Beneath Their Masks: Pirate's Life

“Drew, are you awake, sweetie?”

The red fox let out a strange sound that was a mix between a whine and a growl, turning over in bed to face away from the door.

“Drew, get your fluffy tail out of bed and come eat breakfast, I did not wake up at five thirty in the morning to prepare you a full breakfast just so you leave it to get cold and be late to school!”

School… Oh yeah. Dammit… “I’m up,” he whined, pushing himself into a sitting position and stretching as he looked at his clock. It was just past six thirty, meaning he had at least forty-five minutes before Freddy and Goldie would come pick him up. Plenty of time to take a quick shower, minimally-dry his fur, and eat breakfast.

Not in that order, of course.

“Good. Eliza will be calling later, sweetie, before you leave for school. Oh how time flies, a senior…” The lady’s voice faded as she walked down the hall away from Foxy’s door, and Foxy gave a fond roll of his eyes. He slipped out of his warm bed and padded over to the door, slipping out and heading towards the bathroom to take care of his business before joining his mother downstairs.

When he did get downstairs, his mouth began watering; sausage and bacon, toast, an omelette, maple syrup, and a glass of orange juice. I fuckin’ love omelettes! “You’re the best, mom, thanks!” he called to the kitchen where he could hear his overworked but over-loving mother cleaning. Normally he’d do the after-meal cleanup, but he was on a schedule now.

“You’re welcome, Drew!”

Foxy smiled and dropped down into his seat where he promptly poured maple syrup on his omelette and began eating, tail flicking happily. A good breakfast to start a good day! Mmm…

He hummed contentedly as he finished his plate, then he got up and took his dishes to the kitchen. His mother, a pure-white arctic fox, took them from him before he could do anything and she silenced his protests with a simple, “Go take your shower, you overslept again.”

Foxy just shrugged. There was no arguing with Felicia Jones, after all. With that, he said, “Thanks again, mom, it was awesome!” before turning around and rushing upstairs to grab a change of clothes and get his shower.

Unlike most of his friends, Foxy didn’t use shower time to reflect or dawdle. He didn’t sing, he didn’t relax, nothing like that. No, that was what baths were for, so when he turned the water on and stepped in, he immediately got to work on sufficiently soaking his fur and scrubbing the shampoo-soap into it. Therefore, it took him less than ten minutes to shower and jump out, towel-drying his fur and following up with a brief blow-dry and brush. His fur was still damp as he dressed but that was alright, he’d survive. He wasn’t like Freddy, needing his fur to be absolutely perfectly dry, but he also wasn’t like Goldie, willing to walk out into the elements with soaked fur.

“Drew, Eliza’s calling!”

“Foxy,” he muttered to himself before dashing out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He (politely, of course) took the phone from his mother. “Mama!” he greeted happily.

“Hey, Foxy hun,” the lady on the other side greeted happily. A quick calculation put the time where she was around noon. “So today’s a big day for you! First day of senior year, how about that?”

“Ah, ya know, it’s just like every other year… except senior trip!” he cheered, sharing a grin with Mrs. F Jones. “I can’t wait to know where we’re goin’!”

“Well, that’s not until April,” Eliza Jones laughed from the other end. “You have at least eight months until then, but there’s still New York this New Years! Did you invite your friends?”

“Yeah, they said they’ll talk to their parents about it when they can.”

“Well if their parents would like to come to, the more the merrier,” Mrs. E Jones told him and Foxy could practically hear the smile in her voice. “Make it like our Japan trip three years ago!”

“Awesome, I’ll be sure to tell them today when I see them!” Foxy said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He loved how close his and his friends’ families were; full-fledged family vacations. It was almost like having more than two parents, almost like having siblings. It was fun and filled with hilarious disasters and love and care- all the things that defined family in Foxy’s eyes.

“You do that. Oh- sweetie, I gotta go, Mr. Gyles wants to continue the shoot now. Have a great first day of school and I’ll call you later, you’ll need to tell me all about it. And remember, there’s always room for more!”

