Saturdays at The Hawk were brutal.

Christine just wanted to be able to enjoy her weekends, to kick back and relax like most of her classmates. But no. She'd decided to be responsible. She'd wanted to have pocket money. She'd wanted to continue her summer job and work weekends at the movie theater. What a dumbass idea that had been.

She knew she shouldn't complain. She had the opening shift today, which was a lot easier than closing late at night. But her body was still aching from sleeping on the floor, and she felt a bit queasy after gorging on pizza and soda. So she wasn't in the most spectacular mood.

A handful of people piled out into the lobby, laughing and chatting as they fled into the afternoon sun. Christine watched them go with envy. Then she grabbed her broom and headed into the musty darkness of the empty theater.

She flicked the lights back on and began her cursory sweep of the aisles. There wasn't too much damage. One forgotten sweatshirt shoved down in the seats, some inevitable popcorn collateral on the floor. Matinee shows were light on customers and light on damage. At least she wouldn't have to break out the mop.

For a moment she glared at the screen, where the credits of All the Right Moves were rolling for the third time that day.

"Hey, Joey!" she called up to the projectionist booth. "Could you turn it down, please? Movie's over, bud!"

But it was no use. Joey was either asleep, or skiving off on his break until the next showing started in an hour. "Blue Skies Forever" continued to blare from the speakers, only adding to her current headache. Once or twice it sounded fine, but in a tiny theater that only ever showed one or two movies a month? She was starting to really hate that song.

Christine had no choice but to tune it out and slip into her normal routine. After cleaning the theater, she took the garbage out to the dumpster in the side alley. After that, she did a bathroom check, cleaning the pools of soap and water off the counter and picking stray toilet paper off the floor. Another trip to the dumpster. And after she thoroughly sanitized herself and swept the lobby, it was back behind the counter to pop a new batch of popcorn for the next showing.

She plopped back into her folding chair, cracking her neck and pulling her physics textbook from her backpack. They were just wrapping up a new unit in class, which meant there was another lab report due on Monday. She was almost done, but there were still a few things she needed to crosscheck before wrapping up her final confusion.

She'd meant what she said to the girls the night before. She did like physics; she liked all science, really. It had always been her best subject, even before she'd moved to Hawkins. And she'd moved a lot as a kid. In her other schools, she'd been placed in special programs, advanced track classes that taught outside of the normal curriculum. But Hawkins was a small town, and a very small school. That's how she'd ended up in "upper placement"—which was just a fancy way of saying she'd skipped a year in science. It had been tough at first, taking one class at the high school when she spent the rest of her day at the middle school, but they'd made it work. And honestly, it was her favorite part of the day.

Christine was so wrapped up in her assignment that the first few times the door opened, she barely looked up. Joey was back from break, handling ticket sales at the door. No one was going to bother her unless they needed snacks, which most people snuck in anyway. She sold a few bags of popcorn, a few sodas, and went right back to her homework.

Until the door opened again, and an all too familiar voice floated to her ears. A siren went off in the back of her brain, and Christine's head snapped up faster than a rocket.

There was Tommy H and Carol, arms slung around each other and leading the way into the lobby. It should have been Carol she heard first—with her loud voice and louder laugh. Carol demanded attention, demanded to be heard, even before she had anything to say.

Tommy was just as bad, if not worse. He wasn't as loud, be he always had his two cents to put in. Usually something aggressive or pervy. It was fascinating to watch him with Carol, though. They'd been going out for years, as long as Christine could remember anyway. They were so in sync it was almost unnerving, moving together like some sort of conjoined boss monster in a video game.

Nicole followed behind them, a skewed reflection of Carol. She had the same bright red hair, the same sharp eyes, but she was stretched a little taller with curls that wouldn't lie just right. She was quiet, even by normal standards, but it was the unsettling kind where you could tell she knew too much. Nicole knew how to tap into the best gossip in town, and she was observant to boot. That was part of the reason everyone wanted to be on her good side. The other part was her parents' fancy lake house near Chicago.

