Author's Note: Welcome to I Was Gonna Die Young! This will be a slow-burn, strangers-to-lovers story set before the events of Stranger Things, Season 4. Updates will occur every 3-4 days. Just as a heads up, this story is rated M for a reason. Content will include underage drinking and drug use (marijuana), cursing, and eventual sexual content.
I hope you enjoy chapter one :)
The rust-red dome in the center of Forest Hills Trailer Park has been the site of many occurrences over the years. It has seen its fair share of monkey bar fights, of lovers' squabbles, of evening smoke breaks and youngsters playing make-believe. But on August 25th, 1985, its limits of patience— and sturdiness— were put to the test as three teenage girls attempted to scale its bars and squish themselves atop its peak to watch the final sunset of summer before their senior year of high school.
At least, that's what Sara Campbell intends to happen if her friends would simply cooperate.
"Come on, Jennifer — it isn't that difficult," she announces, stretching her hand down towards her friend, her fishnet-clad legs stuck through the spaces in between the bars to maintain leverage. She glances up towards her other hand where she clutches a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and three plastic spoons. "I managed to get up here, and I was holding the ice cream," she points out dryly, huffing out a breath as Jennifer puts one ballet-flatted foot on a rung, hesitates, then puts it back down on the ground.
"But Sara," she whines, wiggling her hips, "What if it breaks and I fall to my death?!" She throws her hand over her brow dramatically, her eyes wide in concern, her feathered black bangs ruffling in the slight breeze.
"It's not going to break, Jenn," Sam says, her arms crossed as she leans against the dome with one hip. Despite her casual posture, she's poised and ready to give Jenn a swift boost to her butt if she finally manages to get both feet off the ground and onto the dome. Sam swipes a finger underneath one of her eyes, pulling it away and examining it before measuring Jenn with a stare. "My eyeliner... is melting," she states flatly.
Jenn pouts, raising an eyebrow at her friend. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be wearing your full face of gothic makeup in eighty–degree weather," she points out, to which Sara chimes in,
"The ice cream's melting too."
Jennifer rolls her eyes to the golden sky, letting out a deep groan before shaking out her arms and legs, her gaze now set with determination. With a fierce battle cry — which sounds more like a bird's squawk — she grabs onto the bars, scrabbling her feet before finding purchase, then climbing higher, one bar at a time. Sam moves off the dome to stand behind her, her arms out and ready to catch Jenn in case of a mishap. But there is none, and soon enough, Jennifer is clasping onto Sara's extended palm, being dragged up the final step and landing next to Sara with an audible oof.
Sara swings her legs in contentment as Jenn wraps her left arm around Sara's right, looking warily towards the ground, her body tense. "How did you talk me into this?" she whines, closing her eyes. Wordlessly, Sara pushes a spoon into Jenn's free hand, and Jenn cracks an eye to see the carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream, now gone a bit gooey and melted at the edges, held just under her nose.
"Here, this will help," Sara beams. Her expression brightening, Jenn sticks her spoon in as Sam settles against her other side, propping her Chuck Taylors against the bars. She leans her elbow casually on her knee and stares off toward the sunset, a satisfied smile on her face. The sun is still fully visible in the sky, but it's low now, bathing the full green trees in a golden light. The low clouds are tinged amber with the sun's shine, and the scene is truly picturesque, a perfect ending to their summer break.
Sam takes the ice cream from Sara's hand, smiling gratefully as Sara passes her a spoon. "I still can't believe summer's actually over."
Sara turns her freckled face back towards the golden sun. "Neither can I, but it's because I can't wait—" She throws her head back at the word, tossing her tawny hair, "for this school year to start. We're so close, I can almost taste it."
Jenn sticks her spoon in her mouth, sucking off the minty remnants of ice cream. "And what does it taste like? Mint chocolate chip ice cream?"
Sara sticks her tongue out teasingly, a glint of metal shining in the sun before she flicks it back in. "No," she says, drawing out the word and tilting her head. "It tastes like freedom."
Jenn's immediate answer is saucy. "Freedom isn't a flavor," she says while Sam just eyes Sara, shaking her head fondly.
