TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains references to underaged drinking and sexual situations, as seen on Stranger Things. It also contains offensive language, slurs used by Steve and Tommy. Please proceed with caution.

When Christine woke up the next day, it was to the sound of her phone ringing on the bedside table. She reached out with an uncoordinated hand, slapping around until she could find it. Her eyes were still closed when she brought it to her ear.

"Hello?" she greeted groggily.

"Christine, where the hell are you?"

Her eyes shot open. She'd been expecting the voice of her father, maybe Dustin or Claudia. But the angry voice of Mr. Vincenti from the movie theater made her blood rush with adrenaline so fast she thought she might vomit. She scrambled to push the covers aside, eyes searching for her clock.

"Shit, I'm—I am so sorry, Anthony!"

"You realize it's Saturday? You know, one of the days you work for me?"

"I do know!" She was already toppling out of bed. The phone base nearly fell off the table, and she jammed her finger trying to catch it. "Like I said, I am so, so sorry. I overslept and…"

"You were still sleeping?"

"No! I mean, I was up and down all night. With the—the funeral! Will's funeral yesterday, and his best friend is my neighbor so, it was just crazy and I was comforting him all night and I am so, so sorry, but it will not happen again!"

Her boss sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. Christine was already struggling into her black pants when he spoke.

"Look, I get it. I try not to be a hardass. This Byers thing has everyone on edge. But that's why I need you at work. When bad things happen, people want to be distracted. And when you wanna be distracted…"

"You go to the movies," Christine finished, straightening her black tank top. "I know, Anthony. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and get your butt down here. You're the most competent teen I've got, and I need someone at concessions. If you can make it in twenty minutes, I won't even cut your pay."

"You got it. Butt moving. Bye."

Christine threw the phone back onto the base. Her hands finally free, she shrugged on her stiff white button down and slipped into her boots. She grabbed her bowtie off the dresser and ran out of her room.

Her excuse hadn't been a total lie. Will's funeral had been yesterday, and everything had gone crazy. She had been up very late, and woken up several times during the night. But it wasn't because of Dustin's crying. It was because she was compulsively checking the house for Eleven.

She'd gotten up every hour, making some excuse for herself. She would just go get a refill of water and check the kitchen. She would just go to the bathroom and peek out the back door. Once she'd gotten a thrill when she noticed the waffle was gone, but then she'd noticed the paw prints adorning the stoop. It was more likely that the waffle had become a late night snack for Mews.

As she rushed around her house getting ready, she scanned the rooms once more. She wasn't very hopeful. Eleven hadn't come back last night, and she hadn't come back this morning. She could only hope she'd gone to Mike's instead. The only other option was the woods, and that didn't bear thinking about. Sure, Eleven could defend herself with her powers. But that didn't mean it wasn't scary. And Christine knew how much Eleven hated being alone.

When she left for work, she left both doors unlocked.

With a burst of inhuman speed, Christine made it to The Hawk in fifteen minutes. She'd skipped breakfast and her hair was a wreck, but she'd seen worse mornings. Her hair was yanked back into another lackluster ponytail, and she'd just pop an extra batch of popcorn so she had something to eat. It wasn't the first time she'd had popcorn and soda for breakfast. With her penchant for running late, it also wouldn't be the last.

Anthony had been right about the rush. All the Right Moves had been playing for two weeks already, and somehow their first matinee nearly sold out. Christine was scrambling to catch up with her duties, and hadn't even gotten the chance to sit before the second showing started. But finally, she'd have a few minutes to herself.

It would have been smart to work on her homework. But what Christine pulled out of her bag was a portable radio. She set it up on the counter, the volume low so as not to disturb the patrons in the theater. Then she fiddled with the knob until she found a station that was purely static.

Christine folded her arms on the counter, laying down her head and closing her eyes. She listened intently to the sounds of the static. Maybe if she focused enough, she'd be able to make sense of the blips and buzzing. Maybe she'd find some sign that Will, Barb, and Eleven were okay. She knew she wasn't Eleven, of course. She didn't have superpowers. But if she kept the radio on…maybe Eleven could still contact her, wherever she was.

"This your favorite station?"

The voice in her ear startled her. She jumped to her feet, and her folding chair screeched against the floor as it skittered back into the popcorn machine. Steve, Tommy, Carol and Nicole all giggled.