And right at the back, last through the door, was Steve Harrington. He pulled her attention like a magnet, chuckling lowly at something Tommy had said. Somehow his laugh carried all the way across the lobby. Or maybe she was just so familiar with the sound that her brain was filling in the gaps. He grinned at Joey as he bought his ticket, offering some small high five. God, he was just so pretty…

And then they were moving toward her counter.

Christine panicked, slamming her textbook shut before she realized that would have been the best excuse to pretend she hadn't been staring at them. She hurriedly packed her things away, trying to make herself look busy and yet also available. It was rude to ignore them, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge them before it was absolutely necessary. It felt like it shouldn't be allowed.

"Hey," said Tommy, rapping his knuckles on the counter. Even though she'd known he was there, the sound still made Christine jump. "Four popcorns and four Cokes. And some Bottlecaps."

Carol snorted, and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Please," she added with a smile. But the expression was so predatory, Christine wasn't sure if it made her feel any better.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, just uh…"

When the rest of the sentence wouldn't come, she quickly turned her back on them. It took some self-control not to bury her head in the popcorn machine and wait for them to leave, but she did her best. She didn't even spill any of the popcorn before it made it to the counter. She got all four Cokes, and even unlocked the candy compartment without a problem, all before Steve walked up to the counter.

"Oh, hey Christine," he said, peering down at her over the glass. "Shit, I always forget that you work here."

Christine looked up, dazzled by the very real smile Steve was sending her way. Words suddenly seemed very distant, so she stuck to nodding and smiling. She grabbed a box of candy and stepped up to the register, only for Tommy to snicker across from her.

"Actually, I said I wanted Bottlecaps."

"Hm?" She stopped, looking down at the box of Gobstoppers in her hand. She was very lucky all the curse words she knew stayed inside her head. "Right. Sorry. Um…"

Tommy, Nicole and Carol all giggled as she swapped out the candy, but Steve just kept on smiling. He even had the nerve to lean his elbows on the counter, running a hand through his hair, as if her job wasn't already impossible to complete.

Christine typed everything into the register and cleared her throat, but Tommy was already sliding her the bills. "Yeah, just keep the change."

"Uh, sure. Thanks, Tommy."

He winked at her, which was followed by another indelicate snort from Carol, and a half-hearted smile from Nicole. "See ya, Christine."

Tommy clapped Steve on the back as they grabbed their bags and headed for the door, but Steve waved him off.

"No, go ahead. I'll meet you in there. Go on."

And as if the situation couldn't have gotten worse, Tommy grumbled as he and the girls proceeded into the theater—leaving Christine alone with Steve. She was painfully aware of how hot her face was, sure it was bright red under her blonde hair. Hair which was currently pulled back into a haphazard ponytail so it didn't get into the popcorn, or stuck in the stupid clip-on bowtie she wore with her uniform.

She took her sweet time arranging the bills in the cash register, if only to avoid Steve's eyes. She hardly noticed that Tommy had shorted her on the bill. Not that there was anything she could do about it now, anyway.

"Tough day?" Steve asked with a small laugh.

It was amazing how much softer his voice was when he was alone—when it was just the two of them. It almost made it easier to look at him. He smiled encouragingly, his eyes earnest under that head of perfectly tousled chestnut hair. And Christine managed a shrug.

"Not too bad."

"Cool, cool." He nodded, and she watched as his hair bounced along. "I imagine it's gotta be pretty sick working here. Free popcorn, free candy, watching new movies whenever you want."

"One movie," she corrected with a tight smile. "On repeat. All day."

"What?" He gasped, his jaw dropping comically. "You mean you—you don't want to watch All the Right Moves ten times a day? You—Oh. Oh shit. I think I better ask for my money back."

She did her best not to giggle. She failed instantly and horribly, and had to duck her head in case it made her look stupid. A hand covered half of her face, but when she looked up, Steve was smiling proudly.

"Come on," he said conspiratorially, and leaned further of the counter. "What is the absolute worst part about working here?"

Christine bit her lip, willing herself not to look away. Casually as she could, she leaned forward on the counter, mimicking his posture.

