A/N: Welcome back, and thank you! The plot is starting to pick up now, and there's a bit of a tease in this chapter because I know everyone is desperately awaiting Eddie's arrival. Next chapter will be the set up for his entrance into the plot, and starting at Chapter 5 he will be front and center for the rest of the story, promise :) I've been trying to pump these first few chapters out as quickly as possible to first and foremost get our favorite metalhead into the spotlight ASAP, but also because starting next week I will be on vacation out of the country for most of July. I'll be bringing my laptop along, but honestly I'm not sure how much writing I'll have time to get through, so I'll try my best to get a good backlog of chapters written up so there isn't too much of a gap between uploads. I'll keep you all posted!
Also, have you all seen the trailer for Part 2?! I am so beyond excited to see what comes next, the hype is real! Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter and Sam's introduction to Hawkins High. As always please let me know in a review if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Thanks again :)
Chapter Three:
"Highway To Hell" (AC/DC)
The next week passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and suddenly Sam was waking with bleary confusion to her alarm blasting down her eardrums. Violently smacking the offending device, Sam groaned and flung her arm over her eyes to try and block the sun's rays from their assault. It was Monday again, and it was the first day of a new semester at Hawkins High.
It was unlikely that any teenager would truly be excited for such a thing, but Sam was particularly dreading the ordeal of being the new student. Robin and Steve had both warned her that Hawkins rarely got additions to the teenage population, and it was even less common for it to occur halfway through the year. As if she wasn't already dreading the attention enough. Sam was grateful for the warning, at least, but knew in her heart that it would be a very long and very exhausting day.
Despite her reluctance to get on with the torture, she also knew that being late on her first day would only provide a harsher spotlight on herself. With a deep breath in, Sam steeled her nerves and rose to get on with her morning routine. Luckily, she had already planned what to wear for her introduction to Hawkins society. She avoided looking in the mirror too much as she donned the sky-blue mid-thigh length dress which sported a high neck and a white Peter Pan collar. She paired it with a soft, thick cream cardigan, sheer stockings, and a pristine new pair of white adidas sneakers.
The outfit was far removed from what she would typically wear, and Sam was feeling distinctly uncomfortable as she plucked unhappily at the lace overlay. Her mother had delighted at the opportunity to shop for her only daughter, as Sam had refused to let her do so for nearly a decade. Sam trusted her mother to know exactly what was in style, keeping up with popular culture was something Margaret Anderson held a lot of pride in. It was the easiest choice all around, because Sam did not have faith in her ability to stick to the plan when confronted with so much color.
When she finally moved to her desk mirror to begin her makeup for the day, Sam could hardly recognize herself. It was an oddly surreal moment. Blinking slowly at her reflection, Sam tugged on her cardigan almost in a daze. Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head back and forth. This isn't me. I don't know who this is.
She looked younger, much more innocent than she had any right to be. It was all a lie, a fake pretense carefully crafted so that she could fit in with "normal" society. Sam despised it. Her stomach rolled and bile threatened to make its way up her throat, but she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Eyes closed again; her fingers sought out the comforting feeling of leather which laid in its usual place over her desk chair. Calm down, Sam. Remember who you're doing this for. She thought, desperately trying to control the tears threatening to fall at any moment.
Joey. This façade was all for him. How proud would her oldest brother be to see her finally crossing the graduation stage, diploma in hand? It was the one concession to normalcy they had decided on together, to finish high school. Anything after that, no matter what she wanted to do or whatever path she went down, and he would be with her 100 percent. But that diploma was the non-negotiable gift they offered to their parents as thanks for raising them and supporting them monetarily all those years. As ungrateful as the two were when Joey refused to follow through with higher education, he still encouraged Sam to do them that single service.
Sam's eyes opened again, still watery but with a determined spark glimmering in the depths. Her hands clenched around the leather jacket, and an unsteady breath blew from her lips. Joey would be proud of her for getting her act together and making the effort to graduate. It didn't matter it was a year late, what mattered is she would succeed. She would make him proud.
But would he really be proud of this lie? Pretending to be something I'm not, just to fit in...
The answer to her intrusive thought was simple, and the revelation made more tears spring forward, this time uncontrollable as they spilled down Sam's cheeks in rivers of grief. Joey was always disgusted by the inauthenticity of humanity. He loved individuality, no matter what it manifested as. Someone could be the most pretentious, boring academic he had ever met, but Joey would love them if they only embraced it. Self-awareness, self-agency, following your heart no matter where it took you. That was the quickest way to earn Joey's respect, and he instilled a distinct lack of patience for bullshit in Sam from an early age.
