"Hey, who's that?"
     "The new kid. I think his name is Sly Cooper or something."
     "Oi, Cooper! What's with the mask?"
     "What's with the cane? Are you an old man? Huh, old man?"
     Questions, taunts, and jeers surrounded the little raccoon. He simply stood there, pressed
against the wall with a sad expression on his face, his father's hat sitting crookedly on his
head and the Cooper Cane glinting a dull yellow in his hand. Sly Cooper stared wordlessly
ahead at the many other children gathered around him, absorbing their remarks. He was
strangely quiet for a six-year-old.
     He sat down on the wooden bench of the orpanage lobby and picked at a stray splinter
on its surface, ignoring the many whispers around him. Sly remembered the day that his
parents died, when his only worry was that an ant he found on the wooden bench outside
their home would escape from his palm. A tear drifted down the black leather of his father's
mask and navigated through his gray cheek furs, landing with a watery plop on the
bench.
     "Whatcha crying for, old man?"
     "Ish da wittle baby sad? Huh? Does da wittle baby want his bottle? Ah, ha ha!"
     "Sly Cooper, please report to the front desk!" A crisp female voice sounded through the
many voices, the many teasing jeers. Sly stood and walked to the front desk, the Cooper
Cane dragging behind him.
     "Are you Sly Cooper?" asked a rigid-looking lioness at the front desk. Sly nodded sullenly.
     "Sly Cooper, male raccoon, six, parents murdered?"
     The little raccoon nodded again, a sob lodged in his throat. Another tear welled up in his
eyes, but he brushed it away, his grip tightening on the smooth wooden shaft of the Cooper
Cane.
     The lioness asked him several more questions, most of which concerning his address
and heritage, what he saw when his parents wre murdered, and his academic level. Sly
simply nodded or whispered the answers, not feeling like talking. The lioness finally nodded
her great slender head, muttered something, scribbled on a small piece of paper, and slid
the paper onto the far reaches of the counter of her desk.
     "I suppose you can read?" she asked Sly curtly.
     He nodded.
     "On the paper is your room, your locker number, your combination, wing, and bunk. Your roommate's names are Bentley and Murray. I expect for you to get along. You are not to set foot in the Girls' Wing at all. Lights out is 10:00 p.m. You are not to leave your room any later than
9:00 pm. You are to get out of bed at 7:00 am. School starts at 9:00 am. School ends at
4:00 pm."
     Sly sighed and grabbed at the paper. He had to stand on his toes to reach it. The paper
read, in curly handwriting:
Wing: Boys
Room B128
Locker: B945
Combination: 48-08-46
Bunk: Right, top
All your belongings and possessions have already been delivered to Room B128. Please
make your way there. We at Bright Future Orphanage expect you to follow all rules and
regulations. If you have a question concerning BFO, please ask Mrs. Savannah at the Front
Desk or Headmistress Slithera.
     The little raccoon, with difficulty, read the curly writing on the paper and looked up. He
gathered himself up, took a deep breath, and set off to find room B128, where he knew
that everything was already set up for him.

End of Chapter2. To be Continued...