Chapter Text
Stevie hasn’t slept well in months.
When she closes her eyes, she can smell the tunnels and the fire, can hear the smack of her baseball bat against monster flesh, can feel the snap of her head against Billy’s fist.
At the end of April without the active cheer season to tire her out, Stevie is on a string of bad nights, functioning off four hours a night with no one to talk to about it. On week three of almost no sleep, Eddie Munson subjects the cafeteria to another one of his insane tirades. The rest of the cheerleaders around her either flinch away from him or roll their eyes, but Stevie watches him carefully — his wild expressions, his wide-flung arms — and thinks, ‘That could work.’
Stevie was never a big fan of weed, but the settled, buzzy feeling she would get from two beers and a few hits off someone’s joint could be exactly what she needs right now. Stevie has never bought drugs before, not even for her own parties. She’s too hot for that, but she always distantly knew who Tommy and the other basketball boys bought their weed from — Eddie “The Freak” Munson.
“What a weirdo,” Sharon grumbles under her breath after Eddie has sat down again.
The other girls echo their agreement, but Stevie keeps an eye on Eddie, watching as his little group of freaks seem to applaud him for his outburst.
“He deals, doesn’t he?” Stevie asks, bringing her attention back to her table.
“Yeah, he does,” Katy says. “You’re not thinking of buying from him for the party next week, are you? Just send one of the boys.”
“No, no, I was just curious.” Stevie shakes her head, throwing her hair over a shoulder. “Tommy always used to buy, but I guess I never thought about where it came from.”
“He lives in the trailer park with his uncle,” Sharon offers unprompted. No one loves gossip more than Sharon. Stevie was hoping she would fill in the gaps. “I hear he makes people go there to get it.”
Stevie hums simply and allows the conversation to meander elsewhere. She’ll be babysitting some of the kids at the Hendersons’ after school. Technically, she’s only paid to watch Dustin, but it inevitably ends up being a whole group of them. She should still have enough time after drop-offs to stop by the trailer park. And it’s a Friday. If it doesn’t go well, at least she won’t have to deal with any adverse side-effects on a school night.
—
Gravel crunching under her car, Stevie stops in front of the first trailer she sees with a person outside. There’s an older man on a lawn chair, a six pack at his side and a radio playing some folk station.
She rolls down her window and asks sweet as anything, “Hi! Sorry to bother you, sir, but do you know which trailer the Munsons are in? I have class notes for Eddie.”
“Eddie Munson? Never knew the kid cared about school,” the man grumbles and gestures vaguely east. “They’re in lot twenty-seven, that way. You’ll probably hear his music before you see him.”
Stevie isn’t sure what he means by that but obediently rolls up her window and drives in the right direction. Then, she hears hard rock blasting from a trailer home not too far away. That must be it. The music is, in fact, difficult to miss.
Stevie pulls up behind a beat up van and gets out of her car. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her blouse, marches up to the front door, and knocks.
The door swings open to Eddie in some obscure band shirt with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The shock is over quick as he leans against the door frame with a stupid grin.
“Stephanie Harrington, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie asks.
“You sell weed, don’t you?” Stevie asks.
“Jesus, announce it to the whole trailer park, why don’t you?” Eddie hisses, twisting his head left and right to check the lot.
Stevie raises an eyebrow and casts a deliberately slow look at their empty surroundings. “So sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your local reputation.”
“Whatever,” Eddie grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I do. You looking to buy?”
“Obviously.”
“Alright, don’t get snippy. Come on in.”
Eddie steps aside with a sweep of his arm, expecting Stevie to follow. She goes inside but stays by the door, closing it behind her with a soft click. Eddie disappears further into the trailer, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on his way.
Taking a look around, Stevie marvels at the space. The main area is all wood paneling and second-hand furniture, trucker hats and novelty mugs. Eddie’s gone towards presumably his bedroom, where the loud music emanates from. Stevie hears him turn it down a tad and wonders if that’s for her. That side of the trailer seems to spillover with Eddie’s personality, a stray pile of torn-up jeans and black t-shirts, rock posters on the wall and beaten up paperbacks. It’s a weird mix of aesthetics but comfortably masculine in its entirety.
Stevie drifts towards the dining table, if it could be called that. A small plastic top with two chairs, littered with opened mail and an ashtray. There’s enough space cleared for people to eat. It’s a far cry from Stevie’s dining table, which comfortably seats eight but rarely even seats two on most days. Stevie could imagine Eddie eating here with his uncle before school every morning, grunting amiably about random shit the way that men do with each other.
“Sorry if it’s not up to your standards, Your Highness. The peasants must content themselves with what they can,” Eddie calls out, as bitter-sour as lemon rinds. He returns with a metal lunchbox swinging at his side and slumps into one of the chairs.
“No, it’s fine,” Stevie says.
“Fine.” Eddie snorts, opening his lunchbox with a click.
“I mean, it’s nice,” Stevie corrects, a flush heating up her ears. She refuses to be made to feel stupid by Eddie fucking Munson, who’s repeating his senior year. Besides, she isn’t lying. There’s a lived-in quality to the trailer that reminds her of the Byers’ home. It’s nice.
“Okay, don’t hurt yourself digging for a compliment. Sit down, sit down.” Eddie waves a hand to the other seat. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to buy weed.” Stevie sits, folding her hands in front of her on the table.
“Yeah, I got that. How much?”
Eddie fiddles with a half-full plastic baggie. Well, that certainly seems like too much. Stevie leans forward slightly so she can peer into his lunchbox. It mostly seems like weed or random junk to her.
“Uh, enough for a joint?” Stevie ventures with a shrug.
Eddie blinks at her a few times, dropping his baggie. “Do you have a grinder or papers?”
“A grinder?”
“Do you even know how to roll? Have you ever smoked before? ”
“I have. But like, at parties and stuff.”
“Dude, what are you doing here?”
Stevie bristles at dude. Only the kids talk to her like that. She doesn’t like hearing it from Eddie at all.
“To buy weed. Try to keep up, Munson. Aren’t you a drug dealer? Shouldn’t you, like, want to sell your shit?” Stevie demands, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah, but I’m not gonna sell you shit that you can’t even end up using. Is this for one of your parties? Don’t you normally send one of your stooges to get stuff?”
“It’s not for a party. It’s just for me,” Stevie mumbles, staring down at her naked nails. She can’t even remember the last time she thought about painting her nails, and she used to sport a new color every week. She suddenly feels so dumb. Eddie’s right. What is she doing here? Is she so desperate for sleep that she really turned up with no plan, woefully ill-formed about all the ins and outs of smoking weed?
