The world was noire. Pre-dawn light refracted across the clouds, as if the sky were a swatch of the deep ocean and the sun barely breached through the surface of the waters. Houses were without color nor feature, signs without letter nor picture, and streets with barely any thrum of cylinders. Newspapers still stretched out in the corners of some lawns like lazy wanderers taking a nap; here and there a house was lacking, the owners being early birds.
A flashlight played across the sidewalk, its beam dim and browned. Ket didn't really need it to see, but it made the quiet morning less spooky. It was six-thirty-ish, but the sun was lazy in the winter having spent all summer waking up early, so that kids the world round could enjoy their long days off. It was also cold, and the rhythmic sweeping of his jacket sleeves against his torso made him sound like some kind of robot.
He approached a gate, black and stark against the gray-blue-white sky. Without looking at the keypad he entered the proper code, and the gate creaked to life on cold, grumpy gears. Even while the chain racked and clacked, knocking free bits of frost from between the links, he scurried through the passage and treaded his way up a steep driveway. He half-expected to slip and fall and have to start all over again but thankfully the driveway wasn't too icy; he proceeded to the front door and suppressed the instinct to touch the orange glow against the brick wall. Instead, he unobtrusively knocked, progressively louder with each rap.
It didn't take long for Mrs. Brillian to open the door. "Hey tiger," she greeted, stepping aside as Ket rushed in. "You look wide awake and chipper this morning."
"M-m-morning Mrs. G-garne," he shivered.
"M-m-morning to you t-t-too," she replied, teasingly mocking the stutter. "Go stand in the heat and warm your toes," she said, pointing toward the wall, where the draft of a warm vent could be felt.
He readily took the advice, sitting cross-legged, letting the warm air brush his head and neck. He sighed contentedly.
"I don't know what on earth makes you kids want to walk in this weather," she muttered, looking out the window. "The sun isn't even out yet. Heck I don't think even roosters wake up this early."
"I only woke up fifteen minutes ago," Ket replied, "but you're right I didn't see any roosters on the way over."
"You mean you got dressed and hustled over here in fifteen minutes?" She asked with some surprise.
He nodded with a final shiver.
"Oh what it must be like to be a boy and not have to worry about what-to-wear and makeup."
"Well I normally take showers in the morning but if we're going to walk to school in the mornings I'll take them at night, so that cuts a lot of time."
"Well you've got it all figured out. Maybe you can help Emmy figure out a routine she can stick with."
A frustrated groan flew from the hallway beyond the kitchen.
"Speak of the devil-ess," Mrs. Brillian said under her breath.
Emeral appeared in the kitchen, wide-eyed and frizz-haired. "He's here already?" She said breathlessly, "Aww jeez!"
"You want me to kick him out and make him come back later?" Her mom joked.
"Not funny!" The tigress retorted, rushing around the kitchen and grabbing school supplies to cram into her backpack; "It's not my fault I'm running late. I even woke up early to be on time but somebody forgot to put my jeans in the dryer last night and they were all wrinkly."
"Well, if somebody had done their chores on time for a change, instead of waiting 'till the last minute..."
"I bet Ket doesn't have to do his own laundry," Emeral muttered, feigning under-the-breath.
"Of course not, dear, boys don't understand the tao of the washing machine. Remember how I tried to teach your father?"
"Yeah," she replied with a laugh, zipping up the main pouch, "He turned my favorite yellow shirt all pink and splotchy."
Ket didn't know whether he was just complimented or teased. Safe not to even say anything. As if his thoughts were heard, Emeral turned toward him, but thankfully it was just to let him know she had to brush her hair. When she left a sudden quietness came about the room, which became even quieter when Mrs. Brillian turned off the big overhead light to favor three dimmer lamps sitting on glass tables between the living room furniture.
"Hope it's okay if it's dim," she commented, "I can't really stand bright lights this early."