A ragged sob ripped from Sam's throat as she sunk to her bedroom floor, unable to stomach gazing into the reflection of her fake self any longer. Her hands pulled the soft leather with her, and she buried her face into the jacket, desperately trying to find some hint of the comforting scent which had long ago faded away. Joey would be so disappointed, but not in an angry way. He never got truly enraged with his little sister, always patient and understanding as he encouraged her to grow into her own person. It only served to make her cry harder, feeling like nothing more than a colossal failure.
Sam allowed herself a good few minutes of self-pity, tears thankfully drying up rather quickly due to her perpetually dehydrated state. She sat in a heap on her carpeted floor, deep in thought and absently stroking the leather in her lap. There was no obligation to follow through with her dumbass plan, truly. Her mother would be disappointed, of course, that Sam had a change of heart and no longer wanted the wardrobe she had so lovingly prepared for her. But neither of her parents would really be surprised, considering her track record for rebellion and a general disregard for their wishes.
Blue-green eyes rimmed with a painful red gazed down at the jacket in her lap. Sam finally stood, holding the jacket up to her pastel dress and considering. Of course, it didn't quite go together, but maybe it was worth it? It would certainly provide much needed comfort throughout her first day of classes.
The hesitation went on for some time, and Sam was only broken from her reverie as the sound of her mother's voice rang loudly up the stairs. "Samantha! Are you almost ready? You need to leave for school soon!"
Cursing, Sam glanced back at her alarm clock and realized the older woman was right. "YEAH MOM, ALMOST READY!" She shouted back, quickly laying the jacket back in its place on her desk chair and grabbing for her makeup.
Her early morning cry session meant that Sam had more to cover up than usual, and she quickly dabbed concealer around her tired eyes as anxious energy flooded through her body. Sam was never one for heavy makeup unless she was looking to garner attention at a party, so she kept the rest simple with a few swipes of mascara and her usual smudged eyeliner ringing her top lid and outer corners. Making sure she had her favorite strawberry Chapstick shoved into her bag for the inevitable lip dryness that came with smoking cigarettes, Sam took one more moment to press a light kiss to her fingers which then ghosted over her brother's leather jacket.
I'm doing what I need to in order to survive this stupid little town. I'm going to get that degree no matter what, and fuck what anyone has to say about it. If you were here, I know you would support me, even if you did call me a dumbass for conforming. Sam smiled to herself, grabbed her signature jean jacket and her 'Runaways' tote, then quickly exited her room.
Her mother shouted words of encouragement as Sam rushed down the stairs to exit the house, which she answered with her own bland words of gratitude. Waiting for her outside the house was the car Sam had steadfastly avoided since her long drive from Virginia to Indiana, choosing either to walk or be driven by Steve whenever she needed to make a trip into town. A black, '69 four-door Chevy Chevelle that was clearly lovingly cared for, but had never truly felt like Sam's. It had been passed down to her by her brother Joey when she took her driving test a couple years back and had seen many adventures, but the memories often got the better of her.
Sliding into the driver's side felt equal parts comfortable and strange, as did the mixtape which blared out as Sam cranked the ignition. It was one of her brother's favorite mixes, and the electric sound of AC/DC brought a genuine smile to Sam's face as she quickly threw the car into reverse and backed out onto the street.
Sam grabbed a cigarette to smoke on her drive, drumming along on the steering wheel as she cranked the windows down and turned up the volume to almost deafening levels. How many days had started just like this? Joey driving her to school, cigarette in mouth and both of them screaming lyrics along to whatever rock n' roll tape he wanted to show her at the time. She smirked as she flicked the ash off her smoke, appreciating the irony of the song that started her morning. Sam really did feel like she was on the 'Highway to Hell' as she sped her way toward Hawkins High.
She had the good sense to lower the volume substantially and roll her windows up before she pulled into the already crowded parking lot, not wanting to bring any more attention to herself than strictly necessary. There was a spot free thankfully close to the entrance, and Sam exited the vehicle to make her way inside as quickly as possible.
