#like other kids doing unsavory things behind the bike sheds used to be kind of the thing you'd joke about at that age

[impandgnomes]

I was thinking about a couple of paragraphs I wrote for shits and giggles a while back and do US high schools have like...bike shelters and bike racks outside? Is that an exclusively UK thing or general? Does the US have them?

[not-so-secret-nerd]

The Weirdo Club

Basically wrote this off my own prompt (Give me stories where the girls come across a gang of kids viciously picking on a wee Holtz and chasing the aggressors off). Just a fast and loose little snippet of our favorite Ghostbusting ladies as kids. Have fun!

“Yeah, you better run, you sons-of-bitches!” eleven-year-old Abby Yates shouted at the retreating backs of three older bullies, one of them pinching the bridge of his broken nose, blood staining his fingers red. She contemplated chucking a rock at them when they mounted their bikes to further drive home her point but figured the good smacking she’d schooled them with had been poignant enough.

Behind their fuming, centurion friend, Erin Gilbert and Patty Tolan ditched their backpacks and rushed over to the motionless form on the ground. From a distance, it looked like a discarded pile of brightly colored clothing accented with a poof of blonde hair that appeared more wig than natural locks. Then the huddled mass jerked sharply against a hard, wet cough, revealing the skinny, spindly body beneath like a turtle coming out of its shell.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Erin squeaked when she knelt to get a good look at the small blonde girl starting to uncurl from her self-preserving tuck against the chain-link fence. The wee thing must have just regained her bearings because the second her eyes focused on Erin she skittered back with a whimper, eyes huge behind her funny-looking yellow glasses.

“Hey shorty, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt yah,” Patty soothed, crouching next to Erin. She showed the little thing her hands so she’d know neither of them were a threat. “They got you pretty good, didn’t they? Anything broken?”

The girl didn’t answer, dragging the sleeve of her obnoxious orange shirt across her face to clear away the tears, mud and blood marring her puffy features. A hard sniff worked a wince free that made Erin’s heart clench. The girl looked no older than maybe nine or ten, but it was hard to accurately gauge around her baggy, ill-fitting clothing and yellow glasses that made her look like an alien, eyes wide and green behind the lenses.

“Christ, those guys were pricks. I hope they—“ Abby pulled up short when she saw the sad state the bullies left their latest victim in, her anger draining away like a Millar balloon left out in the cold. “Oh damn.”

“Can you please stop cursing?” Erin soured, already tense from the altercation. “You’re scaring her more.”

“Sorry,” Abby shrugged, peering over Patty’s shoulder.

“That’s a nasty scrape you go on your forehead,” Patty tisked, trying to draw the girl’s attention away from Abby’s sudden and brusque appearance. Understandably, she was as skittish as an outfoxed rabbit and looked poised to bolt. “Erin, don’t you have a first-aid kit in your backpack?”

Brightening, Erin nodded enthusiastically and jumped up with renewed purpose, but a gravely, “I’m fine,” from the girl stopped her short.

“But—“

“I’m fine,” she reiterated a little more firmly, standing on wobbly legs. Clutching the fence, she stooped with a barely hidden wince for her silver duffel lying next to her, trying and failing to hide the reddening embarrassment crawling into her cheeks. Without looking at the staring trio, she began her slow limp away—hand pressed against a particularly tender bruise— tail proverbially tucked between her legs.

Glancing desperately between Patty and Abby, Erin tried to decide what to do, but Abby beat her to the punch.

“Hi Fine, I’m Abby,” the shortest of the three friends suddenly said, jogging up beside the limping blonde and sticking out her hand as both a greeting and a way to keep her from leaving.

The girl looked down at the offered hand and back up at Abby, brows wrinkling. “Did you just dad-joke me?”

“Uh, yup. Yup, I did. Names Abby Yates, and these are my best friends. Erin Gilbert,” Abby gestured to a shy-looking Erin who offered a little wave, “and Patty Tolan.” Patty nodded with a friendly half-smile, standing to her full height next to Erin. “What’s your name?”

“Why are you being nice to me?” the girl cautioned, not taking the bait but at least lingering long enough to talk.

Abby threw up her shoulders in a sharp shrug. “I don’t know. Seems the thing to do when you meet someone new.”

“No one’s nice to me,” the blonde said off-handedly, casting her gaze down at her threadbare shoes. She’d fixed them this morning, getting the noxious green Duct Tape just right over the holes. Now they were scuffed and dirty. All that work had been for not. It made her heart sink further into her stomach. Couldn't she go two days without the Decker brothers giving her trouble?

“Seems you been hanging out with the wrong type of people,” Patty declared, planting her hands on her hips, giving the girl her best ‘mom look’.

The blonde offered up a wan smile that lacked the ability to reach her eyes. “I only hang out with ghosts. Dead people like me more than the living do.”

She thought the off-color comment would be the final blow and drive these strange vigilantes off, but she was shockingly mistaken. She watched with confused fascination as Abby whipped around to look back at a distinctly startled Erin, the two sharing an unreadable look.

“No shit?” Abby breathed excitedly, turning back to the newcomer. “You really see ghosts? Like distinct spectral entities?”

“If you count the weird old guy that stands under my streetlight every night, then yeah,” the girl shrugged, the motion sending an unforeseen lance of pain through her shoulder. Hunching against the white-hot sensation, she dropped her duffle, hissing through clenched teeth.

“You might have dislocated it,” Erin suggested timidly, craning her neck like she’d be able to see for herself. “I’d see a doctor if I were you.”

“Mom and dad can’t afford one,” the girl husked a reply, doing her best to rub the sore spot. “But like I said, I’m fine.”

