Author's note: Hi everyone. It's been a long, long time since I wrote any fanfiction, but I was very much inspired by the character of Eddie in season four of Stranger Things, and when ill in bed for a few days, I sat down to write. This story positively poured out of me and I wrote almost 20,000 words in just those few days. I was definitely inspired by the wonderful scene in episode one between Eddie and Chrissy. I wanted to flesh out their story, but ended up deciding that I wanted to stick to the season four plotline, so created my own character, Veronica, instead. However, there are a couple of nods to the original scene in this first chapter, which I hope you'll appreciate.

The name of this story is from 'Sara' by Fleetwood Mac for anyone interested. It's a beautiful song and I listened to it a lot while writing this story. Stay tuned for chapter two, which will be up shortly.


Part I

Chapter I

"Veronica!"

I sighed at the sound of my name. I took one last drag of the cigarette I was holding and hastily put it out with my shoe. I'd stolen it not five minutes before from my mom's purse and hoped she wasn't calling because she'd noticed. My mom's voice called again. Picking up the still warm cigarette stub, I wrapped it in a tissue and shoved it in my pocket, making a mental note to dispose of it discreetly later.

I was at breaking point. Or so I thought at the time.

I slid open the back door to the house and slipped back inside, hoping the cigarette smoke hadn't followed me in. My mom appeared in the doorway on the other side of the room.

"There you are," she said. "They'll be here any minute and I'm not having my friends see you dressed like that."

I looked down at the blue jeans and cropped t-shirt that I was wearing. It didn't seem too bad to me.

"What's wrong with this?" I asked.

She ignored my question. "Please go and get dressed."

It was Saturday afternoon, and my mom was entertaining again. These were new friends, so she was on her best behaviour and that meant I had to be too. My younger brother had just started middle school and she'd invited some of the mom's over for tea. Usually, I tried to skirt these things, but this time, I didn't protest. There was never much point in trying to say no.

A short time later, I was sat demurely in the living room, now wearing a dress, my hair brushed, and make-up done. Perfectly poised – the exact opposite to how I felt in my mind. I tried my best to look interested in what they were saying. Really, I was thinking about the unfinished essay that sat on my desk upstairs and how I really wanted to tear it into pieces and never look at it again. How what I really wanted to do was curl up on the sofa in the den and read a book. Or better yet, to get away from the house entirely and take a picnic blanket to the park to enjoy the sunshine left over from summer.

I was glad I had stolen that cigarette. I didn't make it a regular habit – I only did it as often as I could without my mom noticing any were missing – but it helped to calm my mind from time to time. I would stand out by the back door, looking out on the greenery of the garden into the trees beyond, taking a few moments of peace.

"Oh yes, Veronica plays piano and cello," my mom crooned.

My mind came into focus again at the sound of my name. My mom patted my leg. Her gold chain bracelet glinted in the afternoon sun as it streamed in through the window. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and gave a weak smile in return. The eyes of all five women were on me. I didn't know their names. They all looked much the same to me anyway, so I'm not sure I'd have remembered them if I had been told – all in matching pastel suits or floral dresses. I looked down at my own pink floral dress and practically groaned. I fit right in. I was a string of pearls and a perm away from being one of them.

It seemed inevitable that this would be me one day. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of my future. I was sat in my own living room, surrounded by women that looked just like me, looking at my daughter and telling everyone about all the things I made her do.

"How wonderful!" one of my mom's friends replied. I noticed some of her pink lipstick was stuck on her front tooth as she smiled widely at me.

I had to do things differently. Something differently, at least. I wasn't sure I could do a lifetime of this.

Little did I know, things would eventually get so much worse. But we're not quite there now. At that time, my worst nightmare had been sitting with my mom's friends, trying to look like I wanted to be there. I sipped my tea for something to do.

"She's top of all her classes," my mom continued, beaming.

"Ok, mom…" I said gently. I chuckled politely and wished I could steer her away from this topic of conversation. I could barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. This definitely wasn't true. I was doing well, but top of all my classes was an exaggeration.

"And she tutors, don't you, Veronica?" I didn't need to answer for her to continue.

My mom's friends all nodded eagerly. This scenario was a regular occurrence in our house. The audience changed but the conversation stayed the same. This time, my mom was the only one with a kid in high school. It was all the more reason for her to brag, but I couldn't work out if it was to convince them or herself of her success as a parent.

"She's on the cheerleading team too. Just like I was in school," my mom continued.

"Quite the star!" another friend commented, before turning to my mom. "You must be so proud."