“You know what, this was a stupid idea. Thanks for your time.” Stevie stands up to leave.
“Hey, hey, wait.” Eddie grabs her wrist to stop her. Then immediately pulls back with a wide-eyed look like she’d burned him. “Look, it’s fine. It’s your first time buying drugs. I get it. How about I roll one for you and charge you for a joint, huh?”
Stevie settles down again with a sniff. “You could’ve suggested that from the beginning.”
“You’re right. How could I expect the Queen of Hawkins High to roll her own joint? Forgive me my tresspasses, O Goddess,” Eddie says with a grin and a dramatic hand over his heart. The nicknames are even more exaggerated this time, but they lack the caustic edge of earlier. It’s almost like… Eddie’s letting her in on the joke.
“Am I a queen or a goddess? Make up your mind, Munson,” Stevie retorts, rolling with the punches.
“Oh, it’s all the same. Elevated being and all,” Eddie says as he busies himself with the weed and his lunchbox junk.
Stevie rests her chin in her hand and watches him work. He’s just rolling a joint, but there’s an economy of movement in Eddie’s hands that she can appreciate. That, and his army of heavy silver rings. She thinks that she likes the way he said that. Elevated being. She’s not totally sure what that means, but she can make a guess with context clues. It feels different from how Billy would leer at her and call her Queen Stevie last year. Eddie said it so naturally, as if it were a given that Stevie could be a queen or a goddess, instead of her reality — a cheerleader doomed to peak in high school, whose closest friend at this point is a middle schooler, and who can’t seem to sleep through the night without terrible, horrible hauntings.
Eddie finishes quickly and hands her a perfectly rolled joint. Stevie holds it between two fingers and squints, tries to imagine herself actually smoking this in her backyard in front of her pool that she can’t even touch anymore. The idea isn’t actually so appealing, but she’ll give it a shot if it’ll calm her down.
“How much do I owe you?” Stevie sets the joint back down and unzips her purse.
“Let’s call it two dollars.”
“Don’t I get a first-timer’s discount? Buy one, get one free, or something?” Stevie asks with a pout.
“I think we both know that you’ve smoked enough from me even if you weren’t the one buying it. Or rolling it, evidently.”
“Oh, I see. This is how you treat your customers then?” Stevie complains, even as she hands him two folded up bills.
Eddie takes it from her with a wink. “Only the rich, pretty ones.”
Stevie is taken aback. Are they… flirting? Is she really flirting with Eddie Munson? It’s almost second nature to her at this point to play up the charm when she’s buying something, but she didn’t expect him to do it back. And there is something bizarrely charming about him. Maybe it’s because he has the upperhand in his trailer doing a drug deal, but it’s also the way he was weirdly accommodating for her, nice even. God, Stevie must really be sleep deprived if she’s fascinated by this.
“Well, pleasure doing business with you, Harrington,” Eddie says with a kind of finality, but he doesn’t pack away his lunch box. On the contrary, he’s finishing up another joint.
“Are you making another one?” Stevie asks.
“Yeah, you kinda interrupted my plans for the evening.”
“Which were?”
“Drinking beer. Getting high. Eating leftover pizza. Friday night of champions.” Eddie raises his joint in an exaggerated sweep of his arm. “It’s an invite-only exclusive party. You want in, Your Highness?”
“Oh, can I?” Stevie asks before she can stop herself.
Eddie seems to choke on air, his arm dropping out of the sky like dead weight, as he stares openly at her. “Are you serious? Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”
Stevie shakes her head mutely.
She bailed on a sleepover with the cheer squad tonight as she has for every sleepover since December. She couldn’t risk having a nightmare at someone’s house and having the whole school hear about how Stephanie Harrington has lost her mind and sees monsters in shadows like a little kid. She could go back to her house and hope the weed works, but if it doesn’t, then she’s in for another long night of little sleep with too many lights on in the empty rooms. The reality is that she would rather be here in Eddie’s trailer as the warm glow of the floor lamps pushes back the ebbing daylight and the frankly mind-numbing wall of noise that is Eddie’s music consumes the room.
“Okay… I guess I did offer,” Eddie mumbles, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry. Was that a joke? I can leave.” Stevie tries to stand again, but Eddie stops her once more. His hand stays longer on her wrist this time.
“No, you don’t have to. It’s no big deal. Smoking with Stephanie Harrington. I can do that.”
Eddie looks at her with an intense determination, as if he’s trying to prove something to himself or to her. He’s saying, I can do that. Can you? Can Queen Stevie really lower herself to hanging out with the Freak of Hawkins High?
Maybe Nancy was right about so much of this all being bullshit, and Stevie just couldn’t see it before. Their lives haven’t been the same since the Upside Down came tearing into suburban Indiana, no matter how much Stevie tried to ignore it. Even a year ago, Stevie could never have imagined herself here, but Stevie isn’t that girl anymore.
Stevie’s not one to back down from a challenge, and this is nothing compared to a pack of demo-dogs. She marches to the fridge, calling over her shoulder. “You said you had beer?”
“Yeah, should be on the bottom shelf.”
She finds it easily and returns with two bottles of Miller Lite in hand. She sets them on the table between them. “Bottle opener?”
“No need.” Eddie grabs a bottle, slots the edge of a metal ring under the cap, and pops it off with ease. He hands this first one to Stevie and repeats the same motion for his own. He tilts it towards her for a toast. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
“Now, let’s get this party started,” Eddie says with a slight self-deprecating tone. He fishes a lighter out of his pocket and kicks the flame. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Stevie mumbles.
She slots the joint between her lips and leans forward. Eddie seems to stall for a moment before reaching across to light it for her. His left hand comes along to cup the flame, even though they’re inside with no wind to speak of. If Stevie tilted her head more, his fingertips would brush her cheek.
Stevie breathes in too much and immediately starts coughing. Eddie laughs, falling back in his chair.
“I thought you said you’d smoked before?” Eddie teases.
“I have! I just did too much,” Stevie defends, taking hurried swigs of her beer even though the carbonation isn’t necessarily making her throat feel any better.
“Easy, Your Highness.” Eddie lights up his own joint, inhaling deeply and exhaling smoothly. He grins at her through the pyre of smoke. “Take it slow. We’ve got time.”
—
“Sweetheart, you are a lightweight.”
Stevie giggles, burying her face in her hands. “I’m not!”
“You definitely are,” Eddie corrects.
