Before heading out the door, Hamton also took along his snow shovel in case Granny wanted some help in her driveway — which, to his luck, she did.

    After being welcomed in, Hamton went straight to work, starting with Granny’s living room and kitchen, then moving up to her bedroom on the second floor. Altogether, it was a pretty simple job.

    Once the inside cleaning was done, Hamton shoveled away the snow in Granny's driveway. He was in such a good mood that, by the end of it, he didn’t feel tired at all.

    Thankful for such a fine job, Granny awarded Hamton an extra ten dollars, totaling to twenty for the whole labor.

    "Thanks for all the help, Hamton!" Granny called, waving as he started for home down the lamp lit, snowy street. "And remember, it’s a school night, so be sure to get enough sleep!"

    "No worries, Granny, I will!" he said.

    But unfortunately Hamton wouldn't get to bed until past midnight. On his way home, he spotted three houses with snow piled in their drives and, still feeling joyful over his twenty-dollar payment, Hamton wheeled around to knock on the front doors. The residents, delighted by Hamton’s convenient offer, gave him five dollars apiece.

    By the time he started on the second driveway, Hamton’s joy had completely evaporated. His muscles were aching and his feet were beginning to hurt, but knowing how much he needed the money, he joylessly forced himself to push on — tired, sweaty, all the while his hands and overalls reeked of lemony-scented cleaner.

    And so Hamton arrived home out of breath, dragging his snow shovel from behind and his Ultra-Space Duffel Bag hanging lop-sided off his shoulder.

    He had just enough strength to subtract his thirty-five dollars earned from the list on his desk. Then, without bothering to brush his teeth, he collapsed right onto his bed and fell asleep in under a minute, his winter coat serving as a blanket.

    With hardly any time to spare, Hamton quickly showered, changed into a fresh pair of overalls, devoured two toaster pastries, and packed away his homework along with the cake recipe he copied down from the cook book. Then, rushing through the living room to the front door, he pulled on his coat and hat and hurried out of the house.

    The Friday morning air was bitterly cold; it sank past Hamton’s winter coat and stabbed into his skin, making his trek down the neighborhood street painful with each step. He stuffed his already numb hands deeper into his pockets and tried thinking of the warmth back in his house, hoping the thought would warm him physically. It didn't.

    The cold got worse the longer Hamton walked. A harsh, icy wind howled and whistled over the towering buildings; the whole city seemed to be breathing frost. What was more, Hamton’s muscles, which had eased up after his shower, were now back to being sore again — so between feeling like he was trapped at the South Pole and feeling as though he had been tenderized, Hamton was thoroughly miserable, and he wasn’t even halfway to school yet.

    When he caught up with Buster and Babs on the first city block, they each had one arm around the other as they moved. Anyone curious and foolish enough to stop for a moment and look in this frigid weather may have thought the two rabbits were snuggling. But Hamton was close enough to see how hard his friends were shivering, huddled beside each other, trying to keep themselves warm.

    "H-H-Hi, H-Hamton," Buster said, his teeth chattering.

    "H-Hey," said Babs, keeping her cheek pressed close to her boyfriend.

    "Good morning," Hamton replied, and that was all they said as they continued towards school. It was so cold out it even made Hamton's teeth sting.

    Plucky and Shirley joined them shortly afterwards; they too were huddled together, trying to preserve warmth. Plucky's plumage looked slightly more blue than green today and the only thing he bothered to speak was bitter envy of anyone traveling in a warm car. Shirley was apparently trying to master her impulse to shiver, but Hamton could see an expression of gloom every time the frigid wind blew in their direction.

    When they reached the City Dump, Fifi walked out from the opening in the wood fence. This time, in addition to her white scarf, Fifi had her whole tail wrapped around her body like a long, thick blanket — held tightly with her arms, her face partially covered. She looked as miserable to be out in the blowing wind as Hamton and the others. Not bothering to speak, she simply nodded to her friends and kept to the fast-walk they all had going.

    The windows of nearly every business was coated in prickly frost; Hamton vaguely wondered if the heat inside made any difference. The only place that didn't seem to be affected, oddly enough, was Frosty's Ice Cream Parlor. Despite that it was closed, the shop looked as cozy at it had been on Monday when Hamton and his friends stopped there for ice cream.

    Hamton eyes, watering due to the cold, spotted the Parson Brown snowman still standing by the shop doors, smiling at what must’ve been a spectacular day for snowmen everywhere.

    Hamton turned his sight upward. The clock tower was getting larger and taller, which meant he and his friends were getting closer to school — beautiful, toasty school.

    "Almost there," he whispered, the cold air chilling his lips.

    VRRRROOOOOOOMMMMM!

