"Do you have to drive like a fucking asshole?" Max bitched from the backseat.

I whipped my head around, smacking her books off of her lap. "It's not my problem that you didn't do your fucking homework last night, now is it?" Once she rolled her eyes at me and I was satisfied that I had pissed her off enough, I turned around and raised the volume on the radio and pressed on the gas pedal.

The truth was I drove like this because I was praying that I would hit something, or someone would hit me. I knew it would kill me on impact and I'd have a one way ticket out and I wouldn't have to feel the least bit guilty about it either.

Too bad this fucker is a tank. I'd do more damage to anything else than I'd take. It's also a chick magnet. Pulling into the parking lot at school, it gathers all the stares. It fits the aesthetic that I try and pull off, but I hate the fact that I have to pretend to enjoy it.

I was always a man of few words at school, or really in general. When I did speak it was usually a shitty comment or a flirtatious remark just to see who I could pull, even though I knew it was pretty much anyone I wanted.

I also had the problem of daydreaming, or disassociating is what the school counselor called it. Miss Kelley wanted to visit with me every week due to my 'angry outbursts'. I hated it. I was more afraid of anyone finding out, especially Neil. Men don't talk much, and especially not about their feelings. So those visits don't involve much, just a lot of listening to her ramble.

Lunch was the best part of my day, mostly because it was just some free time. I didn't have to pretend to focus on anything in particular, just pitch in some words into a pointless conversation here and there to seem like I cared enough to seem cool.

Not caring is cool apparently.

I don't know how I didn't notice her before, but then again I tried to stay as oblivious as possible to everyone at this school, but had I known she was here and this accessible to me, I would have paid attention. It was no wonder the other students kept their distance, her face looked mean. There was a permanent 'fuck off' clearly stamped on her forehead, but I clearly could not read. There she was, sitting at a table in the rear corner of the cafeteria alone, attention solely on a sketchbook stretched out over the table.

Off limits, I reminded myself. Plus, I didn't need any distractions. I had one goal; getting the hell out of here and that means I don't have time to play around.

But…. The idea of my hand around her neck while shoving my tongue down her throat…. That sounds like a great extracurricular activity.

"He's not listening," Tammy's nasally voice stabbed my eardrums, tearing my attention. Hopefully they didn't catch me staring.

Tommy leaned forward. "What is with you today, Hargrove? Get with it, man. I said there's a Halloween party next weekend and we need you to be there."

I leaned back in my chair, putting my elbows behind my head, "Yeah, whatever." Truth was I wasn't in the mood for a party. Any time I went to a party it was a guaranteed fight with Neil when I got home. But, if I don't go to parties, people ask questions. If people ask questions…. Well you get the picture.

When the bell rang dismissing us to my final period, my thoughts were still exactly where they shouldn't be. I strode on autopilot into English Literature class, and as if I had manifested her, she was there in the back corner again. Has she really been all these places all along?

I took my typical seat in the rear corner opposite her, casually throwing my feet across my desk, rolling the toothpick around my mouth to starve off my craving for a cigarette. Of course I was tempted to look at her, but there was no way in hell I was going to act like I had some stupid school boy crush on this girl. Nope. Not the freak who sits silently in the corner by herself and draws her stick figures.

Not the freak with the father who certainly can and will kill me.

"So, kids, if you'd go ahead and choose your pairs." The teacher called out. Fuck. For what? I hadn't been paying attention, again. Off into space. "I'll pass out the books and you can get started."

"Tommy," I turned to him next to me."

"Sorry, dude." Tommy shrugged, standing up to meet with his girlfriend. Fucking pussy.

"Harrington!" Steve was sitting up in the front, but here looked back and pointed to some blonde bitch next to him. Of course, both of the people I was counting on in this class to keep me any sort of entertaining company are too busy chasing chicks to care.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily because I knew what this meant. I was going to have to get the balls to walk over there and introduce myself and clear up my terrible first impression. I don't know why this girl has me in this rut. Cocky Billy, awkwardly avoiding someone. I grabbed my shit and walked over, taking the desk in front of her and turning it around to face her. I leaned my chin on my the back of my chair, she didn't even look at me. "I guess it's you and me then, huh?"

Her voice was dull, "Lucky you then, right? Easy A."

