Chapter Text
New Jersey, 1966
Glass Shard Beach might not have been the cleanest or safest beach in the world, it wasn’t even the best beach in New Jersey, but the sunsets were something special. The bright colors of red, orange and pink reflected off the glass embedded in the surrounding sand, causing it to shimmer like multicolored diamonds. Oddly beautiful and obviously dangerous. One might say it was the perfect description for this town.
At the center of the beach, just off the outskirts of town, two twin boys sat beside each other on the deck of a broken ship, half shaded by an old, tattered sail. They had found the old beauty sitting in a cave only a month ago, just a few days after their 12th birthday. Any other person would have seen the vessel and declared it as forgotten trash.
As far as Stanley and Stanford were concerned, it was the coolest, most beautiful thing they had ever laid eyes on. She just needed a little fixing up.
“I’ve got a few more words down,” Stanley piped up brightly.
Stanford’s eyes left his own notebook to look at his brother. Once the two of them had decided to fix the Stan O’ War so that they could sail away in search of adventure, they had started coming up with a list of things they needed. Well, Stanford made the actual list, Stanley vocally listed things off with enthusiasm. Wood and nails were obvious enough, and they would definitely need more paint. They would also need to figure out how to fix the sail, or just get a new one all together if- no, when they got the money for it.
Of course, there were the nonessential things. One thing Stanley was particularly fond of was the idea of them having their own shanty. His brother insisted that if they were going to be adventuring sailors, they needed their own sailor songs, not just the ones everybody already knew. Stanford couldn’t understand why at first. Neither of them were very musically talented, and it had taken days for them to even come up with the first few lines. It was, however, very fun to brainstorm lyrics with his brother, and he liked the idea of them having their own theme. Besides, he had seen the comic Stanley had written and drawn, and it wasn’t bad. If he could write a whole story, he could probably write at least one song.
Stanley held out his own notebook, a spare he had borrowed from his twin. Stanford tucked his pen behind his ear before taking the book and glancing at the lines he had added.
“These are pretty good.”
Stanley smirked as he twirled his pencil between his fingers. “Eh, what can I say? I’m a savach- Ow!”
Stanford looked up to see his brother had accidently stabbed his thumb with the end of the pencil, which clattered against the wood. Stanley put his thumb in his mouth as his brother snorted.
“I think you mean ‘savant’,” he corrected.
“Yeah, that too.”
“I don’t think I’d call either of us savants anyway,” Stanford looked down at the notebook. “You rhymed ‘fun’ with ‘fun’ twice, in the same verse, remember?”
“Yeah? And?” Stanley jabbed him hard in the shoulder. “It made you laugh, didn’t it? If it’s funny, then who cares?”
Stanford rolled his eyes as he handed the notebook back. “Yeah, okay.”
His brother smiled before going back to his scribbling. He frowned slightly at the paper before crossing out a word and squishing a new one in the small space next to it. Stanford took the pen from behind his ear and brought it to the paper he had been writing on when he stopped. His gazed focused on his six-fingered hand, and he felt his stomach twist. He could still remember the day they had found their ship. So far, it was one of his happiest memories, but it was also painful. He could still hear Crampelter and his goons sneering at them, and he resisted the urge to tuck his hands into the sleeves of his jacket.
Stanford turned away from his notebook and looked out at the water beside them, the colors of the setting sun reflecting off its surface. He wasn’t sure if that particular moment of bullying was what finally made them want to leave this place one day, but he certainly hoped it wasn’t just a decision made in the heat of the moment. The thought of sailing with his twin, having adventures and making fascinating discoveries felt like a dream, and he hoped it would be more than just a dream one day.
“Stanley?”
“Hm?”
“Do you… do you really think we’ll go sailing one day?”
The sound of pencil scratching on paper stopped. Stanford didn’t turn around, waiting for a response, but it didn’t come. He felt a hand grab his shoulder.
“Bro, look at me.”
He hesitated for a moment before turning to face his twin, who was looking at him with a smile that was overflowing with confidence and determination. It was the kind of smile only his brother could give.
“We promised each other, didn’t we?” he asked, pointing a finger between them. “And when we promise each other somethin', we keep it, don’t we?”
Stanford didn’t hesitate to smile back, suddenly feeling very silly with himself. Stanley was right, of course. When the two of them set their minds to something, there was hardly anything that could stop them.
“Yeah, we do.”
Stanley’s smile turned into a smirk as he playfully punched his brother’s arm. Stanford laughed and punched back.
Another hour into brainstorming, and they had finally written enough to sort it all out. They each took some of what Stanford had written and some of what Stanley had come up with and mashed it together into something that could be considered a song. It was a little short, but Stanley said they could just fill in a few more verses later. Once they had a final draft, they each started writing the completed version on a clean sheet of paper in each of their notebooks. Stanley wanted to just let Stanford write it in his notebook, but his twin insisted on each of them having a copy incase something happened to one of them.
