A few young punks with spray paint cans were busy defacing the wall when the low growl of an engine rumbled behind them.
They spun around, startled.
A sleek black sedan had pulled up smoothly to the curb.
Without a second thought, they grabbed their cans and bolted, disappearing around the street corner in a blur of panic.
The car door clicked open.
Nick scrambled out on his short legs and made a beeline for the tailor shop, not once looking back.
Nick’s mother, however, barely reacted, just a soft sigh escaping her lips as her gaze settled on the fresh graffiti.
The light in her eyes dimmed, inch by inch.
She’d seen this scene too many times to count.
Kevin stepped out of the car behind her and stood before a tailor shop that had never once made it onto the silver screen.
This little shop had held nearly all of Nick’s childhood.
The wall, now covered in garish new spray paint, also bore a faint, layered grime beneath, old stains crudely painted over, evidence that this wall had been a target more than once.
A hand-painted wooden sign hung on the shop door: “CLOSED.” Nick’s father wasn’t home.
Nick’s mother thanked Kevin and Raymond, fished out her keys, and unlocked the door.
Kevin walked in with Raymond at his side.
The shop was more spacious than it appeared from outside.
A few finished garments hung on high racks, while a large wooden worktable held a half-sewn piece of clothing, a needle still lodged in the fabric.
Bolts of fabric were stacked neatly in the corner, each resting on moisture-proof mats, everything tidy and orderly, a world away from the chaos outside.
As they entered, Nick was wiping his eyes, clutching a small tin bucket.
Hearing footsteps, he hastily covered his face with his arm, refusing to let his friends see him cry, his mother had said he was a big boy now.
“Nick.” Kevin called out, pointing at the wild graffiti outside.
“That spray paint won’t come off with just water, you know.” He made a subtle money-rubbing gesture toward Raymond.
Raymond nodded and pulled three crisp hundred-dollar bills from the leather wallet inside his coat.
Nick’s mother saw this and immediately waved her hands.
“No, no, we can’t trouble you like this.” Her family couldn’t earn that much in two whole days.
“It’s fine.
It’s my allowance,” Kevin said, grabbing the cash and pulling Nick toward the door.
Raymond said nothing, just signaled to the three polar bears at the entrance with a glance.
The polar bears understood.
One stayed behind in the shop.
The other two followed Raymond at a leisurely pace, keeping close to the two young ones.
Across the street from the tailor shop sat a small general store.
The owner was an old zebra in a faded white undershirt, sprawled across the counter, tongue lolling out as he panted toward a fan that whirred lazily, stirring the thick, sticky afternoon air.
A few other young animals were inside, a hippo, two sheep, a pair of zebra twins, and a beaver.
They were all bigger than Nick, especially the hippo, a fleshy mountain of a kid in a bright yellow T-shirt stretched to its limit.
Around eleven or twelve, he was clearly the neighborhood ringleader.
His name was Hank.
The two sheep were sisters, Lily and Lulu.
The zebra twins were Zack and Zoe, and the beaver was Henry, who always trailed at the back of the pack.
They spotted Nick and Kevin the moment they walked in.
“Hey, Nick!
Fancy seeing you here,” Hank boomed, his tone carrying that condescending, teasing edge Nick knew all too well.
Nick flashed a stiff grin, rows of small white teeth on display, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, it was a reflex, a shield.
“Hey, everyone!” he chirped quickly, tugging Kevin past them toward the counter.
“Nick, aren’t they your friends?” Kevin murmured, low enough for only the fox to hear.
He’d caught the discomfort written all over Nick’s face.
“Uh…
I…
I’ll tell you later,” Nick whispered back, barely audible.
Before he could say another word, heavy footsteps thudded toward them.
The hippo had bounded over, his gang swarming around them in a loose circle.
“Hey, Nick.
Is this your new friend?” Hank demanded, not waiting for an answer.
He threw a thick, chubby arm around Nick and clamped him under his armpit.
Nick squirmed, his little face puffing up, but the arm was like an iron band.
Kevin saw it in an instant, Nick knew these kids, and he wanted nothing to do with them.
Though Kevin was tall for his age, the eleven-year-old hippo still towered over him.
“Nick and I are here to buy paint.
