Animalistic

The day had turned from surprisingly dank to bright and cheery, the sunshine was pouring down without a care in the world, and the sweater clad, unhappy faces had turned to those with smiles and wet pant legs from running in the dewy, lush grass of their courtyard. The bell had yet to ring for the Afternoon classes, and Olivia was thankful, as her afternoon was dedicated to Mathematics and English. Her eyes scanned out over the tops of her round glasses, the acid yellow of her iris’s catching on all the different people of this school, Anthro and Human alike. She could remember her grandmother showing her pictures of a time when antrho’s were not even known to the modern world, and exploded out into the public when their places of hiding were slowly diminished, unable to hold their great numbers.

They had Adapted well, proving to not only be on level with Humans, but surpassing them in many fields, as their naturally toned hearing and scent made them better detectives, cops, and Firemen. But all was not well for them, she thought dismally. Antrhos and Humans seemed to never get along, Jealousy she always thought, herself admittedly racist against them, but with good reason, she would tell her friends. Humans were cruel, as they have always been, the anthros merely trying to find their own place in the modern world.
He let out a sigh, smiling slightly. Of course her opinion would be one-sided, she thought, stretching the large, Tawny wings that extended from her shoulder blades, shimmering in the sunlight that bounced off the glossiness of her feathers. She was one of them, in every
sense. Especially when it came to Humans.
Suddenly a sharp pain came to her left wing, one of the lovely feathers plucked from its place on her wing, she curled them back in quickly, looking in the direction of her foe. “Hey, What are you doing?!” She yelled angrily, but her voice was small, birdlike as she was. The male merely chuckled, spinning the feather about in his fingertips, looking down on her with cold grey eyes.
“Nothing, Just wondering if you would feel it.” He muttered, tossing it to the side as if it were nothing. She pulled herself to her feet, glaring at him angrily with those acidic yellow eyes. But at that moment, she realized once again that she was easily a foot beneath him, backing away slightly and loosing her confidence.
She could go up against him, it was futile, and her eyes lowered to the ground.
“That’s right, Animal. You’re nothing but a pet. Which I plan to possess.” He growled down to her, lowering his face above hers, touching her Bouncy curls with his fingers, holding the shimmering brunette locks in his fingertips. She cowered, backing away from him, and he was about to say something but paused, seeing the teachers surrounding him in a hawk like fashion on the outskirts of the grounds, just watching.
“Pet.” He muttered darkly, leaving her by herself, until a tall half fox girl came up to her side, hugging her lightly.
“Are you alright Olivia?” she asked worriedly, the girl nodded, fixing the dainty glasses on her small nose. “I-Ill be fine… I hate
Josh, he’s such a jerk… and he’s so scary…” she muttered, shuddering slightly, Her friends comforting smile helping bring one to her own plush lips, her owl-like ears perking up after her frightful moment.
The bell rang Swiftly, and Olivia rushed to grab her bag, straitening her hair and clothing; A simple tan t shirt and camouflaged pants that clung to her lower half. Rushing in the doors, she didn’t have a chance to beat the crowds; the smaller Antrho’s always beaten about in the class-changing clamor. She sat down in her desk, three rows back and in the center, looking up to the board as she took out a notebook. Math, she thought to herself. Yippee.