“Should we even bother with an instrument?” Stanford asked absentmindedly. “Even if it’s something as simple as a flute? Or maybe a harmonica?”
“Ah, we don’t need any flutes or strings,” Stanley waved him off. “The best sound you can make is what comes straight from the gut!”
“We should at least figure out the beat, though.”
Stanley frowned slightly as he thought about it, his band aid covered fingers drumming against the wood of the deck. He looked at his notebook as he formed his hand into a fist and started to lightly hit it at a slow tempo, muttering under his breath. Stanford could tell he was muttering the lyrics as his brother’s eyes scanned across his own copy. Stanley shook his head before he started hitting his fist a little faster, muttering to himself as he slowly nodded his head.
“Stan. Stanley!”
“Huh?”
“It might help if we both hear it.”
Stanley spluttered and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
He held his notebook up to his face, his eyes going back and forth between his brother and the paper. Stanford raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“You’re not gonna chicken out, are you? This was your idea.”
“What?” Stanley snapped up, a little louder than necessary. “What’re you talkin’ about, Sixer? Me? Chicken out? No way!”
But Stanford could see his brother’s ears turning red. He decided he could tease him about it later.
“Why don’t we just… sing what we each wrote,” Stanley suggested offhandedly, his eyes not meeting his twins’. “It’ll be easier that way.”
Stanford could tell that he was just embarrassed to sing by himself. He couldn’t blame him, he’d be embarrassed to sing by himself too. He glanced down at his copy and swallowed.
“Sure, okay.”
Stanley’s smile was genuine now. He clenched his fist and started hitting the deck in the same steady beat he had before. Oh, right. Stanford wrote the first few lines. He willed his hands to stop shaking as he looked at his notebook, took a deep breath and sang his lines.
“I’ve been locked in the locker
I was picked last in soccer…”
His voice was soft but clear. Stanley grinned, his fist continuing the beat as he cut in.
“And they say that it’s all fun
But their fun, it ain’t fun
Man, I’m done…”
Stanford felt his stomach unclench as he raised his own fist and added it to the beat his brother started.
“And I know that we’re different
Our beliefs and our mindsets…”
But I don’t see the difference
In me, you
Yo, tu
Or moi, vous…”
“So if you’ve had enough, then…”
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but their theme was already starting to sound good. The more they sang, the less self-conscious they seemed to be. The twins beamed at each other, banging their fists against the wood as they sang in unison.
“Come to the land of the lost and lonely
Don’t be afraid, we’ll be our own family
Of freaks, like you and me
I know a place where the bruised and broken
Live like the kings and queens of tragedy
Just freaks, like you and me
We are the freaks”
Both boys were still beaming as they stopped banging their fists, their voices breaking into laughter. The whole thing was so silly, but Stanford decided he was fine with that, and it had been fun.
The things other kids would say about him, about both of them, still stung Stanford in a way he found hard to express. But he didn’t need to, Stanley could read him like an open book. He decided that if people wanted to think he was a freak, at least he wasn’t alone.
Pa needed their help in the pawn shop for a few days, so they weren’t able to go back to the ship as soon as they would have liked. However, on the third day, Stanley accidentally knocked over a display of fake gold rings. Miraculously, nothing was damaged, but that didn’t stop Pa from being upset. He must have been in a slightly better mood- if you could even call it that- because all he did was give Stanley an angry lecture and then told both boys to go out before they actually broke something.
Both boys instantly went up to their room to grab their backpacks. Stanford’s still had one or two of his school books in his, but it also held a book on boat mechanics and some of his notebooks- one that was for school notes, and one that had his sci-fi sketches, the supplies list and their song lyrics. Stanley had practically dumped anything school related out of his backpack the moment summer started. It was filled with comic books, sketches of his own, and the notebook he had borrowed from his brother.
Ma had managed to stop the boys just before they ran out the door. She knew full well that they probably wouldn’t be back from the beach until dinner, and she made them each take a sandwich she had made them for lunch. The boys stayed put just long enough for their ma to give them each a kiss on the cheek before they practically leapt out the door.
The streets weren’t that busy today, save for a few adults here and there. Most kids made their way to the park or rode on their bikes during the summer. Hardly any of them went down to the beach, their parents being more concerned with them hurting themselves on the glass. The twins didn’t mind though, they liked having the place mostly to themselves.
As they made their way to the beach, they started talking about ways they could get supplies to start fixing their ship. Stanley admitted that he was tempted to just swipe whatever they needed, but Stanford reminded him that stealing wood and tools would be more difficult than stealing an extra ice pop while the ice cream man wasn’t looking. The boys decided that if they needed money to get supplies, then they would need a way to get money. They also agreed that they needed to keep their earnings hidden away somewhere, lest they lose it all to their Pa’s greed.
The twins had toyed with the idea of asking their parents for allowances. Most of the kids at school had their own and were able to save up for toys, ice cream and things like that. However, they quickly decided against the idea. No doubt Pa would say no before they could even get the words out.
