Author's note: Back with another chapter and some Eddie and Veronica cuteness. This chapter really is setting things up for the next one, which is a big one so look out for that soon. I hope you'll agree that Veronica is starting to find her feet and discover her voice now. Thank you for the great reviews and some more follows and favourites this week. I appreciate every one of them and love knowing that you are enjoying the story.
P.S. Yesterday I revised Chapter 1. The scenes with Eddie are the same, but the initial introduction to Veronica has now been updated. I'd been thinking about it for a while as I think my writing skills have somewhat improved since I wrote that chapter and I had a bit of a brainwave so went for it. Nothing has changed in terms of the story, but feel free to go back and read the first scene in Chapter 1 again if you fancy it.
Chapter VII
Turning eighteen, while an arbitrary number really, a day no different from the one before, nevertheless felt like a big deal. I was officially an adult. I woke early with more energy than usual. I remember thinking that if I woke up like that every day, then I wouldn't need the pills.
I didn't have much of an appetite, so I picked at my breakfast before heading out for school, keen to get out of the house and in the company of my friends. I wanted the familiar hum of the busy school day over the quietness of home. It was a cloudy autumn day with a slight chill in the air, so I pulled a cardigan on over the dress I wore before I left.
When I saw Chrissy in the hall before class that day, she bounded over. She grinned eagerly at me. I gave her a pointed look, anticipating her celebrations, but I knew she'd ignore me and be excited, nonetheless. I couldn't be mad at her for that.
"Happy birthday," she said in a whisper, her wide eyes glittered with excitement. I was grateful for her discretion and smiled widely back. She pulled me into an unexpected but not unwelcome hug. "What are we doing to celebrate?"
"Erm, I don't know," I replied. I shrugged. "Not much, I guess."
"Are you kidding?" she answered, surprised but I wasn't sure why given my repeated assertions that I didn't like to make a fuss. "You're eighteen now."
"Yeah, and I'm going to celebrate by moving out as soon as school's finished," I laughed.
"Let's go out this weekend – at least," she pleaded. "See a movie, go shopping, something."
She was twisting my arm already. I could never say no to her.
"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes but not really mad. "But no horror movies, please."
It had felt like a while since I'd spent a good amount of time with her anyway. Despite the dud night that was the previous Friday, I didn't want to forget the real reason why I continually hung out with the guys from the basketball team – it was all for Chrissy really. It was because of her that I was friends with them in the first place, and it was because of her that I stayed.
The thing I was most looking forward to that day, however, was History class. Crazy, I know, but I would get to spend an hour in the same room as Eddie at school without anyone questioning it. It's so dumb to me now when I look back. I was so completely naïve. I felt this way just being near him and yet I didn't make a move, I didn't say how I felt.
Before the lesson began, I had ducked into the nearest bathroom. I applied a small amount of colour to my lips. I checked my hair in the mirror, trying to decide whether it looked better down or in a ponytail, wanting to appear at once nonchalant and alluring. I played around with both hairstyles until I gave up and left it down.
In History class, I took a seat in the row second from the back. Eddie usually arrived just after the bell rang, taking the last spare seat, but that day he was early. If you counted being on time as early that is. I tried to appear uninterested as he entered the room and pretended to search my bag for something important. I tensed when he walked right towards me and took the empty seat next to me.
I chanced a glance over at him. He was sat slightly slumped down in his chair, staring right ahead as if waiting for the lesson to start. He'd slung his jacket on the back of his chair. He wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone, showing a Metallica t-shirt underneath. His metal 'lunchbox' sat on the desk along with a single pen but no notepad. I almost chuckled to myself at his half-hearted attempt to prepare for the lesson.
Just as I was about to look away, he turned and met my eye. He gave a small smirk and slowly turned back to the front of the classroom, as if pleased that he'd caught me in the act.
Shit, I thought, feeling embarrassed that I'd been caught. My pen tapped nervously on the desk. There was something about being in such close proximity with him at school that made me nervous. I looked straight ahead at the blackboard, willing myself not to be distracted by him.
About halfway through the lesson, I could see Eddie rummaging in his bag. He made no attempt to stop himself from making a noise as he pulled a notepad out. It slapped down onto the table. There was a rip of paper. He seemed to scribble something.
A moment later, there was a faint hissing sound. I quickly glanced over at Eddie. He leant slightly into the aisle between us. He waited until the teacher's back was turned before throwing a small piece of folded up paper in my direction. It skidded across my desk and landed next to my pen.
I stared at it dumbfounded, quite in disbelief at this bold action and unwilling to draw any more attention to it than it might have already garnered. It felt pretty reckless, anyone in the class might have seen. My eyes darted from side to side. Suddenly my actions felt intensely scrutinised, although no one around me appeared to have noticed anything or moved at all. I picked up the paper and unfolded it discreetly. Black biro spelled the words 'Happy birthday' in large capital letters.
Another note followed seconds later. Except this time, it bumped against my hand and dropped to the floor. I leant down to pick it up, trying to be as surreptitious as possible. I threw a glance over my shoulder as my hand clasped the wad of paper and I caught the eye of the person who sat behind Eddie. It was Andy. I inwardly groaned, snatching up the note and clasping it in my hand tightly. In as few movements as possible, I noiselessly opened the note.
Meet me at my van after school. I have something for you.
The rest of the day couldn't pass quickly enough. Whatever Eddie had for me, I knew it would beat anything else that happened that day. I stood by my locker at the end of lunch, picking up a couple of textbooks that I needed for my afternoon lessons. I was just about to close my locker and head to class when a hand came down hard on the locker next to me with a metallic clang. I jumped in alarm. Chance appeared next to me.
"Andy told me what happened in History Class," he said. His voice was steady, but I saw his jaw tense.
I feigned ignorance and gave him a blank expression. "What do you mean?"
"What's Eddie Munson sending notes to you about?"
We looked squarely at each other for a moment. He searched my face, waiting for an answer that I wouldn't give. He looked more aggressive now with a look on his face that I hadn't seen before. His eyes moved to my locker, and I followed his gaze. We both realised at the same time that the one of the notes was sitting right there at the bottom of my locker. I had stuffed them both between two books but the edge of one jutted out in plain sight. Before I had a chance to react, he had lunged forward, grabbing it before I could snatch it away.
"What are you doing?" I said, looking at him as if he was crazy. I swallowed back my rising panic.
He opened the note, and I watched his eyes flit across the text. I prayed it was the first note and not the second about meeting Eddie by his van after school. I took the opportunity to close my locker should he try for the other note.
"What's this?" he questioned. I shrugged as if it meant nothing.
"Must have been for someone else."
"Why'd you keep it then?"
"I didn't, I—" I stopped mid-sentence, realising I didn't need to justify myself to him. "What's it to you?"
"Why the hell is this guy trying to talk to you?"
I continued to look at him blankly, not giving him anything to work with. I could see him getting visibly angrier. His fist closed roughly around the paper. I watched as Eddie's scrawled handwriting closed in on itself before Chance dropped it on the floor. I felt a pang of sadness that this earlier gesture of affection now lay crumpled at our feet. I fought the urge to pick it up and straighten the paper back out.
"If that freak thinks he can speak to you, then he's got another thing coming."
"You know I tutor him, right? I literally have to speak to him," I said dryly, rolling my eyes. "And we are not together. Did I not make that clear enough?"
Now, I was mad. Chance had seemed to forget about the previous week and how I'd left the party early. Or maybe he just didn't care. School was one big competition to guys like him. He was the kind of guy who did whatever it took to win. Whatever 'winning' meant, anyway.
He ignored me. He seemed to think this detail trivial. I knew this was less about me and more about Eddie. Any excuse to get mad at him. I'd seen it happen for myself. And the way Eddie behaved, they got plenty of chances. Chance wouldn't let this technicality get in the way of that.
"If I see him again, he's dead."
"Would you calm down?" I said, exasperated. I sighed heavily. "I'm not your girlfriend, Chance. Grow up."
With that, I grabbed my bag and walked off. I'd never spoken to Chance like this, to anyone really. It felt good. Chance's temper had been easy to dismiss before when it had been over losing a basketball game or something, but to see it first hand, to have it directed at me, was something else. I realised this must be what Eddie encountered every other week – from Chance or some other guy at school. And yet somehow, he was the strange one, the outcast, the one everyone stayed away from.
Eddie Munson didn't seem one for gifts.