She is, and she knows it. She barely managed half the joint before it all hit her. Eddie had noticed and set it in the ashtray for her. She thinks that he’s smoking the rest now, which she should really look at getting a refund for. But he did share his beer and leftover pizza, so maybe it all evens out? Stevie isn’t familiar with the barter system of geeky stoners.
Stevie isn’t exactly sure how much time has passed. Things are moving fast and slow at the same time, but in this stretchy time, they’ve migrated from the table to the floor next to the couch. Stevie found the rug much more comfortable and preferred to eat their pizza from the coffee table.
“I’m not,” Stevie insists again, making grabby hands for the rest of the joint.
Eddie seems amused enough and lets her take another hit. “Sure, I believe you.”
“How are you not high?” Stevie squints at him.
“Oh, I am. Don’t worry. Just takes me a bit more to get skyborne.”
“Hmm.” Stevie considers this thought as she stares at him. Now that she’s looking, he does seem a little high. His big, dark eyes are hazy and red in the corners. His face is a bit flushed too as he slouches back against the couch.
“Why did you want weed anyway? You clearly don’t smoke normally.”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired,” Stevie says.
“Tired?”
“Yeah, but I can’t sleep, and–and–and everything is bullshit, you know?”
Eddie snorts. “Yeah, I know that. Didn’t think you knew it though.”
“I didn’t. Not until recently, but it’s like the Up— it’s like once you see it, you can’t unsee it,” Stevie cuts herself off before she can say the Upside Down. God, she is really high.
“Yeah, it’s like that.”
Eddie lets the conversation trail off, but if Stevie had to put a pin on his tone, it sounded as if he were almost impressed with her. Stevie tries not to preen about the validation. She’s always been a sucker for positive attention.
“Hey, what’s this song? I like it,” Stevie says. Truthfully, she’s been tuning out the music almost entirely, but she wants to keep it going, wants to keep surprising him.
“Really? You do?” Eddie completely lights up and the affectations fall away. Stevie is stunned.
Honestly, she doesn’t know much about Eddie. He’s only ever existed in her periphery, fading into nothingness until he launches one of his stunts in the cafeteria or the auditorium during pep rallies. They must’ve grown up in school together though. Almost everyone in Hawkins has, and in her stoned state, some neurons fire correctly, and suddenly, she remembers a different version of Eddie, before the unruly mane and the edgy tattoos — a knobby-kneed eighth grader with a guitar bigger than his torso at the middle school talent show.
“Yeah, yeah, I like the–” Stevie makes some noises trying to imitate the guitar in the song. Her response comes slow, and she doesn’t think she gets anywhere close to pitch, but it’s enough for Eddie.
He drops the depleted joint into the ashtray and bounces to his feet. “Wow, if you like this song, then wait until I play you their newer stuff. It’ll blow your mind.”
“Can’t wait!” Stevie says.
She laughs and hoists herself onto the couch, which is so comfortable, holy shit. Why weren’t they sitting here to begin with? Does Eddie have something against couches? She settles in for Eddie to return. She can’t stop thinking about how comfortable the couch is. It feels like a miracle. Her couch back home is this really nice leather, but it doesn’t sink the way this one does, molding around her body like a hug. She closes her eyes to fully take in the couch and how her joints are buzzing pleasantly. She starts humming along to the noise coming out of Eddie’s stereo. She has pretended to like a lot of things for random boys. She can pretend to like Eddie’s music too. He’s been so nice to her, after all.
—
A hand shakes her shoulder, and Stevie wakes with a jolt, shooting out to grab her nail-bat from where it’s hidden under her bed. Her fingers jam into the side of a couch, and she clutches it to her chest, hissing.
“Woah, woah, woah, calm down. Sorry I scared you.” Eddie pulls back from her, holding his hands up in the air.
“Fuck, what did you do that for?” Stevie curses, sitting up. She scans her surroundings as the night trickles back to her.
“Sorry, you fell asleep. I was just trying to wake you up.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”
“It’s six a.m. You really weren’t kidding when you said you were tired, huh?” Eddie takes a seat on the armrest of the couch and smiles down at her.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You could’ve woken me up and kicked me out.”
“Trust me, Your Highness. I tried. I was worried you’d miss your curfew, but you mumbled something about your parents being out of town anyway and about me shutting the fuck up.”
Stevie groans, hiding her head behind her knees. That’s when she notices the blanket over her lap. Eddie tucked her in after she got too high and rudely took over his couch? God, she is such a mess.
“Would’ve let you sleep more, but Uncle Wayne’s supposed to be back from work soon, and that’s his bed, so you gotta skedaddle,” Eddie continues to speak, seemingly unaware of Stevie’s imminent demise via sheer embarrassment.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep here,” Stevie half-shouts into the blanket.
“Damn, I know it’s not a feathered bed, but a thank you would be nice.” Eddie crosses his arms with the edge returned to his voice.
“That’s not what I meant,” Stevie snaps, lifting her head to glare at Eddie. She must look dreadful with her hair collapsed under its own weight and her make-up half-gone at this rate.
“Still don’t hear a thank you.”
Stevie scoffs, swinging her legs off the couch and trying to straighten her rumpled clothes. “Like you don’t love the idea of a hot girl spending the night in your trailer.”
“God, you’re mean in the morning.” Eddie stands up with a huff. “Just see yourself out.”
Fuck, Stevie’s trying to not be that girl anymore. She follows him, grabbing his wrist. “Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t wake up well these days. Thank you for letting me crash here.”
Eddie’s eyes dart between his captured wrist and her face. She realizes that Eddie is actually taller than her when she doesn’t have her shoes on. Stevie’s pretty tall for a woman, but Eddie’s got a good few inches on her. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like dorky boys should be shorter.
Eddie pulls his hand away, stuffing it in his pocket, as he rocks back on his heels with some of that mischievous spark restored from last night. “Don’t sleep well or wake up well. It’s a tough life out there for Queen Stephanie.”
“Shut up, dickhead. I’m trying to thank you.” Stevie smiles despite herself.
“You’re welcome, my liege.” Eddie swoops into a dramatic bow. “Now, I’m not kidding. You gotta leave before my uncle gets back.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
Stevie retrieves her shoes from under the couch and sits down at the dining table to get them on properly.
“So did you sleep well?” Eddie asks.
Stevie pauses and thinks about it. It actually was the best night’s sleep she’s had in a long time. Hell, she doesn’t even remember Eddie trying to wake her up last night.
“Yeah, I did,” she answers.
“Good, I’m glad it worked.”
