Waterways (47 page)

Nick punched Kory’s arm. “Cut it out.”

Kory feigned injury, grabbing his arm where Nick had hit it and moaning, “Oh, ow, I think it’s broken!” He held it out to Samaki. “Make sure it’s okay?”

The fox extended a black paw and took Kory’s arm, feeling along it with the other paw. “Feels fine to me. Maybe just some bruising.”

Kory met Samaki’s smile and didn’t say anything. The touch of the soft fingers on his arm evoked memories and feelings, warming his inside as the sun was heating up his fur. He wanted to tell the fox he was sorry for everything, even knowing that wouldn’t solve the argument, but he could see understanding in the violet eyes, more beautiful in the sunlight than he’d ever seen them, and he knew he didn’t need to speak the words.

“Guys?” Nick said.

Malaya shushed him. “They’re having a moment.”

“Oh.”

Samaki released Kory’s arm, and grinned at them. “It’s okay. We’re done now.”

“Row three,” Mr. Pena called. Behind him, Bill Farley, a scruffy coyote who was the school’s reigning stoner, got up on stage with his mother. He’d put on a pair of circular purple glasses, and when a few of his friends yelled, “Farley wasted!” he broke into a wide, sleepy grin and held up two fingers in the peace sign, leaving them up through all three flashes. His mother, tall and narrow, kept a paw on his shoulder, looking fixedly off into the distance, and didn’t protest.

“Comb your fur,” Malaya said.

Kory stuck his tongue out at her and mussed up the fur between his ears deliberately. “She can make me pose with her, but she can’t make me look good.”

Samaki eyed Kory. “You can’t make yourself look bad, is the problem.”

“Hey, I’m not…” He grinned at the fox, feeling the warmth rise to the back of his neck again. “Only way I look bad is standing next to you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Malaya said, as Nick grabbed Kory’s paw and said, “Come on.”

“We’ll meet you on the other side of the stage,” Samaki said. “Look pretty.”

“Fat chance.” Kory wandered toward Mr. Pena’s right, where the rest of his row was milling around. He took his spot in line, looking at the back of Xilly Grace and wondering if he might be lucky enough to get up on stage and have his photo taken before his mother showed up.

He saw movement on the periphery of his vision and knew it was her from the scent. She stood beside him without a word. They watched the family of foxes get their pictures taken, and then Xilly and her father and brothers walked up the short wooden steps and arranged themselves, a happy family of smiling cougars. On the other side of the stage, a small knot of students led by Flora had gathered, cheering each student as his or her picture was taken. The rest of the sea of fur dotted with eggplant robes seemed mostly indifferent.

“Congratulations,” his mother said tightly.

Kory just nodded, not sure of what to say. His mother went on. “I’m glad to see you in church. Alone. I wish it were every week.”

“It is,” Kory said. “Just not there every week.” He pondered whether to antagonize her further by telling her he sometimes went to Samaki’s church, decided it was pointless.

“Better than nothing.”

The first flash came from the stage. “You don’t have to be in this picture,” Kory said. “I’m fine by myself.”

“I raised you and put you through this school,” his mother said.

He saw the movement of her head, and noticed the Jeffersons nearby, and Sal’s parents. It didn’t make any sense to him that the Jeffersons were here. The wolves had three daughters, all grown and off to college. Then Mr. Jefferson waved to him, and Kory understood that they were here to see him. Unreasonable anger rose in his chest. After kicking him out of the house, his mother was showing him off like a trophy.

He remembered Father Joe’s words: forgiveness should depend not on her actions, but on your heart. Well, Kory’s heart was not very forgiving at the moment.

His mother seemed to read his mood. “All you have to do is act polite for five minutes. Not even that.” Following the third flash, Xilly and her family descended the other side of the stage, leaving it empty.

“Kory Hedley,” Mr. Pena said. The short, rotund chipmunk behind the camera waved them onto the stage, crouching behind his camera again.

Kory followed his mother up onto the stage. On the opposite side, he saw Samaki, and Malaya, and wondered why Nick wasn’t with them. Just the two of them, he thought, and then Nick came charging up the stairs behind him.

“Nicholas, where’s your suit?” his mother said sharply.

“In the car.”

