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My clothes were still just shy away from being drenched when I went to check it the next morning. It hung over a makeshift frame constructed out of wooden stilts at the back of the converted warehouse, overlooking the forest. Sin’s uniform too met a similar fate, though she had extras in her closet to spare.

We ate breakfast on the dinner table in the same spot we’d sat before. The menu on offer was scant but sufficient - some plain toast and milk. I opted for some water instead. I didn’t feel much of a flavourful appetite that early in the morning at a foreign place. The moon was still running the last of its course across the dull, oceanic sky.

I raised the problem to Sin as she was biting down her toast.

The girl then pointed a half-bitten slice of toast towards me, “You didn’t bring any change with you?”

I had to remind her that I came to the town empty-handed, showing her the unzipped jersey jacket and the towel I borrowed from her yesterday.

Sin took a sip from her milk and lowered her mug, revealing a thin, white moustache above her lips, “What’re you gonna do?”

I had to stop myself from choking on my toast, “I-I got an idea.”

Sin didn’t seem to notice, “Hm?”

“Before that,” I regained composure and drank some water to rinse my throat, “You might wanna shave.”

Sin raised a suspicious eyebrow, “Hm?”

The problem solved itself, however, as the girl made a subconscious reach around her lips and made the realisation once contact was made.

“Right,” Sin wiped the back of her palm across her mouth, “What’s that bright idea you got?”

I lowered my cup and pointed it towards the kitchen behind Sin, “What’s the biggest pan you’ve got in the house?”

Five minutes later, I was frying my clothes over a small fire on the stove, barring the oil. I had to wring them as dry as I could before beginning and even so, I still had to dump water from the pan every so often. It’s as if the night had made my clothes wetter, somehow.

Sin came out of her room with a fresh, dry uniform. She was flattening her sweater vest as she walked up to me from behind, “You've done this before, haven't you?"

“Only during rainy days,” I flipped my pants over with a spoon to see if the moist stains were gone, “Try not to fry anything for dinner.”

“Say,” Sin watched me simmer my pants back down on the stove as she attached a hair clip over her bangs, “You want pancakes for dinner?”

I looked to my back with a baffled expression.

Sin was confused by my reaction, “What? You don’t like pancakes?”

I kept my expression intact, “Pancakes. For dinner.”

“I forgot I bought some pancake mix when I checked,” Sin pointed towards the pantry, “It’s gonna expire tomorrow.”

I looked back towards the pan to check on my pants again, “Doesn’t seem like I have a choice, do I?”

“Well, I can just throw it away,” Sin shrugged, “I’ve got some potatoes in the freezer.”

“Why throw it away? You can still use the mix,” I pushed my shirt to the side of the pan to make space for my underwear, which is still soaked, even after I wrung it a couple of times before.

“They put the expiry date there for a reason,” Sin glanced over my side for a look at my clothes.

“They only put it there because the manufacturers’ were forced to,” my pants were already well done at that point, though I left it sitting in the heat still for that extra, crispy texture, “It can survive an apocalypse. You’ll be fine.”

“So which one for dinner,” Sin asked, “Pancakes or potatoes?”

I mulled over the decision as I flipped my shirt to the other side, “Screw it. I’ve never tried pancakes past the afternoon before.”

“Nice, I’ll get some butter on the way home,” Sin whisked away, heading back towards her room, “We leave in ten.”

“Hey, you take a break tonight,” I called towards the girl as she went behind the doorway, “I’ll do the cooking.”

Sin popped her head out from under the curtain, “You will?”

“It’s pancakes. Shouldn’t be that hard,” I reckoned, “See it as thanks for the lodging.”

For that, Sin let out a radiant grin, pushing her dark, freckled cheeks out as she parted her sultry lips.

“I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Then she disappeared behind the curtain once more.

The girl was gone from my sight, but my eyes remained fixed to the doorway. Despite the mild fire cooking over the stove, there was something else warmer that I felt in the air.

 

---

 

My pants were good as new. My shirt still had some moisture left in the collar and the cuffs on the sleeves, but otherwise, it’s in decent condition. My underwear, however, was a disaster. It wasn’t as soaked as it was before it got into the pan, but there was still some heavy work needed to get it dry. Left without options, I had to go commando. I didn’t tell Sin about it; I hung my underwear back over the wooden frame behind the house and got dressed before she came out of her room. Still, when we reunited over the dinner table, prepped and ready to leave, her expression towards me seemed clairvoyant. I could tell, at the very least, that she had a hunch.

I figured my concerns would stop there. So long as I kept my cool throughout the day, no one would notice. I’d just head out to a shop after school and buy some clothes. That would be the end of my problems.

The first class that morning was physical education.