It was morning. Dew had condensed on the frosty window panes during the night, carving tears into the gelid surface. Again, he had slept little. The bags drooping beneath his searing blue eyes, echoed the wintry draught which howled through the rickety beams of the failing apartment in which he lived. It was still early, but the man knew there was little sense in remaining in the flat; it would always be the same, bare, blank, void of the memories he had left behind overseas. From the rays of ashen sunlight creeping over the horizon's boundaries, it was clear that spring was hovering round the corner. Shouldering his overcoat around his shoulders, the man reached into his pocket, drawing a cigarette from the Churchill's packet stuffed untidily within, his gloved fingers lifting the dulled orange butt to his blue lips. It remained unlit, those ghostly, piercing eyes staring through the translucent sheen of his single window, over the aluminum sink, unused; it too was bare.
He caught the 56 bus, directly from Manhattan, towards the suburban areas of the capital of the state, observing quietly how similar special tendencies were adopted in the land of the free. An ironic smirk flickered momentarily on his lips, a healthier pink now they had been warmed within the heated confines of public transport. He cut a rather plain figure, unshaven, a dark, woolen hat pulled over his eyebrows, and an old, faded scarf wrapped around his neck and lower face; nobody in the world would have noticed him, certainly not the portly gentleman, redfaced and beefy, speckles of perspiration dappling his heaving jowls from the exertion of waddling after the departing bus, who plopped into the front seats so that his journey out of the travelling vehicule would prove to be far less exerting than his taxing entrance. Nor the schoolgirl with twitching rodent ears, and extended front teeth, scampering meekly and unobtrusively to the far end of the carriage so as not to be noticed. The anthro curled her long pink tail beneath her, hiding it from view, and smoothing her uniform's skirt over it, seemingly ashamed of her appearence. No different here than in Europe.
He was unsure of how he had landed the job in teaching; he had little knowledge and experience in the domain, but the board had been pleased to accept him onto the team during their interview. It was only the second time he had visited his workspace since receiving confirmation of his post to instruct history classes to the high school forms, the initial return to enable the exploration of the schoolgrounds under the suppervision of the maths teacher, a human, as all the professors were. Flicking the nub of his dwindling cigarette absentmindedly into the playground, he entered St. Clarence's Mixed School, to attend to his first class after a short affirmation of his arrival with the principal.

The class was talking rambunctiously when Olivia arrived, merely doodling on the cover of her book, until her fox friend arrived on the back of her large, half Ox boyfriend. Olivia laughed, watching her take a seat next to her.
“Enjoying yourself I see.” Olivia said in a sarcastic manner, which the Fox brushed off as nothing, excitedly looking at her.
“Guess what! We have a new teacher.” She exclaimed, the owl raising a sharp eyebrow scrutinizingly. A new teacher, what could have been so exciting about that, she thought to herself, the Fox girl not giving her a change to ask. “He’s an Anthro.” She said with glee, which indeed elicited some interest from the Owl.
“An Anthro? No way. It cant be possible. They would never hire an Anthro teacher in this school.” She dismissed it without a thought, turning back to the homework she had not done the night before, struggling to get something down on paper to make it look as if she had done something. The Fox girl tried to get her attention back, the door to the classroom opening and letting their portly, stout vice principal enter the room, she looked at him curiously as he stood before the silent growing classroom. He cleared his throat, holding his arms behind his back and allowing his large stomach to protrude forward all the more, threatening the buttons on his coat.
“Students, Your newest math teacher for the term is here, and I would ask you to show him the same respect and courtesy you would show to any of your teachers, no
matter color or background. I wont stand for Racism in this school, and anyone found to be committing any hateful crimes, will see the inside of my office within milliseconds. Is that clear?” He asked seriously, the monotonous “Yes sir.” Coming from the classroom, barely even looking in the administrator as he sighed, leaving the room. Olivia could hear a “Good luck, your going to need it. Their rambunctious, but I’m sure you can handle it.” As her sharp ears twitched atop her head, trying to see over the other heads outside the classroom. After that little speech, he had to be an Antrho, no other teacher got an introduction like that. Pulling herself up higher slightly, she glanced to the doorway, eager to see this new teacher.
“Bet ya he’s hot.” Her foxy friend teased, jabbing her in the shoulder. Olivia returned it, sticking out her
tongue. “He’s a teacher Kat. Not a man-whore.” She retorted, the door opening again, her eyes transfixed on it. Whom could this mysterious teacher be?