“What do you two need money for?” he would say. “You have a roof over your heads, clothes on your backs and food on your plates. Anything more than that is a waste of my money.”
Stanley suggested something small and simple, like a lemonade stand, but Stanford said they would need a plan that would last after the summer, when lemonade weather was over. Stanley argued that they could just switch up what products they sold as the weather changed, and his brother countered that they would likely get sand in whatever they tried to sell anyway, which would undoubtedly cause backlash.
“What about caricature drawing?” Stanley added. “Like those guys with giant sketchbooks at carnivals? We’re pretty good at drawing, we could do that.”
Stanford tapped his pen against his chin as he looked down at the list he had made in his notebook. “Possibly, but we’d need sketchbooks first.”
“Pft! That’s easy! We’ll just use regular notebooks and offer to do some for kids at school. Most of them always have a few bucks in their pockets. Once we have enough, we’ll get our own sketchbooks and do better ones for people on the street! We can go near the beach at summer, go by the diners at winter, and go to the parks in the spring.”
“What about Fall?”
“Eh, nobody really does anything then. It’d be a luck of the draw at that point anyway.”
Stanford chewed the end of his pen for a moment before giving a small nod. “Mmm… you know what? I’m gonna put it down as a maybe.”
“Good enough for me,” Stanley placed both of his hands behind his head. “If we wanna get it fixed before we finish school, we gotta get supplies and start fixin’ it now.”
“I just wanna make sure we have a more concrete way of doing it. We’re gonna need a lot of stuff to fix her up.”
“Yeah, but I ain’t worried. Once we get the cash for it, it’ll be smooth sailin’ ‘til she’s finished. Pun fully intended-”
“I know it was intended,” Stanford said irritably, but he failed to hide his smile.
Stanley laughed as he threw an arm around his twins’ shoulders. “One way or another, we’re gonna ditch this place and go on epic adventures, and no one can stop us!”
Stanford chuckled. Stanley started beating his fist onto his chest, and they both started to sing in unison, unconcerned with anyone who might be listening. It was the first time since finding the Stan O’ War that they felt like they really had a plan to make it all happen. Stanford knew that it would probably take years of work, and they would undoubtedly need to tweak their plan a bit as time went on, but at the same time it felt so real and assuring. As they made their way down the sidewalk, closer to the beach, he felt as though nothing could stop them.
Stanford felt his foot catch on something, causing him to trip.
His face nearly met concrete, but his brother’s grip on him tightened and stopped him before he fell. He gasped as he was pulled upright, his glasses falling lopsided.
“You okay, Sixer?” Stanley asked, sounding more concerned than what was probably needed.
“Yeah,” Stanford readjusted his glasses. “I-I just… tripped on something.”
They both turned in unison to see what could have caused him to lose balance and stopped where they stood. There, laying on the concrete, was some sort of small yellow and black box. It was so odd and out of place, Stanford wondered how he could have missed it. He convinced himself that he must have been too distracted by singing to notice.
Stanley moved first and picked up the strange box. Once he got a good look at it, Stanford realized that it was some sort of tape measure, but it wasn’t like any he had ever seen.
“Ha! See what I mean, Poindexter?” Stanley held up the tape measure. “Our luck’s startin’ to turn! We needed something like this, right? We can cross it off the list.”
“Yeah, but,” Stanford shifted uncomfortably. “It doesn’t belong to us. Someone’s probably looking for it.”
His twin shrugged. “Hey, if they cared about it that much, they would’ve come back for it by now. Besides, we need this to help with the wood and stuff, right?”
“Well, yeah…”
“There you go!”
Stanford rolled his eyes as the took the tape measure from his brother. Now that he got a closer look at it, he noticed how strange it looked. He didn’t recognize the company logo, and he was confused by the two arrow buttons. He flipped it around to examine the back and froze when he saw a long crack running down the plastic.
“Aw man, it’s cracked.”
“Hey, nothing a little duct tape won’t fix,” Stanley reached forward and pulled the tape out. “See? Still works!”
Stanford smiled as he looked down at the tape, then frowned. Instead of inches and feet, it said things like hours, days, months and years.
“Stanley, look at this.”
Stanley looked down at the tape. “Uh, ain’t that supposed to say inches or somethin’?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure what that’s about,” Stanford said as he curiously pressed one of the buttons, and Stanley shrugged as he released the tape.
Stanford blinked as a bright blue light started glowing through the crack in the tape measure. Soon, the whole thing was glowing as blue sparks started shooting out of it. He gasped, his hands jerking away on instinct. The tape measure fell from his hands but Stanley caught it before it hit the ground. They both flinched as a loud whirring sound began to fill their ears.
“Ford, what’s happenin’?”
“I-I don’t know!”
Before either of them could say or do anything, there was a bright flash of light. Stanford heard his brother yell his name before everything went dark.