The Jeffersons were smiling at them. Two more of his mother’s friends from church stood beside them, raising cameras to take their own pictures. Flora and her crowd of cheerleaders said, “K-O-R-Y, yay, Kory!” Malaya looked bored. Samaki looked… 

“Go and get it right now.”

The chipmunk raised his head. “Ma’am, we don’t have time, there are other families waiting.”

Kory met Samaki’s eyes. The fox smiled, gave him a thumbs up, and looked away. “I’m terribly sorry,” his mother was saying. “I didn’t know he was going to leave it there. It’ll just be five minutes. Nicholas, go.”

“Ma’am, would you mind stepping aside so another family can get their photos taken?”

Mr. Pena stepped in at this point. “Wait, I have to make sure the order’s correct on the sheet.” He looked reproachfully at Kory.

It’s not my fault, Kory wanted to tell him. My mother has this obsession with looking good. But he remained quiet as they stepped down off the stage and let Zoe Hemmecher and her parents, grandmother, and four younger siblings all bounce up onto the stage, long ears waving.

Three flashes. Nick came back, jamming his fists into the arms of his jacket. His mother brushed down the fur between his ears, straightened the jacket, and then stood back to look at him. She sighed and turned to Kory, reaching out a paw to touch his robe. He brushed it away, surprising himself with the quickness of his reaction.

Her eyes widened and nostrils flared for a moment, and then she turned to the stage. “Fine. Look however you want.”

She and Nick strode up onto the stage, and after a moment, Kory followed them. Her words rang in his head.

The chipmunk went through his litany with the definite weariness of someone who knows he has another seventy or so to get through. “Okay, everyone, nice pose. Kory, you want to get in front here?”

His mother grabbed his arm, shoved him forward. Flora and her friends weren’t cheering, but he could hear them talking: “that’s Kory, we already did him.” Beside them, Samaki and Malaya were smiling. “So what,” Flora was saying, “let’s do it again.”

She got her friends going again, with a cheer of “K-O-R-Y!” Someone else on stage was saying something, and the photographer was giving them some instructions, but Kory kept hearing other voices in his head, drowning everything else out.

“It felt like you sent it out into the world to find me.”

“I’m just figuring things out.”

“Nobody else knows what’s best for you.”

“You kept me on track.”

“I love you.”

“Look however you want.”

“I love you.”

Nick, now, was tugging at his robes. “Kory.”

He looked around. The photographer said, “Finally. Please look at the camera, nice smile.”

To their left, Geoff Hill and his family were waiting to get onto the stage. The raccoon’s father, as big and burly as he was, laughed at something Geoff had said. To the right of the stage, Samaki’s muzzle was tilted very slightly. Everything melted away around that one face, that look that he knew well: the fox had seen that something was bothering him and wanted to ask what. In that moment he felt suspended, floating in time, as though the world were holding its breath and waiting for him to make a decision.

“Kory,” the chipmunk said with more exasperation. “Camera’s here. Nice smile. Think about no more school!”

But of course, there would be more school, in the fall. Forester University, and Samaki, and Kory realized that Beverly Anderson had it wrong. They hadn’t just crossed the ocean; they had only just arrived at it. The ocean was what lay ahead of them, the wide unknown. None of them knew what awaited them on the other side, or how many would even complete the journey. They didn’t know how long it would take, or in fact have any but the barest idea how to cross it at all. What Kory knew, the only thing he knew for sure and certain, was who he wanted to be at his side when he crossed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, scrambling to his right and down the stairs. “I’ll be right back.” His mother yelled his name, the photographer choked off a curse, but all he heard was the pounding of his feet on the stairs and his heart in his chest.

He stopped in front of Samaki, panting from the exertion. The fox’s violet eyes widened, his ears lying back. “What’s the matter?”

Kory reached for his paw. “Come on.”

“That’s for your family,” Samaki said. He pulled his paw gently away. Flora and her friends were watching, but Kory ignored them.

“That’s for the people who are important to me.”

“Nobody else brought a girlfriend or boyfriend up,” the fox pointed out.

Kory put his paws on his hips. “So now you’re worried about what other people are doing?”