"Honestly? The cleaning. People are slobs, and they will find a way to spill anything you give them."

"Well that can't be too bad, right?" he asked innocently. "It's just some popcorn."

"Ha, no. It's popcorn soaking in warm soda that's been on the floor for two and a half hours."

Steve's face wrinkled comically in disgust, and Christine had to hide her face again as she laughed.

"Ugh, gross. Well, let me apologize on behalf of everyone in Hawkins, Indiana, for the…disgusting swamp you have to clean up every weekend."

"Very noble," said Christine, shooting him a side glance.

He puffed out his chest, raising a non-too-humble hand with a proud smirk that made Christine feel like combusting into flames. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and turned away to find a distraction. Without much hope, she grabbed a stray rag and began picking at stains on the counter.

Still, Steve stayed planted where he was. He ran a hand over his hair again, and ducked determinedly into her line of vision. "So, how long are you stuck here for?"

"Oh, I—uh…" She glanced at the wall and struggled to juggle some very simple numbers in her head. "Only another hour."

"Aw," he said with the most adorable pout. "Guess you won't be here when the movie gets out."

"Uh, yeah. They uh…they schedule us that way on purpose, you know. So that we're not switching during customer rushes. It's easier to leave when…yeah…"

She was going to punch herself as soon as she got home. Why was she telling him this? Why was she still talking?

"Smart move," Steve said in amusement. "Well, I just wanted to thank you for all your help with physics. I mean, with basketball practice starting up and my parents on my case—I feel like I haven't had time to breathe, you know?"

"No, yeah I—I totally get it," she assured him, nodding frantically. "It's cool."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Barb's voice groaned in frustration. It was a weak excuse. He couldn't find the time to write one paragraph for class? But then Steve turned his head, and his smile was so sweet that Christine forgot how to be angry at all.

"God, I'm so lucky to have you as a lab partner," he said, crossing his arms on the counter. "You're like my saving grace in that class."

Her brain was stalling. She couldn't think of anything to say, not while he was watching her so carefully. Instead she grimaced, awkwardly waving off his praise with the rag. He chuckled, and still stood there, grinning away.

Christine wasn't sure what made her do it. Maybe the voices of her friends in her head had gotten to loud, or the lack of sleep was catching up to her brain. But one minute she was twisting the rag in her hands, and the next the words were tumbling out of her mouth.

"You know, if—if you think that you really need help in physics, I could always like…like, I don't know, help you study or something. If you wanted. I mean, I know you have to keep your grades up cause of basketball, and your parents or whatever—or just in general, I guess, um…so if you ever wanted to meet at the library or something and…just go over some notes or reports or something, that…it could be…we could always do that…"

It was a train wreck. She wasn't sure she could have done worse if she was trying to bomb out. And there was absolutely nowhere for her to go. She was trapped behind the counter, completely at Steve's mercy as he looked up at her with a Cheshire grin. He looked endlessly amused by her discomfort.

"Sorry," she said, taking a few steps back. "That came out wrong. I just meant that…"

"No, no, no! It's fine," he laughed, waving his hands. "No, you're…probably right, actually. I know I need to study more. My grades are pretty…yikes…"

Christine bit her lip. She took the chance to peek up at him from under her lashes. "So…?"

Steve considered her for a moment, running a thumb over his bottom lip. The fingers of his other hand drummed against the glass. It didn't make her any less anxious.

"Christine," he drawled, narrowing his eyes at her. "When was the last time you took a break?"

"A…A break?"

"Yeah. It's when you stop working and have a little fun for a change. You know? Fun?"

He threw some jazz hands at her, and Christine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, thanks, Steve. I know what fun is."

"You sure?" he asked. "I mean, you're a straight-A student, you're in an advanced science class, weekends you spend all your time herding cattle here. As far as I can tell, all you do is work and study."

Christine crossed her arms over her chest. "I know how to have fun."

Steve raised his eyebrows. He was smirking again, challenging her, and it was enough to make her stomach twist into a pretzel. But she held her ground. She met his gaze evenly, and mirrored his defiant expression. It just made his smirk widen.