I was very intrigued as to what he had in store that afternoon. But first, I had to work out how to get to his van unseen. Hawkins High School was pretty much an open book. As I had discovered earlier that day, there was always someone watching, waiting for you to step out of line. I didn't like being secretive, but at that moment, it felt like the right thing for both our sake's. Walking across the parking lot felt like running a gauntlet. Eddie's van always sat in full view in the parking lot in front of the school. Everyone knew who it belonged to – whether that was because of the distinctive white stripe wrapped around it, the heavy metal music that blared from it, or the long-haired misfit that jumped in and out of it every day, I didn't know.
When school finished, I stalled – hanging around my locker, nipping back inside to grab something I'd 'forgotten', and using the bathroom one last time to needlessly readjust my clothes and hair. I was nervous. By the time I stepped outside, the parking lot had begun to empty out. Eddie's van sat across the road. I could see his distinctive self in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and nodding in time to the music playing from the van, his long hair swaying with each bob of his head. I couldn't help but smile to myself; I liked knowing he was waiting for me, looking forward, perhaps, to the moment when he saw my face.
I wandered over, walking the length of the van as if to continue along the street beyond it, before slipping behind it and into the passenger seat. It was the second time that day that we'd done some reckless. I prayed no one had seen me jump in the van. Eddie wasted no time once I was in and sped off down the street.
"Are we going somewhere?" I asked.
"Yep," Eddie answered with a grin. "Some place nice."
I bit my lip nervously. "My mom's expecting me home."
"Live a little, Hartley. It's your birthday. What else have you got planned?"
I said nothing, only pursed my lips and looked out of the window.
"See? It'll only be for an hour," Eddie continued. "I promise I'll get you home safe."
When I didn't protest, Eddie turned right at the public library and headed out of town. When we pulled down Mulberry, I knew we were headed towards Lover's Lake. Instead of parking on the road and walking down to the lake, Eddie followed a dirt track right down to the edge of the water and parked up.
I admired the view from the lake's edge. The trees surrounding it were a blaze of yellow and orange above the quiet water. A slight breeze brushed against my bare legs. It sent a gust of leaves up into the air and a ripple across the lake. I was glad I'd worn a cardigan that day and pulled it closer around me.
"You come here often?" I asked.
"Sometimes," he replied, squinting as he looked out on the lake. "When I want some space. When I want to get away from everyone, you know?"
"Yeah, I hear that," I nodded, totally understanding. "I haven't been here since I was little."
"My dad—" he started but seemed to catch himself and paused. "My dad used to take me fishing here sometimes, when I was a kid."
I didn't know much about Eddie's family; this was one of the few references he'd ever made to them. As before, I'd wanted to ask more, but reasoned that he'd open up if and when he was ready.
"It's nice," I said simply when he hadn't continued.
We both looked out on the water, quiet for a moment. The sun was hazy and low in the sky, it cast a soft yellowish light across the lake. It was a beautiful spot.
A few moments later, Eddie began rooting around in the back of the van. It only took a few moments for him to find what he was looking for. He reappeared with one hand behind his back.
"Take a seat, birthday girl," he instructed. I sat on the boot of the van and he joined me, our legs dangling down from the edge of it. He held a tin in one hand and removed the lid with the other to reveal a large round cake. My face lit up as he passed it over to me.
It was covered in white buttercream, rather messily applied, with the words 'Happy Birthday Hartley' written haphazardly in red icing. A few candles had been placed around the letters.
"You couldn't have used 'Veronica'?" I laughed.
Eddie rummaged in his metal lunch box, drawing out a lighter and setting the candles alight.
"Make a wish."
I closed my eyes tightly and did as he instructed before blowing out the candles in one breath.
"What did you wish for?" he asked.
"I can't tell you!"
"That's no fun," he laughed, rather cheekily.
"But then it might not come true," I said earnestly, knowing I sounded like a small child. Not to mention that to tell him would be to reveal far too much. He only pouted at me. I continued: "Did you make this?"
"Yeah…" he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Can't promise it's any good."
There was something deeply endearing about him doing anything remotely domestic. It was so greatly at odds with his entire personality. Just when I thought I knew Eddie, when I thought I'd seen his softer side, he continued to surprise me. This gesture of friendship, affection, whatever it was, only deepened my feelings for him. I was more certain than ever about how I felt. It scared and excited me in equal measure.