His meeting with the principal had been brief, the buoyant enthusiasm he had displayed in their first encounter, somewhat dimmed at the prospect of undertaking a new school year. Books and folders were distributed amongst the trio of St. Clarence’s latest recruits, one a mere youth, most likely fresh out of university, raring to test his own needle in the grand web history was spinning about them. The other, to his left, was the math teacher, the woman who had toured him about the gargantuan high school. Her expression was as aloof and haughty as he remembered it; kindness did not seem to be one of her prominent virtues, and it was a wonder that he was able to retrace the direction of the classroom number indicated on the red plastic of his teacher’s folder. She was perceptibly astute, intelligent yet cruel, green eyes darting restlessly whichever situation they happened to be standing in. Lost in his thoughts as he wandered along the austere corridors, laden with brilliant sunshine streaming in through high windows open to each classroom, he failed to notice the immaculately adhered tag on his binder, which read “Ms. Huron. Mathematics Course 9th-12th years” in pristine longhand.
He needed another cigarette, his lungs were already itching for the taste of sweet cancer, but he quashed the temptation under a self-made promise to draw one at the lunch interval. The door swung open, six columns of his supposed twelfth years aligning the worn desks in front of the blackboard. Surveying their ranks, the ice of his azure orbits scanning across the universal whole of the pupils rather than individually, he noted with contained distress that their wide-eyed curiosity was written on faces far younger than the expected seventeen and eighteen year olds. Remaining in the doorway, his roguish impression all the more accentuated by the brown overcoat covering him, he uttered his first words to his new batch of students. “Good morning…”
And that was all he said for the next few minutes, pacing evenly to the large, oak structure which served as his desk, rifting through his personalized folders to extract a crumpled sheet of a4 paper, smoothing it out approximately on his table, knowing that the eyes of forty students were scrutinizing his every motion, judging him in these early stages for his disorganized, untidy habits; he couldn’t have cared less. Shelling his great overcoat, tossing it onto the back of his chair, he turned to write his name on the board, his athletic, 5 foot 11 inches frame still fairly hidden from view without the removal of his woolen cap, nor the simple, casual clothes which clad his body. In all appearance, he looked human, but one could not say for certain. His fedora certainly veiled the aspects of his cranium, his long sleeved sweater, and slightly baggy jeans, equally. Turning back to the class, he read his name aloud. “I am Alexander Korjev.” The first phrase he strung together bearing the fruits of his origin as did indeed, his name. His accent was tinged with Eastern European descent, and yet his skin was uncharacteristically dark compared to his Slavic counterpart, a past with a history, safer locked up, some things were better left unsaid. His nationality, race, ethnicity, everything, remained unheard by the partisan group of students at his disposal, proceeding instead, immediately to the history lesson, without realizing that the period designated for this time slot was mathematics.

A quick Jab to Olivia's side and a large grin told her what Kat thought of thier new teacher. And indeed, she had to admit that he was not what she had been expecting, but he didnt look anthro in any case, the large woolen cap on his head keeping an air of Mystery about him, and a frustrating one at that. She leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh and guessing that her hope for an anthro teacher had been squashed, and they wouldnt allow some "animal" To teach the little human minds. But glancing up to the board, she rolled his name over her lips, "Korjev..." she whispered softly, liking the sound of it.
"Sir! Sir!" A voice came from her side, egarly putting her hand up for him to adress her, but without even waiting for his eyes to turn in her direction, Kat had pulled up her Math book, showing it to him with her large, furry tail wagging. "This is Math class sir, not
History." she corrected him, seeing him writing something about the Civil war on the board, or something of the Sort, Olivia was not sure. She knew it was comming now, the heavy laughter which plauged the classroom, but died off as Josh rose his hand, also not waiting to be adressed.
"Wonderful Start, Sir. And Might I add that Hats are not to be worn in the classroom setting? Sets a bad example for us children." He chided with a grin, wanting to know exactly what this creature was, animal, or merely cold. Olivia Hoped for the first.
The classroom was no longer his at that moment, all talking amongst themselves, at least the humans were, showing no signs of giving any sort of respect to an animal, and without the principal there to correct them, they would not.
"See? Animal's cant teach. They shouldnt even be allowed to learn." She heared come from one side,
glaring over the tops of her glasses at the perpatrator, a blond haired girl which Olivia wished she could harm. Alot.
SO the pharaphenalia began to fly, papers and such, merely trying to cause more havoc. This would not be easy for him.

