Chapter 6 - The Last Time
TW: Abusive Parents and mentions of alcohol abuse
All roads, they lead me here
I imagine you are home
Hop,
We need to talk.
Meet me on the field after the game tonight.
Joyce
The week following the party, Joyce finds herself in a strange place. She hadn't spoken to Hopper, she was being actively pursued by Lonnie Byers and she found herself waving to a few of her peers in the hallway, something she never would have done a few weeks prior.
Joyce never bothered with getting to know her classmates. She had Josie and Eli to enjoy her lunch with and she had Hopper. Now that she and Hopper were no longer speaking, she assumed she would just muddle through on her own. She was surprised to discover herself instead making friends. She isn't sure she enjoys the concept, but she figures it's worth pursuing until she decides she'd rather be on her own. For now, she didn't mind having to say hello to a few of her classmates.
Lonnie Byers was another story. He was clearly interested in her and while Josie had been right and there was a certain spark between them, it just wasn't right. She was interested in her best friend. Even if those feelings went unreciprocated, she wasn't looking for something serious with anyone else. This was one of those problems, she decided, that could also be put off until it absolutely needed to be dealt with. In the meantime, she would keep him around for some fun.
She knows she should probably cut him loose, yet something about the way Hopper's jaw clenched when he saw them together prevented her from telling Lonnie she wasn't interested. It was wrong, but she couldn't help herself from wanting Hopper to feel the way she did when she saw him with Chrissy.
Ever since her party, Hopper had been skipping out on science class, which initially annoys her but later she decides that it's probably for the best. She has no clue what she plans on saying to him the next time she sees him. As more time passes, she begins to regret slapping him.
Their kiss left her feeling confused and upset, but more than anything, being with Hopper reminded her of how much she missed spending time with him. After much deliberation, she decides that she can't stand losing Hopper and that she is willing to forget about everything that happened between them if it meant they could be friends again.
She valued her friendship far more than her anger, which is why on Friday, she decides to leave a note in his locker asking to meet him after the game.
And now, here she is, standing on the bleachers in her acid wash jeans and leather jacket, cheering for the Hawkins High football team. She feels out of place in her dark coloured clothes. It seems the students around her are all dressed in some type green and orange spirit wear and she wonders if it was some kind of unwritten rule that you wore school colours to the game. She hopes not, green was not a colour suited for many people.
Though she and Hopper had been friends for all of high school, she'd never once attended one of his games. Sometimes, after the game ended, he would come over and tell her about his favourite parts, though he never pushed her to come and she had no interest in standing on the bleachers with a crowd of unfamiliar faces.
Even tonight, she debated not showing up. She wasn't sure he'd received her letter, or if he would bother meeting her and her father had just about lost his mind when she told him that she was going out.
.
.
After checking herself over in the mirror and fixing up her red lipstick, Joyce grabs her bookbag and heads for the door.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" her father barks from where he's seated in a recliner opposite the stairs. He's facing the television, and not her, but she can tell by the heaviness in his voice that he's been drinking.
"Out," she tells him, offering no details.
"Out where? You have a curfew."
"I'll be back before curfew," she lies.
He stands, slowly, places his bowl of chips on the overcrowded side table, sending an assortment of newspapers scattering to the floor and he approaches her.
"Where?" he demands. "Where did you get that? No doubt your mother taught you how to do that," he says, pointing to her red lips, "No daughter of mine is going out looking like a whore."
She considers telling him that it's only lipstick but instead opts to wipe it off on the back of her hand. It leaves her knuckles stained red and she wishes she'd packed the tube of lipstick in her bag so that she could reapply it once she left. She did steal it from her mother, who was conveniently out of town for work. Joyce doubted she would even know it was missing.
"Where ya off to anyways?" her father demands to know. He stays leaning on the back of the recliner as Joyce edges closer and closer to the door, desperate to get going and escape his nonsensical line of questioning.
"There's a football game at the school," she explains.
"You don't even like sports," he huffs.
"I'm meeting some friends."
"I doubt anyone would miss you if you stayed home and vacuumed."
"I'll do it tomorrow. I promise," Joyce tells him. Before he has time to make another remark, she slips out the front door and slams it behind her. She knows he won't follow after her, he's too lazy. Instead, he'll mutter to himself about how disrespectful she is and he'll plop himself back in the chair that she'll find him asleep in when she returns home.
"They'd miss me," she mumbles to herself as she begins her walk to the school. She wasn't exactly meeting friends, but if she was, they'd miss her. She was certain they would. She liked to think that she was the type of person that would be missed. Some days, she believed that no one would know if she vanished. Other days, she was determined to believe that even she would be missed.
She wipes the red from her hand onto her bag and curses at herself for not packing the lipstick.
