A Fox's Love (American Kitsune Book 1)

by Brandon Varnell

He also hoped to God that she wasn't causing any trouble. The last thing he wanted was to come home and find some kind of disaster in the works.

  The bell soon rang, signaling an end to class. As everyone began leaving, Ms. Vis reminded them that any work they had not completed in class was homework and due tomorrow. Those who did not complete their assignments and turn them in on time would get a failing grade for said assignment. Kevin could have sworn she was looking at him when she said this, but he played it off as his imagination. He had never failed to turn in an assignment on time and wasn't about to start now, thank you very much.

  Kevin's class after his morning math class―why they made math the first class in the morning was beyond him, most of his peers were still half asleep at that time―was French.

  A lot of people wondered why he bothered taking French when they didn't live anywhere near France. Eric in particular thought it was stupid, since they lived just a few hours drive from Mexico, but Kevin had his reasons for taking French instead of Spanish.

  To put it simply, he already knew a good deal of French. Since his mom spent a lot of time in France for her job, she had been forced to pick up the language, and since she learned French, Kevin did as well by association. That meant he could coast along on his laurels in that class and still maintain a high grade.

  Lazy? Some people would say that, but Kevin liked to think of it as an intelligent decision with the purpose of decreasing his workload so he could put more effort into his other classes. Why go through all the trouble and time of learning another language for high school credit when he could take a class where he already knew the language, gain the credits and not spend several hours each week doing the work?

  Because very few people took French, the class was quite small. Where a normal class would consist of anywhere from twenty to twenty-five people and sometimes even thirty and over, this class only contained a grand total of twelve. That made it very easy for Kevin to memorize the names of all the people in his class. It helped that he'd had to partner up with all of them at least once last year.

  While he wouldn't consider any of the people in his class friends, he did get along with all of them to some degree or another. Well, except for the girls, but that is so obvious by this point in the story it really shouldn't need mentioning.

  His teacher for the class was a rather airy woman by the name Madam Bonnet, which was ironic because the teacher in question was always wearing a bonnet. Always. He had never seen her take it off, not even once.

  Madam Bonnet was a middle aged woman with black hair that had shots of gray in it and bluish gray eyes. She was tall and willowy, with the personality of someone whose mind was always very far away. Even the way her eyes were constantly shifting seemed to denote that she wasn't really all there. Kevin and the other students all thought she was a very odd woman.

  Still, she made French class interesting. Madam Bonnet had an unusual method of teaching and, more often than not, her method involved the students in her class embarrassing themselves by getting in front of everyone and making a presentation of some kind. Sometimes she would bring in cooking supplies and have them make foods found in France, then give both a lecture and assign a written report on the food they made. Other times she would have them do skits from various French plays. One time she even made someone transpose and sing a song. Now that had just been embarrassing. Kevin had felt bad for the girl who had been forced to do that.

  Whatever it was she had them do, they always had to speak in French. No English at all. As in, none whatsoever. If they made even one comment in English, she would deduct points from their overall grade.

  On this particular day, she had them work in pairs and told them to write a poem about a specific area in France. It could be a province, a city, a historically significant building or a national landmark. Kevin had been paired up with a rather skinny kid with glasses and shaggy black hair named Nathan Luculen. He was a very intelligent kid, one of those students who had a GPA that was over 4.0. He was taking all honors and AP classes and would likely go on to become a nuclear physicist, a neuro surgeon or some equally impressive and rewarding career.

  Kevin wouldn't say he was friends with the other boy, but they got along well enough. It probably helped that he wasn't the type of person to judge another because of their deficiencies or strange personality quirks (and really, with his girl problem, Kevin had no right to judge others for their oddities), unlike a good deal of athletes who, for some reason or another, enjoyed picking on those who were less athletically inclined than themselves, including Nathan who had no athletic abilities whatsoever.

  The region of France they had chosen was Nora-Pas-De-Calais, an area of France that was bordered by the English Channel. The only trouble they really had was coming up with the right words to describe the region in a way that sounded poetic. Neither of them were the artsy type. Nathan was studious and kind of nerdy and Kevin, while fairly intelligent and good at French, was a jock, not a poet. He had no artistic abilities to speak of. Still, they did manage to scrounge something together that Madame Bonnet approved, and really, that was all that mattered in the end.

  After French, Kevin had Physics followed by Social Science. He wasn't the best in either class, but he still maintained above average grades in both. He had managed to maintain an “A” average in Physics while he only had a “B” in Social Science.

  The only reason he didn't have an “A” in that class was because of a test he had not done as well on due to having not studied as much as he should have in favor of track practice. Still, even with that small black mark, he was one of the better students in class.

  Neither class was all that appealing to him, but they would look good on his transcript when he applied for a college. Most people would probably think it highly unusual to find a kid his age who was actually thinking ahead, but that's just what happens when someone grows up to be pretty much independent of their parent due to how often she was gone. Granted, it wasn't like he was actually looking into colleges at the moment, but he was at least thinking about his future, which was more than most high school sophomores could say.

