Stranger Things on Heaven and Earth

CHAPTER ONE: A Strange Final

"Maaaaaaaaliiiiiiiiik!"

I groaned as I was jerked from a fantastic dream of being smothered to death by the class of 2019's best titties (Sarah Cornwick, if you were curious) by the shrill sound of my mother's voice screaming up the stairs. I twitched, writhed, then fell out of bed as she followed up my name with a hammering on the door.

"Malik! Get up! The bus is coming! You don't want to miss your final day of school, do you? Last shot before college to enjoy your high school career!"

I mumbled into the carpet: "Mom, god, senoritus, haven't you heard of it?"

Mom either didn't hear me or didn't take that as an appropriate excuse.

After a few minutes, I was in my clothes, brushing my teeth, and trying to console myself: Just one more day of school and I was going to be free. Free for summer. Of course, summer did mean that Mom was going to be in her distressingly tiny swim suits constantly. Bleh. Maybe I could get myself through by just burying my face in a book while she flounced around in a sling bikini? It'd be appropriate, after all.

I had struggled, early on, to read. I know, imagine that. Malik Fong, second generation American-Chinese, struggling academically. Yes, my Mom was appropriately nightmarish in more ways than just her willingness to show off her butt, and yes, there had been tears shed while she had forced me again and again to read the same fucking page for day after day, but fortunately, I had broken through. The squirmy, wriggly lines of text had become words. Then words had become sentences. And then sentences had become entire worlds. My backpack had two textbooks that I'd need and several novels -- from Turtledove to Hobb to LeGuine to Lackey, my interests ranged through science fiction, fantasy, post-apocalyptic.

In other words, it was the horror of every right thinking English teacher I'd ever had.

I spat into the sink, tossed my backpack over my shoulder with a grunt, and hurried down the stairs. Once I was there, Mom started to cluck over me. This was, as always, an amazingly distracting action. Mom was, um, kinda turbo hot. She was curvy and beautiful, and she didn't just check me over. She brushed her palms through my hair and pressed her chest to my chest as she looked me over, making it really clear how curvy and cute she was. I thought of nothing but math as she adjusted my hair, scowled at my T-shirt (really, Malik, you should be wearing a button up! Not this T-shirt!) and then finally had to relent as the bus was blaring on the horn outside. I loped out of the front door, past the newspaper that my Dad would grab up, and to the door of the bus.

And to think: It was just going to get worse visa vi Mom's hotness when summer hit.

Maybe I'd luck out and get to go on vacation?

Looking inside, I saw the smattering of freshmen (who, I was sure, would be so happy to hang up their freshmen hats after summer) and sophomores and juniors. I was one of the only seniors on the bus, as most of us had learned how to drive. But I hadn't bothered. Way too much work for way too little of a reward -- yeah, like I wanted to end up wrapped around a freaking tree. I walked on, past seats filled with other students -- usually brother/sister pairs, whispering to one another quietly, until I came to a seat that made me blink. It had something...odd.

A girl.

A girl I didn't know.

A girl I didn't know reading a book the size of a freaking phone book.

Now, the fact that I didn't know her wasn't strange. I didn't know many people at school. But the book? Oh the book meant I had to know her before summer hit. Maybe I'd have an alternative escape from my Mom's near nudity!

I slipped into the seat next to her, trying to look her over without being too creepy. She was willow thin, with short cropped black hair that framed her head. She was wearing a blue blouse with a purple skirt that had a large pinkish star decorating both hips. It looked nice. She was also wearing really kicking shoes, with high white socks that clung to her calves. Not that I was scoping out her legs. But. Like. She had amazing legs. Then I noticed that I didn't recognize the book. So, drawing on my years of being a sensual, suave, totally seductive man (and not a bookish Asian nerd), I coughed, spluttered, and finally squeaked out: "Heywhatsup?"

I had been planning to say 'what are you reading?' all cool and sexy.

Instead...squeaks.

Great. Great. Just...just fucking great.

The girl started, as if she hadn't realized I was there, then looked at me. She blushed and grinned. "Oh, uh, just reading a book I brought from home!" She said, tucking it quickly into her backpack. As she slipped it home, I noticed a pair of dark eyes looking up and out of her backpack. My brow furrowed slightly as I saw a small, wet nose and a short, dark muzzle peeking out to dab against her fingers. She drew her hand back back to her lap, grinning at me.