.
.
Watching the crowd around her, Joyce feels a sense of calm and belonging. Everyone was chanting and waving, excitedly jumping up and down as the cheerleaders lining the track wave their pom poms in the air. Joyce spots Chrissy and her heart sinks. She's dressed in her tiny pleated green skirt and matching crop top, with her curly blonde hair pinned back in a green hair tie and she has sparkles on her eyelids that make Joyce cringe. Chrissy catches Joyce's eye and smirks before joining in on the ridiculously over peppy song being sung by her peers.
No wonder Hopper was interested in her. Her uniform was practically non-existent.
Joyce leans back against the wooden plank making up the bleachers and pulls out a cigarette. Mr. Samson had scolded her for smoking in the stands when she first arrived, but he was long gone and she needed a cigarette if she was going to make it through this game. Besides, she and Hopper sometimes ditched fifth and sixth period to share cigarettes beneath the bleachers all the time, she didn't see what was so different about smoking on them.
After relaxing a bit, Joyce watches the commotion unfold around her as the team takes the field. She recognises Hopper by his jersey number, 11, and follows him as he crosses the field in a slow jog until reaching his teammates on the sidelines. Crossing one ankle over the other, she stays seated while everyone around her erupts in cheers and prays that football games are short. Mr. Samson returns to scold her for smoking twice during the first quarter, but each time she rolls her eyes and pretends that she can't hear him over the roar of the crowd.
.
.
In the locker room before the game, Hopper places his shoulder pads over his head and fascens the strap around his side.
The team was buzzing around excitedly, ready to take the field and face their opponents in the final game of the season before the play-offs began. Boys chant and holler while getting ready, but Hopper is silent. He's trapped in his own head, not as focused on the pending game as he should be and it's all Joyce's fault. He hadn't spoken to her since she cursed at him and told him to leave her party. He'd spent countless hours replaying the events of that night, and all of the ways it could have gone and after much deliberation concluded that what happened was possibly the worst thing that could have happened.
He wanted Joyce to know what she meant to him, but he wasn't sure how to tell her. And then there was Chrissy and the fact that he was still dating her. Two things became clear after kissing Joyce. First, that he was a fool for ever believing he could cut her out of his life, and second, that he wanted to kiss her again. Only, he was certain she hated him for kissing her and he wasn't sure she wanted to speak to him again, let alone kiss him again. He'd been avoiding her since that night, unsure of what he would say to her. He'd even gone as far as to skip class because he wanted to sort things out in his mind before he made an even bigger mess of things. And now she'd gone and left him a note saying they needed to talk and he had no clue what she meant by it; only that she was probably at the game tonight. She'd never once come to one of his games and his stomach lurches with the need to impress her.
He's angry, but also confused and now both Joyce and Chrissy were going to be staring at him while he played; the fact that Joyce watching him excited him more than Chrissy in her tight little uniform rattled him to his core.
He decides to channel his anger and confusion into the game and excitedly claps his hands before proceeding to get ready.
"Why do you look so cheerful?" Hopper asks Benny, who is getting ready at the locker next to him.
"I'm meeting Helen after the game," Benny smirks.
"Things are going well I see."
"Honestly, they are. Thank god for Joyce's party," Benny laughs. "Oh, wait! I never asked where you ran off to the other night at the party."
"I told you, I had too much to drink and Chrissy picked me up and drove me home," Hopper says.
"I mean before that."
"Oh," he pales, "I had to talk to Joyce."
"And yet, you two still aren't talking," Benny remarks sarcastically, "Am I missing something here?"
"We're talking," Hopper grumbles. They weren't. He hadn't spoken to her since that night and he was now ditching science class so that he wouldn't have to face her. Why was Benny so concerned about his relationship with Joyce anyways, he thinks to himself. Well, based on her note, maybe they'd be talking after tonight.
"Did something happen between the two of you?" Benny asks.
"Why would something happen between us?!" he snaps.
"Woah, take it easy man. I was just asking if you're fighting about something besides Chrissy."
"We aren't fighting about Chrissy."
"Then why aren't you talking?"
"It's complicated."
"It really can't be that complicated," Benny sighs. "Look, I'm worried about you man. You and Joyce have been inseparable since the day I met you and I haven't seen you together in weeks."
"It's fine, Benny. Maybe we're just growing apart."
"We both know you don't actually believe that bullshit. Talk to her."
"Why are you suddenly so invested?"
"It's my job as one of your best friends to make sure you don't do stupid shit that you'll regret one day. Chrissy might be hot, but Joyce, she's something special."
"Benny, how many times have I told you, it's not like that with us."
"Isn't it? You care about her, no?"
"Well, of course I do."