Foxy rolled his eyes at that last statement. Room for more what? He had everything he needed already; two loving mothers, four amazing friends, and three other amazing families who may as well have been his too. “I know. Love you, mama!”

“Love you too, and tell Felicia I can’t wait to see her next week!”

“Right! Goodbye and good luck!” Foxy hung up the phone. “Mama says she can’t wait to see you but Mr. Gyles wants to continue the shoot,” he told his mother as he handed the phone back.

“Of course,” Mrs. F Jones laughed, shaking her head and setting the phone in its cradle. “Go on, now, get your stuff and put your shoes on, your friends will be here any minute now.”

“Right-o, mom!”

Walking into third period was like walking into a good dream that was ruined because of one face you spot in a crowd of friends. Only for him it was five faces, laughing about something that was probably incredibly stupid.

He ignored the laughing friends as he dropped down in the desk to the left of Bonnie, turning around to look at the bear brothers behind him and the chicken in the desk next to them.

“Relax,” Freddy was saying. “It won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, I think art’ll be an easy A. But damn, gym- that teacher was rude as hell,” Goldie complained with a frown. “That warm-up is brutal and the teacher didn’t even care that a kid started having an asthma attack? Like geez, poor kid could’ve died.”

Foxy frowned as he thought about their gym class. He didn’t know the other involved students’ names- he thought one of them was Zeke something-or-other but he wasn’t sure- but the gym teacher had forced them even on the first day to go through a warm up and one kid in class began having trouble breathing. The teacher had claimed that “excuses like that don’t work, I need a doctor’s note to let you leave” and refused to let the student go to the nurse or to their bag in the locker room.

Needless to say, things quickly got out of hand and, in the end, Zeke-maybe-it-was-Bryan grabbed his friend and walked out and potentially saved his friend’s life, and that gym teacher would probably end up fired… and it was only the first day of school.

“Well, at least his friend was willing to just walk out with him, a good friend to have,” Freddy was saying. “I wonder what goes on in this class.”

Well that was certainly a subject changer and Foxy almost mentioned it, but he chose to instead look at the board. Advanced Senior Science. Yeah, what did that mean…

“Who knows,” the rabbit beside him said. “That definitely isn’t chemistry.”

“Looks like chemistry will be part of it, though,” Chica finally said. Blinking, Foxy turned to look at her and followed her gaze to the lab stations in the back. True to her words, there was chemistry setups on each station.

The bear twins turned back to look at them as Bonnie said, “Yeah. So who’s gonna be whose partner this year?”

Foxy almost laughed at that and shared an amused grin with Chica as Freddy answered, “Whoever you want. It’s not like I’ll be choosin’, ya know.”

“I call dibs on Freddy,” Goldie jokingly claimed, grinning as Foxy and the others burst out laughing. There was never any question about who Freddy and Goldie would be partnering with, after all. “But hey,” Goldie continued once they had calmed down, looking around the room, “looks like the other people in class are… uh… people none of us get along with… huh.”

Foxy turned to look around the room, frowning as he realized Goldie was right. There was literally no one else in the classroom that they got along with or could claim to be friends with.

There were the five “unpopular” students, though unpopular didn’t even really begin to describe them. Unpopular people were on the bottom rungs of the social ladder; these guys weren’t even on the ladder. They had all leapt right off of it sometime during elementary or middle school, a while before anyone else even realized there was a ladder at all. They were so separated and disinterested in everything around them, they only ever focused on each other. The most they did that showed awareness of their surroundings was they spoke quietly and always stayed separate from the rest of the student body; they hardly ever even looked around and when they did they instantly began whispering to each other, and by the lack of snickering and giggling it was clearly not a gossip ring. They were so separate from the rest of the school that the school bullies wouldn’t even approach them and no rumours could be made about them. The only time there had been a rumour about any of them and someone finally got their attention long enough to ask them about it, they hadn’t even realized there was a rumour in the first place.