The teacher passed around the books and I merely glanced at the cover: The Lord of the Flies. I set the book to the side, turning my attention back to her. "What does that mean?" I asked with a chuckle, still trying to get her to make eye contact. I was craving to get lost in lost piercing blue eyes again, hoping they were just like I remembered.

When she did look up at me finally, she was very annoyed, but it was so hot. Those eyes were every bit as striking as I recalled and I couldn't help but smirk at her. "I mean," She continued, "Lucky you getting paired with someone who'll do all the work, right?"

I scoffed at her, somewhat offended. "You know, for someone who's so sure that she can ace a book report you'd think you'd know that old saying about judging books, you know." I reached back grabbing the paperback. "This book, this one right here, I happen to have read already. Three times to be exact."

She huffed and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms. I couldn't tell if she was glaring at me or if that was just her face. "You, Billy Hargrove, read? Like, for fun?"

I mimicked her body language, "I guess I'm full of surprises, aren't I?" She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her notebook, back to ignoring me. She was feisty and I couldn't help but smile. I liked feisty. "So…Do I get to know my partner's name? Or….?"

"Hargrove, our senior class has maybe 100 students at best." Her voice was flat, "We have had three classes together the last two months. If you don't know my name by now, that is entirely your own fault."

Feisty and mysterious. I smirked, fidgeting with my toothpick again. "So what you're saying is, you pay attention to me."

That comment made her stop and look at me. I loved when she looked at me, even when it was a look of pure hate. I smiled cockily. She was taking shots. "Kinda hard to miss when you're busy knocking me to the ground, you know, barely able to stand."

Smooth Billy was back. "What can I say, dollface, you had me weak in the knees." I shot her a wink. The edges of her large round lips were tugging upwards just the smallest bit, it was barely noticeable. I leaned forward, in shock, a large proud smile spreading across my face. "Is that….Is that the start of a smile?! Were you actually about to smile at that?"

It was then. It was that moment that I knew I was in for it. A real smile slowly spread across her face, and it evolved into a small laugh that was like music. It was the first time she had ever smiled, or at least that I had seen. And boy if I had enjoyed seeing her mad; this….this was something else. She was literally glowing and I was sure that I was taking the fast lane straight into my grave. I had to force myself to look away from her. "Are we actually going to get work done or are we just going to sit around and bullshit?" I teased her. "Or are you just leaving the heavy lifting to me?"

"I mean, since you're an expert and all…" She mused. "And it would be nice to be able to skate by and not have to lift a finger." She stopped, looking me over as if she was thinking for a moment. Finally she spoke, "Come by the pool hall tonight, we can work on it there."

It definitely wasn't a safe space to be seen admiring her, that was for sure, but I most definitely wasn't going to pass up a chance to see her. "You've got yourself a date," I smirked.

"Yeah, to your funeral." She had gathered up her stuff and was halfway out the door just seconds before the bell sounded, leaving me with my head spinning.

It took me a moment to recover myself and grab my shit. Max was already waiting by my car in the parking lot, the middle school let out fifteen minutes beforehand. Max didn't speak to me, which isn't unusual. I silently slid into the driver seat and on normal days I would have snapped at her for taking too long, but today the extra minute or two she took to tie her shoe didn't get under my skin the way it would have yesterday.

When she finally got into the passenger seat, she stared at me for a moment, as if she was waiting for me to yell or to make a sideways comment. It wasn't until I silently started the engine and backed out that she put her seatbelt on and looked out the window.

We arrived at the arcade to drop her off per usual, and my only comment to her was that she needed to find a ride home because I had plans, and it wasn't me yelling it either. She gave me a funny look as she walked towards the door. She probably thought I was sick.

The pool hall wasn't busy this early in the afternoon, which I was grateful for. That meant I would get most of her attention. I decided to take the same corner high top that Charlie and I sat in last night and snacked on some pretzels while I waited for her patiently. I could see through the kitchen doors that she was busy in the back.

When she finally noticed me, she had a beer sat on the table for us both. "Didn't even card me." I teased with a playful smile, "Shame on you."

She sat down with her paperback and notebook. "First one's on the house." She glanced at the empty table in front of me. "Where's your shit, Hargrove?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your books, asshole. We're here for a paper, not to play pattycake." God the attitude.

I chuckled a little bit, chewing on a pretzel. "They're in the car, will you chill out?"

"Go get them." I was clearly a demand.