“Thank you again,” Stevie says, standing up. She’s not sure how she feels about Eddie knowing about her sleeping problems, but she supposes that’s her fault for telling him in the first place.
“You’re welcome.” Eddie reaches around her to pick up something from the dining table. He presents a newly rolled joint to her. “Here you go.”
“What? Why?”
Eddie shrugs with a lazy grin. “Buy one, get one free?”
“Thanks, Munson.” Stevie grins back at him. She tucks the joint into her sunglasses case, so that it won’t get crushed. “Great customer service. Five-star drug dealer.”
“Yeah, yeah, see you around, Harrington.” Eddie laughs at her stupid joke, which delights some squirrelly place inside Stevie.
Eddie opens the door for her, and Stevie is momentarily shocked by the dawning light, the early birds. She feels as if she’s emerged from a different dimension, and she knows that sensation on pretty good authority.
She almost turns to say something else to Eddie, something commiserating or maybe even half-witty, but the trailer door swings shut behind her. Then, it’s just Stevie again, awake when she shouldn’t be.
—
Stevie actually manages to sleep pretty well over the weekend that she doesn’t consider smoking again. Eddie’s joint is tucked safely away in her sock drawer. Monday is a bit rough, but she gets through Tuesday fine, so she’s no more bedraggled than usual when Nancy finds her by her locker on Wednesday morning.
“Hey, Stevie,” Nancy says. She stops a few feet short of Stevie’s locker and gives her a short wave before she returns to gripping her books in front of her chest.
“Hey, what’s up?” Stevie takes her time organizing her locker and picking what she needs for the morning, so she doesn’t have to look at Nancy. Nancy hasn’t apologized about their fight on Halloween. To be fair, neither has Stevie.
“Well, we had a study group together last year with Jonathan for finals. I was wondering if you wanted to do it again this year.”
Stevie scoffs and slams her locker a little harder than she meant to. “And watch you make googly-eyes at Byers all afternoon? I think I’ll pass.”
“Stevie!” Nancy places her body in front of Stevie, staving off her retreat. Her face is flushed, either with embarrassment or frustration. Stevie isn’t sure. “It wouldn’t be like that. We all studied together last year, and it was fine.”
“That’s before you made him your boyfriend. Also I asked you so many times if you liked Byers last year, and you said no every time, so what was that about?”
“I don’t know. It just happened. I wasn’t planning to date him.” Nancy ducks her head, blushing furiously.
“Sure.”
“Why does that even matter? I thought you liked Jonathan, but now you’re back to calling him Byers? After everything,” Nancy says, putting a special emphasis on ‘everything,’ the way that they all do to various words when they really mean ‘when an alternate dimension tried to kill us’.
“Maybe I just don’t think he’s good enough for you. I mean, Tommy was bad. Don’t get me wrong, but at least he never took creeper photos of me changing.”
“Why are you bringing that up again?” Nancy hisses. “He’s apologized about that. To both of us. Your boyfriend was the one who painted on the side of a movie theater that I’m a slut.”
“That’s different. I didn’t do that.” Stevie glances around the hallway. Thankfully, no one’s taken much notice of the muted argument that has been going on. The last thing she needs these days is more rumors going around about her life. “And I dumped him and apologized to both of you.”
“So we’ve all apologized, and we should be fine. I don’t understand why you’ve been avoiding me,” Nancy says, the fight draining out of her. Her eyebrows crumple together above those big, brown eyes, as she gazes up at Stevie with an emotion that can only be considered hurt.
“Not all of us.” Stevie turns away, facing her locker. She can go the other direction if she has to, but before she leaves, she can’t help but deliver one last jab at Nancy. “But, hey, I get it. You never talked to me about Jonathan or about Barbara, which is fine. I thought we were closer than we were, but I’m just bullshit, right? So sorry that I don’t wanna join your little study group. You’re not my tutor anymore, Nance, so you can stop worrying about me.”
Stevie’s little outburst actually renders Nancy speechless, so it’s easy for Stevie to walk around her down the hall. She’ll only be a bit late to her first class as opposed to if she had to circle around the school. The ugly truth is that Stevie doesn’t even really understand why she’s so upset with Nancy or Jonathan, but every time she thinks too long about the sequence of events from Nancy yelling at her at the Halloween party to how the two of them got together, it makes Stevie sick. She’d been on her way to talk to Nancy when Dustin accosted her to hunt for his pet lizard. Nancy had been on a different venture while falling in love with Jonathan.
Stevie knows that she has no right to this anger, but it still broils within her when she’s not careful, and she wasn’t careful today. She has been avoiding both of them because she’s had nothing nice to say, and she has decided to be better now, better than Tommy or Carol. They haven’t talked about the fallout of their friendship last year, even though Nancy has tried a few times, this morning being the latest attempt.
Unfortunately, Stevie can’t get over the month when Nancy was so wrapped up in Jonathan that she forgot about Stevie. Nancy’s first attempt to reconcile had been at the Snow Ball, and only because they bumped into each other in the parking lot. Maybe after this morning, she can give up on Stevie.
As Stevie walks away, all she feels is lonely, carrying the knowledge that it’s probably her own fault.
—
Stevie doesn’t know if arguing with Nancy made things worse, but the nightmares return in full-force that night. She wakes up with a half-choked scream in her throat at two in the morning.
The night is barely warm enough that she can brave her backyard in her pajamas, Eddie’s joint in hand. She sits on a patio chair and stares out at the blue tarmac over the pool. On their weekly phone call, Stevie’s mother reminded her that she should call the landscaping guys about taking the tarmac off and adding pool upkeep to their summer services. Stevie hasn’t done it yet.
Stevie doesn’t really know how she did all this shit last year. She’d gone to the right sleepovers, the right parties — hosted the right events at her place and opened the pool appropriately for a year-end bash. She never got nightmares like this.
Maybe it’s because Nancy left her. She could pretend to be fine when it felt like she was pretending for the two of them, but then Nancy decided that she didn’t want to be friends with Stevie because she pretended too well, and after this morning, Stevie’s ensured that they won’t speak at all anymore. She’s reluctant to admit it, but she does miss that bit of last year when it felt like the three of them were sort of friends, bonded together over monster fighting. She doesn’t know what to do with the jumble of anger and jealousy and sadness that she feels about Nancy and Jonathan now.
Shaking her head, Stevie lights up the joint. Tries to remember what Eddie told her about even breaths and holding it in. She thinks she manages to complete the motions well and has a spare thought about how she could rub it in his face the next time she sees him.