And then they said and did nothing to prove or disprove it.

With a small scowl, Foxy’s gaze moved on towards the humans in the class. One of them, dressed in all black, gazed silently out the window; he hated the Fazcrew’s guts. The other three were all girls; two of them were whispering and giggling together. They also highly disliked Foxy and his friends, calling them bullies even though Foxy was sure they had never bullied anyone. The third girl was as silent as the boy, but she was writing instead of gazing into the sky. She hated Foxy in particular- something about something he did in middle school, though he wasn’t sure just what he did.

So, yeah. We’re screwed.

“Alright then, settle down class,” an unfamiliar voice cut through his thoughts and he turned in his seat to look towards the speaker. He blinked as his gaze landed on green hair and excited blue eyes; who was this? “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher,” the man said and Foxy grinned slightly. This is our teacher? Brilliant! “This year, things will be different.”

Different… how? Foxy wondered, frowning up at his teacher. It’s a weird amalgamation of science classes, right? Yeah, I’d say that’s different.

“In the past,” Dr. Schmidt continued, “I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.” He exchanged a glance with Bonnie, frowning. He could see where this was going. “So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”

Yep.

Well yeah, that was different. He frowned; at least one of them would be with someone they either hated or who hated them. Nice, Dr. Schmidt. Real nice.

“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners.” Cool, you know how to torture teens. “I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long.” Yep, you’re a torture master, aren’t’cha doctor? I got’cha figured out. “You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well.” No duh, three days a week for fifty minutes each ain’t enough time to get all this shit done.

Foxy’s frown deepened and he glanced at the rabbit beside him again as he shifted in his seat, then turned his gaze back to Dr. Schmidt. The man had picked up a clipboard and made a few marks on the page.

“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone. And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.” Slowly, Foxy got up from his seat and moved to follow his friends, his black bag hitched up on his shoulder. He stood a bit in front of Freddy, eyes trained on their pacing teacher. Abruptly, Dr. Schmidt stopped pacing and whirled around to look at them with a large smile on his face. “Alright now! First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”

Both rabbits hissed and Foxy frowned towards Bonnie in sympathy, though the rabbit’s gaze was focused now on the glaring blue rabbit. He watched the two of them approach the desks Bonnie and himself had occupied less than five minutes before, Bonnie taking the seat on the left rather than the right.

Foxy smirked.

“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.”

The two silent humans chose the back seats next to the window but Foxy paid them no mind.

“Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.” Neither bear said anything or gave any complaint, though Fischbach lagged before following Freddy to the seats two rows behind the rabbits. Foxy knew why that gap was left for; it was reserved for Freddy’s brother. “Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.” He didn’t recognize the first name, to be honest, but the last name clued him in to who his partner was and he growled, glaring towards the white and pink fox before stalking over to the middle-row desks, beside the gap Freddy had left for Goldie.

Of fucking course I’d get stuck with Blanc. And Vivien? I guess Blanc really is a girl after all.

He dropped down in his seat and barely glanced aside as Blanc sat down in the seat next to him, their yellow eyes trained on the wall. They didn’t acknowledge Foxy; good.

“Leah Stuart and Jackie James.”

I hope for Goldie and Chica’s sakes they get each other, he thought as he watched the two friends claim the front-row seat beside the window.

His hopes were quickly dashed as Dr. Schmidt said, “Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”

He sighed and watched the golden bear sit down next to him, the rabbit sitting down much more hesitantly on his other side. It briefly occurred to him that, with Blanc on his left, it was the most separated and disjointed he had ever seen the smaller Animals.

“Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain,” Dr. Schmidt finished, though the chickens were already taking a seat in front of them. Foxy noticed the white fox next to him seemed to relax. He hadn’t even realized they were tense.

In front of him, Bonnie leaned over to Chica and whispered, “This blows.” He silently agreed.

“Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please.” Even though it was directed at the blue rabbit, Bonnie still straightened up, not wanting to get called out as well. “Now, I know all of you know each other,” Foxy almost snorted right along with Goldie, “but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you.” Obviously. “So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.” Brilliant, get to know the idiot next to you!

Foxy obediently took the paper from Chica and looked down at the page, disinterested. He honestly had no interest in knowing any of this.

My New Lab Partner!

Name:
Nickname(s):
DOB:
Places You’ve Lived:
Future Plans:
Interests/Hobbies:
Favourite Colour:
Favourite Band/Musician:
Phone #
    Cell:
    Landline:

It was standard but it still irritated him. He wrote down the name Vivian Blanc.

“It’s I-E-N,” a voice snarled from next to him. He wouldn’t admit that it actually startled him as he glanced up with his best bored expression. The fox’s head was turned slightly towards him, which Foxy found bizarre but didn’t question. Maybe she’s too dumb to realize she can just glance at me.

“Same difference,” he said with a sneer. “What’s your nickname, Blanc?” he added, wanting to get this done as soon as possible.

“Mangle,” the other fox huffed in answer.

“Stupid name, Vivien is so much better,” Foxy snarked. He watched as the other fox’s yellow eyes narrowed at the page; clearly they were thinking something.

“And Foxy is oh so original,” the returned venomously. “September third, ‘98.”

It took Foxy a moment to realize that the other was answering the next question. “Better than Mangle. Sounds like you were in a goddamned car crash or somethin’,” Foxy snorted, noting down the date.

“Just give me your birth date, jackass.” Foxy rolled his eyes. Polite.

“January twenty-sixth, 1999,” he told them.

“Thank you,” the other fox muttered, causing Foxy to pause. He was sure the other hadn’t meant to say that- it had been an automatic response. “Only other place I’ve lived has been Lourmarin.”

What? “Excuse me?” Foxy voiced, looking at his partner in bewilderment. Do you expect me to know what the fuck that is or how it’s spelled?! Apparently noticing his confusion, the fox turned to look at him with their brow scrunched up, confused by his confusion.

“What?”

“Can you speak English, please?” He wasn’t sure why he added the word please; it wasn’t a polite statement at all, considering he knew damn well that it wasn’t English and couldn’t be said in English.

“Lourmarin is a village in France so no, I can’t, ya jackass,” Blanc informed them sarcastically. Foxy narrowed his eyes at them.

“Well at least spell it, asshole.”

Blanc rolled their eyes before they began, very slowly, “L-O-U-R-M-A-R-I-N.” Foxy wrote it down as they spelled it, his irritation growing with every syllable spoken. “You could have just put France, jerkass.” Well that’s a new one.

“Shut up, shithead. I’ve lived in Sacramento and Wrens,” he told them.

“Wrens?” He got that a lot.

“Georgia,” was his simple response.

“Ah.” Foxy had a feeling the fox was holding something back. “I dunno what the hell I’m doing next.”

Well that was a strange declaration. “Does that mean undecided?” he questioned. It was silent for several moments. He looked over at the white and pink fox and saw them staring in the opposite direction, towards the window. “Hello? He-llo?” Had it been Goldie or one of the others he would have poked them, but he was not about to touch Blanc. “Hey! Are you even listening, mangey mutt?!”

That seemed to get the fox’s attention as they turned back to look at him, fire in their eyes. “Did you just call me mangey?” they asked, their voice dangerously low, and suddenly Foxy was thinking that this fox was actually maybe a guy. He decided not to voice it. Maybe "it" is better for this freak.

“Yes, I did,” he snarled right back. “It’s much better than Mangle, don’t’cha think?”

The other fox stared at him and Foxy could clearly see in their eyes that they were thinking about just decking him. Come on, mutt, I dare ya. Maybe we’ll get different partners if you do and it’ll give me a reason to bash your head against the fucking wall. However, they didn’t; instead, they took a deep, calming breath, something that Freddy always advised Foxy to do when he got angry.