    Feeling as though a jagged block of ice had been pushed down their backs, Hamton and his friends jerked around at the eruption of roaring tires. A mile-long limousine made entirely of gold shot up down the street and slowed once it was next to them. Hamton saw his miserable face reflected in the dark window before it rolled down, revealing Montana Max and his nasty, buck-tooth grin.

    "Hey, peasants! The frostbite treating you well?" he asked cruelly. "The Acme Weather Forecast says it’s ten-below this morning. Don't worry about me, though, there's plenty of heat in my limo. Soooo warm, soooo comfy. Too bad I don't allow rabbits, chickens, and filthy, fat pigs. And really, who’d want to be around a smelly junkyard dog?"

    Hamton's teeth clenched behind his dry, tightly shut lips. He had never been fond of Monty, but he had always been able to ignore his petty insults reasonably well. But hearing what Monty just called Fifi made Hamton's fists tighten in his pockets, and despite the freezing temperature, he felt his burning blood heat him like a kiln.

    Hamton and his friends kept walking, the limo cruising beside them, but Hamton didn't take his eyes off Monty. He continued to glare, hoping it would scorch the snotty rich boy and reduce his golden ride to a smoldering pile of scrap metal.

    But then, with a thrill of shock, a snowball whizzed past Hamton and hit Monty square in the face, causing him to fall backwards into his limousine.

    Hamton jerked his head around and saw Babs, whose pink hand was covered in snowflakes.

    Monty reemerged in the window, his teeth bared and glaring at Babs, who glared back with equal dislike.

    "Why don't you take that black-market fur coat and shove it down your buck-toothed mouth, Monty!" she snapped.

    Monty growled. "Watch what you say to me, Rabbit!"

    "Then watch what YOU say!" Babs retorted, her voice dripping with venom.

    "Oh, yeah?" Daringly, Monty stuck his head and arms out the window. "I'll have you know, Rabbit, that I'm rich and can have your filthy tail ripped right off your fat, pink —" whatever threat Monty was going to issue never left his lips as another snowball flew straight into his face — this one was the size and shape of a bowling ball, complete with the sound of pins falling.

    "Like, take that, Monty!" Shirley declared. "And while you’re at it, learn to chill out! Shouldn’t be too hard in this weather."

    Gasping and shivering, Monty pulled back into his limo, shouting inaudible curses before rolling up the window and speeding off towards school.

    Babs immediately grabbed Buster's hands and he rubbed them quickly with his own, trying to warm them.

    "Good throw, Shirls," said Plucky, his arm around Shirley while patting her shoulder.

    Hamton would’ve complimented her too, but his sight was fixed on someone else. Perhaps it was just due to the cold, but Hamton thought he saw what might've been a tear, frozen in the fur just underneath Fifi’s eye.

    Never had Hamton and his friends felt more thankful to step inside Acme Loo. The warm hallway was like a breath straight from the hearth of Heaven.

    Plucky was so happy to be inside that he exclaimed, "Thank goodness for wonderful, glorious school!" — something nobody would ever expect him to say, even in their dreams.

    Fifi slowly unwrapped her large fluffy tail from around herself. Hamton felt his face go slightly red as this happened, and was thankful the cold weather had already done the job of making his cheeks red, thus camouflaging his blush.

    But Hamton's flushing went south at seeing Fifi's expression. She didn't look teary or miserable, but there was a stillness to her which Hamton didn't like; it didn't fit with Fifi’s beautiful features or her kind, sweet self. It made Hamton feel slightly rotten and somehow cold, regardless that he had just left the frigid winter air.

    If Fifi was upset, though, she hid it quite effectively. Letting out a loud exhale, she said, her voice quite normal, "Sacré-bleu! Ze wind was ferocious, non? I thought I was going to freeze!"

    "Yeah, me too," said Buster, who was massaging his long blue ears. "I knew I should've bought my ear warmers." He turned to his girlfriend. "You doing okay, Babsy?"

    "Fine," said Babs simply, who looked less chilly and more concerned. "Fifi?"

    "Hmm?"

    "Are you okay?"

    Fifi looked at her questionably. "What do you —?"

    "You know . . ." Babs shirked her head in the direction of the doors they had just walked through. "Back on the street, when Monty came. . . ."

    Fifi blinked, still looking puzzled. Then, with a quick smirk, she threw her hand to the air and shook it.

    "Oh, oui, do not worry," she said with a laugh. "I am simply fantastique."

    Despite this cheery response, Hamton couldn't help but frown a little. And, glancing to the others, he could see they were of similar minds.

    "It is nothing to fret about, please, mes amies," Fifi assured them. "Have we not all been scorned by Montana Max? He treats everyone like garbage, so let us not worry. Besides," Fifi straightened up, "it will take a lot more zen a simple insult to hurt moi. 'Junkyard dog', hmph!" she scoffed. "And what does zat that make Monty? A buck-toothed cash cow?"

