Kit was sitting on the sofa, looking a little uncomfortable in a suit and tie. Wildcat, clad in clean overalls, sat beside him with Molly on his lap. They were enjoying a brief reprieve from being scrutinized; Mr. Tannenbaum was in the bathroom.

Rebecca emerged from her bedroom wearing a conservative maroon skirt suit with a large bow tied at her throat. After glancing at the clock, she crossed the room to where the cubs and mechanic were sitting and adjusted Molly’s hair ribbons. “Where is that fat bear?” she murmured under her breath.

“Not here,” Molly answered.

“He should be. How could he forget this?”

“He forgot, because he’s Baloo,” Kit said quietly.

“That’s no excuse to be late for your graduation.” She knotted Molly’s second hair ribbon, fiddled with a ruffle on the little girl’s blue dress, then turned to Kit. “Let me see that tie, sweetie.”

Rebecca adjusted his tie and stepped back to look him over. Smiling, she said, “There. You’re perfect. Remember to walk straight and tall.”

“And don’t trip going up on stage,” Molly added with a mischievous giggle.

Kit said wryly, “Thanks a heap, Short Stuff.”

Flashing an annoyed glance at the clock, Rebecca said, “That’s it! I’m calling Louie’s.”

Louie’s Place

Baloo, lounging at the bar, was surrounded by pilots of all sizes and species. While listening to Harry, a small feline pilot, tell a joke, he slurped on his thick mango shake.

Harry was saying, “A pig, a rabbit, and a duck go on a picnic. So, which hand did they eat their soup with?” He paused a moment before delivering the punch line: “Neither. They used a soup spoon.”

The nightclub rang with laughter.

“Good one, Harry,” Louie said, giving the cat a high-five across the bar.

Baloo pounded his palm on the bar. “Listen up, fellas. I got one.” He waited until all eyes were on him before beginning. “Okay, so this really stupid goon’s s’posed ta beat up this guy who has a mole on his face in the shape of Italia.”

Louie interjected with, “Wait a sec. What’s the shape of Italia? The mole or the guy’s face?”

“The mole,” Baloo said with an annoyed frown. “Pay attention, innkeeper. So after he’s sent on his mission, the goon comes back to his boss an’ his boss says, ‘Did ya beat him up like I asked ya?’ an’ the goon says, ‘I didn’t hafta, boss.’ And his boss says, ‘Whattaya mean ya didn’t hafta?’ And the goon says, ‘Someone with really tiny feet already kicked him in the face an’ left a boot mark.’” Baloo guffawed. “Get it? Italia? Boot?”

The other pilots exchanged bored and confused looks.

Just then, the wall-mounted telephone rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Louie said with a smirk.

“That joke wasn’t that bad,” Baloo said, greatly offended.

“It wasn’t that good neither.” The orangutan picked up the receiver and put it to his ear. “Louie’s Place. It’s your dime.” He listened for a minute, then shot a sly glance at Baloo. “Why, sure he’s here, Rebecca.”

Baloo winced. “Thanks for coverin’ for me, cuz.”

“Anythin’ ta get outta hearin’ your hokey jokes.” Louie handed the phone to Baloo.

Before Baloo put the receiver to his ear, he heard Rebecca say loudly, “What do you think you’re doing, Baloo?”

Scowling, Baloo replied, “Zonin’ out after bein’ through all them different time zones. That was one crazy day ya put me through, lady.”

“The day’s not over yet, flyboy. I need you to hightail your tail back here right this second!”

“Gimmee one good reason.” Baloo leisurely took a sip of his shake.

“You’re going to miss Kit’s sixth grade graduation!”

Baloo nearly choked on his shake. “That’s a good reason. Ain’t today Monday?”

“No, it’s Wednesday.”

“Wednesday? Someone owes me a Tuesday.” He pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at it. Surprise registered on his face. “Holy shimolies! I didn’t know it was that late! I’m comin’! I’m comin’!”

“You’d better, or I’ll come get you, even if I have to swim all the way!” She slammed the phone down so hard that Baloo jumped and splashed his shake on his shirt.

“I think she’s mad,” Baloo murmured, ruefully peering into his empty glass.

Back at the Cunninghams’ apartment, Rebecca calmly turned to Mr. Tannenbaum, who had just emerged from the bathroom. “Baloo’s finishing up some important business. He’ll be here in a little while. Why don’t we all just sit down and relax?” she suggested, clenching her hands together tightly as she fixed her eyes on the clock.

