Re-probus: A Story of Ferals.

Notes: I've actually changed or added quite a few things from the previous chapters, so now's probably a good time if you're thinking of catching up with the story. Either way, here's Chapter 3. It's been quite a while but I have to admit, this one actually caused me quite a bit of trouble.

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Chapter 3: Ordinary Days

"So Freshie, how's Moony doing?" The large bear-like Dardan asked Sam as she placed her tray of pepper-tossed bugs on their table. "He's been making quite a lot of waves since the year's started."

"Moony, who? You mean Keith?" Sam asked. He scooched over to the end of the table to give Patricia some room. "Yeah, everyone's been asking me about him. Wondering if he's going to bite them or something."

"Well, it can't be helped," said the boy sitting on the other side of the table, chugging a cold bottle of milk tea while sitting cross-legged like some wannabe hotshot. "He's a Feral. People think he'd explode the moment they'd look at him funny."

Sam shook his head before taking a large bite out of a toasted chicken sandwich. "Oh come on Rico, Keith's way too much of a wimp to do anything like that."

"Not everyone knows that," Patricia added. "Want some fried cricket?"

Sam held up his hands. "I think I'll pass." Rico did the same.

"Eh, your loss." She grabbed a pawful of the insects and tossed them into her mouth. "Mm, you guys are really missing out. These are some good crickets."

Sam rolled his eyes and gestured for his friends to come closer. "Anyway, you guys have plans this Saturday? There's an escape room event at the Weber Plaza. You want in?"

"I'll have to pass," Patricia said. "We're gonna have football trials this Saturday to look for new recruits." Patricia stretched her neck and there was an audible snap. "Lots of new recruits this year. Gonna be exciting."

"I'm gonna be busy too," Rico said as he adjusted his glasses. "Ms. Willow's got us tied up to visit the exhibit on Saturday. And don't tell anyone, but I think she's desperate for visitors."

"You think so?" Pat said. "'Cause my class didn't get any."

"Huh, you think they ran out of tickets?"

Pat shrugged. "Maybe? Either way, at least it's not gonna interfere with our trials." She looked towards Sam's direction and noticed he was spacing out. "Hey Sam? Yo, you hearing this?"

Sam slapped himself. "Oh crap, I forgot about the exhibit! I gotta help Ma out on Saturday with that."

"You have an important meeting to go to and that slipped your mind?" Rico asked. "Uh priorites, Sam?"

"I've got my priorities straight. I just have a lot of ideas on my mind," Sam replied.

Sam felt something about to skewer his shoulder. It turned out Patricia had been prodding him with those long digging claws of hers. She pointed towards the front of the mess hall. "Hey Sam, isn't that your brother?" Patricia asked. She towered over the two the two humans, so Sam had to stand up to get a good look at what she was pointing at. Sure enough, Sam found that unmistakable gray wolf of a Feral wandering around the place without any idea where to go. All he got were a number of dirty looks and scornful words thrown at him. "Shouldn't you call him over?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said and raised his hand. "Hey Keith, over here!" The Feral's ears perked up and his brother made a beeline towards their corner of the hallway. "Geez, you know you could've just stayed with us if you're still not comfortable around people."

Keith placed his tray next to Rico and sat next to him. Rico looked at Keith for a moment before looking away and trying to remain as stoic as he could. The blooming blush on his cheeks clear as day to anyone on the other side of the table from them. "Thanks," Keith said as he loosened his muzzle. "But I just wanted to find somewhere I won't disturb anyone."

"You'll disturb anyone no matter where you'd go," Sam said. "Why not just let yourself be comfortable in your own skin?"

Keith jabbed a pile of shredded pork and shoved it into his mouth. "Easy for you to say." He mumbled.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help." Sam tried to find the words, then something flashed on his mind. "Someone told me once, 'If you close yourself from the world, the world won't change for you.' you know who said that?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "Lemme guess, it's Xander isn't it?"

"Yeah! Xander from Silhouette Kingdom. Remember that? It was the scene after that boss battle when the Princess of Light got transformed into a dragon."