"Do you have a dog in your backpack?" I asked.

"Whaaat?" she asked.

Okay.

Something was bugging me about her voice. Not that it was annoying or anything. She actually had a really cute voice. Like, if her voice was a girl, I'd want to ask it out on a date just as badly as I'd want to ask her (not that I was about to ask her on a date or anything, I'm not a creeper!) But it was also really fucking familiar. Like it was on the tip of my tongue. I'd have thought I'd met her before, but I'd never seen her before in my life.

"I'm Tw-abby!" She coughed. "Tabby! Sorry, stammered."

She held her hand out to me. Well. More accurately, she thrust her arm straight into my chest. I crooked my arm awkwardly to grab and shake her hand. My cheeks heated as I felt how soft her fingers and skin were. I pumped her hand and nodded.

"Malik," I said. "Malik Fong."

"I'm Tabby Sp...Spo...Spar...Sparnelli...ken...Sparnelliken!" She said, nodding excitedly.

I blinked slowly at her. "Uh, what's your actual last name?"

The bus interrupted her by roaring to life and starting away from the sidewalk. She jounced back against the seat and the classmates surrounding us started to shout to be heard over the roar of the engine. Tabby quickly bundled her backpack into her lap, holding it in place as she called over the din: "I'm a new transfer student, actually!"

I nodded.

Wait.

What?

"You're a...transfer student?" I asked.

"Yeah!" she said.

"But it's the last day of school," I said.

Tabby looked stricken. Then she laughed. "Oh! I mean, I...uh, transferred...here it, uh, was a, it was a big paperwork mix up thing, you know how it is?"

"No," I said, shaking my head.

Tabby laughed. "Well, uh..." She pointed at my backpack. "Is that a Turtledove novel?"

Yeah, okay, she raised a good point: Who cared about what the fuck the school administration did when we could talk about books. The bus wound its way through the wily, curling streets of suburbia as Tabby and I talked. We both started to compare books read, and I was soon completely blown out of the water, if the hundreds of books that Tabby was talking about bore any semblance to reality.

"No way!" I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, way," she grinned. "I used to work at a library, so I had loads of time and all the books!" She sighed. "My favorite was this series called..." She paused. "H-Harry Potter."

"You like Harry Potter?" I asked, my voice deadpan. "What. A. Shock."

Tabby stuck her tongue out at me and we both laughed. I felt my nerves uncoiling and recoiling, like a spring being tugged back into position. Yes, I was no longer squealing out every single word I had. But...like, um, she was actually starting to be...like...she liked reading. She was a total nerd. She kept saying dorky things. So, part of my brain was going: HolyshitholyshitholyshitIhaveashotholyshit. But another part of my brain was starting to panic just as hard as the other part was celebrating. It was like, I have a shot. But that means I had a shot to fail. And if I failed, it'd be worse than if I had never tried at all!

That was how the saying went, right? Tis better to not have loved at all than to try and die a virgin anyway?

The bus stopped and the two of us were almost catapulted into the seat ahead of us. The bus doors opened as Tabby pushed herself back and away from the seat ahead of us, laughing. She grinned and then picked up her backpack.

"So, wanna give me a tour?" she asked as she stood. "I mean, uh, even if this is my only day, I should, uh, know what the school is like. Right?"

"If we have time before class, sure. Or maybe at lunch?" I asked, grinning as I stood. I was grinning so hard that my eyes were scrunching up slightly. Tabby giggled and slipped past me, grinning.

"You look like a kitten when you smile like that," she said, laughing.

And with an audible clunk it hit me and I stood there, gaping in shock as Tabby turned and walked down the central aisle of the bus. As she walked, her skirt swished...and my brain reeled. Because I had just realized where I had heard her voice before.

She sounded almost exactly...no...exactly exactly like Juliet.

From Lollipop Chainsaw.

The game I had been re-playing all weekend.

Tabby turned to look at me, blinking. "Malik? You coming?"

I shook my head and hurried after her. Walking down and off the bus, Tabby looked around at Molehill High School -- yes, it was actually named that, no I didn't know why, don't even ask -- with a clear expression of: Well, um, it's shitty, but I'm going to try and be positive about this. The school was built around a central quad that looked like it had been dropped right out of a prison, with several brick shaped and brick built buildings slapped around it. I pointed at building after building.