"Steve," Christine breathed, clutching her chest. "Uh…hey, guys. The—The next showing's not for another two hours."

"So what?" Steve asked with a grin. "Can't a guy just come and see his lab partner?"

"Yeah, Christine." Tommy grabbed the radio and hopped up to sit on the display case. "Party in the lobby, am I right?"

Christine wrestled the radio out of his hands before he could raise the volume. She almost managed to be thankful for Carol when she tugged Tommy back to the ground.

"Get down, asshole. The last thing we need is for your fat ass to break the glass."

"I thought you liked my fat ass."

"Yeah, well I'm tired of cleaning up after it…"

"Anyway," Steve said pointedly, turning back to Christine. "I just wanted to talk to you for a sec."

"Okay," she said warily. "But, I haven't gotten the chance to start the lab report, Steve. Honestly, you're probably better off doing it yourself."

"What? No, I—not about science. About Nancy."

Christine felt a bolt of panic go through her chest.

"Why? Is she okay? Is she safe?"

"Yeah," Steve said, who looked shocked by her palpable fear. "I mean, I think so."

"I think she's doing just fine," Tommy drawled, wrapping an arm around Carol's shoulder.

Christine didn't miss the amused tone of voice, nor the glare that Steve sent his way. She didn't have the energy for any more drama this week. But when Steve turned to her again, he looked just as exhausted as she felt. And honestly, really worried.

"Can we talk in private?" he asked lowly. "Please?"

"Oh, uh…" She glanced at Tommy, Carol and Nicole, who were lounging all too casually around the lobby. "I'm not really supposed to leave concessions."

"Please," he repeated. "I mean, it's Hawkins, right? What are they gonna do? Break the glass and steal some Airheads?"

Part of her was getting ready to tell him just what kind of nasty things could happen in Hawkins, but he laid his hand over hers before she could.

"Chrissy, I'm begging you. Five minutes."

Her resolve crumbled. With a last guarded look at the popular kids, she turned off her radio and slipped it back into her bag.

"Five minutes," she agreed.

She followed him around the corner, down the hall towards the alleyway. It didn't offer all that much privacy. She could still here Tommy and Carol's obnoxious voices drifting down to them, but at least they were out of sight.

"Sorry," Steve apologized immediately. "They've been giving me crap all weekend. I'm just starting to get sick of it."

"I get it," Christine offered, leaning her back on the wall. "No offense, but I think I've been sick of Tommy and Carol since the seventh grade."

He chuckled at that. Christine wished she couldn't feel her chest swell with pride. Feelings were stupid as hell.

"How are you feeling?" he asked finally.

"Fine." She watched him run a hand through his hair, and her stomach clenched. She remembered she was supposed to be sick. "Better, I mean. Since the party."

"Good. Good, good, yeah…"

Steve nodded, and looked down at the orange carpet. One hand was tapping his chin speedily. His knee was bouncing too, just like he did before he took a long shot in a basketball game. It was a nervous tick he had. But Christine couldn't imagine what was making him nervous.

"Steve?" she prompted. "Four and a half minutes."

"Hm? Oh—right, sorry. Uh…I just wanted to ask if…I don't know. Have—Have you talked to Nancy lately?"

"Not really," she sighed. "Not since…what was it? Wednesday night, I guess. When she was blaming me for Barb going missing."

"She what?" he asked in surprise.

"I told you. We got into a big fight about talking to the cops. She wanted to make sure I was coming to school since I was the last person to see Barb. And she thinks I was stupid to fall asleep and leave her alone."

"That's—That's crazy, though. You know that, right? That's not your fault."

"Yeah, I know," Christine mumbled. "It's no one's fault, it's just one of those things, bad things happen to good people, all that crap. It still sucks."

Steve nodded, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "But you—you haven't talked to Nance about anything else? You haven't seen her?"

"No. Well, I saw her yesterday at the funeral but we didn't…"

"She was there?" Steve asked with rapt attention. "Was she there with Jonathan?"

Christine stared at him.

"It was his brother's funeral. So yeah. Jonathan was there."

"No, I meant—like did you see them sitting together? Were they talking?"

"No? Jonathan was sitting with his parents. You know. Cause it was his brother's funeral." Steve nodded shakily, but didn't look convinced. "Why do you wanna know about Jonathan anyway?"

