Highschool Four

Chapter 1: Hammy-pie

//Elmo looks pretty much as he does in canon, except he wears: blue rubber gloves/boots, his goggles, and a belt with a metal buckle/hidden powercord compartment. Physical changes: slightly fluffier cheek fur, ears, a tail that he covers in protective rubber, shorter frizzier hair. His eye color is yellow. If you don't know canon: dark pink shirt, spotted tie, blue pants, is a rat, light brown fur, orange-brown fur, long snout, big black nose, buck teeth.

Elmo looked up at the New Kid, adjusting his glasses (he was still getting used to them, having never needed them before The Incident at the end of the last year) to make sure he was seeing properly. But even after cleaning them twice, the New Kid still looks the same.

He was a duck in a red and blue Sherpa hat, carrying a colorful backpack literally overfilling with notebooks and pencils. He wore a black hoodie with green polka dots over a brightly striped shirt, tan cargo pants with stuffed pouches, mismatched socks, and bright red shoes. A yellow and white scarf hid most of his neck. The headfeathers visible under his hat had green dyed tips, his beak was huge with bucked teeth, and his eyes didn't match -- one was a bright blue, the other deep brown. He clutched a toy star to his chest, his hoodie sleeves covering most of his hands, with holes cut for his thumbs.

He was one of several New Kids that had transferred that year. Or, at least, Elmo thought he was new -- his memory wasn't the best since The Incident, but he was ninety... Eighty-five... Seventy percent sure he hadn't seen the duck before. Alright, maybe sixty-five, but still over half. Probably.

The kid was grinning, looking around while balancing a tray of food on the hand not clutching the doll, seemingly trying to decide where to sit. Finally, his eyes landed on Elmo (who was sitting alone, just as he liked thank-you-very-much, listening to the lightbulbs' chatter) and his grin got, impossibly, even wider. He skipped over to Elmo, somehow not dropping a single thing from the mound on his tray, before coming to stop right at the table.

"Mind if I sit here?" The duck didn't wait for an answer, kicking a chair out and plopping down. He dropped his tray and started shoveling food into his beak, talking around it with the expertise of one who often talked while eating. "I'm new around here. Name's Jacob Gooney, but you can call me Jack."

It took Elmo a second to realize that the duck -- Jack -- was holding out a sleeve-covered hand, and another second to realize why. After a moment of uncomfortable silence that didn't seem to dampen Jack's spirits on the slightest, Elmo shook his hand and muttered something that sounded like his name.

"Whatcha' eating, Elmo?" Jack asked, flicking hos eyes briefly from Elmo's gloved hands to his tail (covered in black, yellow, and blue rubber, with a jagged metal bit strapped to the tip) but didn't comment on either, earning him points in Elmo's book.

"Peanut butter and banana sandwich." Elmo answered, unthinking. He wished he could take the words back almost the moment they were out, but he couldn't.

"I don't think they serve that here." Jack said, juggling his star doll and a bottle of orange juice almost absent-mindedly. "You bring it from home?"

"Yeah, my, uh, mother made it for me." Elmo muttered quietly, tensing as even the lightbulbs seemed to quiet down to hear Jack's response. He'd regretted telling him, but he'd never been good at lying, getting even worse at it after The Incident. And now he was going to lose the closest chance he'd had in a long time to making a fri-

"That's neat." Jack said lightly, no sign of mocking except for his grin, and that had been there before. "Mama's always wanting to make my lunches for me, but I eat too much to really carry it around with me half the day." He bounced a little in his chair, suddenly (even more) excited. "But she always gives me something sweet to eat with my lunch. Want to share? I think there's enough..."

He trailed off, rummaging through his backpack with a single-mindedness and focus that left him unseeing to Elmo, who was openly gaping at him. Ham, Preena, even Drake had made fun of him for having his mom make his lunches (he personally didn't know why, but had accepted it as something else he'd suffer for, since he wasn't going to tell his mom to stop) -- but Jack just waved it off as, as neat, even saying his own mom would do it.

His thoughts were broken by Jack's triumphant cry, holding a melted chocolate bar in his hand. Elmo hesitantly accepted half with a muttered thank, not really wanting it but not wanting to be rude. The rest of lunch was actually rather nice, Elmo quietly going between listening to the lightbulbs and listening to Jack chatter happily about anything and everything. It was this way that Elmo discovered that Jack shared his love of invention, albeit in different ways, and started chatting just as much as the duck. Instead of telling him he was talking too much or too complexly, Jack seemed to be paying attention to every word he said, with no shortage of comments or jokes. Yes, lunch was very nice.

Until the end.