"T-That's, uh, that's the library-"

"Ooh!"

"-and that's the science, uh, class rooms. Those, I should say. Those are the science class rooms." I shook my head. "And that..." I trailed off.

Another student I'd never seen was walking by. But that wasn't why I trailed off. I trailed off because, as he walked past me, I caught a glimpse of the left side of his face. He was actually a pretty handsome lad (if you're into that kind of thing), with dark hair and equally dark, brooding eyes. But he also had what I would charitably call a 'villain' scar along his cheek. Huge and furrowed, it looked like someone had stuck a knife in his face, dragged it down, and let it fester before applying stitches. It was still ugly and red, even long after it had been given. He glanced my way, his eyes sweeping over me. I felt a chill rush through me.

Then he walked on, and was lost in the crowd of other students.

I shuddered. "Uh, wow. Creepy."

I blinked. "Tabby?" I looked left, then right, then realized that she was hiding behind me.

I turned to face her. "Tabby, you okay?"

"Fiiiiine!" she said, beaming. "I just need to use my phone. Uh. Over here." She stepped away from me. Then she started to text furiously.

I scratched my head.

If that kid's also a transfer student, I thought. But I didn't have any way to follow it up beyond a nervous, twisting knot in my gut.

We headed for class.

***

"And now, can our other new student step up?"

Mr. Blainy looked bored. Mr. Blainy usually looked bored. This was not unusual. But I was kind of abstractly impressed at how Mr. Blainy had managed to drag out the amount of time between math class starting and him actually having to get off his fat ass and start teaching by letting both Tabby and the other new kid introduce themselves, like we were all twelve, rather than eighteen freaking years old. The El Facial Scario walked up and clicked his heels, his hands behind his back as he beamed at us.

As he beamed, I clenched my fists and tried to not mouth the words 'what the absolute fuck?' I did glance around the class. Everyone else looked as if not one but two new transfer students at the very last day of fucking school was totally fucking normal.

Then El Facial Scario started talking and my day went from bizarre to surreal.

"Guten Morgen," he said, cheerily. His accent was quite German. "As you can hear, I am a German, my name is Otto. Otto Schmidt."

"Hello Otto Schmidt," the class repeated. Half of them sounded bored bored -- those students were the ones who weren't looking up from their phones. The other half sounded fascinated. They were the ones gaping at Otto's scar.

Otto smiled. "My family moved here from Germany, and I am eager to become a good American citizen. Please, forgive me if I do not speak English as well as most of you, I have learned it only recently."

"Well, I think your English is quite good, Otto," Mr. Blainy said.

Otto inclined his head, clicked his heels, then walked back to his seat. As he sat down, I saw a few girls giggling and whispering to one another. They clearly thought his scar was sexy. Now, I don't want to sound scar-racist. Scarcist? But it creeped me the fuck out -- and that was ontop of everything else weird about this. I glanced over at Tabby, who was seated to my left. I expected her to have some interesting thought to drop on me. Instead, she was glaring at Otto. Like. Sharp, thick dagger-glares.

I blinked at her, then blinked again as I heard a very soft growl coming from her backpack. I looked down at the tiny dog she had stashed there was growling at Otto. Tabby gulped, reaching down to rub the dog's nose, looking nervous. The dog quieted down and I looked back at Otto. Otto was looking ahead, breezy and calm.

Mr. Blainy started to teach math.

That knotting feeling in my gut had become like an anvil. My brain tried to spin out some ideas of what was going on -- but I had the sinking feeling that today was going to be the longest day of the school year.

And not for the normal reason of it being 'the fucking last.'

Math class was normally pretty boring -- it being a final test didn't change that. I ducked down and scribbled in the bubbles on the multiple choice and tried to not think about Tabby or Otto or the fact that Tabby kept glaring at him. But I couldn't focus on the things Mr. Blainey had taught me all year. My brain was whirling. Tabby sounded almost exactly like Tara Strong, a super famous voice actress. But she didn't look like her. But, like, it was unreal how good her impersonation sounded. But it wasn't an impersonation, it was just her voice. And Otto! Otto, the man born to be an evil German in a Hollywood movie.

The bell rang.