Steve let out a dry laugh. Nervous hands wormed out of his pockets and through his hair again. He folded his arms, then rested them on his hips instead. His knee was still bouncing.

"So…So I go over to the Wheelers' yesterday, right? After the funeral, just to apologize and to check up on her. I thought maybe I could take her to see this stupid movie again, take her mind off things. But she blew me off. Which—I mean, I get it. Things have been crazy, a kid's dead, her brother was friends with him. But she seemed really…I don't know. Off. Nervous, scared. And she was swinging a baseball bat around her garage like some kind of lunatic. She said she'd call me later and…she didn't."

"Steve," Christine said gently. "I'm sure she was just with Mike. Yesterday was rough for him."

"Yeah, but that's the thing," said Steve, finally looking up at her. "I went over there to check on her again, and…she wasn't with Mike. She was with Jonathan."

"…wait, what?"

"Jonathan. Byers. He was in her room."

Christine's brain struggled to create an image matching the description. Jonathan Byers, with his worn out denim jacket and shadowy eyes, standing amidst Nancy's white wicker furniture and pastel pillows.

"No way," she said, actually smiling. "Look, I'm sure if Jonathan was ever at the Wheelers' it was just to talk. To Mike, maybe. He's not even friends with Nancy."

"They were certainly friends last night. He was sitting on her bed, he had his arms around her and…"

"Wait, they were kissing?" Christine choked out.

"No!" Steve shook his head fervently, blinking hard. "I mean—I don't know. I left pretty quick. But they were together, and so I…I guess I just…has she talked about him at all…?"

"Definitely not," she assured him. She was still reeling. "Look, maybe…I don't know. Maybe he and his mom came over to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler. It was the funeral, right? Maybe she was just comforting him."

"Right. They looked really comfortable."

Christine wanted to argue, but she couldn't find the words. Had she really missed that much in the week she hadn't spoken to Nancy? She had never, ever expressed interest in Jonathan Byers. She'd only ever had eyes for Steve. And she'd gotten him. Nancy should be happy, if a little stressed. Unless…

It was hard to stop her brain from spinning wild stories. What if she'd gotten Steve and already gotten bored? What if she'd gotten Steve, and then realized she didn't like him as much as she thought she did? What if she'd only taken him because Christine liked him? Barb had been the one to say it was turning into some twisted competition. Maybe Steve had been the prize and Nancy had just wanted to get there first.

She thought back to their sleepover, and Nancy admitting her schoolyard crush on Peter Jorgins. Christine had been friends with her for years and not known. Was it the same with Jonathan? Had Nancy always been interested in him, but felt too embarrassed to say anything? Or had it just been a spur of the moment connection? Jonathan looking for a distraction from Will's death, and Nancy willing to help? Was…Was Nancy even capable of something like that?

Christine's brain warred with itself. She couldn't believe it. And she wouldn't. Not without talking to Nancy. They were supposed to be friends, and despite all the fighting and the bitching and the lashing out, she still cared about her. Saying she cheated on Steve with Jonathan was a huge accusation. It was insane.

But Steve spoke before Christine could explain any of this.

"I just can't believe she'd do something like this. I mean, after everything at my party…"

Christine flushed. That wasn't a particularly comfortable conversation to land on.

"Um…look, I…I'm sure it's nothing personal. I mean, I know I was asleep, but I'm sure that…you know…whatever you and Nancy did went…fine…"

Steve blinked at her. It seemed to be a few seconds before he realized what she was talking about, at which point he began spluttering. He even looked like he was blushing.

"Oh, no! No, I didn't—that's not—I mean, it did, but I wouldn't wanna talk—shit, um—not me! I meant Jonathan!"

"Jonathan?" Christine repeated slowly. "What about him?"

"What happened at the party."

"He wasn't at the party."

The silence that followed made Christine extremely uneasy. Steve was squinting at her, confused and incredulous. It was making her feel stupid. She racked her brains, trying to remember what had happened Tuesday night in her drunken haze. Jonathan definitely hadn't been invited. She wasn't drunk enough to forget that. Had it been before she got there? Had someone said something about him? What could have happened that was making Steve look at her like he had to break the news that someone else had died?

"Do you seriously not know?" he asked quietly.

"Know what, Steve?"