    Hearing this comeback seemed to awaken Babs to her usual spirited self.

    "You said it, Fifi!" she cheered.

    Shirley threw her fist into the air, "Yeah, rock on!"

    Buster and Plucky nodded. "Hmm-hmm!"

    Hamton said, "You tell him!" but inside, he felt a great swarm of admiration for the beautiful, proud skunk. Anyone can sink beneath the weight of words — Hamton certain did many times in the past — but Fifi here pushed aside the meaningless insult and kept her chin up.

    It just goes to show that there was more to Fifi than a pretty face, and that only increased Hamton's regard.

    "Now," Fifi said happily as they walked to their lockers, "enough about me. What about ze four of you?" She said this last bit with the greatest of interest. Smirking, she slyly asked, "Big romantic plans for tonight?"

    Hamton looked to Buster, Babs, Shirley, and Plucky, who were all blushing.

    "Oh, you know, Fifi," shrugged Babs, "nothing too spectacular. I mean, with this weather, a movie might be all that me and Buster will do."

    "I was thinking along the same pages," said Buster. "Not sure what movies are playing tonight, but the surprise is usually half the fun. We might head to Frosty's afterwards, share a carrot sundae. Hopefully the wind will have died down by then."

    "And you two?" Fifi asked to Plucky and Shirley, beaming at them.

    "Like, Plucky and me are thinking of going to the Mall," answered Shirley. "We’re gonna check out a few shops that look mighty stylish."

    "And extremely boring," Plucky whispered to Buster and Hamton.

    "Oh, come on, Plucky," said Shirley who had heard him, her hands on her hips. "We'll stop at the places you like, too."

    "Yeah, after about five hours," Plucky scoffed. "Just promise me we'll go down to the food court in time for supper."

    "Sure, sure," said Shirley, shaking her head with a bemused smile.

    And with that, Buster, Babs, Shirley, and Plucky headed off to their classes, leaving Hamton alone with Fifi, the only ones who hadn’t yet opened their lockers. The latter, who stared lovingly after the two young couples, folded her hands to the side of her face and let out a soft, "Le sigh.... Love is simply merveilleux, is it not, Hamton?"

    "Yeah..." he said meekly, staring at her without notice, "it truly is. . . ."

    The school day went on without fuss or gloom. Everyone was eager to be out of the frost-biting winter wind, and, being Friday, it was almost the weekend, and that was enough to warm anyone's spirits.

    Hamton handed in his essay for Cartoon Logic and, from what Prof. Fudd later discussed in class on gravity and cartoons, felt he did a fair job explaining it on paper. Plus, with Hamton’s muscles no longer aching him, the day was passing by without a hitch.

    The only homework that got assigned for the weekend were two pages of math problems in Calculations class, due Monday. This, to Hamton, was excellent news; he would have most of all weekend, including tonight, to work for Fifi's present.

    But for the time being, Hamton's thoughts of outside work were put on hold for the last class of the day, one he was excited for.

    When he and the class entered the cafeteria, a scowling Professor Yosemite Sam was there to greet them. Many of the students had to stifle a laugh because, despite the cold look on the teacher’s mustached face, the flowery apron he wore killed the dark mood he was trying to convey. If any outlaw ever saw Yosemite Sam as he was now, they would roll six miles in their grave.

    Hamton meanwhile, was feeling more excited by the moment as he glanced around the cafeteria. The many lunch tables had all been pushed against the walls and were covered with bowls, mixing spoons, cake pans, frosting bags, and measuring cups. One table was devoted to holding ingredients, another to decorations, and atop of one, with a "Proceed with Extreme Caution" sign next to it, there was a huge stack of TNT, fireworks, gunpowder barrels, and other forms of explosives.

    Holding his hand to the side of his mouth, Buster whispered to an unseen person (a.k.a. the reader), "Remember, don't ever bring explosives into a non-cartoon school."

    "Pipe down, ya long-eared, blue-blabbin' rabbit!" scolded Yosemite Sam. "You wanna start takin' to thin air, go and talk to the guidance counselor!"

    Clearing his throat, Yosemite Sam straightened his large cowboy hat and said, "All right, listen up, y'all. We only got two hours to bake so we gotta get down to business snap-dattin' tootin'! First, we need to partner up, and this time, I'm decidin! Last time, none of ya got anythin' done except flappin' your gums!"

    And so, at the mercy of the angry, two-foot tall cowboy, everyone was partnered off.

    To Buster's dismay, he got teamed with Elmyra, who immediately starting hugging and squeezing Buster until he looked bluer than normal. Then Plucky and Shirley were partnered together; Shirley looked positively thrilled, Plucky less so. Next were Furrball and Dizzy, then Calamity and Little Beeper (talk about awkward, eh?), then Mary Melody and Gogo. Only four students were left.