Cape Suzette Elementary

A half an hour later, Baloo, Rebecca, Kit, Molly, Wildcat, and Mr. Tannenbaum entered the gymnasium. The sixth-graders’ families and friends were milling in the aisles and sitting in the rows of folding chairs. A faint smell of sweaty socks and basketballs mingled with cheap cologne and corsages.

Kit joined his classmates in the front row, leaving the rest of the Higher for Hire gang to hunt for five unoccupied adjoining seats. They finally found an empty row towards the back of the gymnasium. Baloo filed into the row first, followed by Rebecca, Wildcat, and Molly.

“Mr. Cunningham, would you mind moving down a chair?” Mr. Tannenbaum asked, standing in the aisle. He peered at the pilot over his pince-nez.

Wildcat whispered loudly, “That’s you, Baloo.”

“Iknow that’s me.” Baloo scooted down one chair and gave an apologetic look on the elderly female raccoon sitting in the seat next to him. She hugged her large purple handbag closer.

Mr. Tannenbaum took his seat and settled his clipboard on his knee.

Baloo opened the program and ran his eyes over the agenda. He hoped that the program wouldn’t be too long; the chair was already cutting into his back. Then, his eyes bulged out. He shoved the program in front of Rebecca’s nose, whispering frantically, “Becky, we got a big problem.”

Annoyed, Rebecca batted the program away. “This had better be good, or I’ll give you a bigger problem.”

He pointed to a name listed on the class roster - Kit Cloudkicker.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured, glancing at Mr. Tannenbaum out of the corner of her eye. Aloud, she said, “I can’t believe Kit’s graduating. He’s growing up so fast, isn’t he, Baloo?” She whispered, “What are we going to do?”

“Yeah, he is. Too fast.” He murmured out of the corner of his mouth, “Got a pen?”

“Yes.” Rebecca procured a pen from her purse and gave it to him.

Baloo hurriedly scratched out ‘Cloudkicker’ in the program. “Hey, look, Mr. T. A flyin’ bear that juggles bowlin’ balls at the same time.”

“Where?” Mr. Tannenbaum and Wildcat said simultaneously. They both looked in the direction that Baloo was pointing.

When the judge’s back was turned, Baloo tossed the program onto Mr. Tannenbaum’s lap.

Disappointed, Wildcat said, “Aw, I missed it.”

Molly patted the mechanic’s arm consolingly.

“I don’t see anything,” Mr. Tannenbaum said, looking at Baloo accusingly.

Baloo said sheepishly, “Oops, my mistake.”

Mr. Tannenbaum looked at two programs on his lap. “Where did this come from?”

Molly piped up, “Uh, that one’s mine, Mr. Tannenbaum. It accidentally slipped out of my hands.”

He handed her a program.

Molly peeked inside. Seeing ‘Cloudkicker’ scratched out, she said quickly, “I want the other one. Please?”

“They’re exactly the same, young lady,” he said crisply.

“Nuh-huh. That one’s a lighter yellow.” She tossed her copy on his lap and snatched his copy from his hands before he could say anything.

“Hmm...” Mr. Tannenbaum pursed his lips and opened his program. “They messed up printing your son’s name. Do all of your programs have ‘Kit C’?”

Rebecca and Molly nodded.

Wildcat was about to say, “No,” when Molly pinched his arm.

“What?” Baloo feigned outrage. “I’m gonna have a little chat with the prince-o-pal about this.”

Just then the lights dimmed, the conversation died, and all eyes focused on the stage.

The principal, Mr. Palmeroy, walked onto the stage and took his place behind the podium. “Welcome, families and friends, to this year’s sixth-grade graduation. With the exception of one student, this class is exceptionally bright.”

While he droned on, a giraffe couple entered the gymnasium and sat down directly in front of Baloo and Rebecca.

“Swell,” Baloo murmured sardonically.

Rebecca leaned to the left and to the right. She whispered to Baloo, “I can’t see. Can you?”

“Hmm...how ‘bout if I...?” Baloo slipped his arm around Rebecca. “Put your head on my shoulder.”

“What? Why?”

“If ya lean against me, you can look between ‘em.”

“Oh.” Feeling extremely uncomfortable, she tentatively leaned against him. He then rested his head against hers.

“Relax, Beckers. I ain’t gonna do nuthin’. I’m a married bear.”

Rebecca grinned and allowed herself to relax - a little.

“Without further ado,” Mr. Palmeroy said, “here is the class of 1937, singing ‘Usland the Beautiful’.”

By the time the song was over, Baloo’s back ached from the uncomfortable chair. The rows were so close together that his knees were wedged in the back of the chair in front of him. He gingerly shifted in his seat, causing the metal chair to squeak violently.