Some already came to class ready, while the others had to head down to their respective changing rooms. I tagged along with the boys, of course. As expected of a small, backwaters farm town, everything was minimal in either quality or quantity, from lockers to benches to showers. Even so, with almost all of the boys in the class present, there were more lockers left vacant than there were occupied. This was when I realised that my class was skewed in terms of sexual representation. I didn’t think of it as a bad thing. As they say, it’s always better to have more fish in the sea.

I felt out of place as the only guy who arrived empty-handed. Since I wasn’t keen on staring at the others, I opted to stare at the wall instead as I sat back bent with my elbows on my thighs. It was an uninteresting yet intriguing wall. It had two encased plaques for some interstate sports competition dating a few decades ago, bearing names that belonged to a bygone era. The school somehow figured it was of good taste to put yellow paint over the boys’ changing room. That brewed a reserved judgement from me about the choice of colour.

“Hey,” a heavy, nasal voice sounded off from behind me, “You’re, uh, Guy, right?”

I turned to my back, though I already knew whose voice it belonged to, mostly because it was one of the two voices willing to speak to me yesterday, “Mank. Class monitor, is it?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Mank the orc was gigantic up close, so much so that he seemed frightening, even with a friendly, underbite smile on his face. It wasn’t apparent in his usual uniform but in his sports attire, his body seemed to be built with bricks. His sleeves rode tight against his giant shoulders. His shorts seemed to be wearing his fat, rigid thighs, instead of the opposite. No matter how trimmed his fangs were, there was no hiding Mank’s natural intimidation. Coupled with a cue-ball head and a pair of fat knuckles bare inches from the ground, I wouldn’t dare imagine being on the orc’s bad side.

“Thanks for the deodorant,” I extended a diplomatic palm towards the orc, “I’ve showered, don’t worry.”

“Oh, no, no,” Mank was eager to return my gesture, though I was caught off guard by his strength, “That was a one-time thing. It didn’t offend you, did it?”

“No, I needed that,” I could feel the thick calluses on his palm pushing against my knuckles, “Need something from me?”

“Nothing, really,” Mank let go of my hand, to my rueful relief, “You mind if I ask something from you?”

I waved my hand across my ears, “Shoot them.”

“What?”

“It means I don’t mind.”

“Right,” the orc brushed his hand against the back of his neck as he sat down beside me, “It doesn’t usually happen but when the class gets a transfer, the monitor gets first notice. You just showed up one day, you know? I mean, I had two weeks’ notice before Yorke showed up.”

“You’re right,” I pushed myself up from my bent, sitting posture, “I did just show up one day.”

Even with a straight back, my sitting height just barely reached under Mank’s chin, “Excuse me?”

I told Mank the story, beginning from the bus to the station to my arrival at the school.

All the orc could muster after I finished, “Woah.”

“Yeah,” I gave the orc a moment to digest.

“So…” Mank was speechless for a second, “So where’d you hail from?”

“Not here, I can tell you that much.”

The orc was still in somewhat disbelief, “No parents with you? No friends?”

I shrugged, “I had money.”

“So you came alone.”

“Yeah, like what I told you,” I made a quick recap to reaffirm my words, “Rode the bus, slept in the station, came to your school; all alone.”

Mank stared at me wide-eyed for a while before moving his gaze down to his feet. He needed a sigh to process what he just heard.

The orc then opened his mouth to speak, held his tongue, looked up in silent thought for a second, then looked back down to me, “Why didn’t you just sleep in the bath-”

“Oi,” a second voice came crying from afar, “Mank! We’re done, let’s bounce.”

The voice was shrill and sharp yet fragile, bringing with it a lingering propensity to crack at any moment. The orc and I turned to our backs to find the changing room vacated, leaving just us two and a lingering occupant.

There an angel stood, his sports attire draping over his frail frame like a towel, his pants a loose waistband away from dropping to his ankles. His body was contrasted at comical effect with his big, flourishing wings; it’s almost as if the latter was a parasite draining the life out of the former.

“Hey…” the angel squinted his clear, sky blue eyes as he drew a skinny finger pointing at me, “You’re that Guy guy, right?”

“Guy,” Mank raised an open palm towards me before drawing it towards the angel, “Yorke.”

I gave Yorke the angel a greeting nod. Like a hat, Yorke reached towards his halo and tipped it downwards, “At your service. Let’s get going.”

Mank pointed a thumb at me, “He’s not changed yet.”

“What,” Yorke raised his shoulders, “Who’s gonna lend him a shirt?”

I made furtive glances at both the angel and the orc, “Don’t think I can get something that fits, now.”

“You’ll live,” Yorke turned away towards the exit and pushed it open, “After you, kids.”

I stood up, “Kids?”

Mank followed behind, “Yorke’s a class behind.”

“I prefer a year older,” the angel kept the door ajar as the orc and I passed before letting the door swing close, catching up to our side.

