Albert and Ralph shared a grim look as the bus pulled up to the front of the school. The first day of senior year, and just as they had feared, there was that crowd in front of the magnet school, protesting. The rumor among students over the summer was the chief agitator against the magnet school was some mother, mad that her children hadn’t gotten into the open slots for it.

They got off the bus, moving over to a small circle of their co-conspirators. Michelle followed them over, her backpack looking unusually heavy for the start of the school year. The whole area in front of the school was crowded with students, stopped by the picket line in front of the doors. Police were scattered around, and the principal was talking with a women who looked in charge.

Mark and Brad wandered up as their bus arrived, setting down their bags with a dull thunk. “Hey, Albert. You think this’ll work?”

He grinned nervously. “The only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll be in deep shit with principal Strauss when this is all over.” He glanced over the heads of some even more nervous new freshmen. “But I’m not about to let these bunch of hypocrites block me from my school.”

Mark and Brad gave each other a high five, picking up their bags and opening them. Along with Michelle, they started passing around cans of silly string to other students, mostly seniors.

Albert took a deep breath, and pulled out a pair of cans from his own bag. “Now I know where that expression about butterflies came from,” he muttered to Ralph. The fox chuckled.

They both took a deep breath, and nodded to each other, walking up to the front of the crowd, their hands held deceptively behind their backs. The police officers, though dressed out in riot gear, were standing around bored. Other than some shouting back and forth, nothing had happened yet.

Side by side, the two teens walked forward, standing in front of the asian woman who’d been featured on a couple of news shows in the last week. “Excuse me, but are you the one who organized this?” Albert asked loudly. Students, teachers, police, and protesters turned to regard him. “The stuck-up bitch who doesn’t want me going to school anymore?”

Some of the protesters started to mutter angrily, but Albert felt students start to gather at his back. Ralph was silent, his vulpine features held in a mask of careful neutrality. “Let me tell you something,” he continued, cutting her off. “This school is about the best thing that’s happened in my life. This is where I fit in. If your kids didn’t make it in, well tough luck and I’m sorry.

“But you try to stop me from entering my second home, this is what you get.” He and Ralph, and a dozen other students, pulled out their cans of silly string. A couple of cops started to shout warnings, but they pressed down the buttons, spraying the woman, and a couple of other protesters with strings of pink, green, and orange plastic string. “Now get the hell out of my school!”

One of the other protesters, a skinny, sallow-faced man, shouted something angrily, and lunged forward. A half-dozen strings coated his face before he plunged into the students, swinging his fists indiscriminately. Albert heard Ralph shout above the sudden roaring, “Don’t hit them back! Nothing but string!” before the man had punched him in the belly.

To his surprise, the normally quiet Michelle came to his rescue, slamming the man in the face with her bookbag. The police, now energized, plunged into the melee, trying to forcibly separate the fighting sides. But now the students were using their anger, forcing their way forward to the school doors and inside. A group, mostly of seniors, kept the protesters back, ushering the other students inside.

Ralph and Albert took spots as well, guarding the rear while Michelle grabbed a trio of freshmen, shoving them through the doors. Albert aimed furiously for eyes and faces as he tried to help the last of his classmates through the doors. Finally, he and Ralph pulled the doors shut on the shouting mass of protesters.

It was not a moment too soon, either, as they caught the first whiffs of a can of tear gas that the police had tossed out. Fighting back their tears, they stumbled into the rest of the school.

In the stairwell and locker area, to their great surprise, was the mass of the student body. When they stepped inside, a great cheer rose up from most of the students, bringing new tears to their eyes for a different reason. As they headed up the stairs to orchestra, inevitably the first class of the day, almost every student had a word of congratulations or praise for their plan.

Stopping in front of the orchestra room, Albert turned to his best friend. “You know, despite what I said outside, this is the first time I feel like anyone outside of a dozen people has noticed I exist.”

Ralph chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Don’t worry, by next week it’ll be back to normal.” They opened the door, stepping in to the rather surprising sound of a saxophone being played.

The musician was a short, skinny mouse, obviously a freshman. He played away, unconcerned, though obviously noticing the other assorted members of the orchestra class watching him. Albert watched him for a moment, then the first bell rang. He clapped his hands loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “Come on, you know the drill from last year. Let’s see if we can be ready before the second bell for once.”

The saxophonist looked up at him arrogantly. “You’re not the teacher. What gives you the right to order us around?”

Ralph snickered, going into the back room for one of the school cellos. The trombone player, a junior, snickered and lightly tapped the mouse on the back of the head. “When Miss Oralski isn’t here, Albert is in charge. Unless you’re going to challenge him, and his bodyguard Ralph to a musical duel, back down.” Still chuckling, the junior helped move the tables back while Albert set about rearranging chairs.

With soft words of encouragement, Albert and Ralph got the orchestra settled in, placing the freshmen once they had learned which instruments they played. By the time the second bell they had, remarkably, gotten everyone seated, some even with their instruments ready. Albert borrowed a violin from another student, tuning it up quickly.