The main office wasn't too difficult to find. As she pushed her way into the stuffy room Sam felt the nerves bubbling up inside her again and resisted the urge to uncomfortably tug at her dress. The receptionist looked up at the sound of the door, and Sam was greeted with a much too large smile from the elderly woman. "Oh, hi sweetie! You must be Samantha Anderson, welcome to Hawkins High!"
Sam gave the woman a small smile, fidgeting with the straps of the tote slung over her shoulder to give her nervous hands something to do. The receptionist must have been used to the silent treatment because she did not even hesitate to continue with her speech. "My name is Mrs. Beales, if you need anything at all you can come to me, honey. Now, we have one of our very best students coming to show you around, so don't worry about a thing! She should be here any minute, and she'll show you your locker and give you a little tour so you can find your classes before first period. You'll both have a pass excusing you for being late, so everything is all set for you!"
Mrs. Beales was one peppy old woman, but it was enough to put Sam at ease as she stepped further into the office to wait for this mysterious golden student. A few papers and a large combination lock were pushed across the front desk toward her, and upon inspection Sam saw a map of Hawkins High alongside her class schedule and required book list. "Your teachers will have those textbooks ready for you to pick up at the start of class, but if you're missing anything by the end of the day just let me know, sweetie."
Sam nodded in response, smiling briefly at the woman in thanks. At that moment the door jingled open yet again, and she hadn't thought it possible but an even wider smile beamed across Mrs. Beales' face. "Oh, Chrissy, honey! Thank you so much for volunteering, I couldn't think of anyone better to show our new student around."
The new arrival waved a humble hand with a gentle smile on her face. Sam quickly turned to see what she was dealing with and was met with the sight of a pretty blonde teenager, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and slight body covered in a fashionably short sweater dress. "Not a problem at all Mrs. Beales!" her soft and cheerful voice came in response as she joined Sam at the front desk.
"This is our star student I was talking about, Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, this is our new senior Samantha Anderson!"
The two girls smiled awkwardly at each other as they let the old receptionist play host to her heart's content. Sam offered a small little wave, and thanked whatever God was listening as the warning bell went off and Mrs. Beales came to her senses to usher them out the door with only a few more well wishes.
"Welcome to Hawkins High, Samantha! Like Mrs. Beales said, I'm Chrissy. It's nice to meet you." Her voice was so damn friendly that Sam was finding it difficult to find any fault with the other girl, despite her preppy clothing. "Let's take a look at that schedule, and see what we're working with."
Sam handed the papers over to her guide for the day, before immediately returning to fiddle with the straps of her tote. "You can just call me Sam, but it's nice to meet you too Chrissy." She replied, hoping her voice came off more confident than she felt in the moment. One of her biggest fears going into Hawkins was that despite her best efforts, the popular crowd would be able to sniff out her true nature and label her a try-hard wannabe without a second thought.
It seemed like Chrissy was either unobservant or willing to see the best in people, and Sam was willing to bet it was the latter. The blonde sent her another friendly smile, nodding and gasping happily as she read over Sam's schedule. "Sure, Sam! Oh, this is so awesome, we have first and second periods together. Our lockers aren't that far from each other either! We can go there first."
Sam nods her agreement and the two set off down the halls, Chrissy taking up the task of narrating each of the classrooms and other useful knowledge as they walk. It was nice to not have to worry about performing socially, as it seemed like Chrissy could tell she was nervous and was genuinely doing her best to make her more comfortable.
Sam's perception of a typical pretty blonde couldn't be further from the truth when it came to Chrissy Cunningham. They continued an easy conversation about Hawkins and how Sam had been finding it as they reached her locker and Sam placed a few notebooks and extra pens inside. Closing and locking up, she trailed after the blonde as she led the way to their first period. All the while, Chrissy maintained her friendly demeanor, and Sam was forced to admit that she seemed like a genuinely nice girl.
Her assumption was only further proven right when Chrissy stopped her just a little ways away from the door to their homeroom. "Oh and Sam, everyone has the same lunch period at Hawkins. You're totally welcome to join me and my friends if you'd like! I know that's probably like, the most stressful part of starting a new school, right?"
Relief flooded through her body, because her newfound friend was absolutely right. Sam had been stressed about finding a "group" to sit with since before she even arrived in Indiana. She knew that she could have sat with Robin and her band friends if worst came to worst, but she also knew without a doubt she wouldn't fit in with the band kids at all.
"Yeah totally, that sounds amazing Chrissy, thank you so much." A genuine and understanding smile was passed between them before they moved to enter the classroom.