Stevie leans back against her chair, wishing idly for some music. Something better than that loud rock shit. Maybe she should go back inside for some of her parents’ records. As she sinks into that pleasant humming state, reminiscing fondly of a jazz record that she once saw her parents dancing to as a child, she sees a movement out of the corner of her eye.
A shadow dashes across her vision from one side of her fence to the other. Stevie stands, knocking over her chair. The metal clang echoes through her yard.
“Who’s there?” Stevie shouts, backing away from the pool as quickly as she can.
There’s a rustle in the hedges, and she tries to tell herself that it’s a raccoon, but she can feel every hair on her body raise. Her nightmare slams back with a vengeance, doubling with her half-dark vision of reality. Billy was barreling towards her with his fists and his screaming. They were backed into a corner, the exit of the tunnels was gone, the kids were stuck behind her. Then, Billy’s face ripped open to release a hoard of demo-dogs, and she couldn’t save any of them. She didn’t save any of them.
Stevie scrambles to get back inside. Her hands are shaking as she locks the sliding door behind her. She runs up the stairs until she can get to her room, turning on as many lights as she can on her way. She pulls the baseball bat from under her bed and clutches it in her hands. She huddles with it against her backboard until she passes out an hour later from the adrenaline crash.
—
Stevie wakes up with the first light of day and decides that she will not be going to school today. She hides the nail bat under her bed and goes about turning off all the lights. She returns to the backyard, rearranges the patio chairs, and picks up the rest of the joint that she dropped. She goes straight to her kitchen and feeds it into the garbage disposal, watching it churn into smithereens.
The sun is climbing the sky, and it seems as if Hawkins is planning to grace them with their first truly warm day this year. Stevie grabs two eggs from the fridge for breakfast, and as she swings back around, she notices the kitchen calendar. It’s still stuck on January. Stevie sets the eggs on the counter and traces her fingertips across Elizabeth Harrington’s delicate script. ‘Home with Stephanie’ with the first two weeks highlighted.
Technically, the Upside Down wasn’t the first time that her world was turned on its head. That honor goes to the summer before she turned sixteen.
She had woken up one morning to the sound of her parents shouting from downstairs, and not the type of shouting she was accustomed to, where her dad gets frustrated and raises his voice until Eliza coaxes him down from the dizzying heights of his temper. No, Stevie could hear Eliza loud and clear, screaming and crying.
Richard Harrington had an affair with his secretary in Chicago, and Eliza found out.
Stevie’s parents met in Chicago as a young associate at a big law firm and his secretary, ten years his junior. Eliza was the one who grew up in Hawkins, and when she fell pregnant, prompting them to marry sooner rather than later, she was also the one who insisted that they raise their daughter in her grandparents’ old home in Loch Nora. In reality, Rich never wanted to be in Hawkins. Some days, Stevie’s not sure he ever wanted children at all.
Stevie takes in the state of her house for the first time in months — the sunlit kitchen with its tasteful mosaic tiles lining the stovetop, the dining room with its crystal cabinet, the living room with its big bay windows framed by her grandmother’s lace curtains. Stevie can’t remember the last time she invited anyone over.
Stevie used to think that her mom and her friends were the most glamorous women in the world. Eliza has always been the consummate host, decorating their house with a deft hand and deliberately selecting menu items and table settings for each occasion. In her girlhood memories, Stevie often recalls Eliza standing exactly where she is right now — presiding over the breakfast bar with a drink in one hand, giggling indulgently at the other housewives as they showered her in compliments on her home and her food and her daughter. Stevie would stand at Eliza’s elbow, gazing up at these women with wondrous eyes. She had wanted to be exactly like her mom when she grew up.
When Stevie joined the cheer squad, she immediately set about hosting get-togethers at her house, attempting to emulate to the best of her ability that feeling she had while watching her mom entertain guests. Eliza pulled out all the stops to help plan the perfect sleepovers and pool parties, delighted that her daughter had her sense for hosting. Those hang-outs helped cement freshman Stevie into the popular crowd at Hawkins High.
While Rich commuted every other weekend from Chicago, Eliza had been the ideal stay-at-home mom, joining the PTAs, signing her daughter up for all the right clubs, and crafting Stevie’s closet to be both chic and appropriate. Stevie had listened to everything Eliza told her to do, molding her own worldview in the image of her mom.
In elementary school, Eliza entered Stevie in local beauty pageants. Eliza herself was Miss Indiana in her heyday and wanted to see the same in her daughter. Unfortunately, after a few pageants, Stevie failed to place anywhere in the front of the pack, and Eliza nixed the whole operation. On the drive home from Stevie’s last pageant, she looked over at Stevie and said, “There’s no point in doing all that, if you can’t be the best.”
Everything changed after the affair. There was a period of nine months when her parents teetered on the edge of a divorce. Rich, with all his legal insight, had been cocky enough that he’d never asked Eliza to sign a prenup, and a divorce would’ve cost him dearly. Eliza’s pride was destroyed, and she wasn’t going to let him off easy. Stevie spent a lot of that time squatting by the stairs and listening to her parents argue. Eventually, they decided to stay together. At the end of the day, Eliza was not raised to be a divorcee and gave in.
There was something poetic about the whole thing. It took a baby to get them married in the first place — nine months for Stevie to grow in Eliza’s belly. It took another nine months for them to decide to stay married.
As a compromise, Eliza decided that she couldn’t let Rich out of her sight for too long. At first, this meant that Rich would come back to Hawkins more. As a senior partner at his firm, he had a lot more flexibility. But by the time Stevie started junior year, Eliza was spending more and more time at the townhouse in Chicago.
Eliza used to meticulously mark on the kitchen calendar the dates that she would be gone and would inform the Hagans that Stevie would be alone for a bit. Nowadays, Stevie sees her mom for a week or so every month or two, only knowing when her parents are coming home when Eliza tells her on their weekly calls. The calendar remains stuck on January.
So yeah, Stevie knows what it’s like when your reality changes from one moment to the next. Just because Eliza’s withdrawal from her life was more wind erosion than landslide, doesn’t mean that the absence created is any less potent. At least, she doesn’t have nightmares about her dad’s affair.
Stevie forces herself to take a few deep, shuddering breaths and replaces the eggs into the fridge. She goes upstairs and changes into a pair of old gym shorts and a t-shirt. On her front step, she slides her sunglasses over her eyes and glares out at the cheerful sun and fluffy white clouds — storybook bullshit.