His mouth opened and closed mutely. He ran a hand through his hair, and Christine swore if he did it again she might grab his wrist and break it. "I mean, I know you skipped some school, but…shit. You really haven't talked to Nancy, have you?"

"About what?"

"About, uh…okay…I really wish I didn't have to tell you this. Shit."

"Steve, just spit it out!"

"Fine!" He looked down at her, conflicted. "Jonathan was at my party that night."

"Okay. Well, I didn't see him."

"Of course not. None of us did. He was standing in the damn bushes taking pictures."

"He…what?"

"He had his stupid little camera and he was taking pictures," he said, talking very quickly now. "Nicole takes photography too, so she went to the dark room last week and bumped into Jonathan. And she didn't think anything of it, cause he's in there all the time—you know, cause he has no friends. But then she saw his photos hanging up, and they were all grainy pictures of us around my pool."

"Pictures of…? He—He was…?"

"Being a regular Peeping Tom, yeah. He must've gotten there around the same time as you. Honestly, we thought he might've followed you or something. Tommy thought that you were in on it, for a while."

"That I was what?"

Christine pushed off the wall, taking several angry steps forward. Steve scrambled back, until he was the one with his back to the wall.

"Woah! Hey! I didn't say anyone believed him! You know Tommy, he just loves saying stupid shit! And he thought that since you were so pissed at Nancy you might be trying to get back at her. You know, blackmail or whatever."

"Blackmail?" She was tired of repeating him, but she couldn't find her footing in the conversation. "What the fuck are you talking about, Steve?"

"The pictures," he explained shakily. "I mean, they show all of us drinking. Which, you know, is illegal. And then there were the really creepy ones of Nancy in the pool, and then…then you know…the ones uh…in my room."

Christine clapped a hand over her mouth. This time, she really might vomit. She was sure of it. Of course, she'd been mad at Nancy. She'd been furious. But she would never do something like this. She'd never wish, never even think about something happening like this. Jonathan Byers was a weirdo, sure. But she never thought he'd been capable of this.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

She wobbled on the spot, and Steve grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

"Hey, I never believed Tommy, alright? I know you'd never do that to Nancy. I mean, you were in the pictures too, right? You had your whiskey, and then…then you were crying in the living room. And Barb was out on the diving board with her hand…"

Christine's head snapped up. "What?"

"Barbara. Remember when she cut her hand?"

"No, I know," Christine snapped. "She was sitting on the diving board?"

"Uh, yeah. After everyone went upstairs."

"I…I don't remember that."

"Oh, well…you weren't in the picture so, maybe it was after you passed out."

Christine's mind zapped back into motion. Barb had been on the diving board. Jonathan had been there. It had been after she passed out.

She stared up at Steve in horror. "Did you tell the cops?"

"What? No." He shook his head in confusion. "Look, I know he was being a creep, but I took care of it."

"Not about Jonathan, about Barb. The pictures."

"Christine, I didn't tell them about anything. I'm in enough trouble as it is cause Nancy blabbed about the beers. I don't need photo evidence."

Her jaw dropped. "I can't believe you."

"You—You can't believe me?" he repeated incredulously. "What about you? You know, if those pictures went to the cops, you'd be in trouble too!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Why not?"

"Because! I'm not the last one who saw Barb alive. Jonathan was."

"Christine…"

But she wasn't listening. Christine ran back through the lobby and down the opposite hallway. She knocked on the office door and let herself in without waiting for a response.

"Hey, Anthony, can I use your phone? Thanks."

Her boss jumped behind his desk, staring as she leapt for the phone on the desk. "Who's up front?"

"No one."

"Christine, I've told you…!"

"One call," she said shortly, already punching in the numbers.

There wasn't much he could do as she held the phone up to her ear. It rang and rang, but there was no response. That wasn't entirely a surprise. No one had been at her house when she'd left, but she was still holding onto far flung hopes. She hung up and dialed again, calling a different number. This time it only rang twice.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Claudia! It's Christine."

"Hello, sweetheart! Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. I'm just looking for Dustin. Is he home?"

"Oh, no. You know Dusty! Up at the crack of dawn and out on his bike. You could try…?"

"Okay. Thanks, Claudia."

She hung up the phone, and started to dial again.

"Christine," Anthony said wearily. "You said one call. It's been…"

"Anthony, Will Byers is dead and my best friend has been reported missing. I'm just trying to get some information. Thanks."