  As the bell rang in Social Science class, Kevin could barely keep the sigh of relief from escaping him as he hauled butt out of there. Social Science was boring enough as it was, but his teacher, one Professor Nibui, an old Japanese man who spoke in a thick accent that made understanding him difficult, only added to how dull the class was. It was like the man had never heard of the word “fun” before in his life. He was pretty much the antithesis of all things lively.

  In other words, he could put the dead to sleep.

  Then again, most teachers were like that, so it wasn't like he was alone.

  Hmm. Thinking about it, maybe he should ask his Social Science professor if he knew anything about Japanese Mythology, and Kitsune in particular. He was Japanese, right? So he had to know something. And it would definitely be good to know more about his apartment's new... tenant. The only reason Kevin even knew what a Kitsune was in the first place was because of all the anime he watched.

  Anime, the breaker of all boundaries and social clicks.

  Deciding to think on the merits of speaking with Professor Nibui later, Kevin made his way to his next class, gym, which he shared with Eric and a few of the acquaintances he knew on the Track team. It was, quite expectantly, his favorite class of the day. There was nothing like working up a good sweat by throwing dodge balls, shooting hoops or exercising in the weight room to clear the mind, never mind the fact that he couldn't shoot a basketball to save his life.

  It was the principle of the act that mattered.

  Turning a corner as he made his way to the locker rooms, Kevin suddenly found himself falling to the ground as something hard and unyielding smashed into him with enough force to make his body spin like a top. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as he rubbed his sore shoulder where he had been hit. Dear sweet God, what the heck ran into him!? A brick wall!?

  "Yo
u'd better watch where you're walking, shitstain!"

  Blinking as the rough, snarling voice reached his ears, Kevin found himself staring at the pair of black sneakers that were in his view. He followed the shoes up to a pair of the most disgustingly hairy legs he had ever seen, quickly bypassing them to see a pair of black shorts, a white T-shirt that was stretched across a beefy chest and finally to the vicious looking, bulldog-like face of none other than Chris Fleischer.

  Kevin paled. Chris Fleischer was a Junior who just so happened to be the vice-captain of the school's wrestling team. He likely would have been captain, but had been cited for poor sportsmanship during last years tournament. Built like a brick shit house and with a smell to match, he was the boy that everyone else, even Seniors avoided at all costs.

  And he, Kevin, had just run into him.

  Not good. This was so not good! Chris was the kind of person who enjoyed beating on those smaller than him for no other reason than because he could! Even looking at him the wrong way could lead to a smack down of epic proportions!

  In short, Kevin was screwed.

  "I-I'm sorry," Kevin tried to apologize as he made to stand up. Maybe if he prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness, he would be spared. It was a long shot, but it was all he had. He didn't want to get beaten to a pulp like the last person who pissed this guy off.

  Chris decided to help him up by grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him off his feet so they were at eye level with each other. Kevin's feet hung limply in the air and his hands went to the thick, hairy wrist that was clutching the neckline of his shirt tightly.

  Frightened blue irises stared into angry black. The older boy was so close Kevin could smell his putrid breath as it was panted into his face. He felt his throat constrict as his instincts told him there was something dangerous about the older boy and that if he didn't run away right now, he might never get another chance.

  “I don't wanna hear your sorry excuses, pussy!" Chris snarled at him like a rabid dog. "You'd better watch yourself from now on or I'll... I'll..." Kevin blinked when the boy trailed off. He blinked again when the older boy started sniffing the air around him. What the heck? "That smell..."

  "Kevin!"

  If he had not been trying very hard to keep from acting in a manner that would be considered unmanly (in other words, he was trying to keep from relieving his bladder), Kevin would have cried in sweet relief as Eric and a few other students came into view. He was saved! Not even Chris would be stupid enough to do anything when there was a crowd full of witnesses! Right?

  "Tch," Chris' hand released it's grip on Kevin's shirt. Because of how high up he was being held (Chris was over six feet tall, really tall for a Junior and way taller than Kevin), the younger boy fell to the ground and landed on his backside, hard.

  The sophomore track and field runner winced a little as pain lanced up his tail bone and worked its way up like electricity going through a wire, but he was too thankful at no longer being subject to the Junior's glare (as well as his horrid smelling breath) to complain about his sore bottom.

  "You'd better watch who you hang out with, shitstain, or I'm really gonna fuck you up the next time we meet.”

  With that last vague threat hanging ominously in the air, Chris stalked off, but not before tossing a glare at all of the people who had found them before the situation could get out of hand. Many took a step back at that glare, and even more flinched.

  The group parted like the red sea as Chris made his way through them, shoulder shoving a good number of students out of the way when they didn't move fast enough, including Eric, who complained loudly at being pushed around.

  Fortunately, Kevin's friend didn't have to worry about Chris trying to harm him, since his dad was the Principle. He could complain all he wanted.

  "What the hell was that about?" asked Eric as he moved over to help Kevin out.

  "How should I know?" Kevin groused as he let his best friend help him to his feet. He dusted himself off, then let out the breath he had been holding in relief. That had been too close. "Thanks."