Setting out at a slow jog, she winds her way into the nearby woods, picking up speed as she hits the gravel paths. She runs until her lungs burn and her calves are starting to cramp. Hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting through the aches, she wants to scream her rage at the treetops.
Is this going to be her life in the post-Upside Down? Alone in her house with no real friends to speak of, running from monsters that she forms from shadows. What she did wrong last night that she missed out on the peaceful bliss she found in Eddie’s trailer?
—
On Friday night, Stevie is at a party. This one is hosted by Sharon to celebrate Chrissy Cunningham stepping up as captain next year, so she knows she has to show her face as the departing captain or people will think that she hates Chrissy or something ridiculous like that.
Stevie genuinely likes Chrissy. She wouldn’t have told the coach to pick her otherwise. In fact, Stevie likes most of the girls on the squad. She thinks a lot of them would consider her a good friend, and she used to as well. But it gets harder and harder every day to trust anyone who didn’t see an alternate dimension rip through their lives.
Unfortunately, it has to be a pool party, so Stevie hovers off to the side with her bikini and cover-up, nursing the same vodka and sprite. She bounces between any of the cheer girls not in the pool. She knows by now that entering the pool is an open invitation for any number of boys to try their chance with her, and she’s not in the mood. Maybe if she wets her hair in the bathroom at some point, people will be too drunk to notice that she never went in herself.
At around ten p.m., she’s with Chrissy, who doesn’t drink much and isn’t comfortable swimming either. They’ve compromised with sitting at the edge of the pool, swinging their legs in the water. They’re talking about plans for next year, and Stevie actually feels good about being at one of these functions until Billy saunters in with Tommy and Carol at his back.
“Fuck,” Stevie swears under her breath, hoping desperately that they won’t notice her.
“What? What’s wrong?” Chrissy asks, concern blooming in her big, blue eyes.
“Nothing. It’s fine.”
Billy actually doesn’t say much to her anymore after some rumors spread that he gave Stevie her black eye last year. Out of respect for Max, Stevie actually never told anyone about that. She suspects that one of the munchkins squealed, but she’d been circumspect enough that it only ever amounted to rumors. Besides, she didn’t want the misplaced pity from her peers about the situation.
It’s Tommy and Carol that Stevie’s worried about. Even though they’re together now, Tommy never really forgave her for dumping him so publicly, and Carol never really forgot that Stevie threw her over for Nancy Wheeler as a best friend, regardless of how that turned out.
“Hey, Stevie, long time no see,” Tommy calls out, veering towards her.
Carol smirks at her from his side while Billy hovers behind like a terrible specter of the worst night of Stevie’s life, and maybe once upon a time, Stevie would’ve gone along with it, but fuck that, fuck them, and fuck this.
Stevie doesn’t acknowledge Tommy. She stands up, slipping her soaking feet into her sandals, and says to Chrissy, “I’ll see you at lunch on Monday? I’m tired. I think I’ll head out.”
“Oh, leaving so soon?” Carol simpers.
“Yeah, I’m done,” Stevie says, breezing past her. “Have a great night.”
Stevie would’ve absolutely played along last year, but she can’t do it anymore. She pushes into a corner of the kitchen and tries to center herself. She hates these parties, she hates the person she’s capable of becoming here. She tries to think of the last time she felt okay with herself, and all she can think of is that night in Eddie’s trailer.
It clicks for her then. Maybe the issue with getting high last time is that she was by herself. She should try smoking with Eddie again. Dustin’s always talking to her about the scientific method. You have to try the same thing in different ways to truly determine how life works. Maybe that’s what she should do now. She could certainly use something to calm her down.
Without giving herself time to second guess, she squeezes past some sophomores, grabs a quarter-full bottle of vodka off the kitchen counter and walks out of the house. No one says anything to her face because she is still, at the end of the day, Stevie Harrington.
She slides into her car and heads for Forest Hills.
—
Stevie pulls up at Eddie’s trailer behind the same beat up van. She doesn’t see another car in the drive, which hopefully means that Eddie’s uncle is working again tonight.
Some of Stevie’s bravado has depleted on her drive, but she pushes forward nevertheless and knocks on his door.
“Stephanie?” Eddie asks. The shock has apparently robbed him of any more clever nicknames.
“Hi, do you want to smoke again tonight?” Stevie smiles winningly, leaning towards him with the bottle behind her back.
“Uh, sure?”
“Great, I brought drinks this time.” That’s all the go-ahead Stevie needs for her baseless confidence to return, and she nudges past him into the trailer, proudly setting her pilfered vodka on his kitchen counter.
“Wow, um, that’s not a drink. That’s straight liquor.” Eddie circles around the counter to the other side, leaning down to study the label on the bottle. “Are you drunk?”
“I had one drink.” Stevie rolls her eyes. “This was the easiest thing to take from the party, and I owe you for the beer from last time. Do you have any mixers?”
“We have orange juice? I think? Wait, let me check.” Eddie opens and closes the fridge. “Okay, we have very little orange juice, and then some cans of Coke.”
“Both of those work. Can I take the orange juice?”
“Yeah, sure. Wait, no, hold up. I need some more context please before you start demanding the contents of my fridge as well as my weed.”
“I’ll pay for the weed,” Stevie offers and drops two dollars onto the counter.
“Yeah, okay, fair play. Still need context.” Eddie crosses his arms and squints at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I was at a party that sucked, and the joint you gave me last time didn’t work because it just freaked me out more, and I just want to chill tonight. You’re free, right? You let me in.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” Eddie throws up his hands, relenting to Stevie’s manic energy. “I can roll while you make the drinks?”
“Works for me. Where are your glasses?”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure we only have mugs, and you can see them,” Eddie shouts as he disappears to his bedroom for his drug lunchbox.
Stevie rolls her eyes. Men. She rounds the counter and grabs the first two mugs that she sees — a Batman one and a Hawkins City Fair one. “Are you good with Coke?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Eddie returns to the common space, settling at the coffee table to roll this time. “What kind of party was this?”
“What do you mean?” Stevie portions their drinks and walks over to set Ed’s drink in front of him.
“I don’t– I just mean, like, the way you’re dressed?” Eddie sounds stressed trying to explain it as he gestures at Stevie.
“Oh, right.” Stevie looks down at herself and tightens her cover-up a little. “It was a pool party.”
Eddie looks vaguely pained and even stops in the process of rolling as his gaze keeps darting to her tits. Stevie braces for some unintentionally callous comment that would send her spiraling home tonight, but Eddie just shakes his head and says, “Ah pools. How the upper echelon live.”