The school’s construction was as rudimentary as it gets. The walls and ceiling were of bare concrete while hardwood planks made the floors. Any decorative elements came from the posters and bulletin boards that would pop up on occasion over the doors and pillars. The school didn’t bother to shield its primitive status. It’s a government-funded establishment providing elementary education for farm town kids; nothing more, nothing less.

As I followed Mank and Yorke down the hallways, the angel turned to me, “Is your name really Guy?”

“You don’t believe it?”

The angel shrugged, “No offence but I wouldn’t give my son a name like Guy.”

“Yorke,” Mank let out a stern call before directing towards me, “He didn’t mean anything bad, he’s just a bit unfiltered-”

“I’m serious,” Yorke cut the orc off, “I’ll take something like James or Jason or Jack but Guy? Sounds like a shitty spy name.”

Mank was a tad louder this time, “Yorke!”

“No, he’s right,” I waved my hand, “It’s a spy name.”

Both angel and orc swivelled their heads towards me in unison.

 

 

Yorke snorted, “You serious? So what’s your real name?”

“I’d be a shitty spy if I gave you my identity," I said.

“Well, this place ain’t some secret facility,” Yorke nudged his head towards the ceiling, “Over here, you need a real name to have a seat in class.”

“Pardon for asking,” Mank raised his hand as he inquired, “How did you get in class in the first place?”

I shrugged, “I just picked an empty chair.”

Mank shook his head, “I mean, how’d you end up staying? The class teacher took you to the office, right?”

I drew my eyes upwards, rubbing my chin for a moment as if I was in deep thought, “Damn, cat’s out of the bag, huh…”

“What,” Yorke’s interest was piqued, “What’s out of the bag?”

I let out a sigh as I stopped in my tracks, “I promised the miss to keep this a secret but…”

Both Yorke and Mank nearly tripped over themselves as they stopped right before me, staring with bated breath.

“…I’m actually on a covert mission to bust a major underground drug ring at school,” I threw jazz hands over my face, “Your school’s in on the operation. I was sent to the office for my briefing.”

Yorke was clear that he was irked by my response, though Mank, to my surprise, seemed to be halfway convinced of my story.

The orc gazed at me with a gaping mouth, “Really?”

The angel shot a contemptuous leer at Mank, “Are you for real?”

“It’s real, alright,” I nodded with zeal, “They also gave me a flying car and an invisible talking pet chameleon for a partner. Look, it’s on Yorke’s shoulder right now!”

Mank connected the dots soon enough and retracted his jaw, “Well, it’s fine if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“Nah,” I shook my head, “Your teacher just wanted to know who I was.”

Yorke became impatient, “So who the hell are you?”

“A homeless boy in need of some education.”

“What you need is some behavioural reformation,” Yorke sneered.

The black pot was working overtime for free, it seemed, “Anyway, I asked the school to look away for a second. In return, I’ll attend classes, pay out of my pocket, and graduate quietly.”

Mank raised his hand again, “So you’re here unofficially?”

“Off the records,” I nodded, “In and out without a trace, yes.”

Yorke chimed in, “So what’s your backstory?”

“Long story,” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, “Another day.”

Yorke scoffed, resuming his walk down the hallway, “Why? Think it’s cool to be all Mister Mystery?”

“No,” I followed after, “Just not right now.”

“Oh,” Yorke sniggered, “So you won’t trust us with your real name but you’ll trust a girl enough to go home with her?”

“Oh my-” Mank let out a deep, audible gasp, “Yorke, what’s wrong with you?”

“Come on, everyone's been talking about it since yesterday,” the angel snorted, “Bet you Sin’s getting swamped like this too.”

“Why,” I probed further, “She’s dangerous or something?”

“Think about it,” Yorke snapped his fingers at me, “Everyone and their mothers know Sin lives by herself in that giant brick shithole. A guy and a girl alone in a house out in the middle of nowhere. Girl’s bound to do something, right?”

Mank chimed in, “Don’t listen to him, Guy.”

“No, he’s right,” I snickered, “She did something, alright.”

It was Yorke’s time to have a gaping mouth, “No shit?”

“Yeah,” I replied in kind with a shocked face of my own, “Washed my clothes, made me dinner and breakfast, and gave me a roof over my head.”

It took a while before Yorke voiced out, “And? That’s it?”

I showed a face of offence, “How can I ask for more?”

“Huh,” Yorke lowered his voice, “She’s tamer than I thought.”

“She’s always been this proper,” Mank commented, “It’s you with the warped impression.”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Yorke retorted, “Blame that sweet ass she got.”

The orc gave a jaded, annoyed expression, “What did I just say?”

“It’s like an onion; makes me weep,” Yorke lifted his palms and groped the air, “I’d let her have her way with me, no questions asked.”

The angel wasn’t wrong, though I held back from admitting it.

“Hey,” Yorke rubbed his elbow over my shoulder, “How much does it take for us to switch places?”