"She's in senior year now. It's a big one!"

I zoned out then. I could faintly hear my mom chatting about what I might do once I graduated. Why she couldn't just ask me, seeing as I was sat right there, I didn't know. Probably because she had her own plans for what I would do, it no doubt hadn't entered her head that I might have my own. My mind wandered to other things. I thought back on the cigarette I'd surreptitiously had earlier and wished I'd had a few more minutes to finish it. Perhaps then I'd be feeling more relaxed.

If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have learnt piano or cello, or done gymnastics, as well as cheerleading, on top of all my schoolwork and revision. Not to mention basketball games and competitions every once in a while, and the three students I tutored a week. I was only one person. But it wasn't up to me. My mom would never have let me quit.

And anyway, back then, school was everything to me. Being good at school was all I knew. Having down time just meant I could fit more in – volunteer somewhere, take on an extra student to tutor, help my mom around the house. If I'd have been given some free time, I really don't think I'd have known what to do with it.

Case in point was that Saturday afternoon. Rather than go out with my friends, I was stuck in a stuffy living room with five other women, listening to my mom say words to her friends that I'd never heard her say to me before – like how she was proud of me and how much I'd achieved. I wanted to laugh, but instead I sat there and smiled and nodded.

Some might call this behaviour amiable, sensible, obedient. I call it indoctrinated. I think I'd have carried on this way for my whole life had certain circumstances not occurred that irrevocably changed everything – had a certain someone not shown me that things could be different.


My wholehearted belief in striving for perfect came at a price and right at that time, that was my sanity.

I was sat in the library, trying to work but feeling distracted. It was only a few weeks into the school year and already my motivation was beginning to wane. I was bracing myself for a particularly busy time. I had to submit my History essay, revise for a pop quiz in Math, and practice for an upcoming gymnastics contest, on top of cheerleading practice, music lessons, tutoring. Something had to give.

I was physically tired and mentally pushed to my limits already, and the thought of this continuing for another year – the most important one, senior year – made me want to crawl into bed and not come out. Something had to change this year. I couldn't do it any longer. At that time, dropping any of my responsibilities just wasn't even an option to me. It didn't even cross my mind.

Indoctrinated remember? Failure was not an option.

I'd tried to think of other solutions. But short of cloning myself, I wasn't coming up with a lot of options.

I'd once read about this drug that could help you focus, study longer, stretch your mind beyond its normal limits. I think it was in one of my dad's science magazines that I still kept, probably from the 70s. I was thinking about this as I sat in the library after school, trying to do some revision. I was imagining how much easier it would make my life. Day dreaming, really.

My mind was wandering. I was feeling tired from a busy weekend, a day of school, followed by cheerleading practice. I'd wanted to go home but knew the next afternoon I had a tutoring session and wouldn't be able to do my own schoolwork if I didn't do it today. Despite knowing this, I still sat absentmindedly staring at the drab carpet of the library instead of focusing on the book in front of me.

I was dreaming about taking that drug – my mind bursting open like the bud of some bright flower, making my pen flow with endless ideas and my world turn from black and white to technicolour. I imagined staying up through the night, staying alert, until I finished everything I needed to do. I imagined the satisfaction of finally closing my notepad, knowing that I'd accomplished everything, solved everything, in whatever form that took. This was not the first time I'd thought about this. But it was the first time I acted on it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a groan of frustration in the otherwise silent library. My eyes snapped to a figure in front of me who had made the distinctive sound.

Eddie Munson sat on the row of tables opposite me. He wore his signature denim vest and black leather jacket, instantly recognisable. This was the first time I'd ever seen him in the library. He wasn't someone I ever encountered, but of all the places, the library would be the last place I'd have pictured bumping into him. He proceeded to rip out the page he'd been working on from the bound notepad and screw it up into a ball. He gave a weak throw and it haphazardly bounced across the desk and onto the floor.

Eddie and I had been at school together forever, just like countless other students in this small town. I'd never much spoken to him, seeing as he was a couple of years older. But there were two things I knew about Eddie Munson. He was part of the Hellfire Club. And he dealt drugs.

It gave me a thought…

At the time, I barely thought twice about what I was doing – which is probably why I ended up doing it. It was an incredibly stupid thing for someone with such an excellent academic track record at school to do, but I've never regretted it. I only feel sad for myself now. Now I can see how desperate I was.