The classroom erupted into uncontainable mayhem, a mark of the defectively raised offspring in the American livelihood. The scene lured a smirk onto his handsome features, unwinding the shabby stole from around his neck, and tossing the drab garment onto the desk beside his teaching tools. Placing his whitened knuckles securely on the smooth, oak surface, his freezing gaze sought out the ringleader, the culprit who had pitched the lecture into a flummox, the breadth of his wide shoulders hefty and noticeable to the students, subconsciously gifting the man with an aura of superiority, although he had not yet spoken. Nobody paid the slightest heed to his actions, bedlam and chaos governing the mob, until with a sudden, sharp retort in a single, terse command, their new professor silenced them.
“Shut up…” Alexander doubted very strongly that any of the pupils present that day were accustomed to verbal cautions, let alone physical; both were commonly employed in his country, and he knew enough about the United States to know that neither was habitually accepted in the Occident. But the callous snap had achieved the ends to the means, enabling his probing orbits to pick out the perpetrator in the classroom, who retained the cocky, smug expression on his mug, beaming round at his peers proudly. “I do not recall calling upon you, nor giving you the permission to speak…” Korjev addressed Josh with the utmost politeness, and yet, a ring of mockery beyond the gracious refinery in his tune. The youth was on the verge of making another boastful retort, but was forestalled, his teacher interjecting before his sentence had tripped off the tip of his tongue, with a dismissive gesticulation, standing upright in the same movement, and pacing around the side of his desk, a pair of dilapidated brown shoes resounding in the sudden quiet of the room. The frost of his eyes never removed their penetrating glare from his robust features, on the threshold of manhood, with the supercilious authority of a boy, spoilt beyond his years. “Your name boy…” he curled a fresh command over his tongue, his tone plain, flat, and misleading in its neutrality, but his choice of words were demeaning, putting the lad back into his rightful position of respect. “Kindly sit up correctly, and remove your foot from the chair beside you… they are bad examples to the ‘kids’” Alexander ordered him softly, an air of distinct menace surrounding him. By now, he had reached Josh’s desk, whose expression bore one of considerably less condescension than it had half a minute earlier. Leaning over the desk, so that he loomed over the boy’s form threateningly, his fists once more on the table’s surface. “Presumptuous, boy… since when has any ‘animal’ been allowed to teach in this vicinity… despite their higher qualifications and adaptability… since when has any ‘animal’ been permitted to learn in peace without the bullies who harry physical and verbal abuse on their counterparts… since when… has the term ‘animal’ been applied as a derogatory term to differentiate two human beings apart with various differences…” His eyes were now fizzling with icy rage, cold, and calculated. But no sooner had the fury appeared, was it whipped away from Josh as he strode back to the front of the class, speaking as he went. “…the answer …always.” He perched his buttocks on the edge of his desk, fiddling with a parker pen between his fingers, now relieving Josh of his scowl, and surveying the rest of the class, now attentive and listening to his political statement. “Since the Hyksos referred to the vanquished Egyptians as jackals, since the Ceasers of Rome christened all neighbouring countries as barbarous and primitive, since the Jewish population were treated with less dignity than an ‘animal during the second World War’” At this point, he shot another stabbing frown in Josh’s direction, “And the African-Americans were segregated as inferior animals to the human race.” He paused, arms folding across his chest, letting his words sink in to the math pupils. “What has happened to those animals? Who can tell me? Today, black music is the hub of our popular culture, it has been so for over seventy years. Elvis wasn’t white, he was a black man dressed up as a black man.” To this, a ripple of appreciative laughter undulated over his students, warming to his dry humour. “The Jewish community monopolize every industry in the highest echelon…the Egyptians reconquered their land from the marauding Hyksos, and the Roman Empire fell under the hands of those very people, those very humans, who they had deemed unworthy, unintelligent, insignificant in the face of their ‘superior’ way of life.” Alexander began to gather his books up, folding away his notes and pocketing them, before shouldering his luggage under his arm, flicking a cigarette deftly from his pocket between his fingers. As he reached the door to head off to his history class, he paused, inspecting the pupils one final time. “How long will it be, before Anthros become a regular part of this modern society, this, famous, unchallengeable American civilization…” He stuck the butt of his cigarette between his lips. “Think about that, before you come to class with me this afternoon.” And with that…he was gone.