"I don't need it, I know the book." I reminded her, "It'll be fine."

She looked at me. There was something in her eyes, something I recognized and it was something that put rocks in my stomach. "Would you stop pussy footing around and get your fucking books. I'm not asking again. Get them or get out."

She looked away, I could tell she didn't want to lash out at me. She was ashamed. I paused for a second but I didn't argue. Without another word I stepped out to the car and grabbed my books from the back seat and came back to the table.

The air was tense for a moment, and it was a tug-o-war on who was going to break it first. I decided to bite the bullet and do something out of character. Something Billy Hargrove didn't do. "I'm sorry."

She glanced up at me. "What?"

"I'm sorry…." I repeated, "For last night. For knocking you over." I looked at her for a second and then turned my attention back to my notebook. We had agreed that I tackled the second half of the book report if she handled the first.

She sat there staring at me for another moment, deciding what to do next. "I…I didn't mean to snap at you."

I didn't even look up. "I know."

I waited until she wasn't looking, so she was caught off guard and couldn't read my face. I didn't want her to know how I knew what she was going through. "That bad, huh?"

She paused, not looking up, and for that I was grateful. I watched as she kept writing. I took that as my answer and most likely the only one I was going to get. It was the only one I needed.

We had basically finished the entire report that night. I was dragging my feet to leave. Charlie showed up and he and I stayed and had a few more, which means she had to go back to work. Before I knew it, I had broke curfew again. It was closing time. Charlie left, but I lingered. I was watching her clear tables in the dim bar lights. I wondered if it was as bad in her home as it was in my own. I knew better than to ask.

I was gathering my stuff to leave when I happened to notice her sketchbook under her bag, and I knew it was invading her privacy to pry, but her nose was always in this thing. I couldn't help myself but to look. I spread it out over the table and just began skimming through the pages, admiring each piece.

"What are you doing?" She asked, storming through the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "That's my shit!"

I wasn't even going to bother defending myself or putting it away. "These are really good. Seriously, like, really good." To think I was thinking she was just doodling all the time. This girl had some actual talent.

Her expression changed from anger, to her normal carelessness, she stood next to me and looked over my shoulder. "I drew them here last week." It was a picture of an older couple. They had to have been in their eighties. They were holding hands across the table, eating their burgers and fries. The old man had a smile on his face. "They looked happy. You could see a lifetime of joy on their faces." There was a little smile on her face. Envious.

I turned the page. I shook my head and laughed a little at what I saw. It was Charlie and all his glory. He was passed out at a table, cigarette between his lips, ashes in his beard. His arms were crossed and his beagle was sleeping on the floor at his side. "Picture perfect."

"That man is a character if I've ever met one," she agreed. "His dog, though, she's his better half. She's the best customer we have."

I couldn't help but look at her, admiring. I was truly amazed. "Why don't you do something with this?"

She scoffed. "In Hawkins? Right, because the people in this town appreciate art. If you don't sell beer to the drunks, or rent out titty videos, or sell cigarette cartons at the corner store, you aren't going to make it here."

"So why stay here?" I sat back down, preparing myself for a long conversation. "It's a big world."

"Maybe it is for you, California. But for girls like me…" She twirled around, with her arms open, showcasing the bar in all its glory. "This is it for me. This is the dream."

I lit a cigarette. "I call bullshit. I pointed down to her sketchbook. "Shit like this….this comes from a dreamer."

She was in the kitchen now, I heard her call out, "Some of us weren't born in the right world for dreams, Billy. Some of us have to live in reality."

"That's fair. I'll give you that, but dreams and talent are two different things…" I strolled into the kitchen and handed her a few empty glasses that were left in the place, and she was startled when she turned around. "...and you….have both."

We stood there for a moment, I was in the middle of the best conversation I've had since I moved here, and I hated the fact that we both knew it had to end. I was glad that she was the one to speak first. "You should go, Hargrove….before we both get in trouble….."

I handed her the last glass and headed for the door. On the way out she stopped me. "Hey Billy…."

I turned around, eager to look into her eyes one last time before heading home to hell. "It's Leah….. My name's Leah…." I could have swore I almost saw her smile before she turned back around.

A name and an almost smile was all I needed to make the drive home. It was enough to get me through another beating from Neil, and it was enough to make me dream of oceans as deep as her eyes to help me make it to the next morning.