He watched as the fox’s hand suddenly jerked up towards their own throat, as if to touch something there, but then they simply readjusted the neck part of their turtleneck tanktop. Why are you even wearing that in August, idiot?

It was a suspicious motion and he eyed their hand suspiciously as they allowed it to drop back on the desk. It made a strange sound against the wood but he couldn't place why. “If you would kindly repeat what you said, I would appreciate it,” Blanc gritted out, their tone making the polite words obsolete.

“I said,” Foxy growled, eyes narrowed, “does that mean undecided?”

“Obviously. And I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be somewhat observant.” Somewhat; they never said anything “incriminating” within earshot of anyone else, after all.

“Just tell me your future plans so we can move on, jackass,” Blanc huffed, turning away back to their paper.

“Creative with the nicknames,” Foxy sarcastically complimented. “Bernard University in Mount Yond. For history and music.” He watched as Blanc noted these down, frowning at the hand. Something seemed… off about it, when he really looked at it. “And my hobbies and interests are videogames, history, music, and pirates.”

“Makeup, music, and the ocean,” Blanc droned, glancing up at him. So you do know how to glance at people. “Favourite colour’s pink.”

“Never would’a guessed,” he sneered, writing it down. Actually, he wouldn’t have guessed that; the fox wasn’t wearing pink at all. They were wearing red and black.

“Fuck you,” he heard Blanc mutter beside him. He was tempted to twist that around on them but chose not to, instead simply ignoring it.

“Pirate Jo,” Foxy said instead, glancing down at the next line on the questionnaire. He fully expected the fox to make a comment but surprisingly, they didn’t.

“Johnny Lovre.” Who the hell is Johnny Lovre? He didn’t ask, instead writing down the fox’s answer. They fell into a tense silence, Foxy’s eyes trained on the phone number line. I so don’t want this fucker to have my number.

“Might want to get each other’s numbers, I have a habit of changing due dates. You’ll need to be able to make last-minute meetings,” Dr. Schmidt warned them as he walked past. Foxy frowned and glared at Blanc, finding that the white fox was already glaring at him. They held the glare for a while before, at nearly the exact same moment, they broke eye contact and turned their attention back to their own papers.

“223 346-9882,” Blanc finally said. From the corner of his eye Foxy saw them shrug, as if they didn’t really care one way or the other.

“346-9023.” Foxy frowned and added, “If you know what’s best for ya, ya won’t call.”

“Same to you,” Blanc replied, but something about their tone told Foxy there was something they weren’t saying. Again. “Don’t be surprised if I don’t pick up.”

Not like I’ll be calling you anyway, Foxy thought, glaring at the white fox as they turned to look out the window. He watched as, thoughtlessly, they lifted their hand again and rubbed their chest, as though something there ached. He watched them silently as they seemed to leave reality behind, their hand dropping away from their chest and resting on the desk.

After several moments, he turned his gaze away. He wasn’t sure when his glare faded but something didn’t seem... right. His partner was very… aloof, to say the least. Something isn’t right but it’s none of my business.

He looked towards his friends. Bonnie seemed bothered by something, his hands fidgeting against the desk, but Foxy couldn’t see his expression as he was still watching the blue rabbit. Freddy had a sharp frown on his face and his blue eyes were distant, clearly in thought. Goldie looked plain bored and, in front of himself, Chica just stared towards the whiteboard, leaning against her hand.

Several tense, silent seconds passed before he let his head drop down against his desk.

I’m so bored.

My New Lab Partner!

Name: Vivian Blanc
Nickname(s): Mangle
DOB: 11/3/98
Places You’ve Lived: Lourmarin (France)
Future Plans: Undecided
Interests/Hobbies: Makeup, music, the sea
Favourite Colour: Pink
Favourite Band/Musician: Johnny Lovre
Phone #
    Cell: (223) 346-9882
    Landline: