They used to play the game a lot. One of them would say a name, and they wouldn’t ask the question aloud if they were anywhere even slightly public—secrecy was too ingrained in the three of them, and Mike had taken to it quickly enough—but they’d all hear it anyway: if they were a shifter, what animal would they be? They’d toss ideas back and forth, sometimes settling it at once, sometimes arguing for days. It was more fun than it had any right to be, and it hadn't taken Dustin all that long to figure out why: they’d never had anyone to share this with before.
Shifters mostly stuck with their own kind. In a town as small as Hawkins, that meant shifters mostly just had human friends, and politely avoided each other in the grocery store. It was part cultural norm and part instinct—something about being near other shifters made their animal side a little stronger, and animals don’t trust strangers. Especially strangers with sharp teeth.
Mike had practically had to sit on them to get the three of them to be friends. For the longest time, just being around Lucas had made Dustin want to bolt. Hares and badgers weren’t even natural enemies, but it was enough that they weren’t friends, and that some deep part of Dustin, the part that lived right at the base of his skull, knew that Lucas could maul him with one well-placed strike.
Will hadn’t been so instinctively frightening—no one has anything to fear from a mouse. Where Dustin got jittery around the other two, Will went still and quiet. But Dustin had been as wary of that as he had been of Lucas’s on-edge sharpness. Everyone knew Will’s dad was a rat. Will had taken after his mother, but you never know with mixed shifters, and no one wants to tangle with a cornered rat.
Mike and Will had met on the first day of kindergarten and become instantly inseparable. Lucas had moved into the house next to Mike’s during spring break of first grade, and they’d hit it off almost at once. Mike hadn’t been able to understand why they’d both balked so hard when he tried to get them to play together at recess.
Most people would probably have given up after a few weeks. But Mike was one of the most stubborn people alive when he got an idea in his head. It didn’t get any easier when he and Dustin got close at summer camp, but Mike started second grade with an iron-hard determination that they would all be friends. Whether they liked it or not.
It took a little over a month for him to get all of them in his basement at the same time, very cautiously playing board games. It was another month before the three of them spent more than thirty seconds alone together, and even then it wasn’t voluntarily. Mike’s mom interrupted a game to insist he take a phone call from his grandma right now. Mike went with loud and lengthy protests, but he went, and then Dustin, Lucas, and Will were left staring at each other in suddenly stifling silence.
It was Will who broke it. Will had always been much braver than you’d expect a mouse to be. “If Mike was a shifter,” he said quietly, “what do you think he’d be?”
Lucas barely hesitated a moment. “A donkey.”
Will nodded pensively. Dustin snorted. “Because he’s stubborn as a mule?” he asked, at the same time as Will said, straight-faced, “Because he can be a real ass.”
Dustin and Lucas both lost it. Will grinned, and then joined in the laughter. That was how Mike found them, collapsed on the floor and giggling, drunk on the cut tension.
They weren’t magically friends after that. But for Dustin, at least, that was when it had started to feel possible.
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