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Trip's Revenge, Chapter One

Trip Hutchison opened the door to his locker and sighed to himself. Defying all logic, it was already somehow the middle of October. In just a week the young corgi would be turning eighteen, and in only a few months he would be able to put the hell of high school behind him once and for all. He only had to put up with things a little longer. He couldn’t help but wag his tail a bit at the thought.

Trip was taking his chemistry textbook out of his locker when the door unexpectedly slammed shut, nearly catching his paw with it. The golden retriever who had inadvertently backed into the door turned to apologize. “Oh hey man, sorry about-- oh Drip, it’s you. Watch where your locker is going, asshole,” the larger canine said with a low growl as he ran his fingers through his luxurious locks. The handsome golden, Brandon Scott, made like he was going to shoulder-check Trip, causing the smaller dog to flinch. Satisfied, the retriever flipped up the collar of his letterman jacket and gave Trip a smirking salute before leaving.

Trip quickly and angrily spun the dial on his locker’s combination lock and made for the library, on alert should the golden retriever reappear unexpectedly. He walked quickly through the halls, desperate to retreat to safety. This was Trip’s free period, and he often chose to spend that time in the library. It was the one place at Fox Creek High where he could be certain to avoid the jocks that constantly harassed him. As he entered the large, well-lit facility, he nodded to the demure older emperor penguin who served as the school librarian.

“Good afternoon Drip… er, Trip. Sorry,” Mrs. King the librarian said, a slow look of embarrassment spreading across her face. Mrs. King at least made an effort to use Trip’s given name, but the old bird was somewhat forgetful and let the pejorative nickname slip out on occasion.

“Like I said before, Mrs. King, Drip is fine. Everyone else calls me that anyway.” The young corgi flashed Mrs. King a well-polished if insincere smile as he passed her. He immediately made for the back corner table near the reference section, scanning the rest of the room as he walked. As usual, the library appeared to be empty.

Trip quietly took a seat in the chair he favored, letting his bookbag slide down from his shoulder to the table before him with a soft thud. This is all Justin’s fault, Trip thought to himself for something approaching the thousandth time over the years. Justin Warren. That asshole.

Trip inserted a pair of cheap earbuds into his ears and queued up some music on his phone. He leaned back in the leather-bound wooden chair and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of his current favorite punk-pop band For Another Biscuit carry him away from his troubles.

Justin Warren was a black wolf who, at one time, had been Trip’s closest ally in the world. The two boys had lived three houses apart since kindergarten, and they had quickly become the best of friends over their shared love of video games and dinosaurs.

In the grand scale of the cosmos, it really hadn’t been that long ago that Trip and Justin had been inseparable... right up until early in the fifth grade when Justin had committed the Unforgivable Sin, ruining everything for Trip.

Trip had always been a bit small, even by the standards of his breed. “A late bloomer,” his Nana had often called him, despite his protests. However, Nana Sanders had been right, Trip had been a late bloomer. In particular, his bladder had struggled to keep up with the rest of him, and like many kids his age Trip had wet the bed all through elementary school.

Justin had known about Trip’s occasional nighttime incontinence issues, and so the wolf had known about Trip’s need to wear diapers to bed as a result. After all, the boys knew everything about each other, all their deepest secrets and most private thoughts. Never in a million years would Justin ever tell anyone Trip’s secret... or at least that’s what Trip had always believed. Sadly, Justin had made the choice to confide in Luke Merriwether during a whispered late-night conversation at a sleepover, and of course the gossipy lynx had shared the juicy secret with all his friends the very next morning. By recess the next day, the entire school knew that Trip still wore diapers at night. Thus, the cruel and persistent nickname “Drip” had been born.

It is an incontrovertible fact that there are only three types of children in the world: bullies, targets, and everyone else. In Trip’s experience, once you were branded a target by the other children you would never be able to escape the designation. Trip had long ago stopped wetting the bed at night, but he would never be allowed to forget the shame of it. Even all these years later, and just one week before he would be considered legally an adult, he still dealt with daily harassment and torment... primarily doled out by the jocks on the school’s champion basketball team, the Fox Creek Predators. The Predators had been state champions for two years running, thanks in no small part to the exceptional talent and tactical leadership of their team captain and all-star point guard, Justin Warren.

While high school had been a relentlessly challenging experience for Trip, things had gone much differently for his arch-nemesis. Justin was bright, handsome, popular among his peers, well-liked by the administration and faculty, and beloved by the community of Fox Creek for leading the Predators to two consecutive state championships. It was expected that Justin would pull off a hat trick by taking the team to their third state victory again this year. National recruiters had taken note of the wolf’s rising star, and rumors said he was already being courted by some very prestigious universities all over the country. The perfect course of Justin’s life seemed to be predestined at this point. Justin was Fox Creek’s own Golden Boy, and all the attention he got made Trip sick to his stomach.

Better enjoy this time in the sun while you can, Justin, Trip thought to himself. I’ve been working on my plan to take you down for more than a year now, and it’s just about time to get started. The corner of Trip’s mouth began to curl involuntarily at the thought. You have no idea what’s about to happen to you, but I hope even your tiny jock brain will be able to appreciate the irony. I’m not completely cruel though, I got you the blue diapers instead of the pink ones at least. The corgi giggled aloud at the thought, then quickly opened his eyes to make sure he was still alone. He was, of course, but this early into his plan he couldn’t be too careful. Nevertheless, the corgi’s eyes sparkled with barely-contained excitement. It was all going to start so soon, and then everything would finally be different.

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