Anthony sagged back in his seat, and grumpily turned to his expense reports.

"Hello?" the voice on the phone asked.

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. This is Christine Walcott."

"Christine! Thank God. Do you know where Nancy is?"

"Oh, uh…no? I was calling to look for Mike."

"Michael's not home. In fact, neither of my children are."

"Okay. Well thanks, Mrs…"

"Christine, did you stay over last night?"

Christine clamped her mouth shut. So Nancy did have someone spending the night. Someone her parents didn't know about. Someone that definitely wasn't her, and definitely wasn't Steve.

Nancy Wheeler had some gall.

"Nope," Christine said with a shrug. "Sorry, Mrs. Wheeler. I was with Dustin. I'm really sorry, but I'm at work, so I've got to run. Thanks."

She hung up before Mrs. Wheeler could ask any other questions. She plugged in one last number and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hawkins Police Department. This is Flo speaking. How may I direct your call?"

"Hi. My name's Christine Walcott. I'm a friend of Barbara Holland's, and I spoke to two officers earlier this week?"

"Their names?" she asked dully.

"Uh…I can't remember. The guys who came down to the high school. But I had some more information I wanted to report. I was wondering if I could speak to one of them?"

"If you would like to file a report, you can come down to the station at your earliest convenience."

"I'm not filing a report," Christine said in annoyance. "I'm offering more information on a missing persons case."

"And you can come down to the station to offer it."

"I'm at work right now."

"Then you can come down to the station at your earliest convenience."

"Seriously? Will Byers' funeral was yesterday, there's a teenage girl still missing, and Hawkins Police isn't going to put every available officer on the case? You don't have anyone that you can send over to take a statement?"

The woman named Flo sighed heavily. "What is your address?"

Christine rattled off her information, instructing them to send a cruiser to The Hawk as soon as possible. Then she darted out of the office before Anthony could get to lecturing her again.

Calling the police hadn't been an incredibly helpful idea. She knew that the police couldn't actually find Barbara, not if she was trapped in the Upside Down. But without Eleven, they were her best place to start. If Christine could talk to an officer, she might be able to get more information about the case—what the other kids from the party had reported, whether or not they'd found Barb's car, if her parents had received any mysterious calls or electrical problems. It might give her a better idea of where Barb was hiding in the other dimension. And while she had the cops around, Christine could report Jonathan Byers for being a class A pervert too.

Steve and his crew were gone when she got back to the lobby. That wasn't a surprise so much as it was a relief. If she had to hear Tommy crack a joke about Jonathan spying on them, or Nancy sleeping with him, she probably would've gone postal. With some quiet, Christine was free to hop behind the counter and go back to her radio. If ever she needed to reach Eleven, it was now.

The second matinee showing let out. Christine didn't pay any attention to the patrons who were lingering in the lobby, or the ones were whispering on the sidewalk. She just darted into the theater and began sweeping as fast as possible.

It was a mistake she didn't realize until a few minutes later.

Christine cleaned the theater, then took care of the bathrooms. Arms full of garbage, she kicked the alley door open before she heard the voices on the other side. She was so focused, she didn't even realize the hush that fell over the alley as she walked to the dumpster. She didn't notice anything until she turned around to go back inside and found six sets of eyes staring at her.

The alleyway was filled with people. Steve, Tommy, Carol and Nicole had clearly decided to hang out here after they'd fled the lobby. A couple empty cups and boxes on the ground confirmed her suspicions that they'd swiped some snacks from the counter while she was too busy to notice. But they'd found other ways to occupy themselves. Tommy held a can of red spray paint at his side, and the wall behind him read, "Byers is a perv."

Down at the opposite end of the alley, Nancy was standing with Jonathan Byers at her side.

"What's going on?" Christine asked.

She immediately felt very stupid. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

"Oh you know," sighed Carol. "Just catching up."

"Thanks for the snacks by the way," Tommy said with a grin. "Hope you don't mind."

"Go to hell, Tommy."

"Christine?" Nancy's voice cracked as she called her name. "You're…You knew they were…?"

To Christine's surprise, Nancy started marching forward, her hands balled into fists at her side. She looked positively livid. Jonathan made a grab for her shoulder, and Steve stepped in front of Christine.