“That’s such a weird name, but okay,” Abby teased lightly, stooping to pick up the silver bag between them. The girl must have caught the motion in her periphery because she spun and snatched it back with a shout, clutching it to her chest like it was her only life-preserver. The outburst made everyone freeze.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t going to take it, I swear,” Abby reassured, raising her hands once again and stepping back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The blonde remained locked in semi-petrification—eyes a little wild—weighing Abby’s sincerity. Eventually, she loosened with a ragged sigh and a single word pushed past her swollen lips. “Holtzmann.”

“What?” all three asked in unison.

“My name. It’s Holtzmann. Holtz for short.”

“Wicked,” Abby grinned. “Well, Holtz, my gran was a nurse for a couple of years. She could look at your shoulder for you.”

“No,” Holtz shook her head sharply, blonde curls swinging. “I need to get home.”

“We’ll walk you then,” Erin suggested, retrieving her backpack from the ground.

“Why would you do something like that?” Holtz asked, wrinkling her nose as if prolonged exposure to her presence was something unsavory. Then again, ask anyone at her school and they’d tell you you’d catch something from the weird street urchin if you strayed too close. Apparently, they thought poverty was contagious.  

“That’s what friends do, baby,” Patty grinned, getting her backpack too.

“I don’t have any friends.” It wasn’t said in a combative or aggressive tone: instead closer to mystified. Holtz looked between the three girls, one of which had successfully chased off three of her worst bullies singlehandedly, unsure what she should do.

“Well, you do now! Us weirdos need to stick together!” Abby declared, clapping the smaller girl on the back only to belatedly remember she’d just recently been kicked into a self-preserving ball. “Sorry.”

“Ow…” Holtz winced, fighting to uncoil her shoulder blades.

“Here,” Erin offered shyly, finally stepping next to Holtzmann and digging something out of her pocket. It was a bright pink band-aid with hearts on it, the only one she’d found in her first-aid kit. “Can I put it on your forehead? The cut looks nasty.”

Blinking in obvious surprise, Holtz removed her yellow glasses—squinting at the blue harshness rushing into her exposed sockets—and allowed Erin to sweep aside her curls and lightly place the band-aid across the abrasion.

“There,” the brunette beamed with pride when the errand was done, admiring her work. “Not really good as new, but it’s something.”

“Thanks,” Holtz mumbled, reaching up to touch the band-aid’s slick surface, aware her ears were starting to burn with a flush that would soon make it into her cheeks if she didn’t look away.

“I like your yellow glasses,” Erin prompted bravely, falling into step when the four of them started walking out of the alley. “Do they help with your headaches?”

At that, Holtz stuttered to a standstill, mouth agape. “How did you know?”

“Girl, Erin’s our little Miss Medical Dictionary. She knows all kinds of weird things on account she a hypochondriac,” Patty laughed good-naturedly.

“I am not!” Erin protested. “I just have a delicate disposition.”

“You have allergies. That’s literally it,” Abby added over her shoulder from the front of the procession. “And the only reason your armpits itch is because you don’t shave them.”

“Mama said I wasn’t allowed until I was thirteen,” Erin muttered, face literally on fire and eyes glued on her shiny black dress shoes. Holtz couldn’t help but laugh, the sound drawing looks from the other girls on account it was more snorts and giggles than an actual laugh.

“My mom said the same thing, so I burned my hair off.”

“No way,” Abby gasped, spinning so she was walking backward. “You so did not.”

“Totally did,” Holtz countered. “I used my dad’s blowtorch and a can of hairspray. Caught the curtains on fire, but that��s beside the point. See?”

Setting down her silver pack, Holtz hurriedly shed her funny gray jacket that looked more like an oversized lab coat, hiked down her overall straps and pulled off her orange top with the nonchalance of someone who didn’t give a flip about public nudity. Then again, in the right light, Holtz could be mistaken for a boy with how flat she was…so it might have not mattered.

Sure enough, her armpits were devoid of hair but the trio wasn't looking at the smooth skin under Holtz’s arms but rather the literal skin and bones the girl seemed to be. They could count ribs just below the bud of her nipples and were sure if she turned around there would be vertebra visible.

“Ppft, you won’t get me out of my top that fast. At least not for free,” Abby jested stiffly, breaking the ice forming around them with a joke, but they were all sharing concerned looks Holtzmann thankfully didn’t catch.

“I’ll remember that,” Holtz grinned and winked, pulling her clothes back on.

“Man, you all are weird,” Patty huffed.

“But you love us,” Abby sleazily smiled, bumping her shoulder against the taller girl.

“Unfortunately. Hey…” she hedged, glancing back at the newest member of their group. “I’ve still got food left over from lunch, and Mama will whoop me if I come home with leftovers. Any of you want them?”

Erin and Abby caught on immediately and both shook their head.

“No, I’m still full from lunch.”

“Nah, I’m fat anyway,” Abby laughed, poking her stomach. “Plus dinner will be ready when I get home. Holtz?”

The smaller girl thought about it for less than a New York minute before nodding, trying and failing to hide the hunger just below the surface. “Sure. If it’ll help you out.”

“Man, you a lifesaver, girl. Thanks a bunch.” Patty handed over the contents of her lunchbox, the three pretending to miss how eagerly Holtz dug into the food, wolfing it down in hurried gulps.

“Hey Holtz,” Abby called from the front. “Tomorrow we’re gonna get together at my house and watch the new X-Files episode. You wanna come? I’ve got plenty of room.”

Holtzmann’s eyes lit up, Abby apparently striking a very wide nerdy vein in the smaller child. “Hell yeah, I would!”

“Awesome! We’ll meet after school, okay? I’ll give you my number so your mom can call my mom. That cool?”

“Definitely.”

“Awesome. Welcome to the weirdo club then!”