"Eddie Munson, in the kitchen," I said, as if in disbelief that it had ever happened. "You are full of surprises."
"It's been known to happen," he said pointedly, raising his eyebrows.
"Do you do this for all your friends?"
He hopped up from his seat and took a few steps, so he stood at the edge of the lake. He picked up a stone and skimmed it across the water, it bounced twice across the surface before disappearing beneath the water with a satisfying 'plop'.
"No," he finally replied, still looking out on the water.
"What makes me so special?" I asked teasingly.
He threw me a look over his shoulder. "Nice try, Hartley."
I trailed a finger through the soft buttercream of the cake, before placing it on my tongue and licking it off with a satisfying smack of my lips.
"What?" I asked.
I placed the cake down next to me so I could fully focus on him. I looked at him wide-eyed as he wandered back over to the van. He wore ripped blue jeans and a black t-shirt that said 'Dio' that day, the logo was just visible underneath his leather jacket. I recognised the same logo from the back of the denim vest he wore all the time. I liked noticing details like this – every piece of clothing was clearly carefully chosen by him. A perfect mirror of who he was if you cared enough to look closely.
"Hartley…" he shook his head like I'd said something unbelievable.
He took a step towards me so that he stood looking down at me. He raised a hand to my face. His knuckles stroked along my chin and his thumb brushed over my lip in a small yet intimate gesture. My lips parted, welcoming his touch. I breathed heavily.
I watched as his tongue stroked the underside of his top lip, his head tilted back slightly, looking down at me with soft brown eyes. I was so incredibly attracted to him in that moment that I almost grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and pulled him into a kiss. I was reminded of his words the previous week – friends don't look at each other the way we do. It was another one of those moments. I was pretty sure friends didn't touch each other like that either.
I'd never felt that impulse towards anyone else. After years of resisting intimacy with pretty much everyone, there I was, willing it to happen – almost to the point of initiating it myself. Only self-doubt held me back. I wished I could get into that goddamn mysterious brain of his so I could know what he was thinking – so I could know if that was what he wanted too.
A smile appeared on his face – the kind of coy smirk that he often had that made it look like he knew a secret that you didn't, and was teasing you with it, tantalising. It was almost like he was reading my mind.
Finally, he spoke.
"Don't start with that innocent thing you do, Hartley, or if I'm not careful, I'll end up answering your question."
Eddie Munson spoke in riddles. I wished I could crack that hard stone exterior open, but he seemed determined not to take the bait – or maybe he just wasn't interested. I went to say something more, but then backed down at that thought.
He dropped his hand and I looked away – at my hands, back out on the water, anywhere but at him. I shivered slightly as gust of wind blew across the lake. The hem of my dress fluttered.
"You cold?" Eddie asked.
"A little." I pulled my cardigan closer.
"Here."
He pulled his jacket off and draped it carefully around my shoulders.
"Thanks," I said quietly. It felt strangely intimate to be wearing his jacket. It smelt of leather, cigarettes, and cologne. It was a strange but pleasant mix. I pulled the jacket around me, cocooning myself in it.
"So… can I have some?" I asked eagerly.
Eddie reached into his trousers and pulled out a pocketknife. I wondered if he carried it around every day at school. He cut me a roughly hewn slice. I couldn't help but notice how he stuck his tongue out as he concentrated on slicing the cake.
"Milady," he said with a half bow, handing it to me clumsily. I took it gladly, despite its messy appearance. I giggled and took a large bite, not caring that the icing went all over my hand.
We sat there for a while longer, chatting and eating the cake, while the sun set over the lake. This day often left much to be desired for me, but not that year. I had Eddie to myself for a while, away from my house and school, and without the need to study. Just him and I talking like regular friends.
I still remember that afternoon, the day of my birthday, so vividly. This small, simple gesture from Eddie, entirely unexpected, had meant everything to me. It had more heart in it than anything I'd ever been given. Sometimes the innocence of the memory makes me feel a profound sadness, and other times, I feel very comforted by it. I often come back to this memory, before everything became complicated, and imagine myself there again. I feel jealous of my former self for being totally ignorant of what was to come.