"Hey, Sparky, what's up?" Elmo groaned as a hand hit his back, partially from pain and partially from dread, before looking up at the speaker. A spark of electricity traveled along a whisker, and he quickly turned his face away again to hide it.

"N-not much, Hamm." Elmo inwardly cursed the stutter, but fear already had its icy grip on his heart at the sight of the... Basketball? Soccer? Cricket? Well, Hamm String was some kind of sports player, and he looked it. The pig was absolutely giant, probably half boar, and wearing a sports jersey that probably wasn't from cricket. Badminton? Piccolo? Was that one even a sport? Stupid fried brain...

"Who's your- woah!" Hamm did an exaggerated doubletake, staring at Jack. Oh no... "What's with your eyes?"

"I have heterochromia." Jack replied happily, though he sent Elmo a cautious look. "Means my eyes are different colors. My name's Jacob Gooney, or Jack. Nice to meetcha'."

"What's going on here, Hammy-pie?" Preena Lott -- a dog with soft hair and curved hips that hid a sharp, dangerous mind -- walked up and grabbed her boyfriend's arm.

"Sparky's made friends with another freak." Hamm taunted.

Elmo tensed, but Jack smiled wider and began juggling again, adding a fork to the mix this time. "Hit it right on the nose, Hammy-pie."

"Jack, don't!" Elmo hissed, wanting to warn his new -- friend? -- of the popular pair's danger, but Jack just winked.

"This table's for certified Freaks, Geeks, Nerds, and Weirdos only." Nothing really changed, and yet something did. Jack went from friendly to deadly, his grin sharp rather than playful, his juggling pointed rather than showing off, his eyes creepy rather than interesting. "I'm pretty sure the table for entitled, arrogant, boring, simple-minded bullies is closer to the back. By the garbage. Now run along, before I have to take out the trash."

"Why you little...!" Hamm lunged, but Jack wasn't there anymore, having moved almost too fast to see. Jack ran around the cafeteria, jumping from table to table, still juggling and always one step ahead of the living tank that was chasing him.

Elmo watched, horrified, terrified, and interested.all at once. He glared at the ceiling lights, whispering "Don't encourage the reckless fool!" when they started to cheer Jack on, though a part of him wanted to join them.

"That all you got, Hammy-pie?" Jack taunted, throwing his star doll to Elmo (who felt this was very important for some reason) before flipping over Hamm, doing at least three flips. He resumed his juggling, by now having collected numerous forks from distracted students, after landing on another table.

"Tweak his beak, Hamm!" Preena yelled.

"Oh, I'm gonna do so much worse than *that*." Hamm growled, eyes never leaving Jack. He lunged.

Elmo was probably the only one that saw a kind of sad resignation in Jack's eyes before he 'slipped'. He was one the ground, forks clattering around him, penned in by two walls and Hamm String.

Hamm grabbed Jack by the scarf, effectively choking him as he hauled him to his feet, fist raised to strike. Jack coughed, pulling at his throat, but laughter still filtered from his beak.

"What are you laughing at, Freaky?" Hamm asked, irritated at the lack of fear.

"How.. how stupid..." Jack struggled to get the words out, and Elmo felt his own chest squeeze. "How stupid your... Jersey looks."

Hamm punched.

Elmo covered his eyes.

Jack laughed.

A teacher yelled.

"Mr String!" Mr Storkson marched up, having been making his daily rounds (which he made every day at more or less exactly that time) when he watched Hamm choke and punch a duck much smaller than himself.

While Mr Storkson shouted at Hamm, Elmo took the opportunity to rush to Jack's side, helping the duck up and handing the star back over.

"You, you let him..." Elmo whispered, unable to really find his words. "Why?"

"Would he have beat you up?" Jack whispered back, strangely seriously, rubbing alternatively at his neck and beak. Elmo slowly nodded yes, thinking of all the times he'd been stuffed into a trashcan with scores more bruises than he'd started that day with. "Then there you go!" Jack was back to grinning, dented beak and all.

"You did it for me?" Elmo blinked. "T-thank you. But why?" He repeated, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What do you want from me?"

"Don't worry about it. You can just owe me one..." He reached out and tapped one of Elmo's whiskers, which was again sparking. "...Sparky."

And as Jack walked off laughing, Elmo stood frozen. Jack knew, had noticed his powers, and wasn't saying anything. Had he just gained a protector or a blackmailer? A bully or a... Friend? He didn't know, but he was sure of one thing. Life was going to a lot more interesting this year.

"Don't call me Sparky!" He yelled, running to catch up with the duck. The lightbulbs sang approval as the two walked to class together, the start of a... Something. Maybe a friendship, maybe not. But definitely a something that would last for a very long time.