"Hey, hey, cool it," he said, holding up a hand. "She didn't know."

"Bullshit," spat Nancy, as Jonathan pulled her back.

"Didn't know about what?" Christine asked. Her defenses were already up, and she laughed humorlessly. "Oh! Are we talking about all the things Christine didn't know?"

"Oh shit," Tommy giggled to Carol. "Here it comes…"

But Christine was too focused on Nancy to care.

"How about that you went looking for Barb, but didn't tell me? Cause what—you were too busy thinking it was my fault? Or what about the fact that Byers took creepy pictures of all of us? Naked pictures of you?"

"I wasn't…"

"But that's fine. Don't tell Christine. And let's not tell the cops, either. Let's let everyone think it's Christine's fault Barb's gone, because she was last person to see Barb and she's so irresponsible for falling asleep! Let's not tell anyone how Jonathan was trespassing, and stalking us, cause he might get in trouble! And you know what? Maybe I'll just sleep with him while I'm at it!"

"That is not what happened. And if you were my friend you'd believe that. You're supposed to believe me, Christine!"

"And I thought I did! I really did. Steve told me and I thought, 'No. No way would Nancy Wheeler do that.' But then I got off the phone with your mom and…"

"You called my mother?"

"Yeah! Cause I was looking for you. Or Mike. Or anyone who might be able to tell me what's going on, since Christine doesn't know anything! And your mom asked if I was the one who slept in your room last night. So. What do you have to say to that, Nancy?"

Gasps and oohs filled the alley as they stared off. Steve had stepped aside, pulled to the wall by Carol who wanted to sit back and watch the show. Jonathan made another attempt to grab Nancy's arm.

"Nancy, let's just go…"

"No." Nancy ripped out of his touch, stalking forward as she glowered at Christine. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

"Ha! Maybe I am," Christine countered, stepped up as well. "But at least I'm sane. And hey, I'm not a stalker. That's better than I can say for the two of you."

"God, you are so self-absorbed! He wasn't stalking us! He was in the woods looking for his brother!"

"Yeah, and then he stood in front of Steve's house for twenty minutes taking pictures of a pool party. Wow, you're right! He's a regular investigative journalist! Let's just give him the Pulitzer now!"

"You're just jealous!" Nancy was backpedaling, going back to her cornerstone argument. "You've been such a shitty friend all week, and it's cause you're so busy wallowing in your own jealousy that you've got no idea that there are more important things going on!"

"Of course I'm jealous!"

She was saying too much. Could hear Nicole and Carol gasping while Tommy elbowed Steve in the ribs. But she was too far gone now and there was no way for her logical brain to send a clear message to her mouth.

"I've always been jealous!" she screamed. "Cause you've got the perfect nuclear family and the perfect grades and the perfect face! Everyone thinks you're perfect! And so Steve liked you! And you wanted me to be the perfect friend and support your perfect relationship! But you didn't give a crap about me, or my feelings, and you treated me like shit! And what's worse is that now you're treating Steve like shit! Did you ever even like him? Huh? Or were you just sleeping with him to prove that you could? Cause that's another thing that you can do and I can't?"

"Shut up! Of course, I…"

"Or maybe you were just biding your time til Byers came along, huh? Did you always like him, or does the stalker thing turn you on?"

"I said shut up!" Nancy screamed. "You have no idea what I've been through this week!"

"Two guys, for one thing."

Nancy charged forward, and Jonathan caught her around the middle. She struggled in his arms, prompting a few jeers from Tommy and Carol. Jonathan had to yell to make himself heard over them.

"Nancy, stop! Stop it! We're just wasting time!"

"Oh, this is a waste of time?" Steve had stepped up again, standing between Christine and Nancy as he glared daggers into Jonathan's face. "No, no, no. You don't get to say this is a waste of your time. I think you deserve everyone here an apology, man."

"An apology?" he repeated incredulously.

"Yeah. Seems to me like your deviant habits are really putting a strain on some people. I think you should apologize."

"Right, my deviant habits," Jonathan laughed. "None of this happened because you're an asshole."

"Hey," Tommy barked, hopping down from his perch. "Watch your mouth, faggot."

For a moment, it seemed like Jonathan was going to lash back. But with some ungodly amount of self-control, he took Nancy by the arm and started walking to the mouth of the alley.