"Don't smack me when I say this, because I'm planning on needing this arm for the game," Benny smirks and jokingly steps away from Hopper to defend himself, "but I've seen the way you look at Joyce, and it isn't how you look at Chrissy. Hell, it isn't even how my parents look at each other. There's something there."
"Benny-"
"Alright," he tosses his hands up, "no more from me. I'll never bring it up again, I just had to tell you what I see. Now, let's get ready to go and kick some ass!"
Hopper continues to get ready and does his best to ignore what Benny has just said, but the thought is paralyzing. He knew how kissing Joyce made him feel, but were his feelings really so obvious to everyone else? And if that was the case, why weren't they obvious to Joyce?
.
.
In the third quarter, the Tigers are leading by 10 and Joyce is surprised to find herself clapping along with her peers, invested in the game. Hopper scored the team's second touchdown, bringing the crowd to their feet, including a shocked and excited Joyce. She wasn't going to make a habit out of coming to games, but she had to admit, this wasn't so bad.
Between the third and fourth quarter, the cheerleaders take the field to perform and Chrissy once again catches Joyce's eye. The cheerleader laughs and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, while Joyce pretends to be distracted by something on her shoe.
The cheerleaders line up across center field and begin their performance. Joyce tunes out while they chant about spirit but notices Chrissy flick her skirt up and wink at Hopper, who is watching from the sidelines. She expects him to be drooling over the performance being put on for him, and instead finds him staring up at her in the stands. She swallows hard and forces herself not to wave, instead offering him a shy smile. He doesn't look away after she notices him, choosing to stare at her instead of the show being put on at center field. When the whistle blows indicating the start of the fourth quarter, he snaps his helmet back on and takes the field. Chrissy remains oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend hadn't watched her show and flashes a satisfied smirk in Joyce's direction when she returns to the far side of the field.
Joyce tries not to read into what's just happened but Hopper being all over the field and the crowd chanting his name as he scores yet another touchdown forces her to focus on him.
Someone holds up a sign that reads, "#11 on the field, #1 in our hearts," and Joyce just laughs. She had a front row seat to the Jim Hopper show tonight, there was no escaping it.
Once the game comes to an end and the teams graciously shake hands, Joyce lingers on the bleachers until the field is clear and she can effortlessly climbs down onto the track. She leaps over the chain-link fence and leans against the post nearest to the men's locker room while she waits for Hopper. Luckily, the cheerleaders had also vacated the premises and it looked like most of her classmates were headed off to party's or the diner to celebrate the team's big win, so she has the field all to herself.
She rolls her head back and stares at the scoreboard with a smile. Maybe football wasn't the worst sport. After tonight, she understood why Hopper loved it so much. As she waits for him, her nerves begin to get the best of her and she wonders if this is the best idea. What if he didn't want to hear what she had to say? Or worse, what if he hadn't got the note, or did get it and decided to stand her up? Before she begins to spiral out of control, she takes out another cigarette and twirls it between her fingers.
Joyce notices the locker room door creep open and spots Hopper peak his head out and look around. When he spots her, a smile breaks out across his lips and he makes his way over to where she's been waiting for him. Beneath the flood lights illuminating the field, his eyes look a neon shade of blue and she's tempted to fix the messy curls left in his sandy hair by his helmet. She resists the urge and instead stuffs the unlit cigarette in her pocket. He's still wearing his grass-stained jersey and shoulder pads, which makes her feel smaller than she usually does when settles in front of her.
"Hey," he says softly.
"Hey."
"I got your note," he smiles. "I've missed you."
"Look," she begins, awkwardly holding her hands together behind her back, "I'm sorry that I slapped you."
"Joyce-"
"No, please let me finish," she begs. "I'm sorry I did that. I miss you too and I would really like to just forget about everything that's happened and be friends again."
Hopper purses his lips and folds his arms over his chest, "Huh?"
He was certain that she had feelings for him, but now she was telling him that she wanted to forget about everything that happened and while he was on board with fixing their friendship, he didn't want to forget everything. Things changed when he kissed her. He knows she felt it too. She must have.
"Joyce," he begins. He was going to get through the speech he rehearsed this time around, he'd screwed up enough, this was his chance to right his wrongs. "I don't want to forget about it."
"W-what?" she blinks.
"I don't want to forget about it," he states more definitively.
"You don't want to be friends again?" she asks meekly.
"That's not what I said. Of course I want to be friends again. Hell, I've missed talking to you so much these past few weeks Joy. And I'd love for us to forget about our stupid fued and move on, but… it's just… I don't want to forget about what happened at the party."
Caught off guard by his own admission, he runs his hand through his hair and looks down. It was true, he wanted to mend their friendship, but he couldn't forget about the way being with her made him feel.
"You - why?" she stammers.