"There's a party tonight," he said, breaking the standoff. "Jenny Fischer's house, eight o'clock. Her parents are in New York visiting her brother, so it's gonna be rad. You should come. Let loose for a change, bring some friends."

"I should…?"

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. The words must not be processing. He wasn't actually inviting her to a party. This wasn't real. Steve Harrington was not inviting her to a party. It wasn't happening. But there he was, grinning up at her like anything, looking as serious as she'd ever imagined.

"So…So what?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "I just show up to someone else's house with all of my friends?"

"Well, not all your friends," Steve conceded. "I mean, it's not my house. But consider this your invitation plus one. What about that girl you're always hanging out with in the hall? Uh, Nancy? She could come."

Christine chewed her bottom lip. She wanted to go. Of course she did. But there was something about it all that still seemed too good to be true. Was Jenny Fischer really having a party? Would they really be allowed to join in? Or would they be turned away at the door while Tommy and Carol snickered like a pair of gargoyles? Or worse, would they show up to find there was no party at all, and the whole thing had just been a huge prank?

"Come on," Steve said cajolingly. "It's one party. And I, for one, would really like to see you there."

Well. That had done it.

Christine released her bottom lip, her face splitting into a smile so wide it was almost painful.

"Okay. Sure. I mean—Fine. I'll think about it. Yes."

"Alright! That's my girl!" He grinned, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Well, now it's only fifty-five minutes until you're out of here, so I guess I'll see you later."

"Maybe," Christine corrected.

Steve pushed off the counter, taking a few steps backward. "Exactly. So I'll see you later, Chrissy."

He grabbed his snacks, heading into the theater with his perfect head held high. She called him back at the last moment.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yup?"

"Just…um…try not to spill your popcorn."

Steve winked, clicked his tongue, and then disappeared into the theater.

The fog in her brain didn't clear for another few seconds. She'd been so hyped up on adrenaline trying to survive the conversation, she hadn't fully considered the ramifications. But now there was clear air to breathe, it was coming back to her. She'd tried, and failed, to ask out Steve Harrington. And then, instead of cackling or hollering or rolling on the floor, he'd asked her out to a party instead. Steve Harrington had just asked her out.

It was as if all the dopamine that had just drained out of her system started filling her from the bottom up all over again.

Christine bit down on her knuckle, holding in the girly squeal that was desperate to burst from her chest. There were still people in the lobby. They were giving her strange looks. She still had fifty-five minutes on the clock. Fifty-four, fifty-three…

For once, the rest of her shift seemed to fly by. She busied herself scrubbing the countertop, rearranging the candy boxes until they were all straight as a pin, and restocking everything that could possibly be restocked from the back closet.

The moment the second hand finished its final lap around the clock, Christine was sprinting out the door into the alley. She threw on her backpack and catapulted herself onto her bike, zooming into traffic as fast as her frantic legs could carry her. It didn't matter that she was still in her work clothes, or that cars were honking at her for veering too far into the road. Time was of the essence.

She zoomed down the residential streets, and took a hard turn into a driveway that nearly sent her toppling off the bike. She hopped off gracelessly, and tripped over her own sneakers as she ran up to the front door. Forgetting her patience, she jabbed at the doorbell, then knocked rapidly against the door. Then she pressed the doorbell again for good measure.

A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a very worried Karen Wheeler.

"Who—Oh! Chrissy, sweetheart. I didn't know you were coming over today."

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler," Christine panted, still beaming. "Is Nancy in her room?"

"Well, yes, but…"

Not waiting for an invitation, Christine darted into the house, making a beeline for the stairs and taking them two at a time.

"Well, hold on!" Mrs. Wheeler called after her. "Where's the fire?"

"No fire! Just chemistry! Lots of chemistry! Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler!"

Christine careened onto the second landing, nearly colliding with Nancy's younger brother as he poked his head out of his room to investigate the commotion.

"Hey, watch it!" he snapped, jumping back against the wall.

"Hey, Mike! Sorry! You're great! Bye!"

She barely registered his baffled expression as she darted past him, wrenching Nancy's bedroom door open and then slamming it shut behind her.

Nancy, as she could have guessed, was settled on the end of her bed, surrounded by her schoolwork. Textbooks were laid open, unit packets flipped to various pages, and highlighters littered the sheets. She jumped as the door slammed, clutching her chest and knocking a stack of index cards onto the floor.

"Jesus! Christine! What the hell?"

Nancy was glowering, but Christine couldn't bring herself to care.

"Oh my God! You are not going to believe! You're just not gonna believe! Oh my God!"

She held her face in her hands, pacing back and forth at the end of Nancy's bed. She wanted to scream, she wanted to jump, she wanted to cheer—but she knew that would alert Nancy's parents, and the Wheelers would definitely not be cool with the truth.

"Christine, slow down," said Nancy as she clambered off the bed. She grabbed Christine by the shoulders, forcing her to stand still. "Breathe, okay? You're not making any sense."

Christine nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay. Guess who came to The Hawk today?"

Nancy stared at her. In an instant, the concern was gone and the annoyance was back.

"Seriously, Chrissy? I am about to bomb this test. This is important. I have to…"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" This time Christine grabbed Nancy, locking her in place before she could bury herself in schoolwork again. "Guess who came to The Hawk and had a full, complete conversation with me?"

"That's great," said Nancy, rolling her eyes. "Can we talk about Steve later? You know, after you help me study?"

She freed herself of Christine's grip, picking up her index cards and settling back onto her bed. There were already about thirty cards written out, and she was still finding more to jot down. If nothing else, you had to admire her dedication.

Christine sighed dramatically, leaning back against the unoccupied desk. She dropped her backpack on the floor and started shedding her work uniform.

"Fine. I guess that means you don't want to know who invited me to Jenny Fischer's party tonight either."

The silence that followed was sweeter than she'd imagined.

"What?" Nancy demanded in a low voice.

"No, it's fine," said Christine. She shrugged as she fished a fresh T-shirt out of her bag. "It can wait. I mean, we kinda have somewhere to be at eight o'clock, but it's totally cool. Let's talk about molecular structures."

"Oh my God!" Nancy put the cards aside, pushing herself onto her knees. "Christine, if you are joking right now, I swear to God I will kill you."

"Nance, I am not that funny. Steve and everyone came to the movies, I—God, I made an absolute idiot of myself. Can you believe I tried to ask him out?"

"What?" Nancy squealed. "And he said yes?"

"No! I completely bombed out. Told him we should study together at the library. But instead of making fun of me, he told me I should come to Jenny's party later to loosen up."

"Loosen up?" she repeated with a smirk.

Christine threw her button-down in Nancy's face.

"Not like that," she laughed. "Apparently all I do is work, and I don't know how to have any fun."

She tugged on her tee and finally pulled her hair out of its stupid ponytail. Then she flopped down onto the end of Nancy's bed, finding the narrow strip of blanket that was not covered in papers.

Nancy was smiling sweetly. "Christine, that's amazing. You're gonna have so much fun."

"Well, you're coming with me, right?" Christine asked, propping head up on her elbow.

"Oh, no. No, I'm seriously worried about this test, and…"

"Nance…"

She sighed, and Christine noticed how sad her smile looked. "He asked you out, Chrissy. Not me."

"He invited me to someone else's house party, where there's gonna be like forty people. It's not exactly a marriage proposal."

"Still, this—this could be huge for you. I don't want to mess that up."

Christine stared at her friend, watching as Nancy shuffled through her completed flash cards. She was touched, of course, but also a little disappointed. This wasn't how she'd imagined the conversation going at all.

She poked Nancy on the knee. Then she did it again, and again, until she finally looked up.

"What?"

"He asked about you, you know."

"No, he did not."

"Yes, he did. He told me that I should bring a friend, and immediately suggested you. He's expecting to see both of us there."

"Still…" she sighed.

