Perhaps because of Raymond, for nearly two months after starting first grade, almost none of the other children spoke to Kevin.
He’d assumed children had short memories, forgetful as they were, but Raymond’s “lingering influence” proved remarkably persistent.
It left him stranded alone in the corner like a potted plant nobody remembered to water, wilting through two entire months.
Those two months were unbearably dull.
What could you possibly learn in first grade?
Every day was either eating or playing.
In this era before smartphones had taken over, life was as bland as plain boiled water especially in first grade with nobody to talk to.
At two in the afternoon, the final bell rang on the dot.
Dozens of school buses lined up in a long convoy, slowly rolling out through the school gates.
Some children were picked up by the buses, while others waited for their parents to collect them, Kevin belonged to the latter group.
Five minutes after the buses left, a flood of parents poured through the school gates.
Giraffes craned their long necks high above the crowd.
Hippos squeezed their broad bodies through the corridors.
The heavy footsteps of large animals mingled with chatter and laughter, and the whole school instantly burst into life.
Kevin sat at his desk, a copy of the Financial Times spread out before him, two ice cubes tucked into his mouth.
His furry paw clutched a larger piece of ice, melting water trickling between his fingers and soaking half his paw.
He crunched the ice idly, but his gaze drifted emptily across the newspaper’s columns.
“Kevin, your guardian is here.” The antelope teacher handed the sign-in sheet to Raymond.
Every pickup required a signature before the child could leave.
“Let’s go, Kevin.” “Okay.” He swallowed the remaining ice chips in his mouth, tossed the chunk in his paw into the trash, wiped his wet paw haphazardly on his clothes, hoisted his backpack, and trotted out quickly.
He didn’t want to stay a second longer than necessary.
Every extra moment was agony.
Even though he found the whole routine utterly perfunctory, he still had to go through the motions.
Kevin straightened his back, stood tall, and recited in a serious, practiced tone: “I listened well in class today, did what the teacher said, finished my homework, and got along well with my friends.” “You say that every time.” Raymond looked down at the little wolf putting on such a proper front and finally couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing.
The laughter echoed through the corridor, drawing glances from a few nearby parents.
Suddenly aware that he’d laughed too openly, he rubbed his face and forced his smile back down.
To maintain his imposing, aloof polar bear image, he schooled his features back into their usual stern, expressionless mask.
Kevin was long used to this.
All these big polar bears were like that, always keeping a straight face, each one a master of the deadpan.
Raymond picked up Kevin’s backpack and walked ahead, with Kevin trailing behind.
The size difference between them was enormous; for every two steps Raymond took, Kevin had to do a little jog to keep up.
The biggest hassle was the sheer number of parents, especially the giraffes and hippos and all the other large animals, crowding ahead like moving walls that completely blocked Kevin’s view.
“Raymond,” Kevin tugged at his pants, “carry me.” Raymond understood immediately.
Without a word, he bent down, grabbed Kevin by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, and hoisted him up onto his shoulders.
Kevin unceremoniously grabbed hold of Raymond’s ears, clamping his legs around his neck like he was piloting a giant battle mech.
The view opened up instantly.
Except for the tallest giraffes, almost nothing could block his sight.
Just as he was getting lost in the thrill of “piloting a mech,” a scene ahead suddenly caught his attention.
“Nick!
Nick!
Mommy’s over here!” A red fox wearing a sun hat raised her paw, waving toward someone in the distance.
The name “Nick” wasn’t exactly rare, but a fox named Nick?
That made him pay attention.
“Mom, I’m here!” Responding to her was an incredibly little fox kit.
Big eyes, fluffy pointed ears tipped with black, the tip of his tail white.
He wore the third grade uniform, a smile beaming across his face as he waved back at his mother with all his might, his little tail wagging like a flag in the wind.
A red fox.
Nick?
‘Wait a minute, Nick Wilde is three years older than me.
Could this really be that fox?’ Kevin blinked and studied him more closely.