Unfortunately, Steve wasn't done with him yet. He followed them step by step, shoving Jonathan's back every few words.

"You know what, Byers? I'm actually kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer, but I guess you're just a little screw up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. That house is full of screw ups. You know, I guess I shouldn't be surprised! A bunch of screw ups in your family!"

"Jonathan, leave it," Nancy begged over Steve's tirade. "Jonathan!"

"I mean, your mom? Psh! I mean, I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother!"

"Steve!" Christine yelled. "Stop it!"

"Jonathan, I said leave it!"

"I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but the Byers? Their family is the disgrace to the entire—…!"

Jonathan's self-control ran out.

Steve had fallen into the wall before anyone had seen it coming. Christine screamed, and Nicole had slapped her hands over her mouth. Somehow, Tommy was still puffing on his cigarette with mild interest. There was a deadly moment of silence as Steve clutched his face. Then, he pounced on Jonathan.

The next seconds passed in a blur. Steve and Jonathan were wrestling, struggling to keep their hands free long enough to punch the other in the face. Nancy and Christine both ran forward. They tried to break the boys apart, but it was hard to get close without getting punched themselves. First Steve was on top, then Jonathan, then Steve again.

"Get in there!" Carol yelled, shoving Tommy forward. "He's gonna hurt himself!"

Tommy stood between them for a grand total of two seconds before Steve pushed him out of the way. "Get out of here! Get out of here."

"Fine! Fight over the whore!"

Christine wasn't sure when the decision was made. One minute they were all watching Steve and Jonathan. The next, she'd propelled herself between them and was lunging for Tommy's throat.

"Christine!"

Tommy slammed into the wall, his head thunking solidly against the plywood he'd been decorating with slurs. "Ow! Stop! What the fuck…?"

"Shut up!" Christine screeched, and she rammed her fist into his nose. "Just shut! The fuck! Up!"

It was impossible to distinguish between the fights. Everyone was screaming or grunting in pain. Nancy had leapt forward to grab Christine, while Carol was trying to restrain her arms without getting scratched. Nicole was ushering Tommy away, helping him cradle his bleeding nose. Christine was kicking and screaming so loudly that hardly anyone was paying attention to Steve and Jonathan rolling on the ground.

The police car pulled up not long after that.

"Cops!" Tommy yelled down the alley. "Come on, Carol! Let's go!"

"Get back here!"

It was Christine and the police, all screaming in unison and fury. Nancy held Christine tight while Jonathan was handcuffed, and the other cop chased a heavily beaten Steve and Tommy down the alley.

"Hey!" The first one bellowed. He grabbed Christine by the shoulders. "Knock it off! You understand me? Knock it off!"

It was one of the two cops she'd spoken to at the school, Powell. He glared down at her, daring her to keep up the commotion. But with Tommy out of her sight, with the fighting stopped, all of Christine's energy had drained away. Even anger was too much work. She brought her bruised knuckles to her mouth, eyes watering.

"Sorry," she said brokenly. "I just—I'm sorry…"

"Yeah, everyone's hella sorry when they get caught," he said gruffly. "Get in the cruiser. All three of you."

"Officer," Nancy said, one hand still on Christine's arm. "Do we really need…?"

"Now!"

There was no more argument. Powell lugged Jonathan to the car, tossing him into the back seat. Nancy dove after him, trying to get him situated upright while he had no use of his hands. Reluctantly, Christine climbed in beside her. The door slammed shut, and she repressed a jump.

The car was almost silent. Jonathan and Nancy spoke in dark whispers, asking each other if they were okay, assuring the other they were fine. Christine just glared out the window. There was a lot she didn't know, but she felt certain she'd feel better if she'd landed a few more punches to Tommy H's face.

Powell returned with his partner empty handed. Well, Powell was empty handed. Callahan was cradling his nose where Jonathan had caught him in the face. They didn't acknowledge the teens in the back seat as they climbed into the car, and they barely acknowledged each other as they pulled out of the alley.

As they turned onto the main road, Christine glanced up at the front of The Hawk. It looked like Tommy had certainly been busy while she was talking to Steve. Though how he'd accomplished it, she wasn't sure. The front marquee was covered in the same red spray paint. It now read, "All the Right Moves: Starring Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler."

Christine's heart sank. At least she had the rest of the drive to think about how royally she'd fucked up.