"Look, I hate to ask this but Benny thinks that maybe you were upset with me because you're jealous of Chrissy. Are you?"
"Why does it matter?"
"It matters."
"If I am, it doesn't mean anything," she admits.
"It matters to me," he says. Surprised they'd even made it this far into the conversation without her getting upset with him for accusing her of being jealous, he takes a deep breath.
"Why? Why can't we just forget about all of this and go back to the way things were?"
"Because," he pauses and steps towards her. He reaches down and softly lifts her chin so that she's forced to look at him. "Joyce, that kiss."
"It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing, and we both know it."
"You felt something?" she asks in a whisper.
He nods.
Overwhelmed, Joyce tries to pace away a few steps but Hopper is quick to place a hand on her waist and instead pulls her half a step closer to him. "Didn't you?" he breathes.
"Hop-" she squirms out of his grasp and he drops his hand as she steps back. Tears flood the corners of her eyes and she shakes her head.
"Tell me that I'm wrong and we'll forget it all happened. But, we don't have to. I know you felt it too." His words come out as a plea and she pinches her eyes closed to try and not give in to the desire to launch herself into his arms and tell him that of course she felt it. She needs to stay focused. He was with Chrissy and he wasn't thinking clearly. He didn't want her. Not really. He may be fascinated with the idea of her, but the lust that clouded his mind would fade away and their friendship would be left in ruins. She wanted him to be saying this because he wanted her. All of her. She needed to know that he wanted this for the same reasons she did; that she wasn't just a passing phase.
"If I tell you that I did, how would that change things between us? You're with Chrissy. Nothing good will come of me agreeing with you. It'll ruin everything."
"It doesn't have to."
"If I tell you that Benny was right, or that I felt something when you kissed me, it won't be enough. I want more."
Her voice breaks and she gasps. Hearing herself admit what she wanted aloud for the first time is overwhelming yet calming. "I need more," she sighs. It's a vague statement, she knows, but she doesn't completely know what she means and is hoping his interpretation will tell her.
"What do you mean, more?" he asks. He's staring at her with such intensity that she feels the world around them has vanished.
"There you are!" A third voice interrupts their moment and Joyce knows that their conversation will remain unfinished while he's still dating someone else.
Chrissy flits over to them, the pleats of her green skirt bouncing as she glides effortlessly across the track and launches herself into Hopper's arms the way Joyce wishes she could. Joyce steps back and away from Hopper, giving his girlfriend room to toss her arms around his neck and kiss him in a far from PG manner.
An uncomfortable look settles over Hopper's face as he helps Chrissy find her footing back on the ground. His eyes remain trained on Joyce, even while Chrissy attempts to deepen their kiss, and he awkwardly clears his throat with a cough.
Chrissy steps to his side and hooks her hand through his arm and smirks at Joyce.
"Chrissy, you remember Joyce, right?" Hopper says awkwardly.
"Of course! I just love your jacket," Chrissy responds with the fakest complement Joyce has ever heard.
"Nice to see you," Joyce whispers. She stuffs her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and shrugs. "Anyways, I should get going. Um, good game Hop," she says, smiling half-heartedly at him.
"Do you want a ride? We're going to the diner," Hopper calls after her.
He can feel Chrissy glaring at him for inviting Joyce, but he isn't done with their conversation and he desperately wants her to agree to the ride.
"I've got one, but thanks," she waves. Joyce turns and makes her way to the parking lot, racking her brain with what to do next. She was hoping that she and Hopper would have resolved things and he could have given her a ride home, but with their conversation ending where it did, she wasn't keen on climbing into a car with him and Chrissy and she really didn't want to walk home.
That's when she spots him, leaning against a beat up old car with a cigarette dangling between his teeth, and the idea strikes her.
"Lonnie," she greets him as she approaches. "I didn't think I'd ever see you at a football game."
"Yeah well, something to do. I could say the same about you."
"It's not my usual scene," she admits.
"I was going to head to the diner, you want a ride Horowitz?" he offers. He puts out his cigarette by aggressively stomping his heel into the dirt.
"I'd love one," she beams. She steals a glance over her shoulder and notices Hopper is watching while he and Chrissy walk towards his own car. Desperate to show him she's unphased by Chrissy, she leans over to Lonnie and presses a kiss to his lips.
"What was that for?" he smirks when she pulls back and rounds the car so that she can climb into the passenger's seat.
"Consider it a thanks for the ride," she winks.
She makes eye contact with Hopper as she and Lonnie back out of the parking lot and she notices his fists are clenched at his sides. She knew it was wrong and childish, but she can't help herself. She put her heart on the line tonight, it was Hopper's turn to make a move and prove that he wanted her as more than just a best friend.
This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong
This is the last time I say it's been you all along