This little Nick was actually half a head shorter than him.
Of course, Nick was a fox, and Kevin was a wolf.
They weren’t even in the same weight class.
He remembered that Nick’s father ran a tailor shop, and this fox mother before him seemed gentle and warm, clearly both parents doted on their child and wanted to give him a good education.
Kevin simply couldn’t reconcile this lively kit with the disheveled, smooth-talking old con artist from the movies.
Kevin patted Raymond’s face and pointed in Nick’s direction.
“Over there, that fox.
He’s my…
uh, friend.
Yeah, my friend.” Raymond raised an eyebrow, asked nothing, and changed course toward the pair of foxes.
Little Nick, with his backpack still on, scampered over and threw himself into his mother’s arms.
She took his backpack off, slung it over her shoulder, and ruffled his head.
“Your dad bought salmon today.” “Great!
I want Mom’s salmon soup!” Nick’s tail wagged joyfully, his eyes curving into little crescent moons.
Mother and son were about to leave hand in hand when a massive shadow loomed over them… A polar bear of staggering size, and a little white wolf in a school uniform, stood silently before them.
Seeing Raymond’s cold expression, Nick’s mother’s first thought was: her son had gotten into trouble, and the other parent had come to confront them.
Nick was startled too, instinctively shrinking back behind his mother’s tail, peeking out with just half his head, his eyes warily watching the giant before him.
“Um…
hello, I’m Nick’s mother.” The woman’s voice trembled slightly, but she stood her ground and instinctively shielded her son behind her, it was a mother’s instinct.
Raymond said nothing, just stood there silently looking down at the two foxes.
The longer his silence stretched, the heavier the pressure, as if the very air had frozen.
Finally, Kevin got his lines straight.
“Nick Wilde?” Hearing his name called, Nick mumbled quietly, but because he was behind his mother’s tail, his voice came out muffled.
“You…
you’re looking for me?” ‘Holy crap.
It actually is him.’ Kevin was overjoyed.
The star fox from the animated movies was right in front of him.
“Nick, we played together just yesterday, and you’ve already forgotten?” “Huh?
Me…
I did?” The fox pointed at himself, bewildered, when had they ever met?
“Don’t be scared.
This is Raymond.
He’s a good bear.” Without waiting for permission, Kevin grabbed him from behind his mother’s tail, threw one arm around his shoulder, and flashed a peace sign with his other paw, shouting at Raymond: “Raymond, take our picture!” Raymond, who had been nonchalantly trimming his claws nearby, nodded silently, pulled a small camera from his pocket, and, click… A pivotal photo was captured forever: in the frame, the little wolf grinned triumphantly, showing off a row of perfectly white teeth.
The little fox, meanwhile, bit his lower lip, brows slightly furrowed, staring at the camera with a timid, confused look.
Seeing Kevin act so warmly familiar, like greeting an old friend, Nick’s mother finally relaxed.
She sighed in relief, offered a gentle smile, and gave a small, cautious nod toward Raymond in greeting.
But Raymond didn’t respond to her.
He just patted Kevin’s shoulder and tapped the watch on his wrist, signaling that time was getting late.
“Okay, see you next time!” Kevin gave Nick’s head a vigorous rub, messing up the soft fur on top into a tousled mess, like a patch of grass flattened by the wind.
Then he dusted off his paws, turned with a flourish, and followed Raymond away with long strides.
Once the wolf and bear had disappeared into the distance, Nick’s mother pulled a little brush from her bag and gently smoothed her son’s fur while softly remarking: “I didn’t expect my Nick to make friends with a first grader.” Her tone carried a hint of pride, but also a faint, almost imperceptible ache.
After all, they were foxes, creatures labeled by others as “sly” and “deceitful.” Yet that little white wolf and his polar bear guardian hadn’t spared them a single judgmental glance.
“Ah…
yeah…” Nick was still dazed.
No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t figure out when they’d ever met.