"How could I forget?" Keith lazily dipped a bread stick on some thousand island sauce and slid it in his mouth. "You've told me that one hundreds of times already."

Sam scratched his head. Why of all times did he have to be so stubborn? "Yeah well, it can't be helped. Anyway! What I'm saying is that you can't just keep hiding forever. If you want people to like you, you gotta show that you're worth liking."

Keith looked at him with those glowing eyes of his. "Sam, I'm a ticking time bomb. I panic anytime I see a dog's face. I panic when I see MY OWN FACE." Keith was panting heavily, an almost crazy look in his face.

He snapped his eyes shut and leaned back, pinching the bridge of his snout before taking a deep breath. "S-sorry, it's just that things set me off and then one moment I would wake up and realize I've got a piece of rock stuck in my back and I'm worrying my head off that I might've just infected someone without realizing it. Do you think I want people to get close to me?"

"Keith, you really have to learn how to chill," Patricia said as mellow as possible. "Maybe meditate a little, the coach taught us some breathing exercises just for that. Maybe you should try it too."

"No, I'm good. You really don't have to. My therapist already gave me coping strategies."

"Really? They don't seem particularly helpful," Sam said. "Look, maybe just ease up. Don't overthink things, maybe people won't get so scared of you if you just calm down a bit more."

Keith sighed, hiding his face behind one hand, the shadows beneath seemed to darken slightly. "Can we… just stop talking about me and my problems? I can handle them on my own."

"Hey, I said I was just trying to help. Do you want it or not?"

Keith's voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "Leave. Me. Alone. Sam."

"Alright, fine! I'm shutting up!" Sam said, throwing his arms in the air.

The group ate without so much as a word being passed. Occasionally, they would steal a glance or two towards Keith to see how he's faring. Keith on the other hand seemed focused on quickly finishing his meal. Once the plate was clean of food, Keith packed up and left in a hurry. "Well that guy has problems," Rico said.

Sam took a deep breath, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. "I'm sorry you guys had to see that."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Patricia said. "You're not the one with the chip on his shoulder. He is. So let it be."

"Yeah, I guess so." Still, Sam didn't feel right leaving things the way they are, and resolved to ask about it the next time they met.

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Sam didn't see Keith till after school when they would wait for each other by the school gate. Sam waved his friends goodbye and went on ahead. "Hey!" he said, waving at Keith.

"Hey." Keith waved back. The two of them walked down the campus main road, looking past the shops that lined the area. Old Ma-and-Pa shops that sold all sorts of secondhand books and faded novels, to those chic and trendy cafés and minimalistic tech stores that seemed to come and go with the seasons.

No words were exchanged between the two of them, only half-hearted attempts at trying to say anything. They reached the corner of the road where a brick red building stood. Blue and white striped awnings decorated the large windows where customers blissfully chatted between large couches sipping cups of coffee so fragrant, the sidewalks were infused with its aroma. On the door was a sign written with a star writing out the words "Starry Plough Bistro"

The door chimed as Sam opened the door. "Hey Mom, we're home!" he said with Keith trailing not too far behind him. The restaurant was covered top to bottom with a nostalgic sunny yellow. Wooden counters topped with a selection of cookies and candy tarts were packed in plastic wrap and lace ribbons, while rows of elegant cakes and tarts gleamed underneath the fluorescent glow of the cake counters. Chalkboards hung above the kitchen window, a cute star-like alien mascot riding on a rocket ship sat snugly on the edge of the menu.

"Welcome home, Sweeties!" Their mother said after taking old Mrs. Groche's order on her computer. "How's school been?"

"It was alright," Sam said. "Not bad, but not too good either."

Keith scratched the edges of his muzzle, though Sam wondered why he wore it so tightly. "Same," he said.

"Well you boys should go and freshen up. Just hurry up and come back downstairs to help out, alright? Everything's already on the kitchen table so just heat them up and pass them over."

The two boys nodded and headed into the kitchen and straight up to the large living room. They slept further upstairs in their own rooms. One of them used to be the old guest room till Keith had it re-purposed as his own.

"Hey Keith, wait up!" Sam called out. "Why did you just fly off like that? I thought you wanted me to help?"

