A blue haired girl sat down at a cafeteria table and flipped up the collar of her leather jacket. She tried her best not to focus on the world around her. Madeline Crisp, the hero of another story, instead blew gently on a bowl of ice-cold soup. She was excited for the upcoming play, too excited to notice the looks other teens were sending her way.
"That girl is super weird," Markus spoke in hushed tones, sitting at the cafeteria table with their friends. Their gaze was directed at Madeline, shared by both of their table-mates. It wasn't a gaze of hatred, but one of suspicion towards the blue-haired menace lapping up soup.
Markus was a broad-shouldered fellow with long, flowing brown hair. They were insecure, and often picked at their button-up shirt. Markus didn't feel confident about their weight and definitely didn't feel confident about their looks. Markus had even tried growing a beard to appear more masculine and ruggedly handsome! They quickly gave up on the idea when their hair grew in fitful patches. Genetics can never be trusted.
Regine didn't touch her food, turning the pages of a library book. Her mashed potatoes sat neglected, slowly evening out in their tray. "Madeline's not weird," Regine spoke off-handedly. "She's a delinquent. Those are easy to explain, not strange in the slightest. I've seen her breaking tables, kicking lockers in, that sort of thing."
Regine was a frightfully gaunt girl. Regine's curly black hair was done up in tight braids and tied into a big ponytail behind her head. Her skin was fairer than most with her dark complexion, but her hands had blisters on her palms and knuckles. Regine was tougher than she looked, something Markus knew from a first-hand impression.
Regine had stepped in to deal with bullies when Markus was being picked on for their weight. She had sent them flying with her fists of justice. Regine was a scrappy kid, getting into plenty of fights when she was younger. Markus was always there to support her when she got too injured. Regine would always come to Markus with some new injury, saying she'd earned it in a brawl but never letting Markus know where. They were thicker than soup.
"She's kind of cute, isn't she?" Josie suggested. The stoner toyed with an apple under her finger, rolling it back and forth against the table. "I mean, she's always with her girlfriends, but if she wasn't?" Josie picked up her cafeteria apple and took a bite from it.
Josie was the most worldly of their gang of misfits. Whenever Josie wasn't slumming it with the other skater kids, she stuck with the two nerds she'd adopted as her playmates. Josie smoked weed, played sports and didn't fit the model nerd archetype in the slightest. Then again, Josie never was one for conforming to boxes. Her red hair was always tucked into a beanie, and she always wore grungy, masculine clothes.
"I wouldn't ask her out," Markus whispered in a fearful tone. They leaned in close, guarding their tray of food from would-be cafeteria predators. "What if she hit me for saying something wrong? That would be bad, wouldn't it? She's always carrying that blackjack."
"It's just a bag of salt," Regine scoffed and shook her head. "Saw her hit some kid with it in the seventh grade. She carries it everywhere."
"Think she's afraid of ghosts?" Josie chuckled, taking another bite.
"You could ask," Regine suggested. "Since you've got the hots for her."
"Maybe I will! But I'm sure you'd miss me," Josie grinned. "Cutie."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Markus whispered. Markus nervously fiddled with their fingers and looked over their shoulder, fear evident in their posture. "What if she bludgeons us? Turns us into day-old cafeteria pudding?"
"She wouldn't do that," a fourth and unfamiliar voice interjected.
Markus startled. They nearly knocked their tray to the ground with all the food atop it. Regine looked up from her book to take a glance at the visitor. She adjusted her glasses, gazing with those deep blue eyes she was fond of. A blonde with periwinkle irises stood before them.
Periwinkle. An unusual shade of color, the exact shade self-doubt takes. Never trust anyone with periwinkle irises, as they can't even trust themselves.
"Betty Malone?" Josie asked, fear evident in her voice. Josie raised her hands up in the air to show she meant no harm. "I wasn't talking about your girlfriend, promise. You can keep her."
"I know you want to sleep with her, Josie." Betty closed her eyes. "You may have better luck if you threw yourself down a cliff. My recommendation."
The trio stood still, trembling under Betty's soul-piercing gaze. Neither of them wanted to say a word; angering Betty might mean upsetting Madeline, and nobody wanted to be the straw that broke the crazy girl's back.
"Regine, a word?" Betty opened one eye, her periwinkle gaze fixed on Regine. "In private, if you will. This concerns your future; for your ears only."
"I don't believe in astrology," Regine murmured. "I'm a woman of science." Regine knew Betty was into fortunetelling; she'd tell anyone who listened about their horoscope that day, give them palm readings and direct them to behave differently. Those who didn't listen found themselves hurt. Regine suspected Madeline of carrying out those injuries.
"I hope not," Betty murmured, biting her thumb. "It would be disastrous if you really were a woman of science, you understand? Too much riding on the opposite being true. I just hope the realization comes sooner than later…"
"Please, um. Please don't bully Regine?" Markus asked nervously. "She's nice, and she's never done anything to you, so—"
"I don't intend to hurt her, Amanda," Betty glanced at Markus, earning a snicker from Josie. Markus blushed brightly, glowering at their friends.
"Guys… you promised not to spread weird rumors," Markus whispered.
"Dude, your D&D character was like, so uninteresting? I wouldn't tease you over something boring like that," Josie rolled her eyes. "I barely talk about nerd stuff to my other friends, so don't look at me."
"Likewise; I didn't share anything, Markus." Regine frowned, closing her book. Betty Malone had become much more interesting than reading.
"Ah… not yet," Betty mumbled to herself. "My apologies. I have been… stalking the three of you," Betty lied. "It's imperative I speak to you, Regine."
"After admitting you're a stalker?!" Markus squeaked, standing tall to face off against Betty. "What if you want to lure us into some shady back alleyway to kill us? Regine's too cute to die… take me instead, you evil jerk!"
"Cool it, Markus." Regine glared Markus down, the big lug sheepishly backing off when they caught her gaze. "I know her. She's not going to do any of that, is she?"
"Indeed," Betty grinned. "I just want to speak."