"No." Christine pushed herself up, crossing her legs and sitting knee-to-knee with Nancy. She pushed the index cards aside, and grabbed Nancy's wrists. "Look, you cannot leave me alone with these people. I've never been to a party before, and I've never been drunk, and I know that at some point Tommy's gonna bring up something embarrassing I did like two years ago, and everyone's gonna laugh, and I'm not gonna know what to say even though I've been worrying about it all day. I need you there, Nancy. I need you."

Nancy pursed her lips, but did not respond. Apparently, the sentimental best friend card was not going to be enough. So Christine started waving Nancy's hands around, swinging them back and forth wildly until the other girl finally broke out laughing.

"Okay, even if I did want to go," she conceded, "my parents aren't going to let me out of the house. I slept over last night. I can't do two nights in a row, especially when they know your dad's not home."

"Alright, so you don't stay over," said Christine. "We say we're going back to my place so you can look at my notes from last year, we'll get ready, and then we can walk to Jenny's. It's only a couple of blocks. We can figure out the rest later."

"Yeah, easy for you to say. You dad isn't waiting at home with the light on."

"Fine, fine. You want a battle plan? Just tell your parents you got caught up studying and it's already past Barb's curfew. They can pick you up, or let you stay at my house."

"I'm still going to be in trouble."

"I thought you said Steve Harrington would be worth it?"

There was a stare-off. Nancy narrowed her eyes, floundering between her desire to be right and her desire to live out her dream. Christine did not budge. Nancy was stubborn as hell, but somewhere under that cardigan there was a rebel. All Christine had to do was wait her out.

Finally, Nancy dropped her gaze. Her smile was hidden under a curtain of hair. She closed her textbook with satisfying finality, and Christine beamed.

"God, I don't have anything to wear."

"Bullshit," Christine laughed. "A, you look great in everything, and B, I know you went shopping with Barb this morning."

"God," Nancy sighed, "have you told her yet?"

"Nope. I got off work and came straight here."

Nancy leaned over, grabbing the phone from her bedside table. She handed the receiver to Christine, and was halfway through dialing the Hollands' phone number when the door swung open. Mrs. Wheeler popped her head into the room.

"Mom!" Nancy complained. "Knocking?"

"Sorry," said Mrs. Wheeler, more amused than apologetic. "Christine, are you joining us for dinner?"

"Oh, um… Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler, but…"

"Actually, we were going to go to Chrissy's house to study," said Nancy. "We'll just eat there."

"Uh, I don't think so," said her mother, a hand on her hip. "You stayed over last night, Nancy. I'd like you to stay home for once."

"Mom! I really have to study for this test! And Christine has all of her chemistry notes from last year. She promised she'd quiz me."

"And she can quiz you. Right here."

"I totally get it, Mrs. Wheeler," Christine placated. "I just wanted to go over what my test was like last year, so Nancy could get a better idea of what Kaminsky's looking for. I save all my old tests in a folder at my house."

"Exactly," Nancy agreed. "Please, Mom? This test is super important."

Mrs. Wheeler sighed. "Fine. But after dinner. I don't want you having pizza two nights in a row. And that's final."

She raised a finger when Nancy opened her mouth, cutting off any complaints. Then she smiled, and closed the door once more.

"We're so going to be late," Nancy groaned.

"It's fine," said Christine. "No one shows up to a party on time anyway. At least, that's what I've heard."

Nancy laughed, and turned her attention back to the telephone.

To say Barb was excited about the news would have been an understatement. Christine and Nancy had to hold the receiver between them to talk, but they easily could have heard Barb's squeal from the other side of the room. She'd offered to drive them to the party, even if she didn't go herself, but Christine refused. They were going to waste Barb's gas by having her chauffer them around the neighborhood. Jenny's house wasn't too far from Christine's, so it wouldn't be a problem.

They couldn't stay on the line long, just in case one of Nancy's parents picked up the phone and overheard them. But Barb wished them both good luck and told them to call her the moment they got home. After that, Nancy went through her entire wardrobe for the perfect outfit, while Christine quizzed her with the flash cards. She didn't get a single question wrong.

An hour later, Mrs. Wheeler called them down for dinner. Nancy often complained about eating dinner with her family, but Christine always thought it seemed kind of nice—everyone around the table together talking about their day. She and her father rarely bothered using the dining room table, even when they were both home. They mostly ate take out anyway.

