have it back?"
"Uh, yeah, it is, uh... just right..."
When he finished fumbling in the bag over his shoulder, he produced the borrowed book and presented it, outreached, permitting me a view of the cover.
"The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us."
They both turned their heads to look at me as if they had forgotten I was even there. I don't know why I said it and felt stupid for the intrusion.
"Huh... She can read too." Fox, now in possession of her book, strode the hall towards the exit door.
"Uh, she's okay." 'Melvin' said as he meant to follow, but I don't know just which of us he was trying to assure was 'Okay' or to whom the comment was made. Maybe it was only meant for himself.
Nevertheless, I headed for the exit as well in renewed pursuit of food. It was bright and sunny, but the air was chill and the breeze cold. I pulled my coat closer around my chest. From the upper landing just outside those doors that had known so freaking many passers-through, I could see burger places, sandwich shops, pizza parlors, regular sit-down restaurants, and what looked like should have been a snow-cone stand or photo booth, but sold hot-dogs, sausages, fries and the like.
To my surprise, Fox and 'Melvin' were still there on the landing, surveying their options as well. It was like the 'Melvin' kid said, people just ate wherever they wanted.
Fox pointed across the street to some little bistro-looking place. "That's where your kind go."
I was stunned beyond words. I was hurt, shocked, angry, scared, lost and confused all at the same time and I think my mouth was hanging open, waiting to be given instruction on what to say.
Before I realized she had moved, she was gone leaving me with 'Melvin' standing there looking up at me. "What?"
"Don't mind her, it's just that all the good-looking and popular people go there."
I could not make out just what 'Melvin' meant, so, "So she was joking?"
"What? No. That and it was Cole's place. Not like, he owned it or anything, just that it was like he owned the place, except that he didn't like, really own it."
"Fine, I get it," she saw that 'Melvin' had a sack lunch in his hand. "By the way, what's your name so I can quit calling you 'Melvin'?"
"You didn't call me 'Melvin'?"
"Mmm... no, but,..." I trailed off.
"Oh, I'm Sam. Sam Wise." But he did not offer his hand.
"Really? Samwise?" I asked, sure he was having a laugh at me.
"Yeah, really. Well, Sam. Why?" He looked honestly clueless.
"Never mind. See you round, hobbit."
I headed down the stairs and crossed the street to a bakery, hoping for just a raspberry muffin or something. The crowd at the counter was thinning, but the tables were fairly full. A couple of girls were signing to each other and I thought even sign language would have been infinitely more interesting that German. I worked my way to the display case and someone asked, "and what do you want?"
"Mmm," still trying to spot my preference, "Raspberry muffin?"
"Out. There is some raspberry danish, but it has like, cheese and stuff. Your kind don't really go for that."
I look up and Fox is looking at me from behind the counter. How she got there, I was going to have to figure out later. "Just what does 'my kind' have to do with danishes?"
"It's just that they go straight to your butt."
"My kind does what?!"
Fox's brow frowned. "What? No, the cheese."
"So you think my butt is big."
"No, it's nice," her eyebrows shot up in some kind of apparent surprise. "I mean, all the girls with their diets and watching everything they eat."
"What about you, you could use a curve or two."
"I eat. I just have a high metabolism or something."
"I'll have a salad and some water."
"Thought so."
"Only because you made me self conscious."
"Yeah... right." she said with a smirk.
I looked at the smirk appraising its meaning and coming up blank, unsure of the enigmatic girl's thoughts and just what "my kind" was to her. "Fine. Scratch that." The only people who had come in after me were being helped by others behind the counter. "Cheese danish, brownie, and a tea - with cream and honey."
She quickly handed me the sweets and an insulated cup mostly full of hot tea as she reported my total with a grin.
"Cream and honey are over there with the lids." She looked like she was about to burst with laughter and bit her lower lip. I wished I had not seen that gesture, it kinda makes me tingle inside.
I swiped my card on the reader and validated with perhaps more vigor than was strictly necessary. Then I shoved my hand in a pocket on my pants and pulled out a bill. I didn't look as I dropped it in the tip bin and collected my things, hoping it was just a one spot, maybe five, but please don't let it be something absurd like a twenty.
[You have been reading the third installment of the Fox Tale Series by Lady Quindecim.]
[If you received this text from a source other that DeviantArt, please let the author know via e-mail to lady.quindecim@gmail.com]
[I hope you have enjoyed this installment]
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Silly Chole, that wasn't a /real/ fox, but she is a fox!
If this is the firs one you are reading, by all means please stop and read the first one first, then proceed in order.
Part One: Arrival → [link] ←
Part Two: Foxy Lady → [link] ←
Part Three: Still a Fox → You are Here ←
Part Four: Fellowship of the Fox → [link] ←
If this is the firs one you are reading, by all means please stop and read the first one first, then proceed in order.
Part One: Arrival → [link] ←
Part Two: Foxy Lady → [link] ←
Part Three: Still a Fox → You are Here ←
Part Four: Fellowship of the Fox → [link] ←
Comments4
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Haha love the interaction!
And to think I thought Chole might have been disfigured in some way but quite the opposite!
Beauty can be a curse...
As for fox her blunt attitude won me over..
Love the ending totally made me laugh
And to think I thought Chole might have been disfigured in some way but quite the opposite!
Beauty can be a curse...
As for fox her blunt attitude won me over..
Love the ending totally made me laugh