It was a few minutes past the tardy bell, so it was no surprise that the students were already seated and the teacher in the middle of her beginning speech for the day. The woman seemed like she was expecting them, and greeted the two with an excited smile instead of irritation at being interrupted. Chrissy shot Sam one last encouraging look before slipping down the first aisle of desks. Sam's eyes followed her and saw that her friends had clearly saved a spot for her, with a blonde All-American boy moving his book off the empty desk and shooting Chrissy a nauseatingly loving look. Unfortunately, it seemed their forethought only extended to the blonde girl, as there were no seats left anywhere on that side of the classroom.
"You must be the new student, Samantha Anderson." The teacher, Ms. O'Donnell as her schedule had told her, broke Sam out of her momentary panic.
Her attention returned to the front of the room, and Sam nodded as she crossed the room to take the History textbook held out by the older woman. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, Samantha?"
Probably the most hated words by any new student, ever. Sam fought the spitting sarcasm that was desperate to lose from her lips, instead twisting the bitterness into a sorry semblance of a smile. She turned to face the classroom, seeing numerous pairs of curious eyes evaluating her for all she was worth. Chrissy was sending her another encouraging smile from her desk near the door, so Sam tried to mask her irritation when she spoke.
"Hi, I'm Sam. I'm a senior, and I moved from Virginia a few weeks ago."
Ms. O'Donnell made a small noise of protest when Sam left it at that, instead moving on auto-pilot to escape the uncomfortable moment, but ultimately she let her go. There were several desks open in the back two rows close to the window, and without even thinking twice Sam started towards the one next to the teen who took up the coveted spot in the very back corner of the room. His attention hadn't wavered from staring out the window next to him, fingers laden in large silver rings and twisting a pencil around and around incessantly.
Halfway to her goal and Sam stopped in her tracks, cursing mentally as she realized what a mistake she had nearly made due to her panicked autopilot brain. Damnit Sam, you can't go straight for the dude who is clearly trying his best to emulate Ozzy, that is such a dangerous game.
It was true she normally would have felt most comfortable around exactly that type of person, but she was trying to blend, and sitting right next to the guy who nobody else seemed to want to interact with was definitely not the way to do so. She belatedly realized that all the seats which were free made a convenient semi-circle around the Ozzy guy, so instead of going for the desk in the back row directly next to his like she had originally planned, Sam took one further to the right so she conformed with the unspoken buffer zone. Luckily, the boy in question didn't seem to notice her hesitation, and once she was settled Ms. O'Donnell cleared her throat and continued on with the History lecture. Jesus Christ, Sam, get it together. She thought to herself, shaking away the lingering anxiety from her near mistake and trying desperately to focus on academics.
Chrissy had gone above and beyond with her responsibilities as Sam's personal guide, having met her after History class to walk her to the second period they shared as well. They made small talk about what to expect with the rest of Sam's teachers along the way, and Sam complained profusely about her hatred for Trigonometry which seemed to greatly amuse Chrissy. After a long and insufferably dull math class her time with her blonde social buffer was coming to an end. Chrissy sent her in the right direction for her Chemistry class with a lingering warning that Mr. Kaminsky was a notorious hardass, and to try not to get on his bad side.
This was perhaps the class Sam was looking forward to the least. Her old school in Virginia had a different schedule for the sciences, so while Hawkins High seniors took Physics, Sam had already taken it as a junior. Unfortunately, the credit she had left to complete was Chemistry, which was a sophomore level class at Hawkins. There was no way around it, and all Sam could hope is that the 15 year olds she would be forced to interact with weren't quite as shitty as the ones back home. Unlikely, but hope was all she had.
The Chemistry classroom was close enough to her locker, thankfully, so at least Sam didn't have to worry about rushing or potentially being late. The stern looking teacher stood beside his desk at the front of the classroom looking like he would rather be anywhere but there. With a small gulp of fear, Sam approached him timidly, drawing his attention quickly with the movement.
"Who are you?" he asked grumpily, eyes narrowed at the girl who was clearly older than his usual sophomore students.
"Um, I'm Sam Anderson. The new student? I'm taking your class this semester." Sam's voice was quiet and more timid than she would normally respond to such blatant irritation, but Chrissy's warning about Kaminsky's disposition still echoed loudly in her brain.