Mank sighed, “What the hell, Yorke.”

“Yeah, I wanna go there too,” the angel snapped back, “Beats that white purgatory I used to live in.”

I became curious for a moment, “Say, Yorke. What does it look like up there?”

The angel glanced back at me with a puzzled face, “Up there?”

I tripped over my tongue and made a quick correction, “T-That’s what I call heaven. ‘Up there’.”

Yorke snickered, “And what? Do you call hell ‘down there’?”

I played along, “Pretty much.”

The angel stared at me for a while before laughing out loud, “You’re a funny guy, Guy. They ever told you that?”

I shrugged, “Only when I’m hilarious.”

“We’re here,” Mank exclaimed.

Physical Education class took place in the school hall outside in the open air. I refrained from calling it a multipurpose hall because the place was no more than a flat strip of elevated concrete with a wooden lectern and some folding chairs stored against the wall at the far end. From what I can tell, this was a joint class. I was seeing unfamiliar faces among the ones I recognized.

I tried to spot Sin among the group belonging to our class. All I could see were domestic canine beastkins gossiping with one another in one giant pack with a mass of wagging tails. I reckoned some belonged to the other class. The original pack wasn’t as big as this back in the class. I continued my search for Sin. I figured a freckled, dark-skinned girl wouldn’t be hard to spot under a bright, late morning.

As it turned out, it was. I found myself unable to concentrate on anything but that pack of beastkins. There was just something about them that wrecked my focus. I didn’t know what it was. It certainly wasn’t the charming allure. Maybe it’s the rare sight of a giant group consisting of only the same race and species. Maybe it’s all the barking ruckus they were causing that demanded attention, whether willing or not. Whatever it was, I couldn’t pay my mind to anyone else but them.

From among the pack, there was one that stuck out from the rest. Though the beastkins varied in height, this one, in particular, sat on an extreme side of the spectrum. Tan-furred with button ears, she had a whole head and half a torso’s advantage over the second tallest member of the pack. Looking closer, her eyes held a pair of dull, brown pupils and heavy bags beneath as if she’s been missing sleep as of late. She was dressed in the school’s standard sports attire similar to the boys, only with dolphin shorts instead of regular shorts. Her outfit hugged her figure pretty tight, revealing a Junoesque figure with an accented curve over her chest, balanced with a rather bushy, drooping tail bouncing just below her hips. She wore some sort of special shoes reserved to species with her kind of legs; “digitrade” or “digitirade” or whatever it’s called. It had straps running across her ankles, holding the soles against her feet. Her shoes also lacked a toe box, as I noticed. Her lower claws were simply hanging in the open air.

I drew my eyes back up to her face, only to be returned an aggressive glare shooting straight at me. Her surrounding friends too were throwing varying looks at me; none of them was friendly.

Before I could react, a hand suddenly shot out of nowhere, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. Out of reflex, I threw my elbow upwards, slamming it against whoever’s wrist was holding me. I found Mank and Yorke, standing right behind me, with the former raising a retracted forearm against his surprised face.

“Sorry, habits,” I played it off and went about adjusting my collar, “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up with you is what I’m asking,” Yorke walked up to me, throwing an arm over my shoulder as he whispered to me in private, “Hell you doing looking at the dogs?”

I was confused, “Dogs?”

“Yeah, I saw you all googly-eyed at the pack,” Yorke had a degree of concern in his voice, which I didn’t know he had in him, “Is that it? You didn’t do shit with Sin cause’ you’re into beastkins?”

“Why? If you’re thinking of competition, they’re all yours.”

“There are some rumours surrounding them,” Mank explained, “I have my reservations, but I digress. The tales I’ve heard aren’t good.”

I became interested, “What’s the story?”

“Stories. And ‘aren’t good’ doesn’t cut it,” Yorke shook his head, “You could buy rights and make franchises out of them.”

I asked again, “So what’re the stories?”

“It’s a long one,” Yorke replied, “Another day.”

I resigned myself, “Touché.”

“Whatever,” Yorke waved me off, “Word of advice, avoid the tall one. She’s the ringleader.”

“The tall one? Who’s-” I realised, “Oh, the tall one.”

Yorke was sceptical, “You know who I’m talking about?”

“I know. Sin told me her name yesterday,” I tried to remember what the girl told me about her, “It’s… uh… something about lewd or lude-”

“It’s Lüd,” Mank came to my rescue, “With two dots above the Ü. Remember that. Make sure you get it right when she’s around; she’s very particular about it.”

“He won’t need to if he just stays away from her,” Yorke smudged a bony middle finger on my chest, “You got that?”

“Got it, ‘stay away from the tall one, the angel has his eyes on her’,” I snickered, “Loud and clear, Sir.”

“Whatever,” Yorke pushed himself away from me, “Just trust me on this one; you don’t want to be acquainted with her.”

 

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