"Dad, please sit down and eat your toast"
Sammy slid a glass of orange juice next to her father's plate of eggs and toast while trying to shove a cap over her mop of frizzy hair. She was already running behind schedule and she had to get to school.
"Turn off the lights, damnit", her dad grumbled from his room, rolling out of bed miserably. Sammy complied and switched off the hallway light, "It's bad enough you wake me up at five in the morning, the least you could do is leave it dark."
"Not my fault you have a hangover", Sammy quipped back, quickly shoving her lunch bag into her backpack, most likely smashing her sandwich and carrots into mush.
Looking at Greg Thompson, you wouldn't have expected much from him. He was wearing boxers, an old t-shirt and a bathrobe with an ugly looking five o'clock shadow gracing his jaw. He smelled like stale beer and definitely hadn't showered in at least two days. He looked like a bum, but Sammy knew her dad better than that. He was kinder than one might expect, and was just having a rough morning.
Well, every morning was a rough morning for him, but she knew why better than most.
"Dad", Sammy called out, keeping her voice low for his hangover, "I have to leave for school. Please just promise me you'll eat your breakfast."
Her father plopped down on his chair and started to play with his eggs. He pouted before shoveling a large bite of eggs into his mouth, several bits sticking to his unshaven chin. Sammy smiled and patted him on the shoulder before making her way towards the coat rack by the door and beginning to wrap herself up in several layers.
"Boss is being a real bitch at the store", he griped, shoving a runny piece of egg into his mouth.
"What did I tell you about that word, Dad?" the brunette sighed, buttoning up her second layer of flannel.
Her father sighed, not even bothering to swallow before responding. "The term 'bitch' is sexist and I should not use it to describe my female coworkers", he drawled through a mouthful of eggs, rolling his eyes. However, Sammy could see the slight traces of a smile tugging at his lips.
"That's right", she said smugly, "And besides, Joan is not that bad. You just keep showing up smelling like an ashtray."
"I'd smell more like an ashtray if you let me smoke", her father cut in, glaring good naturedly at his daughter.
"I've told you a million times", she grunted as she pulled her backpack up from its place in the corner and stepping up to the kitchen counter, "Smoking causes lung cancer."
"Wish you coulda told your momma that", Greg muttered, looking down at his eggs.
Sammy paused slightly before shoveling her a mouthful of burnt eggs into her mouth at the mentions of her mother's death. She wanted to bring herself to put on a sad face. Or, at least, sad for the right reasons.
Her father had been nearly catatonic since his wife's death three years ago. Some days were better than others. He would insist that they make the most of the day, cooking big meals and renting funny movies because he insisted that her mother would have wanted them smiling. Other days were miserable. He would cry, break things, and drink himself into a stupor, and Sammy had to make sure he got through it okay.
"I know dad", she said gently, pulling her cap lower over her brow, "And we both know she would have listened to me way before you did about the issue. Just take it easy, okay? I'll be home from school before you know it, and we'll make your favorite dinner. Black bean soup and potatoes. Is that good?"
"Steak is my favorite dinner", he retorted, smiling through a full mouth.
"Well, your second favorite dinner, then", she shot back, smirking over at him.
Her father nodded, sending Sammy a grateful smile. They both knew she was lying, though. She wouldn't be home until at least ten o'clock, probably later. She had a shift at Benny's and another at Jenny's Pizza after school, and Sammy couldn't afford to miss a day of work. They had been short on the electric bill last month, and Sammy wasn't planning on getting on the electric companies bad side.
"Have a nice day, sweetie", Greg called out kindly to his daughter as she exited the trailer they occupied. She waved back at him with a quick "You too, dad" as she ran out the door and through the lot to get to her bike.
Their small house sat isolated in an abandoned lot outside Hawkins, which gave them a large lot of land to call their own. At least they had something, right?
It was February in Hawkins, meaning it was too cold for any sane person to be biking at all, let alone five miles at five in the morning. But Sammy didn't have many options. A car was too expensive and walking was pretty much impossible, so biking it is.
To try and keep warm against the wind, Sammy wrapped herself up in a flannel shirt, a sweater and a thick jacket along with a cap and a scarf that wrapped around the bottom of her face. It was an effective method, but it had the unfortunate side effect of making her look like a human balloon.
She quickly tied her backpack to the back of her bike and mounted it. The rusty chain squeaked to life underneath her as she pushed the pedals out of their nearly frozen state and pedaled out of the lot. The wind bit into her face and wrists as she made her way through the abandoned roads, swerving past the piles of trash on the side of the half-frozen road.
Despite the cold, Sammy really did love biking to school in the mornings. The way the sun reflected off the snow, staining it pink and orange, made the whole road look like something out of Candyland.
The ride took around forty minutes, giving her a gross sheen of sweat across her brow. The Hawkins High parking lot, as usual, was littered with old cars, parents minivans and teens either making out or desperately trying to fill out the last pages of their homework. She skidded to a halt in front of the bike racks, the ice making it hard to come to a steady stop. She was just chaining up her bike when the shrill tones of Carol and Tommy gave her an instant headache.
"Now that is a nose job waiting to happen", she giggled as she walked up the steps with her boyfriend Tommy, "And has she ever heard of eyebrow waxing?"
Her grating giggle carried through the cold air as Sammy self consciously rubbed at her naturally mashed in nose, which was now bright red from the cold. "At least I didn't pay for mine", she grumbled under her breath.
"I'm sorry", the redhead quipped, stopping in her tracks, "What was that, sweetie?"
Sammy felt her cheeks heat up, now probably matching the redness of her nose. She ducked her head, rubbing nervously at her nose. "Nothing."
"Of course not", Carol smirked, her hair swinging behind her as she spun around and marched towards the school, her freckled boyfriend in tow.
Embarrassed, the brunette grumbled several choice words as she tugged her backpack over her shoulder and waddled into the school's hallway towards her locker, her layers still weighing her down.
She removed her cap and scarf quickly, stuffing them in her backpack. Her thick hair practically sprang out, the brown locks sticking up and out in every direction. She tried to smooth down her hair as she shoved her jackets into her locker before slamming it shut. With all her layers safely packed away, Sammy made her way to her first period class, the only things she had to look forward to being biology and the dullness of work after school.