He let a few minutes go past, helping a few students tune up their own instruments and flipping through a folder of old music from past years. But by five minutes after the bell, it appeared that Miss Oralski might not make it. With a sigh, he stood up and went to the empty conductor stand.

“Well, it looks like our teacher is late or missing again. No big deal, as I can sum up her first day speech in a few sentences – no bookbags at your chair, sit quietly when she’s working with another section, and practice every night at home.” Just then, the door opened, and everyone turned expectantly.

Albert’s words died unspoken when principal Strauss stepped in, looking very grim. Sizing up the room quickly, he motioned very simply to Albert, and stepped back into the hallway. With a nervous gulp, Albert stepped around the orchestra, Ralph following quickly as well.

Strauss walked a short distance down the hallway, and the students followed him to the railing, looking down over the staircase and the open locker areas. “Look, Albert, I have some bad news –” he stopped at the sight of Ralph’s bright orange fur. “Ralph, this doesn’t concern you. It’s not about the near riot outside this morning, though I’ll get to that soon enough.”

Ralph stood his ground, nervously. Albert looked at the principal, not quite sure if he should meet his eyes. “What is it then, principal?”

He sighed, looking back out over the lockers. “Miss Oralski was in a car accident this morning on her way here. She’s in the hospital, and will be for at least several weeks. I spoke to her just a few minutes ago, after she came out of surgery, and she told me that if she could pick out the music for you, you were perfectly capable of running the orchestra class until she’s able to return.”

Strauss snorted, as if amused. “When I told her about the situation this morning outside, she couldn’t believe it was really you behind it all. So I’m in a rather awkward situation concerning you, Albert,” he continued. “The school can’t find a substitute with the experience necessary to handle an orchestra class. And I’m not sure if I can trust you with the responsibility.”

“Why not?” Albert asked angrily. “College kids teach classes all the time, and some of them haven’t even been there four years. I don’t think I could teach any other class, but at least I know how to conduct and almost all of the students.” He shrugged. “Besides, Ralph usually helps me out when Miss Oralski isn’t here. She’s never complained about it, I think.”

Strauss looked both of them up and down slowly, noting every nervous twitch. “We’ll see. You’ll certainly know by the end of the day – because I expect both of your parents to be here at the end of the school day to discuss your conduct this morning. For now, get back in class.”

Silently they ducked back inside, noticing how several students ducked back into their seats. Albert slowly stood back at the conductor’s spot. “If any of you weren’t listening at the door, I’ll tell you. Miss Oralski was in a car accident this morning, and won’t be able to work for a few weeks. So, principal Strauss is trying to decide whether to take her advice, and put me in charge of this class.”

The saxophonist gasped out, “No way, he’d have to be crazy!” One of the bass players promptly told him to shut up.

Ralph gave the bassist a thumbs up, and growled at the mouse. Albert fought to hide a chuckle. “So, for today at least, I’m in charge. I have no idea what music we might be getting tomorrow, courtesy of our absent teacher, so feel free to play anything you want, or sit and talk quietly. And I mean quietly!” he said, raising his voice a little.

Since most of the students hadn’t brought the own instruments for the first day of school, nor were interested in playing, it boiled down to Albert and Ralph, working on another of their duets. The mouse sat and watched them, half curious and half jealous, and several of the other students watched as well, jealous of their obvious skill in music.

They stopped just before the bell rang, rushing to put away the school instruments and move the tables back into place for the biology teacher that used the room the rest of the day. The mouse caught up to Albert just before he stepped out into the rush of students. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. Normally I’m used to being the best person around. I’m Jeff.”

He shrugged. “Albert. See you tomorrow.” Before the annoying mouse could get in another word, Albert was gone into the hallway, threading his way effortlessly between students.

Almost to his second class, Albert got stopped again. This time, it was Michelle, waiting for him along the hall in one of the recessed doorways. At a nervous half-gesture from her, Albert stopped, stepping sideways out of the throng. “Hey Michelle. What’s up?”

She smiled slightly, her tail curling around one leg in shyness. “I just wanted to see if you were ok after that mess this morning.” She reached forward, touching his cheek with a paw. To his own surprise, he flinched away where she touched it, then put his own hand up to feel a bruise.

“Ah, no,” he groaned, “no wonder the freshmen in orchestra weren’t taking me seriously. Is it really that bad?” Carefully, he felt his face for any other bruises.

“I don’t think so,” she said, “At least, none I can see. You should probably look in a mirror though.”

She started to step back into the crowd, but stopped when Albert put a hand on her arm. “Are you hurt anywhere?” She shook her head timidly, whiskers curled forward in a way that Albert thought meant she was blushing. “Good. I’m glad nobody got hurt or anything. See you at lunch?”

“Maybe.” Ducking her head, the tabby-striped feline vanished into the thinning crowd of students. With a glance at his watch, Albert dashed down the hallway, sliding into a desk just as the bell rang.