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Every school has its weirdoes. You knew that. You have friends in other districts, friends in other states, a few online friends you chat with over social media and various messaging programs. They all have stories, because ever school has its weirdoes.
But there was something very, very disconcerting about those four.
Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde, John Egbert and Jade Harley. The tightly knit group no one in the whole school could figure out. The kids who just appeared one day, all together, and very quietly puzzled anyone who thought about them too much.
It wasn't that they were bad kids. Not at all, actually, that made it weirder. They never went to parties, never went to dances, never went to football games. Both boys ran track, Strider for sprints and Egbert for distance. Egbert was VP of film club, Strider won second place in some photography contest. Harley led the science Olympiad team to victory and did archery. Lalonde was in English Honors Society and sometimes helped teachers with filing. But they just...never really interacted with anyone outside each other.
Any one of them had no close friends outside the other three. They had acquaintances, people they talked to and were friendly with, but it was like, to them, it was just an obligation. 'People expect me to talk and be friendly, so I will'. They were all almost glued together by the hip. It was like there was an unbreakable barrier between themselves and the rest of the world.
They never dated, even though there were plenty of people who would love to snap up any of them. Lalonde was classically beautiful, Harley was a mix of cute and exotic, Strider was cool, handsome and mysterious, and Egbert was your classic adorkable sweet guy. But none of them ever seemed interested in being in any sort of relationship. You have a guy friend who asked Harley out once, only to come back with a rather mystified look on his face. He stated that he had never been completely rejected so nicely.
Once, the schools quarterback/head cheerleader couple broke up, and the head cheerleader went and asked Egbert out as a last 'fuck you' to her ex. Naturally, John had said no. Naturally, the quarterback hadn't cared and decided to get revenge anyway. By locking Egbert in a janitor’s closet.
The school learned two things that afternoon. One- John Egbert was horribly, cripplingly claustrophobic. Two- you do not, repeat: not, mess with any member of that foursome.
You saw the aftermath of that particular incident due to the fact that you were going back to class from the bathroom. It was one of the most terrifying, weirdly sweet things you'd ever seen in your life.
Strider and Lalonde were kneeling on the ground next to John. Strider had his arms linked with the other boy's and was pulling them behind his back, using his own body to stop Egbert from thrashing and hurting himself or one of them. Egbert's back was up against Dave's chest at that point, and Lalonde crouched closer to him, speaking in a low voice, guiding him back to reality and calm.
And Harley. Harley. Harley was up in Mister Quarterback’s face, eyes flashing and dangerous, telling him off in a way you'd never seen anyone told off before and using more extremely creative curse words then you thought was possible to use in one sitting. She ended with spitting at him to 'get out of my sight before I give you three new assholes, fuckass.' And as he high-tailed it out of there, she called after him 'and if you ever touch John again, I'll do worse!'
The she too sank down next to the other three, and they all wrapped their arms around each other, as if they were holding each other together. You suddenly felt as if you were interrupting something very intimate, and you slowly backed away. You took the long way back to your classroom.
That day, random gale-force winds struck the area, knocking in three of the school's windows.
Strider couldn't stand the sight of blood. Lalonde journaled obsessively. Harley acted like no one ever taught her to have an off button, or the concept of personal space. None of their parents ever come to anything- no track meets, no awards ceremonies, nothing. No one was ever even sure if they had parents, or if they live together, or where they live, or anything. They all moved like fighters, like they'd long mastered every way their bodies work, like at any second they could lash out and be completely deadly. Once, a noise startled Strider in gym class, and his hand went to his hip as if reaching for a sword in a scabbed, and he instinctively turned his body to shield Egbert and Harley.
You had always been an avid people watcher, and came up with three possible explanations for them. One- They grew up/spent a lot of time in some kind of war zone, like Afghanistan or Iraq or something. Two- They had grown up together in an extremely abusive foster home. Three- they were experiments on the run.
You were leaning towards the second one, as there was a lot to prove otherwise regarding the first and the third didn't make much sense.
You'd only ever been in one class with any of them, and that was creative writing with Lalonde. You enjoyed the class, though you'd always been more interested in things like journalism then actual prose. You've always been much better at making normal things sound exciting then coming up with exciting things from inside your head. Rose Lalonde, on the other hand, strung words together in a way that was more natural then air.
On the last day of the semester, everyone had to read one of their pieces to the class. Most were pretty bad. Sappy love stories and stupid supernatural bullshit. Some poorly disguised fanfiction. You had tried to rehash an old myth you'd always loved, one about how a raven stole the sun, making both the raven and the sun human. You thought it had come out decently. You had gotten a B+ on it.
But Rose Lalonde had shared something magnificent to the class that day, though you're still not sure if you completely understood it. It was some weird, Sci-Fi-Fantasy creation fairy tale about four kids who got sucked though their computer screens into a different world. A demon held the entire Earth hostage and made them play a game, an awful game, an extremely sadistic game. She told the class about how the demon killed the kid's parents and displayed the bodies for them to see. How the sight of her mother dead drove one of the girls to madness, and how one of the boys brought her back. How the other girl was made to kill the other boy by their enemy, how she struggled and brought him back from death. She said there were 12 angels watching them the whole time, not really wanting to help but sort of doing it anyway, but some of the angels got corrupted and by the time the kids met them there were only five.
Then the story spiraled into horror, good horror, Lovecraftian stuff, but it also stopped making a lot of sense. But at that point everyone was pulled into her voice, and it didn't matter that things didn't make sense because suddenly it felt like she was a goddess, something infinitely old and infinitely powerful, and her words were a terrible ocean sweeping you all into its depths. You were all drowning in confusion and beauty and terror and none of you cared.
And then it was suddenly over, with the four children winning but not really, holding the broken pieces of each other together as they limped into the brightness of a new world.
Rose Lalonde finished her story, and the class was utterly silent. The teacher was utterly silent. No one was quite sure what you had just heard, but you, at least, felt for some reason like it might be the most important
thing you ever heard.
Then the bell rang. Rose scooped up her bag, slipped the paper onto the teacher’s desk, and walked out the door where Egbert waited for her. He offered his arm to her like she was a queen. She took it, and suddenly Strider was there with an arm thrown over Egbert's shoulders, and Harley looped her arm with Strider's. And they all walked out of the school to where ever it was they called home.
Every school has its weirdoes. You have those four, and everyone has long-since accepted the fact that no one was ever going to understand them.
When you think about their panic attacks, and the reactions to loud noises and touch, and how stupidly normal things make them flinch, and about Lalonde's story, and you think that might be for the best.