"Did Mr. Brillian already leave?" Ket asked. Neither tiger-friend had seen the other's father. Emeral hardly ever mentioned her dad, and Ket always assumed it was because she was cautious about the subject of father-figures.
"He went out of town," Mrs. Brillian replied. "He was supposed to be back last night but there's a nice big blizzard that says 'stay!'" She opened the blinds on the windows to allow the feeble dawn light to come into the house. "What makes you want to walk to school this early anyway?"
"Mom got a new job," he replied. "She's a bank teller."
"Bank teller? On top of being a cashier and a hostess?"
"No." Ket moved away from the heating vent. "She hated the restaurant. She put in her two weeks so she'll be out of it pretty soon."
Emeral huffed as she approached from the hallway. She professed that she was almost ready, getting her shoes and wriggling them on. Her mom offered to send them with breakfast, but the kids insisted they'd have enough time to eat at school.
"You've got a flashlight? It's still dark out..." Mrs. Brillian muttered, as the children walked to the door, suited up for the cold.
"I have one," Ket assured, pulling it out of his backpack.
"Maybe I should follow you in the car—just to make sure you're okay?"
"Mo-om," Emeral said with contempt, "We'll be fine. We walk home from school every day."
"I know but it's so dark out..."
"We're big kids, we can handle ourselves."
After a moment of more worried thoughts, Emeral's mom acquiesced, and kissed her daughter on the forehead, eliciting another groan of contempt. "Have a wonderful day."
The bright light played about the sidewalk as the two tiger cubs' shoes trudged along. The sky was no brighter, and probably wouldn't be so until another hour or so. There was the familiar feeling of solitude. At this very moment the world seemed too cold and asleep. No birds to chirp the morning closer; no breeze to signify the coming of a partly-cloudy day; no dew wet between the toes; or earthy smells to please the nose. Just the slow, numbing stillness of a winter morning back to school.
"Turn the light off," Emeral said quietly, as if her voice was muffled by the very darkness.
"Your mom'd kill me."
"Well it's a three-way isn't it? Make it dim."
He pulled the latch back a notch with his thumb, and the light subdued to a gentle brown. His other arm, which was free save for the backpack, was suddenly captured. A head leaned against his shoulder. A sigh passed through the air, no doubt steaming invisibly.
"I'm kinda nervous," he admitted.
"I am too," she replied. "I'm afraid of getting...'caught'."
"I'm afraid of you getting 'caught' too," he said dryly. His arm was snared more tightly.
"Don't worry. Nothing like that'll happen again, I promise."
The city began to liven up as they came out of the neighborhoods and onto the city streets. There were only two crossings, both of which were monitored by the teachers or faculty from Lonely Oak Elementary. This week, Mrs. Gerwitz the second-grade art teacher was at the first walk. The crowd of five kids, including the two tigers, bid good morning to the soft-spoken cat.
The second crosswalk was monitored by none other than Mr. Pretty, the school principal. His orange fur was oddly vibrant in the overcast, or perhaps it was because the sky was just now beginning to show some peach and the tigers hadn't yet adjusted their eyes. But standing at nearly seven feet tall, always dressed in a business suit, and always with a detached look on his face, Mr. Pretty was a very mysterious and imposing figure.
"Good morning, kids," he said, the orange vest he wore competing with the flare of his blazing muzzle staring directly down at the children. "I hope everyone had a good break?"
None of the kids replied really, just little nods. Emeral felt instinct to hide next to Ket, but she resisted; she had let go of his arm only five minutes ago when they emerged from the residential streets and already she had no confidence of making it through the day.
"Time to cross, but remember to look both ways in the parking lot."
And yet somehow she trudged onward, marching forward on the sidewalk that looped the two-tiered parking lot up toward the monolithically black building, framed by a whiter-than-bleach patch of shimmering sky. The place of recycled cinnamon buns, puke-green walls, ear-splitting fire-alarms, and cozy plastic chairs attached to flat wooden pillows.
Lonely Oak Elementary.