Stevie decides that this comment is fine. It doesn’t seem directed at her specifically, whatever the fuck ‘echelon’ is.
“Let’s start with sharing a joint this time, if that pleases the Lightweight Queen?” Eddie teases, waving a single joint at her, and yes, this is the ease she was looking for.
“Fine,” Stevie says with a mock sigh, flipping her hair. “You’re the drug boss.”
“I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
“Shut up and smoke, Munson.”
—
As they finish their drinks and the joint, they talk shit about their various, shared teachers through Hawkins Middle and High School. Stevie’s surprised by how much of Eddie’s more stinging commentary rings true with her and makes her laugh, although they have a more heated disagreement about the sophomore English teacher that Eddie adored and Stevie swears hated her guts.
Stevie goes to pour them more drinks when she finally notices the stunning quiet in the trailer. “Hey, where’s your music?”
“Unlike your castles in the sky, we commoners have something called neighbors, and I try to be a little respectful of them on occasion,” Eddie answers as he makes a little tower out of his rings.
“Oh, can’t you just play it a little quieter?” Stevie asks.
“I can, but if we can hear it from the living room, then they can definitely hear it outside.”
“So? We can go sit in your room.”
Eddie freezes, then slowly unfreezes, and peers at Stevie through his bangs. “You wanna hang out in my room?”
“Well, can we?” Stevie can feel a flush creeping on her face. She didn’t even mean it like that. She’d just been focused on the lack of noise.
“I don’t know. Can I trust you to not fall asleep this time?” Eddie raises his eyebrows in a clear challenge, a smile stretching across his face.
Stevie huffs, grabs their drinks, and heads straight towards Eddie’s bedroom door.
“Woah, okay, hold up. My shit’s a mess.” Eddie zips past Stevie in the cramped hall and tries to bar the door from her.
“I’ve seen boy rooms. I’m sure it’s fine.” Stevie squeezes past him and ducks in before he can stop her. A part of her is genuinely curious what his room would look like in its natural state.
Stevie was bracing for the worst, but as cluttered as it was, it wasn’t that bad. She’s seen Tommy’s room in much worse states and still willingly hung out there anyway. There’s an interesting woodsy smell in Eddie’s room.
“I like the smell,” Stevie comments.
“It’s incense. Helps hide the weed and cigarettes,” Eddie explains as he frantically tries to load things into his neglected laundry basket.
“Nice guitar.” A dark red electric hangs on Eddie’s wall. It does actually look cool.
“Right? Isn’t she beautiful?” Eddie says with an adoring sigh that most boys that Stevie knows reserve for cars or actual girls.
“Sure, so music?” Stevie asks, rounding on him.
“Alright, what does Her Royal Highness prefer?” Eddie asks, opening his arm to his frankly frightening collection of cassette tapes and CDs.
“How about what you wanted to play last time? That I fell asleep for.”
“Coming right up.” Eddie gives a jaunty, little salute and starts to fiddle with his ancient-looking stereo.
A barrage of sound immediately floods Eddie’s room. Even when he turns it down, the music sounds as if it were trying to flay Stevie alive. But in a good way, in a non-Mindflayer way.
Eddie cracks his window and pulls the curtain close at the same time. Respect for the neighbors, Stevie remembers. Eddie sits on the ground and gestures for Stevie to follow. She hands him his mug and leans back against the bed. Eddie’s pointing out something about the chord progression to her that Stevie can’t completely follow.
Eddie pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tilting the carton towards her. “You want one?”
“I’m good.”
Eddie shrugs and sticks a cigarette between his lips. When he lights it, the fire dances briefly across the planes of his face, highlighting the line of his nose, the rounds of his cheekbones, those doe eyes. He’s not unattractive — even handsome, in his own sort of way. He is, again, bizarrely charming and actually nice to Stevie, allowing her to barge into his home again.
Stevie’s last real date was in February, and she hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone since she broke up with Tommy in junior year, and yeah, their relationship was a shitshow half the time, but sometimes she misses being with someone, being held by someone, being someone’s. Maybe it’s the loneliness or the nightmares or the high-tipsy combo, but whatever it is, it strikes Stevie in the chest the same way it did in the cafeteria last week. The comically, classically, bad idea of, ‘This could work.’
“Do you want to sleep with me?” Stevie opens her big mouth and asks.
Eddie coughs violently. Somehow, she doubts it’s the cigarette. “You mean, like, crash here again? Yeah, of course, you can.”
“No, I mean do you want to hook up?” Stevie clarifies, watching as Eddie takes another drag. His rings are in the living room, so Stevie studies his unadorned fingers for the first time. Is Eddie feeling slow right now? Stevie feels a little bit like she’s moving through molasses, sluggish and sugar-sweet.
“Uh, I don’t– I mean, yeah but– um, you’re high. I don’t get girls high so we’ll hook up?”
Eddie seems panicked. That won’t do. Stevie scrambles to her knees and takes the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it into the ashtray. Now she has his full attention.
“I know. That’s not what I asked.”
“What did you ask again?”
There’s a flash of boldness in Stevie that is nearly foreign. Girls aren’t supposed to proposition guys, especially ones they barely know. Stevie’s almost always reserved sex for her actual boyfriends, but this feels different — an alternate dimension. She isn’t head cheerleader, Stevie Harrington, here. She doesn’t have to be coy about who she is or what she wants. Who would even believe Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson if he tried to tell people about this? Stevie can taste a version of freedom here, as free from bullshit as she could be. At this moment, she wants Eddie, and for maybe the first time in her life, desire is rendered powerful.
Stevie leans forward until she’s almost in his face and repeats, “Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Yes.” Eddie is all big eyes and frantic nodding.
“Good.” Stevie swings a leg over Eddie’s lap and pulls him in by the back of the neck for a kiss.
It’s a startlingly good kiss. Eddie is the one who breaks it eventually, but his hands stay on her waist. He grins up at her, boyish and brave and bashful at the same time. “How about a bed?”
—
Stevie wishes that she could say that sex with Eddie Munson was particularly good or bad. Mostly, it was just over really quickly, but he was genuinely apologetic about it and let her sleep in his bed afterwards while he held her. He still had to show her out at 6 a.m. before his uncle returned, but he walked her to her car this time, leaned against the side of her car, and asked if they could hang out again. Stevie had agreed with some hesitation initially, wary of Eddie expecting sex every time, but when she got home, she fell asleep for another three hours.
