Short Story: Kit

Short Story: Kit

Kit knew it wasn’t a dream because the fox standing at the foot of his bed was behaving completely normally. It didn’t start talking to him or tap dancing or anything weird. It just cocked its ears into sharp points as if to say, well, are you coming, then? Kit sat up in bed. It must be really late because the house was completely silent. His mum, dad, Billy and Shane must all be asleep in their rooms. It was dark too, really dark. Just a sliver of moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains and fell like a spotlight on the fox. It gave an expectant flick of its brush.

Kit had had a bad day. Again. He had been teased by a gang of Primary Six boys all through lunchtime. “Here he comes - the ginger whinger!” And one Primary Seven boy had shouted across the playground, “Did your mum dip your head in Irn-Bru when you were a baby?” The usual stuff, stupid, but all the other boys seemed to find it hilarious. Then, when he got home, his brothers, Shane and Billy had hogged the TV remote all evening. Dad always said that the idea with the most votes won but Shane and Billy were twins and agreed about everything. So they won and Kit missed Doctor Who Confidential again. Instead he had to sit through an hour of wrestling. And now to cap it all there was a fox standing in his bedroom. If it made a mess, peed on the carpet or chewed up the furniture, there’d be hell to pay. He rubbed a hand through his spiky, rust-coloured hair and swung his legs out of bed. He’d better let the fox out of the house before anyone noticed.

The front door was already open and a jet of icy air sped down the hallway to greet him. Dad must have left the door ajar when he put the rubbish out and the fox got in. Simple. The fox trotted out into the dark street and turned, staring at Kit. He pushed the door shut as quietly as he could and stood still for a moment. The house was silent except for the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. No one had woken up. Kit opened the front door again. He couldn’t resist a quick peek.

“Aw, c’mon,” he muttered. The fox hadn’t moved. He pushed the door to, counted to twenty in his head and slowly opened the door again. “Gimme a break,” he hissed. “I’ve got a maths test in the morning which I’m probably going to fail by the way.”

The fox’s eyes never left Kit, its ears still cocked. It flicked its brush again, quick and impatient.

“What? What is it? Can you no just go back to your den?” Kit knew where the den was. It was across the road from his house. It was visible from his bedroom window – a dark hole in the earthen embankment between the estate and the playing field. He’d watched a family of foxes appearing from there in the evening twilight and skulking back in the mornings. He liked to watch them most evenings.

His brother Billy had come into his room one night while Kit had been standing at the window watching the foxes. The younger ones were play fighting in the field and rolling around on the grass in a snappy blur of rusty fur.

“What you doing, you weirdo? Hey Shane, come and get a look at this.”

Shane had appeared and stood next to Billy, the two of them completely alike. Wavy, black hair, chubby faces and tall, thickset bodies. Nothing like Kit. Kit didn’t look like anyone in the family. No one else was skinny or had ginger hair.

“You watching those foxes again? Ya dweeb,” Shane laughed, “Maybe they’d be friends with you. Cos no sane human wants to hang around with a ginger. C’mon, Billy. WWF’ll be on in a minute. Leave dweeb boy to his foxes.”

The twins had guffawed and stomped off down the stairs.

The fox was still standing outside the front door. Still staring at Kit. He took a couple of steps towards it. It seemed happier somehow. The tarmac was sharp and cold on Kit’s feet. He stood up on his tiptoes and edged towards the fox. The fox waited until Kit was level with it and started off towards the den.

Kit paused. The fox paused.

Kit walked. The fox walked.

Kit paused. The fox paused.

Kit gave in and followed the fox, both of them padding silently, in the direction of the den.

They arrived at the embankment. The fox stopped outside the den. “Right, pal. I’ve seen you home,” said Kit. “Night then.”

But when he turned away, he felt compelled to turn back and look. Sure enough the fox was watching him. Kit’s feet no longer felt cold. He had adjusted and felt quite comfortable standing only in his pyjamas in the night air. He and the fox stared at each other.

He’d often wondered what it was like inside a fox den. He’d read in a book at school that the dens had more than one tunnel and they extended back quite a way. He’d asked his dad if they could go to the library so he could get more books about them but dad had said no. “Do I look like I’ve got time to take you to libraries?” Kit thought his dad looked like he had plenty of time. When he got home from work, he sat in front of the TV all evening and most weekends too. But Kit knew that it wasn’t a good idea to tell his father that. Not a good idea to make him angry. And his mother? Well she really didn’t have time what with all the hours that she worked at the supermarket and all the housework and cooking. Any spare time she had was spent arguing with his father.

He moved right up close to the den. The fox disappeared inside. No harm in having a peek. Kit gingerly put his face up to the hole, just to have a look. He could see the gingery fur of the fox, his fox, ahead. The tunnel looked quite wide, certainly room enough for someone as slight as Kit. No harm in exploring. Just the very edge of the tunnel. He climbed inside, ready to edge back in a hurry if the fox became aggravated.

It was warm inside the tunnel. It was a bit smelly; rich earth overlaid with even richer, earthier fox scents but Kit got used to it quickly. It was really quite cosy, homely even. The earth walls, floor and ceiling of the tunnel felt firm but soft to the touch. The fox had turned around and was watching Kit. It was happy. Kit knew that. He didn’t quite know how but he could tell that the fox wanted him to keep on following it.

They turned down a side tunnel that branched off. The second tunnel was shorter and widened out slightly before coming to an end. The fox curled up on some leaves and closed its eyes as though having a boy in your sleeping quarters was the most normal thing in the world. Kit suddenly felt very tired. It was warm and comfortable here and safe. Almost without realising it, Kit too curled up on the leaves and closed his eyes. Just for a little while, he thought, just a quick nap.

When Kit woke up he knew it wasn’t a dream because all of his senses were alive and awake; he could smell the strong, warm fox smell. In the dark he could make out the shape of a fox leg close by his face and when he brushed his face against it, he could feel soft furry prickles against his nose. He stretched, feeling limber and well rested. Instinctively he lifted a paw to his face and licked, washing himself in preparation for the new day. Kit heard a friendly fox call beckoning him and he replied with a soft call of his own. He padded down the tunnel flicking his brush.