We’ll hang out another time,” Kevin said.
With a sharp yank, he pulled Nick free from Hank’s grip.
He scrambled onto the stool at the counter and slapped the three hundred-dollar bills flat on the surface, fixing the zebra owner with a steady look.
“Pink and red.
I’ll take all of it.” The zebra owner, who’d been half-comatose in front of the fan, snapped to attention at the sight of those crisp bills.
He didn’t question how a young wolf pup had that kind of cash, he just pocketed the money, ducked into the back, and came out with armloads of paint cans and bottles, packing them up in record time.
Three hundred bucks was no small fortune.
“Let’s go.” Kevin grabbed the paint and took Nick’s hand.
But they’d barely taken a step when Hank and the zebra twins, Zack and Zoe, slid into their path.
“C’mon, let’s have some fun.
We wanna play with paint too, don’t we, Nick?” Hank sneered, but his eyes were locked on Kevin.
“Move.” Kevin shoved Zack aside without a second thought.
The zebra twin’s face twisted, ready to snap back, until he met Kevin’s cold wolf stare.
His courage evaporated on the spot.
He shrank back, intimidated.
Hank watched this white wolf pup brush past him without so much as a glance, and his fat face contorted with barely contained fury.
Little punk.
He was the king of this neighborhood.
Who did this brat think he was?
“Let’s go,” Hank growled, jerking his head at his gang.
Lily, Lulu, and Henry followed reluctantly, trailing at a distance as they shadowed Nick and Kevin’s every move.
Raymond and the two polar bears had been waiting outside the entire time.
They’d seen the commotion through the window and didn’t think much of it.
Still, their eyes never strayed from Kevin.
Nick and Kevin returned to the tailor shop with their paint cans.
They crouched by the wall and began painstakingly covering the garish graffiti with matching base colors.
The patched areas didn’t blend perfectly with the original wall, but compared to the chaos from before, it was a vast improvement.
For the higher spots, Raymond and one of the polar bears lent a hand, the other stayed close to Kevin.
By the time they finished, both Nick and Kevin had paint smeared across their paws.
Nick looked up at the restored wall, then turned to the little wolf beside him.
A genuine smile broke across his face, bright and unguarded.
“Thank you, Kevin.” “You’re welcome.” Kevin watched the fox’s eyes crinkle with happiness, and a quiet warmth settled in his chest.
He hoped this small gesture could patch up some of the cracks left on Nick’s young heart.
Seeing her son smile again, Nick’s mother’s eyes softened.
She brought out a plate of fresh-cut fruit from the kitchen and offered it to Raymond and the others.
The polar bears politely shook their heads, professional discipline.
“Thank you, Auntie,” Kevin said, taking a piece of apple and biting down with a crisp crunch.
They’d painted everything they could reach.
The rest was left to the adults.
Nick stood under the big tree in front of the shop, hopping and waving at Kevin.
“Kevin, do you want to try the swing?” He pointed up at the old swing hanging from a sturdy branch, the ropes worn smooth from years of use, but the wooden seat was still solid.
“Of course.” Kevin trotted over and stood in the dappled shade, gazing at the swing.
A strange pang hit him.
A swing…
He hadn’t been on one since he was very small.
After he started university, he never touched one again.
He missed it.
“Sit down!
I’ll push you!” Nick offered eagerly, his tail wagging gently behind him.
“Then I won’t hold back.” Kevin settled onto the board.
It was a bit wide; he had to stretch his arms straight to grip both ropes.
Nick pressed his little paws against Kevin’s back and gave a gentle shove.
The swing swayed softly, back and forth.
Kevin closed his eyes, letting the rhythm carry him, soaking in the fleeting, weightless pleasure.
Nick was focused entirely on pushing, his tongue poking out in concentration… A heavy force slammed into him from the side.
He stumbled hard and hit the ground, landing flat on his backside.
Hank the hippo had shoved Nick aside.
Before Kevin could even process what was happening, Hank swung his thick arm and delivered a brutal shove to Kevin’s back.
Kevin’s eyes snapped open.
His hands slipped off the ropes, and he flew off the swing, face-first into the grass, his mouth smacking into mud and grass clippings.
His snow-white fur was streaked with dirt, his clothes caked in soil.