The teacher's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, clearly not remembering the memo he must have gotten about Sam's arrival. She could see the exact moment the realization clicked, and a deep sigh exited the middle-aged man. "Right. Take a seat, we only have one available, next to Henderson back there. I'll need to go grab a spare textbook for you from my office." He was clearly annoyed at the distraction, letting out another angry huff as the bell rang, and swiftly walked past her to exit the room without a second glance.
Sam tried not to let his irritation rub off on her, but really how was it her fault he had forgotten? It wasn't like Hawkins often got new students, after all. And how the hell was she supposed to know who this 'Henderson' was?
Her eyes found the only empty seat, next to a small boy with curly ringlets of brown hair. Assuming this was the kid she was paired with; Sam made her way over and unceremoniously dumped her tote bag onto the lab table they were to share. Damn, I swear I never looked that young when I was a sophomore, what the hell. She mused as the kid looked up at her with blue eyes wide in surprise.
Sam forced a smile at the kid, noticing he had already opened his notebook and textbook. Hopefully he was smart enough to help her get through this, because she was notoriously horrible at science. "Hey, I'm Sam. I'm your new lab partner, I guess."
The kid gazed back at her with a slack jaw, exposing a mouth full of braces. He didn't get a chance to reply before they were both heckled by a couple other sophomores a few tables over, malicious snickers following close behind. "Oh look, little Henderson finally has a friend! Better watch out, new girl, his freakness will rub off on you." One of the boys smirked at the kid next to her, who stared down at their table in a clear attempt to ignore his classmates.
"What's a senior doing in here, anyway? She's probably a freak too, or just really stupid. They'll be a perfect match." A girl this time, clearly trying to impress the first boy by playing along with his foul attitude.
Sam could not care less about the opinions of literal children, but she could tell the boy next to her was embarrassed by the comments, even if he was seemingly accustomed enough to not bother responding. Deciding on a whim that she really did not have the patience to deal with bullying sophomores for the rest of the semester, Sam turned her body sideways to send an evil glare at the little shits who thought they could actually intimidate her.
"Hey, shit for brains, why don't you do us all a favor and shut the hell up? Nobody asked to be subjected to your dumbass opinions, and I certainly don't give a fuck about whatever your pubescent minds consider 'freakish' or not. I'm in this class, unfortunately, because Chemistry is a senior class in Virginia, where I moved from. Now I suggest you remove your heads from your asses before I punt them so far up there you're kissing your own ribcage. You don't want to have a problem here, I promise you."
Pure, blessed silence followed her words. The poisonous tone and not-so-subtle threat made the small group of teens pale considerably and attempt to avoid eye contact by any means necessary. Sam scoffed, rolling her eyes and pulling out her notebook from her tote bag. Bullies were all the same, especially at that age. All bark and no bite, whimpering and hiding as soon as they received even a little pushback. Truthfully, she was surprised they had the balls to go after a senior in the first place, but it seemed they had an easy target with her lab partner which clearly had them feeling bold.
Sam could feel the gaze of the kid next to her burning a hole into the side of her head. When she glanced over, he had the biggest grin on his face and a look like she was his new hero, which was equal parts flattering and creepy. She smiled back at him anyway, feeling a little endeared by his gummy grin despite herself. "That. Was. Awesome. I'm Dustin, by the way. Dustin Henderson." He stuck his hand out to her, which Sam shook with a bemused sort of look. "Those assholes are always trying to get under my skin, 'cos I'm the only freshman in here and I'm like, way smarter than them. They aren't even that good of bullies, though, really. I've had much worse."
Dustin's cheerful voice, coupled with his casual boasting, was surprisingly amusing to Sam. It made sense he was a freshman, considering just how young he looked, and she desperately hoped he was as smart as he claimed. She truly did hate Chemistry with a passion.
At that moment, Kaminsky reentered the classroom with a textbook and a glare. Sensing he wasn't about to do a delivery service, Sam quickly slid out of her chair to meet him up front and collect the text. The lesson started promptly after, the teacher not seeming to want to waste any more of his class time on introductions or preamble. It was horribly dull, and Sam amused herself by watching the way her new lab partner seemed to soak up all the new information, diligently taking notes with tiny chicken scratch handwriting.