Keith lowered his head on the door. "Sam, I told you I didn't want to talk about it right now."

"I know, I know!" Sam spread his arms, nearly knocking down the vase nearby had he not caught it in time. He placed the vase down on the floor. "I know. But why do you always act like you don't want me around. You said you wanted help, but then you go and push us away. Why?"

Keith sighed and turned away. "Look, I appreciate the help. But just let me be. You don't want to be involved in my problems."

"Then why? I thought things were getting better now that you've started school and working here."

"Well... they aren't." Keith turned around, his back leaning on the door. "Everywhere I go, it's the same thing. People are scared of me, and they should be. All I've ever done is hurt people."

"Oh come on, Keith. Ignore those people. Don't let them bug you."

"Sam..." Keith looked down on the floor, ready to fall apart. "You don't understand what it feels like being this." He held out his hands, black and padded on the tips. "You don't understand feeling like you deserved being this because everywhere you go, you just cause trouble for the people you care for."

"Then let me understand. We're brothers after all."

Keith turned around and pressed a code on the tablet installed on his door. A series of whirs and clicks let the door swing slightly ajar. "I think... we should get to work." He went inside and closed the door carefully, never turning his back away from him. A series of whirs and clicks locked the door, and Sam walked back to their--his--old room.

They swapped their school uniforms for casual clothes and aprons, and went downstairs. The kitchen was filled with a bouquet of scents--buttery pies, earthy herbs, and a hint of fresh lemons. On the kitchen island were a number of plates with their corresponding orders pinned at the bottom. "Whew, you boys took your time," Mom said while keeping a careful eye on the fish searing in the pan. "I've got all those dishes ready, so I need the both of you to serve them. There's the table numbers there too. Let's go!"

Sam wasted no time sending the dishes to the proper tables--the chicken pot pie and apple tea set was for Mr. and Mrs. Castro on table six, the mango graham float was for Cherry on table two. Rico's here with the usual matcha toast and milk tea. ("Hey Rico!" Sam said, the two buddies giving each other a high-five) and the oyster chowder and cantaloupe cooler was for the small Unden on table one. As he was about to leave for the next order, the otter-slash-walrus-like Unden had called for him again. Sam noted the specialized glasses the Theran wore and the rather formal attire that wrapped around the small, yet long body. "Yes, is there anything the matter?"

"Well, I just happened to pass by this place because I've heard from everyone that you serve great food," he said. Rubbing his chipped tusk with a black paw, while the other took the spoon and chipped the pie crust into the soup. A rich creamy aroma wafted from the cup, and eager for a bite, the Unden scooped a spoonful of chowder and brought it close to his nose. "And I can certainly say this is going to be a wonderful meal, but--"

The Unden looked at the direction of the counter where Keith had taken over cashier duty. "--I was wondering why is the Feral handling the cash register? Aren't you afraid he might bite one of your customers?"

Sam pressed his lips flat in mild annoyance. "Sir, I'm sure he's doing his best not to do... that, and besides, he's good with numbers, it's why we have him on the cashier."

The Unden nodded and took a bite of a spoonful. "I see, I see. Compliments to the chef by the way!" The Theran chortled and made light elbow jabs at Sam's stomach. "Still, odd place to see a Feral here. Usually, they'd be locked up in Sanatoriums the moment a human turns to one. Why so?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. Sorry to cut the convo, but I gotta serve the other customers." Sam bowed to the rude customer and gave him a mock smile before taking a brisk walk to the counter.

Three hours later, the bistro had closed and Mom asked for the two boys to stay downstairs for a while. They sat on the island, with the two boys on one side and their mother leaning with hands clasped together on the other. "So boys, tomorrow's going to be the day of the exhibit. It's our first catering job. The museum was gracious enough to provide the decor themselves, so we only need to focus on serving the food. From what I've heard there's going to be at least a hundred people in the opening banquet, that means a hundred orders for each dish.

"Now I've already got most of the preparation done throughout this week, so all we need to do now is cook. Sam, I need you to start filling those trays with cake mix. Keith, help me carry all the ingredients from the pantry. We're going to be starting with carrot cake slices."