My eyes darted about the library, glancing down the row of tables either side of me. One or two students sat along the rows of twenty desks or so. Luckily for me, it was quiet this late after the school day. I glanced one more time at the students to confirm their heads were still firmly in their books, before looking straight at the long-haired fellow senior on the row of tables opposite mine.

"Pssst," I hissed. He didn't respond, only continued tapping his pencil against his notebook, staring at the blank page before him. I made the sound again.

The tapping stopped.

"Munson," I whispered with urgency.

He looked up, wide-eyed and startled for a second before he recognised me. He looked from side to side in an almost exaggerated motion, then back at my face. He gave a quizzical look, pointed at himself and mouthed the word 'me?'.

I nodded hurriedly. He gave a confused look.

"What?" He mouthed, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

I said nothing but beckoned him with one hand.

"What do you want?" Was it possible for a whisper to be aggressive? I wondered.

"Come here," I mouthed. There was only so many times I could wildly gesture at him from across two rows of desks before someone noticed.

He looked around again and when he could see no one was watching, he set down his pencil, rolled his eyes and got up from his chair.

"What's up, Hartley?" He asked in a low voice, crouching beside my desk.

"You sell…" I looked around me again before leaning closer to him. "Drugs, right?"

He smirked at me. "Who's asking?"

"My… er, friend," I said pointedly. "Needs something to keep her up, help her study, pay attention, you know?"

"Ok…" he replied slowly.

"Have you got anything that can do that?" I asked.

"Yeh… I think so?" He thought for a moment. "Your friend really wants to do well at school, huh?"

"I get that you might find that hard to relate to, but yes," I whispered, impatiently.

He gave a low chuckle. "Be careful, Hartley. You're asking me for help, remember?"

"Point taken." But no apology given. I was so stubborn back then.

"Meet me by my van in, like," he glanced at the clock behind me on the wall, his brown eyes wide. "Thirty minutes."

He didn't wait for an answer but rose to his full height and walked back to his seat. He gathered his things noisily, slung his bag on his back and sauntered out of the library. Any excuse not to continue the work he was so clearly frustrated by, I noted.

I could only watch his retreating back and wonder if I was making the right decision. Well, obviously it was the wrong one. Asking Eddie Munson for drugs to help me study? Not my finest hour. But like I said, I was desperate.


I tried to focus on my work and not keep checking the time, but it was pretty fruitless. My mind was elsewhere. Twenty minutes or so passed and I decided that was long enough to wait. I packed my things in my satchel, slung it over one shoulder, and crept out, making sure I didn't draw any attention to myself. I had suddenly felt like everyone knew what I was going to do. This was the first time I was doing anything out of line, let alone, illegal.

Reaching the parking lot, it was pretty clear which one was Eddie. Not that I wouldn't have recognised the clapped-out van anyway, everyone knew what it looked like. You couldn't miss him screeching into the parking lot every morning. But it was one of the few cars left in the parking lot. The autumn sun was low in the sky, casting a golden glow on everything. The stripes of white paint on the side of the van looked orange, and the light made his head of dark brown hair, bobbing along to the beat of heavy metal music, look auburn.

I skipped down the front steps of the school and made my way to the van. Pulling open the stiff door handle, I slid into the front passenger seat. Eddie said nothing as I entered the car, only looking over at me by the corner of his eye as he turned the music down.

"So, can you help me out? I mean, my friend," I hastily corrected, I was nervous now that I was doing this – and it was showing.

"I got ya, girl," he replied, holding up a small plastic bag with a few white pills in it. I made to reach for it, but he snatched it away before I could take it from his hand.

"Tell your friend, one at a time." He said the words slowly and carefully, looking me dead in the eye. A considerate drug dealer, how nice, I thought at the time.

"Got it," I replied, reaching for the bag again. Before I could grab it, he pulled it away for a second time. I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Uh-ah," he said, tick tocking a finger. "Payment first."

"How much?"

"A hundred dollars."

"Holy shit, are you serious?" I asked, incredulous.

"Guy's gotta make some cash, hon. These aren't cheap."

"No discounts for old time…" He gave me a look and I stopped myself from saying 'friends'. This was the longest Eddie and I had ever spoken, despite being at the same school since we were kids. "Acquaintances?"

Eddie said nothing for a moment. I held his gaze. It was only then that I noticed how dark his eyes were. A deep dark brown that looked at me so intently. Just when I thought he was beginning to stare at me a little too long, he spoke.

"Alright. Call it a first-time buyers discount. Eighty bucks. I'm feeling generous this evening."