I almost fell dead from a heart attack induced by pure shock, my hand clutching at my chest as I gasped heavily. I hadn't noticed the time flying by. I looked back down at my final and saw I had four answers not filled in. I scribbled them in furiously, choosing randomly.

Tabby sprang to her feet and started for the door, her backpack slinging onto her shoulder. As she hurried off, I saw Otto stand. My male chauvinist instincts screamed to life and I scrambled to my feet, practically throwing my test packet at Mr. Blainey. I reached the door just as Otto and Tabby did. Tabby froze as Otto opened the door for her. He grinned.

"Fraulein," he said, bowing to her.

"Otto," she said, her voice icy.

"Ah, so informal," he said.

"Uh, hi?" I asked.

Otto glanced at me, witheringly. Then, speaking in German, he said: "Du hast ihm doch nichts über die Wirklichkeit* erzählt, oder?"

"...nein..." Tabby hissed.

Otto laughed, then slipped past us, walking down the corridor. Tabby yanked her phone free and started to tap furiously at it. I blinked. "You can speak German?"

"What? No!" Tabby said, breezily. "Well, a little. I mean, German and Japanese. And Chinese. And some other languages." She coughed. "Uh, listen, I gotta...find..." She paused. "Does this place have a basement?"

I shook my head. "W-"

Tabby held up her hand. "I know that this might sound weird, but, I really do need to know. It's really important. Is there a basement here?"

I nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah. I mean, I think."

A very soft muttering sound came from Tabby's backpack. I swore that I heard the phrase 'real great guide you picked.' But that was fucking insane. I stuck my finger into my ear, wiggling it, then flicking some earwax away as I gaped at the backpack. Before I could ask, Tabby beamed at me.

"Don't worry, I think I know where it is!" She leaned up, kissing me on the cheek.

Then she ran off.

I blinked a few more times. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. This wasn't the kind of stuff that happened. Not just to me, but...ever. People didn't bring dogs in backpacks to school. German exchange students didn't click their heels like Prussian officers. No one used the word 'Fraulein.' It was just...too much. I shook my head, then heard the bell ring. I had about five minutes to get to my next class. If I didn't get there, I'd be late as balls -- and my next class had Mrs. Clairstone, and she had basically told me that if I didn't pass my final, she'd flunk my ass.

But...

Instead of heading to English, I turned and hurried in the direction Tabby had gone. I looked left, then right, but I couldn't see her. I rubbed my chin, then risked going left. My shoes squeaked along the linoleum floor of the school, while windows flashed as I ran past -- the sun glinting at me every few steps as I rushed forward. Then I came around the corner and saw not Tabby...but an open door. Stairs, leading down. The sign next to the door said it was the boiler room. I blinked, then hurried down the door, swinging it shut behind me. As it clunked shut, I started down the stairs.

My heart was in my throat with every step. I felt like I could barely breathe. I came to the bottom of the stone stairs. The boiler room was cold and damp despite the heat of the day, with heavy, steel machines slumped in the corners of the room like huge brutes. I could hear clinking and clattering from the right corner -- and saw light shining from a flashlight. I could hear Tabby's voice, hissing.

"Come on, come on, Spike. The reality seed's gotta be around here somewhere..."

"I found it!"

The other voice was high pitched and young sounding, but still more male than not. My brow furrowed and I walked forward. Peeking around the boiler, I saw Tabby holding a backpack out to a small dog. I wasn't sure what breed he was, but he was small, with a short muzzle, and long floppy ears. He was also holding a...a thing. It looked a lot like a credit card in his mouth. But no credit card that had ever existed had seemed to be as tempting as that. It shone with a luster that made me almost drool. I wanted it. I needed it. Then it vanished into the bag and Tabby beamed and did a little jump, moving her hands in a kind of odd, hoofy gesture.

"Yes!"

The dog sat down.

And.

Fucking.

Talked.

"See," it said, muzzle shaping the words as if it was the most normal fucking thing in the world. "You don't need a guide when you got Spike around."

Tabby snorted. "You're just jealous. He was pretty cuuuuuuuuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" She squealed as, halfway through the word, swung to face me. I gaped at her as she cut herself off.

"He can talk," I whispered.

"N-No I can't!" Spike said. Then, squeaking, he barked, as if he would cover for the fact he was talking. Tabby gaped at me, then stammered.

"I can-" Tabby started.

Clink.