Soon, the kitchen came alive as pots burbled and clacked, mixers whipped, and potatoes sizzled in the hot oil. Every now and then, Mom would check how Sam was doing, and gently point out that he might have added a bit too much chili powder in the marinade, or to remind him to dry the wings and drumsticks before coating them in flour. And if he was at a loss, she'd encourage him to look for alternatives to the solution.

Sam wiped the sweat off his brow as he slid the pieces of buffalo chicken into the bottom oven. He made a quick detour towards the upper oven and took a quick peek. A smile came together on his face as the muffins rose and took on the scent of chocolates and blueberries. He heard a thud from the refrigerator door as Mom took out a bag of orange pastry creme and filled one of the finished pie shells with the filling. She then took a bowl of freshly cut strawberries halves and placed each of them in a starburst pattern before applying a liberal amount of strawberry glaze over her famous strawberry tart.

Sam marveled at that level of expertise ever since he was a kid. Him and Keith would hang out in the kitchen every now and then to help out with some of the snacks. He always liked it when Mom asked them to help bread some letter-shaped chicken nuggets or pour fruit juice into the ice cube tray, and when they came out looking wonderfully in their golden brown color, Sam couldn't help but feel proud of what he was able to do.

"Sam?"

One day, when he was older, he wanted to be the one to inherit her bistro. He wanted to be able to cook just as well as she did. Until then...

"SAM! The chicken!"

The black scent of burning meat jolted him out of his daydream. He threw the oven door open and rushed to salvage the chicken from their charred fate, but it was too late. The chicken was burnt on one side and under-cooked on the other. Sam slid the poorly cooked poultry onto the table and hung his head low. "Ugh... sorry Mom, I wasn't paying too much attention."

"Sam, that was half of our stock of chicken," his Mom said. "Could you at least be a bit more careful with that?."

Sam mumbled out an apology and Mom shook her head. "Look, just don't let this happen again. I'll find a way to fix this, just go work on the shanghai rolls."

Sam shuffled towards Keith, who had been quietly filling the wraps with the mixture before rolling them. He sat next to him and followed suit. "Tough break, huh?" Keith said.

Sam grabbed a bit too much filling in his hands, and laid it down on the wrapper. "Hey, it's not like I did everything else wrong! I've followed the instructions." Sam paused. "I just got... distracted."

"Yeah, you had a stupid and giddy look on your face. What were you looking at anyway?"

"Hey, I--" Sam pressed the roll a little too hard with his palm, letting all the filling spill out the sides. He tried to fix it, but it ended up looking misshapen. He moaned. "I just wanted to see how Mom made those strawberry tarts, you know? They're her signature dish, and I wanna know how she makes them."

Keith nodded. "You know you could've just waited, it's not like she won't show you how to make them later on."

Sam grabbed another wad of filling, and tried to concentrate this time. "Yeah, but... you know how busy she is with the restaurant! She won't have time to teach me."

"I guess so." Keith said.

"And ever since the last time I made pie, I don't think she's going to let me anywhere close to the baking supplies without her."

"What happened?"

Sam bit his lip. "It exploded."

"Oh, right. I remember now." Keith said. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Sam stopped for a while and, coming up with nothing, shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you could help me find a way."

Keith smiled and messed with his brother's hair. "We'll find something, don't worry."

"Agh! My hair!" Sam cried so loud that Keith flinched.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realize--" said Keith as he tried to salvage the situation.

They continued to make rolls till they've ran out of filling. By then, Mom had already finished most of the food preparations that night, so they decided to head to their rooms. After washing his hair, Sam sat in the bottom rung of the old bunk bed, surrounded by old posters of the Stacey Quinn series and some newer ones like Silhouette Kingdom and Housetrapped. He opened his phone to make a quick search on the net about the upcoming Mash and Bash game when he found news about the exhibit. Curious, he clicked on it.

"The Exhibit on Ancient Theran Civilizations by Professor James Aspen may be closed until further notice," the article stated.

Sam had to inform Mom about what happened, and quickly.