    "Babs," said Yosemite Sam, "you're with Monty."

    Somewhere in the room, a vinyl record let off an ear-shattering scratch.

    "WHAT?" bellowed Monty. "Heck no! I ain't working with that flea-bitten rabbit!"

    "Same here!" Babs yelled, glaring at Monty with total dislike. "I'd rather work with a rabid dog who eats children!"

    "Oh, yeah?" Monty pressed his enraged face into Babs' seething one. "I'd rather work with the dirt under your fat rabbit feet! At least it would make the cake taste better than any muck you'd ever dish out!"

    "Oh, yeah?" Babs retorted, her fists clenched. "You couldn't open an oven without someone showing you how! No wonder you take your butler wherever you go!" She pointed a firm finger towards Grovely, standing and watching the ongoing feud with indifference.

    "At least I can afford a butler who blends in with the background! You don’t see me living in any mangy hole like a carrot-eating rat!"

    "THAT'S ENOUGH!" shouted Yosemite Sam, now red in the face. "One more nasty word and I'll flunk both of ya! You two are partners and that's that!" Breathing heavily, he turned to the only two remaining students. "Hamton, you're with Fifi! No complaints!"

    Hamton's stomach gave a funny turn. All the air in the room seemed to become warmer as elation flowed through his veins, even more so when he saw Fifi smiling at him. She clearly had no complaints being his partner. As for Hamton being hers . . . as if!

    "You all know the drill!" said Professor Sam. "Careful around the ovens and stoves, clean up your spots after you’re done, and for the love Cactus Kate, keep the matches away from the explosives until we grade the cakes! Now get-a going!"

    The whole class obeyed and made their way to the main sinks to wash their hands. Afterwards, Hamton grabbed a plain white apron from off the pile, flung it over his head and tied it around his overalls. Fifi, standing beside him, hummed lightly as she tied her apron around her curvy figure. Hamton watched as she did so, fighting the mad impulse to blush: Fifi looked very good with an apron.

    "Ready, Hamton?" she asked sweetly.

    "Y-Yes," he said, his head still feeling fuzzy.

    Focus, he thought fiercely. This is no time to be awestruck. Just do the assignment with her and enjoy it.

    Hamton pulled out the cake recipe that he copied from his cookbook. Clearing his throat while feeling slightly nervous, he helded up the recipe for Fifi to see. "I was thinking we could try a chocolate cake, like this. What do you think, Fifi?"

    She took the recipe and looked it over. Hamton swallowed, awaiting her response.

    "Ooo la la!" Fifi declared. "Hamton, zis looks beautiful! I had ze same idea. Look," and she showed Hamton the recipe she picked out. It too was a chocolate cake, but in place of strawberries, this one had floral decorations made from different colored frosting. Hamton found it equally, if not more, appetizing.

    "Looks fantastic," he said, feeling his anxiety drift away. "So, a chocolate cake sounds good to you?"

    "Oui," said Fifi. "How about we combine ze designs?"

    "Combine them?"

    "Oui. We can decorate ze outside with ze white lace from your cake, and, if it sounds good to you, we can add a few frosting flowers from mine. I think zat would look superb, non?"

    "Yeah, sounds great!" said Hamton, the idea increasing his eagerness. But just then, something occurred to him. . . "Umm . . . Fifi? What do you think we should use for an explosive?"

    Fifi’s sweet smile was replaced with a quizzical look. "Hmm . . . good question."

    Hamton took the chance to ponder as well. Now that he realized it, he never thought of what he might use to make the cake explode; he had been too busy trying to raise money. But now that the question presented itself, he found it to be a huge oversight. This was Exploding Cakes class after all.

    "How about zis, Hamton?" said Fifi. "We do as we planned and decorate ze cake with ze white lace on ze side and ze flowers around ze base. Zen, at ze cake's top, we include one last large flower set with a firecracker."

    Hamton's mind, which had fallen short of finding any good ideas, took the suggestion as it formed in his imagination. "That's sounds like it’ll be all right. It’s something, if nothing else."

    "I agree," said Fifi. "It should be enough to give us a good grade. If we are lucky, zere may even still be enough of ze cake left to taste, depending on ze strength of ze firecracker."

    "And granted the cake doesn't taste like gunpowder afterwards," Hamton added.

    His cheeks went hot as Fifi gave a light giggle. "True, true. Well, shall we, how you say, get started?"

    Feeling bold, Hamton gave an iconic little bow. "After you, mademoiselle."

    Fifi giggled again, and Hamton’s blush fully emerged as they both set out to get their ingredients.