The last ten minutes of class were free for the students to get started on their homework assignment, but instead Dustin had turned immediately back to Sam to strike up a conversation about the class, and Hawkins High, and his life, and her life, and how she was liking the town, and pretty much anything in between. The curly haired kid clearly loved to talk, and Sam was sufficiently charmed enough to not even be irritated by it. He reminded her of Steve in the way that he could ramble on and not be offended by her lack of input. She nodded and smiled along with his anecdotes, and when the bell rang they stood together to make their way out to the halls, chatting all the while. Sam had to wave him off in order to stop by her locker, but promised him that she would see him the next day. Crazy kid. She thought fondly, shaking her head as she shoved her Chemistry book into the locker.
Walking into the crowded lunchroom was just as nerve wracking as Sam had feared, despite knowing she had a place at Chrissy's table. Blue eyes nervously scanned the room, searching for the familiar blonde ponytail. She observed the typical high school cliques all huddled together at separate tables, and marveled at the sheer predictability small town life offered. Back home in Norfolk, of course there were cliques, but the stereotypical clothing and stark differences between the groups were much less defined. Here you could easily identify the goths from the rich party kids, the nerds from the rockers, and the band kids from the... jocks.
Oh, fuck.
Sam's stomach felt like it would leap up and out of her esophagus, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. She had found Chrissy. Sitting next to the same blonde boy from their first period History class who now sported a telltale green and white letterman jacket. Surrounded further by a group of boys in the same jackets, and a few other girls wearing high ponytails and short skirts similar to Chrissy herself. How Sam had missed the jackets draped over the backs of their chairs in first period, she had no idea. But the truth was now directly in her face, and as Chrissy spotted her and waved her over with a bright smile Sam felt the distinct urge to turn tail and run.
How could her luck be so awful that the first and only person to be nice to her thus far was part of the very group she had been warned so thoroughly about? Steve had made specific mention of the basketball team, having been the captain his last two years of high school. He knew exactly the type of guys who were still there, and had warned her that the new captain was an "overzealous, entirely too passionate for no reason, douchebag" that needed no justification or excuse to be a judgmental dick.
Sam knew without a doubt that Chrissy's boyfriend was the very same Jason Carver that had prompted Steve into several impassioned rants over the past week. Her feet moved of their own accord, and she resigned herself to her misfortune with no hope of escape. At least Chrissy was nice, and Sam reasoned that maybe in the next few weeks she would have an opportunity to meet other people and slowly transition herself out of the horrible situation she had landed in. Hopefully.
"Hi Sam!" Chrissy was clearly excited to introduce her to her friends, and she had saved a seat for Sam on her right side which she quickly cleared of her pink backpack. "Everyone, this is Sam Anderson, the new senior. She's moved from Virginia."
Sam smiled back at the peppy blonde, not being able to find the bitterness in her heart to be cruel to such a genuinely sweet girl. As she sat, she tried to transfer that smile over to the rest of the table and not let on how massively uncomfortable she was in the presence of so many popular kids. To his credit, Chrissy's boyfriend seemed to make the most effort, shooting Sam a charming grin and a small wave. The rest of the table was mildly interested at best, most of the girls giving her little more than a glance before returning to their conversations and picking at the food on their plates. The boys directly surrounding Chrissy and Jason were a little more interested, which did nothing but send a bitter taste through Sam's mouth. The boy seated to her right was the most nauseating, leaning an arm around the back of her chair as he greeted her with a big smile and eyes casually wandering up and down her body. Sam forced a smile back, resisting the urge to scream and run straight to Robin's table that she had spotted in the corner of the room.
Lunch was awkward. Painfully awkward, uncomfortable, gag-inducing, absolute torture. Sam knew she would only have to endure it again the next day, and the day after that, and the thought only served to make her mood even darker as she finally escaped the cursed lunchroom. Sending a friendly wave to Chrissy as Jason led her away to their next class, Sam finally let loose a long breath of relief and tried to reorient herself to the task at hand. English class. Focus.
Her legs propelled her forward quickly as she spotted the boy she sat next to at lunch, Andy, craning his head in an obvious attempt to find her. Probably to offer his "assistance" finding her next class, or something equally unwanted. Tucking her head down, Sam did her best to blend with the crowd and moved through the halls as swiftly as possible. It helped she was so short, and she counted her lucky stars as she made it to her next classroom with no interruptions.
Sam's luck continued to hold, and a happy little noise left her when she noticed Robin already seated inside her English class. The taller girl noticed her as well, and with a wide-eyed grin quickly tossed her bag into the chair next to her. Just in time, as another teen had been about to sit down. Sam watched out of the corner of her eye as Robin glared and threaten the boy to find another seat as she quickly introduced herself to the teacher, Mrs. Livingston. Grabbing the required reading book out of the woman's hand, Sam didn't give her teacher a chance to continue the conversation before rushing to slide into the open seat near her friend.