Really, Stevie’s mostly excited about the sleep. Thinking about Dustin’s scientific method, Stevie thinks that weed and Eddie makes for a nice night of sleep, but maybe weed, Eddie, and sex makes for a great night of sleep.
Stevie repeats the experiment a few more times to great success. She even invites Eddie to her house, opening herself to a plethora of comments about the princess canopy over her bed. She takes the teasing on the chin because as much as she prefers the cozy feeling of his trailer, she doesn’t actually like driving home at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his uncle. Driving through Hawkins at 6 a.m. in her pool party outfit definitely qualified as the worst walk of shame that Stevie has ever done.
After the pool party, Stevie skips all the other end-of-year bashes and hang outs. She has nothing in common with any of them anymore, and she’s done faking it. It is all bullshit, after all. The cheer squad only accepted her earlier absences from their sleepovers because she was still captain, but after Chrissy is newly anointed, Sharon and a few of the girls barely hide their disdain for Stevie’s new behavior. Lunch becomes painfully awkward.
Instead, Stevie splits her free time between babysitting the kids and hanging out with Eddie. They don’t even get together all the time, but it’s often enough that by the time that the school year is over, she’s been ‘seeing’ Eddie Munson for over a month. Maybe that should bother her more, but she’s finally sleeping normally. The nightmares aren’t gone, but she’s averaging enough sleep that when they do happen, she no longer feels as if she’s actually going insane, and she never has a nightmare when she sleeps with Eddie. Plus, he’s improving at the sex part, so Stevie counts it as a win. After the year she’s had, she’ll take a win where she can.
Before Stevie realizes, it’s the first week of June, and Dustin’s leaving for his nerdy summer camp tomorrow, which Stevie is feeling totally normal about it. She drove the kids to the arcade and spent a dreadful afternoon filling out job applications at the mall. She’s already dropped off the rest of the kids after and is taking a slightly longer route to Dustin’s home. If he notices, then he graciously hasn’t called her out on it, just yammers on about all the cool stuff he’ll get to do at camp.
“And if the camp goes well, I think my mom would let me visit you at college this fall too,” Dustin says.
Stevie’s foot twitches on the breaks. Has she not told him about this? “Dustin, I’m not going to college.”
“What? What do you mean you’re not going to college?” Dustin demands, like the idea is ludicrous to him. It probably is. He’s so smart that getting into college is a given.
“I don’t know. My grades aren’t really good enough for that.”
“Which schools did you apply to?”
“None, when my parents saw my grades over the holiday, they didn’t feel like sending applications would be worth it.” Stevie turns onto Dustin’s street. “They said that I don’t need to go to college to find a husband anyway.”
Dustin wrinkles his little nose. “Why would they say that to you?”
“I mean, it’s true.” Stevie shrugs, pulling into the driveway. Girls like Stevie are raised to want to be housewives. She’s not Nancy with all her hard-won intelligence and blinding ambition. She’s just Stevie — pretty, agreeable enough, and a decent cook.
“So you’re gonna get married? To whom?”
“I am not getting married any time soon.” Stevie rolls her eyes. The only guy she’s been seeing is Eddie, and he’s not exactly going to get down on one knee for her. “My dad wants me to take a secretary position in his Chicago office to meet his young associates, and my mom wanted to take me to all these summer parties to set me up. I told them no.”
Stevie doesn’t mention that she isn’t comfortable leaving Hawkins currently. Hopper swore to them that the Upside Down was sealed now, but that’s what they thought last time. Stevie can’t shake the feeling that it’s not over yet, and she could never forgive herself if anything happened to the kids or Nancy or even Jonathan while she was too far away to help. Dustin’s just a kid though, as sharp as he is. He doesn’t need to know all of Stevie’s hang-ups about the Upside Down.
“Good,” Dustin decides, nodding to himself. “Any guy you marry should be Party-approved first.”
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” Stevie laughs, leaning on the center console.
“Because you’re our babysitter! And a monster fighter! You have shit taste in guys, so we have to make sure he’s not a total butthead.”
“Hey!” Stevie flicks the rim of his baseball cap. “I do not have shit taste in guys!”
“You kinda do. Tommy Hagan? Ricky Sawyer? That basketball dude last year that couldn’t tell left from right?”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Next boyfriend must be Henderson-approved.” Stevie laughs, trying to imagine how Dustin would react to Eddie, metalhead drug dealer extraordinaire.
“And Mayfield-approved. Max has some strong feelings on the subject,” Dustin adds.
“I’ll take a poll next time,” Stevie drawls while stamping down a rush of warmth. She’s not sure how she feels about her dating life being a discussion among the kids, but she has a soft spot for Max, and she likes the idea that the younger girl is trying to watch out for her.
“So what are you going to do this summer then?” Dustin asks.
“I usually work at the pool, but Billy’s gonna be there, so I’m trying to get something at the mall.”
“Woah, you’re gonna get to work in the mall?”
Dustin actually sounds impressed, as if working in the mall were something to aspire to, instead of Stevie’s only choice now that her father’s cut down her summer allowance to teach her a lesson about arguing with them. He probably expects her to acquiesce to his demands by the fall, which means she has to start working and saving up if she wants to stay in Hawkins.
“That’s the plan, Henderson.” Stevie winks at him.
“Cool. Let me know how it goes? You have the camp address, right? I expect letters.”
“Yeah, yeah, I have it. I’ll write. And no picking up any lizard monsters at camp! I don’t care how much you like the girl.”
“Dart was a good idea at the time! The concept was solid!”
“It wasn’t, but whatever.” Stevie can’t believe that she’s friends with a pre-teen now because she had to help him track down a demo-dog he tried to keep as a pet, but she accepts her fate and opens her arms. “Now, bring it in. I’m gonna miss you, loser.”
Dustin dives into her arms, and Stevie is going to miss this when he gets to high school next year and realizes that hugging your babysitter is embarrassing. She rests her cheek on his head. God, she would kill for these kids, has in fact already done so, even if it was just interdimensional monsters.
“Miss you too, Stevie,” Dustin mumbles.
“Alright, enough of that sappy stuff. Get out of my car, and have fun at your nerd camp.”
“It’s not a nerd camp!” Dustin insists, ducking down to get his backpack from under the seat. Stevie takes the distraction to quickly dab at her watery eyes.
“Bye, Dustin. Stay safe,” Stevie can’t help but add as he slides out of her car.
“Bye, you too!” Dustin calls back.
Stevie watches him disappear into his house before pulling out of the driveway. The sunset sheathes the suburban streets in gold, and Stevie tries not to think about how she’s down one more friend for the summer.