He held out his hand expectantly, palm raised, only inches from my face. A rummaged in my bag for a moment, took out a handful of notes and placed them in his waiting hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Pleasure's all mine," I replied dryly, closing my now empty purse. I turned to open the door and step out of the car, but Eddie's voice made me pause.

"Hey, you need a ride?"

He must have guessed correctly that I didn't have a ride home. Usually, I carpooled with my friends, Jessica, or Chrissy or sometimes even Chrissy's boyfriend, but they didn't always stay late at the library like I did. In those instances, I usually walked home. Although, I tried to avoid this when I could – with all the goings on in Hawkins, it didn't seem sensible to walk alone.

I bit my lip as I tried to decide which was worse – walking back on my own or trying to explain to my mom why Eddie Munson had dropped me home in his old black and white van with heavy metal blaring from all sides. I could practically hear my mom's voice in my ear asking what the neighbours would think. Always focusing on the important things, of course.

"I won't bite," he joked, flashing me a grin.


We drove in silence for most of the way. I gazed out of the window, clutching the bag of pills tightly in my hand. Eddie tapped his fingers against the steering wheel rhythmically. He always seemed to be moving in some way or another.

The sound of Eddie's voice interrupted my thoughts. "So, aren't you like a grade-A student? What do you need those pills for?"

"I told you, they're for a friend."

"Yeh… I may have failed senior year twice, but I'm not that dumb. Try again."

"Ok fine, they're for me."

"No shit," he shot back with a laugh.

"I need to study. My mom…" I trailed off, wondering how to end the sentence. "Wants me to do well."

"Don't you study enough already? I see you in the library like every day. You wanna be there nights as well?"

"Ok, stalker," I jested, a small smile spreading across my lips for the first time since we'd started speaking to each other. "Since when do you go to the library anyway?"

"Since I don't want to turn 21 at high school."

"Makes sense," I nodded. Good for him, I thought, slightly impressed by this unexpected revelation. "You can just drop me here."

Eddie did as instructed, pulling up beside the sign for Loch Nora. If I got out and walked from here, my mom would assume I'd walked back.

"See ya, Hartley."

As I got out of the van, I turned to face Eddie, grinning at me from the driver's seat.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime." He gave a mock salute. I closed the van door with a clunk, and he sped off, leaving me slightly reeling from the whirlwind that was Eddie Munson.


It wasn't until later that same day that the thought of what I'd actually done – an illegal drug deal with the strangest guy at school – finally sunk in. Nevertheless, the overwhelming workload hung around my neck like a physical weight and any thoughts of regret or doubt were soon pushed to one side as soon as I looked over at my notepads and textbooks. Constant reminders that there was always more studying to be done. I took the first pill that evening.

I sat staring at it, stark white against the palm of my hand, for a long while before deciding to eventually take it. I'd never taken drugs and never planned to. But I did it anyway.

I'd been half right in my imaginings earlier that day. My brain didn't exactly explode in some sudden rush of ideas and intelligence, some brilliant burst of brainpower. But when I'd sat down to study, I'd had an instant boost of energy, able to study well into the night before I finally switched off. My brain felt sharper, more alert, more switched on. Like normal me, but better.

After that, I decided that I'd save that the other pills until I really, really needed them. Suddenly feeling like I needed to ration them, once I knew their power.

But the next time came sooner than I'd initially been planning, the following week. I'd been so busy with lessons, tutoring, and practices of various forms that I'd forgotten to study for a Math test I'd had coming up. As I sat in my room at my desk, the day before the test, I'd pulled out the little bag from my bottom desk draw, under the stack of study notes where it was hidden and taken out a single pill.

Only one left after this one, I thought.

At the time, I justified all of this to myself by thinking of all the responsibilities I had, the weight of my mom's expectations on my shoulders. Back then, I still wanted to live up to them, I couldn't yet see how toxic they were. And so, I took that second little pill, fully believing that it wasn't the right thing to do, but it was the only thing to do.

When my Math teacher handed our tests back and a big fat 'A' was written on my test paper in red ink, I knew that I had been right. This was confirmation that it worked. Both times, the effects been instant, and I felt them for several days afterwards, albeit lessened. My mind was quicker, I could remember more, I could study for longer, I didn't need as much sleep. I'd felt like I was at my peak the day I did that test and it felt good.

And even once the effects had worn off, I still remembered the feelings I'd had shortly after taking the pills and when thinking about the weeks and months ahead, I was reminded that I only had one left. I needed to ensure that I had a steady supply to last me the rest of the year. And that meant getting Eddie Munson on my side.