  "Not a problem," Eric grinned before shaking his head. "Seriously though, what the hell? I know Chris is a jerk ass and everything, but I didn't think he would mess with someone who's on a school sports team. It's one thing to mess with nerds and those loner kids, no one cares about them, but he could get himself expelled if it got out hat he was messing with one of the track team's star runners."

  It was not surprising that Eric knew how the school worked, with his father being the Principal and all. What was surprising was to hear him actually mention it. He didn't really like anything that had to do with rules and regulations or even school in general. It probably had something to do with the fact that Eric kept getting into trouble with his dad when the girls caught him trying to install cameras in their locker room.

  Or when he got caught trying to peep on them through the ceiling.

  Or when he hid himself in one of the girls lockers.

  Or that one time he tried dressing up like a girl and changing with them.

  Eric was a very depraved person.

  Kevin didn't really like how his friend spoke of the kids that Chris normally bullied, but couldn't disagree with his words either. Chris normally picked on the kids who either wouldn't say anything about his bullying anyways, or the ones that no one would believe even if they did say something. It was one thing to beat on those kids. It was quite another to beat on someone who was not only a good student, but also on one of the school's sports teams.

  The school loved their sports teams. They were the pride of any school.

  "I'm not the star of anything," Kevin frowned. Eric scoffed.

  "My sexy, perverted ass you're not. Who was it that managed to break the record for the fastest 100 meter dash recorded in the history of this school? Because it sure as hell wasn't David Longsan."

  "That doesn't mean anything," Kevin argued as they entered the gym locker room and walked over to their lockers. After twisting the dial through the combination and opening the locker, he began pulling out his gym clothes. “I've only gotten that time once, and you're forgetting that Chase almost managed to match my time. Besides, I haven't hit that time since my first try-out last year.”

  Eric sighed exasperatedly as he followed suit. "I don't know if you're just being modest or if you actually believe the crap coming out of your mouth." He shook his head, disgruntled. "What's worse is that you don't even use your position as the star of the 100 and 200 meter dash to gain any privileges with the ladies. If I was a star runner like you, you can be sure I would've used my stardom to bag myself a hottie like Caitlin Fairchild first chance I got."

  Kevin rolled his eyes and contained his desire to release a long suffering sigh as Eric went into a rant about the hot, senior captain of the cheerleading squad and all of the things he would like to do to her. Some of those things made Kevin's face feel like it had been stuck in a furnace. He didn't even know if some of the acts his best friend was talking about were humanly possible.

  And he really didn't need to know about his friends fantasy involving rubbing oil, chocolate sauce and several sets of whips and chains

  No, really. Don't ask. You don't want to know either.

  As he did his best to block out Eric's lecherous ranting, his thoughts turned to his confrontation with Chris.

  Of course, calling it a confrontation would imply that Kevin actually stood up for himself. In truth, he had been too frightened to do anything. The older boy scared him witless.

  Thinking back on his almost-beat-down at the hands of the wrestling vice-captain, Kevin remembered the boy's words. He had told Kevin to “watch who he hung out with.” What did he mean by that?

  Shrugging his curiosity off for now, Kevin finished getting dressed and followed his friend out of the room. It was probably just the older boy's way of trying to frighten him or something, though it was a strange way of doing so. Regardless, class was starting and he didn't want t
o think about his near death experience when he felt he should be enjoying his time working up a good sweat.

  Kevin exaggerates a lot.

  Chapter 8: An Embarrassing Night

  After a long day of school followed by an equally long practice for track, Kevin found himself riding his bike home. The sun hadn't quite begun to set, but it was starting to go down. It wouldn't be long now before the sky started to lose its color.

  As Kevin pedaled his bike along the darkening street his mind turned to a subject that he had been dreading to think about, namely, what he would find when he finally got back to his apartment. He wasn't sure what to expect when he reached his home, but he hoped it would be a nice, clean place, and not a disaster in the making. He didn't want to find his apartment looking like a Level Five Hurricane had run through it.

  He also prayed that the girl was still fully clothed ― at least insomuch as could be expected, considering she only had his shirts to wear. The last thing he needed was to come home and find a naked fox-girl prancing around his apartment. Definitely not.

  Not that he had much hope. In all the manga he read that started similarly to this story the Main Hero always came home to find the Main Heroine running around in the buff, often times in the wake of some household disaster like the dish washer going on a rampage and spewing water everywhere, or the microwave having exploded after being used to cook a giant marshmallow, or a household appliance coming to life and attacking the Maine Heroine and tearing her clothes off.

  Thinking about all of the disasters that could have befallen his apartment and knowing that, with his luck, such a thing happening was not out of the realm of possibility truly depressed him. The only thing Kevin could do in this instance was pray that those manga were all wrong.

  When you're relying on a manga to determine your course in life, there's already a problem.

  Stopping to check his mailbox, Kevin found several letters and what looked like a publication of some kind. He grabbed them and decided to look through them a little later while he was watching TV or something. There wouldn't be any bills or anything of that sort in there His mom paid all of her bills online, so he wouldn't have to worry about that.