He saw the startled laughter before Samaki repressed it. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do this. Nobody else got kicked out of their home, or had to deal with Jeremy and Malaya, or had to figure out where to go to college without their parents. You think my mother cares whether I graduate?”

“She’s there on stage,” Samaki said.

“And you guys didn’t have to ‘deal with me’,” Malaya chimed in, glaring.

“She just wants to look good for her friends.”

Samaki nodded. “Just go back up and take the picture. We’ll take our own after.”

Kory hesitated only a moment. “No.”

“Don’t do this just to get back at her.”

Kory shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about her. Please.” He took the fox’s paw again.

Behind him, he heard Flora and one of her friends both say, “Go on up!” and “Get in the picture.” Their support heartened him, cinched his resolve. Samaki was still wavering.

“If you don’t,” Kory said, “then I’m not getting my picture taken.”

“You really want this?” Samaki asked. His voice, soft, matched the shine in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Kory didn’t know how else to say it. He tugged at the black paw, and this time, the fox followed him.

His mother had, of course, watched the whole thing, and when Kory stepped back onto the stage with Samaki a step behind him, she had her paws on her hips. “Kory James Hedley,” she said, “this photo is family only.”

“Really,” Kory said. “Then it should just be me and Nick, shouldn’t it?”

“He,” she jabbed at the fox, over his shoulder, “is not part of our family.”

“I remember you telling me I wasn’t part of your family anymore, either,” Kory said. “Doesn’t that mean you’re not part of mine?”

She leaned close, hissing, “You have always been a willful, ungrateful brat. But I will get this picture, and I will not have it ruined by that…”

Her voice trailed off. “By that what, Mom?” Kory asked, putting a sarcastic accent on the last word. Behind her, he could see the Hills and the family behind them watching avidly. “By that fox? By that friend of mine? Or did you have another f-word in mind?”

“If you have any decency,” she said, and it took Kory a moment to notice that she was looking up at Samaki, “you will leave the stage right now.”

“Kory…” Samaki said apologetically.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Kory said. “If anyone is leaving, it’s her.”

“I raised you for eighteen years…”

“Seventeen and a half,” Kory said. “And then you decided you didn’t want me any more. Just like Dad.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him. I stayed behind when he left…”

“Maybe you should’ve let me go with him,” Kory said. His heart pounded.

She glared at him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look this furious, even on the night she’d told him to get out. Her eyes were narrowed, ears flat back against her head, and the line of her mouth was a slash of rage. “If I had known how you would turn out, I would have.”

Kory let the responses bubble to the surface of his mind and swallowed them all. He walked past her, beckoned Samaki to his side, and posed. “Samaki’s in the picture with me and Nick.” He looked straight ahead at the camera, and smiled.

The fox did not look comfortable at all, but he managed a smile. Nick crept around to the other side of Kory, stealing awed glances up at his brother, his smile a mechanical fixture on his muzzle. The chipmunk ducked back behind the camera. Kory felt his mother’s breathing behind him, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that the Jeffersons were whispering to each other. They weren’t alone. The sea of students and parents that had been largely ignoring the stage were now mostly focused on it, at least as far out as he could see.

Flash. He blocked out the sight and focused on the camera. “One more,” the photographer said, “big smiles everyone.” He must have been saying it out of habit. Kory couldn’t imagine that his mother was smiling, but the chipmunk didn’t call her out as he had Kory.

Another flash. “Okay, last one coming up, almost done. Just hold still, biggest smile because you’re done with these in three… two… one…”

Flash. The afterimages had barely started to clear before the chipmunk was yelling, “Next!”

Kory followed Samaki down the stairs and heard Nick behind him. Malaya was there, and so was Flora, to Kory’s surprise. He was only vaguely aware that his mother had not come down on their side of the stage before Flora was slapping him on the shoulder.

“So
cool, Kory,” the skunk said, grinning up at him. “You rock.”

“Thanks,” he said.

Malaya couldn’t quite hide her disdain for the perky skunk. “You got balls, I’ll say that.”

“The way you told her off…” Flora beamed. “So romantic.”

“You heard?” Kory felt his face flush.

Malaya cut in. “Not everything, but it was pretty obvious what was going on. She took off the other side of the stage like her tail was on fire soon as the last flash went off.”