"So Christine," Mrs. Wheeler said once they were all seated, serving out the beef stew she'd made. "How's your father?"

"He's good," she answered politely. "He left for Atlanta last night, so he'll be at a work conference for the week."

"Must be nice," said Mr. Wheeler, somewhat wistfully, "being able to travel. Farthest the office will pay for me to go is Indianapolis. Huh."

"Still," said Mrs. Wheeler, shaking her head. "I can't believe he leaves you alone for so long. I can't imagine leaving the kids to fend for themselves for a week."

"We'd be fine," said Mike through a mouthful of stew.

His mother shot him a sour look. "Thank you, Michael. Glad to know you're so appreciative."

Mike simply shrugged.

"Hey, Mike," said Christine. "How's Mr. Clarke doing? You still have him for science?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Mike answered. "We've got a test next week on cell division. Pretty easy stuff."

"Which you've studied for?" Mrs. Wheeler asked, glancing over from where she was feeding her youngest daughter, Holly.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"How's AV club?" asked Christine.

That made him light up.

"AV club's great. Mr. Clarke ordered a new Heathkit model that just came out this year. Solid state, hundred watt, WARC bands—we just need to get a DSP."

"Oh my God, I heard about that," Christine gushed. "The HW-5400, right? I'm super jealous."

"Can we speak English at the table?" Mr. Wheeler complained.

"We're getting a new radio," said Mike, carefully enunciating each word. "And it's way cooler than Chrissy's was."

"Michael, don't talk back to your father."

"Whatever."

"Am I allowed to come see it?" asked Christine. "One AV club president to another?"

"We'll discuss it," he said haughtily. "I'll let you know when the party decides. We get first dibs, though."

"Obviously."

"Weren't you like, the only person in AV club?" Nancy asked, smirking.

"No! There was Charlie Chester, Felicity Bex…"

"Will's brother used to be in it," Mike offered. "Jonathan?"

"I guess, yeah." Christine barely managed to contain her scoff. "He didn't show up a lot, though. Only when we had new equipment to play with. I don't think he liked hanging with us too much. Then he ditched us for the art department."

"Will says Jonathan is pretty cool," said Mike.

"Yeah, well, he's Jonathan's little brother. He has to say that."

"I don't tell anyone that Nancy's cool."

"Shut up!"

"Hey, that's enough you two!"

Mrs. Wheeler glared, brandishing her fork at her children in turn. Both of them pouted, but reluctantly held their tongues.

"Now," she continued, ruffling her shoulders, "if it wasn't Jonathan Byers, Christine, may I ask what boy had you ready to break down my front door this afternoon?"

"Mom!"

"I am allowed to ask," Mrs. Wheeler said innocently. "You can make all the excuses you want, but I have never seen a teenage girl move that fast in the name of science. There's only one thing that can make a girl that happy."

"You do not have to answer that," said Nancy, rolling her eyes at Christine.

"No, it's—it's fine," she said quietly. She shifted under the weight of Mrs. Wheeler's intense gaze. It was a little unnerving. "Um, a guy came to the theater to visit me today. Just someone from my physics class."

Mike made an obnoxious gagging sound across from her, while his mother gasped in delight. "Ooh, a junior? That's exciting."

"Not really," Christine insisted with a shrug. "He just wanted to borrow some notes. Nothing important."

Mrs. Wheeler pouted, and looked about to comment when her husband set down his silverware in annoyance.

"Are we done with the teenage gossip? I'd like to eat my dinner in peace, thank you very much."

"Hmph." Mrs. Wheeler glared at him, but plastered on a compliant smile. "Of course, Ted. I'm sorry."

The table lapsed into silence. It was a bit awkward, but Christine was glad the questioning was over. That was one benefit of life with her dad; there wasn't such an audience.

Nancy nudged her under the table, and they quickly shared a smile. The worst part was over. Soon they'd be home free, getting ready for a house party with all the most popular kids in school.

Nothing important at all.