"Holy shit, Robin." Was the only thing Sam could think to breathe out, eyes wide and resting the side of her head on her palm as she stared at the other girl.
"Holy shit is right, Sam! I saw your new friend group, uh, what the fuck?"
A deep groan left her lips, and Sam fought the urge to bang her skull into the desk below her. Robin didn't seem pissed, just concerned and amused with her face lit up in her usual shit-eating grin. It didn't make Sam feel any better, even though she had been a little worried Robin would be upset with her for her horrible life choices.
"Dude, I have no idea. Chrissy was my guide this morning and she was like, super nice and she invited me to eat lunch with her friends, so of course I said yes. I'm so stupid holy shit, I had no idea it was the fucking basketball cult y'all warned me about! I don't know what to do, Robin, I'm so screwed." She moaned, breaking eye contact to bury her head fully into her arms crossed over her desk.
Robin let out an unsympathetic cackle, patting her arm lightly with an unhelpful sort of attempt at comfort. "Honestly, Sam, I have no fucking clue what to tell you."
Another groan. "I'm so fucking sorry for ditching you, Robin. I should've just said I already had someone to sit with, oh my God." The bell rang and Mrs. Livingston began trying to corral the attention of the seniors, so Sam lifted her head and glanced back over at Robin with apology clear in her eyes.
"Don't worry about it, Sam. I'm not that sensitive. Besides, seeing you suffer while you're forced to interact with those douchebags is totally worth it." Robin sent her a sarcastic wink, laughing as Sam grumpily flipped her off. They were forced to cease their conversation by the beginning of class, but Sam found it incredibly hard to focus on Mrs. Livingston droning about 'Wuthering Heights', instead ruminating over her horrible luck and how she could possibly escape the social conundrum she now found herself in.
The rest of the school day passed much the same, with Sam luckily avoiding any more uncomfortable scenarios with the basketball team and forcing herself to pay attention in Spanish. Her last period of the day was a free period, which Sam spent in the back corner of the library hiding and finishing as much of her mountain of homework as she could. It was her favorite part of her schedule, and the only class she knew about before getting to the office that morning. Most seniors had another elective during last period, either Gym, Home Economics, or Woodworking. The only reason Sam was granted the privilege of a free period was because she had already taken her allotment of both Gym and Home Economics at her old school. She had flunked her first round of senior year, yes, but luckily the teacher for Home Ec was an absolute pushover who took pity on her and passed her with a C+. It was quite literally the only class she had passed last year, and Sam was even more grateful for sweet old Mrs. Crowley as she managed to finish all her Chemistry homework while sitting in the library.
Probably all wrong, but at least it's done and I tried. Sam thought with a satisfied smile, closing her books and debating whether she could get away with cutting off early. It didn't seem like the librarian was paying too close attention, but she conceded that it probably wasn't the greatest way to start the semester. Luckily, the bell rang not too long after, and Sam's first day in Hawkins High hell was at an end.
Robin had already bid her goodbye for the day after their shared English class, knowing that Sam was a likely flight risk once she took a look at her schedule and saw the free period, so she felt no guilt for booking it to her locker with the intention to get the hell away from the school as fast as possible. As much as she enjoyed Chrissy's company, Sam knew that her boyfriend and his pack of jocks wouldn't be far behind, and she really did not have the energy left to navigate that cesspool. Shoving the unneeded textbooks into her locker and quickly flicking the lock back into place, she was pleased to see that she had beaten Chrissy there and wouldn't need to play nice.
Instead, Sam kept her head down once more as she made her way out of the building, again grateful she had managed to get a close parking spot despite the time of her arrival that morning. She slid into her brother's Chevelle and closed the door with a satisfying thud, leaning her head back against the bench seat and taking a deep breath in. One day down, 5 more months to go.
Taking advantage of her quick exit, Sam threw the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. Her hand automatically went to pull out a cigarette, finding a lighter waiting loyally by the gear stick. As she lit up and sped down the thankfully still empty roads, Sam sighed and steeled her nerves for the coming months. Well, Joey, I'm doing it. Come hell or high water, we're getting this diploma. Even if I have to hang out with douchebag jocks to survive it.