"I still can't believe your mom let you get your tongue pierced."
Sara grins, grabbing the carton back from Sam. "Who said she let me?" Her face turns mischievous as her lips close over a spoonful of ice cream, and the cool minty flavor bursting on her tongue makes her hum in appreciation.
Sam just shakes her head again, looking once more towards the setting sun. The colors have begun to deepen now as the sun kisses the horizon line, the amber of the clouds graduating to a burnished gold, edging on deep orange. "There's absolutely no way you're gonna keep her from finding out that you got your tongue pierced."
"Let's keep in mind the plan, Sam," Sara says, ticking off her fingers. "Step one, continue to spend nearly all my free time at the Hideaway, saving the tips—"
Jennifer looks at her askance, reminding her, "Saving anything your mom doesn't take first, you mean."
Sara bobs her head in acknowledgment, rolling her eyes in exasperation— not at her friend, but at the situation itself. "Yes, yes, an unavoidable rub. Step two, continue helping the poor, desperate souls of Hawkins High with their homework and essays—" she pauses, her eyes twinkling, "for a fee, of course. Step three, smirk in triumph at the looks on a new set of teachers' faces when I ace their classes, defying all of their expectations, as usual... Step four, get a scholarship to college, any college, doesn't matter where. And finally, step five." She wiggles her spread fingers on her right hand, dancing it around. "Get the ever-loving fuck out of Hawkins for good. The plan is airtight; I'll be so busy, I'll barely even talk to my mom, let alone give her a chance to glimpse any illicit jewelry I may have obtained this summer."
Jenn pouts, putting her head on Sara's shoulder. "And what about spending time with your best friends in the whole world, Sam and Jenn?" Sara smiles, laying her cheek against Jenn's hair, reaching over to pull Sam down by her neck into a group hug.
"Of course I'll spend time with you guys. I can't work all the time. We'll have plenty of parties to crash, movies to see, snacks to consume—"
"Pot to smoke?" Sam suggests, her grin wolfish as she and Sara meet eyes over Jenn's head.
"...Perhaps," Sara replies, her grin belying her noncommittal answer. She glances at Jenn as her friend wrinkles her brow, pulling away from Sara's embrace, sighing heavily as she levels each of the other girls with a chiding look.
"If you must," she sniffs. Sara and Sam school their expressions into innocence before Sara looks down, noticing her left hand is now covered in melted ice cream which has dripped from the neglected pint in her hand.
"Ah, dammit," she says, pulling her arm away from Jenn to swap the container to her right hand and shake the sticky liquid off her fingers, wiping the residue on her jean shorts.
As she does, she notices a figure approaching the dome, his thumb flicking a lighter cap open and closed as he walks. She can hear the chain on his dark jeans jingling as he passes by the side of the dome, seemingly on his way to the covered picnic table nearby. The three girls watch in silence as he moves by them without looking at them, three pairs of eyes fixed on his long, ruffled hair, his ringed fingers, his frayed denim vest and his loping, unhurried gait. Sam catches Sara's eye as he moves out of sight, her brow furrowed.
Who is that? She mouths, and Sara turns her head quickly to glance behind her, seeing that he's seated himself backwards at the picnic table. His long legs are casually spread and he leans his back against the table's edge, slouching as he pulls out a small baggie from his vest pocket. Sara leans in towards Jenn, beckoning Sam to lean in too and whispering conspiratorially, "That's Eddie Munson. He lives a few trailers down from me."
Sam nods slowly, trying to slide her eyes surreptitiously towards him, but from her vantage point, she'd have to turn almost all the way around to look at him. Instead, she whispers back, "Got it. I'd seen him around at school, I just didn't know who he was."
Sara leans back, threading her fingers through the bars, effectively ending the whisper session as she wiggles her shoulders, saying gleefully, "It's almost time!" She nods her chin towards the sky, prompting the other girls to look too as the sky prepares to heave its final gasp of summer before the day disappears behind the trees.
The girls shade their faces against the beams that shine directly into their eyes as the glittering sun comes almost even with their position on top of the dome. Sara leans comfortably against Sam and Jenn as the final light fades, the blue of the sky now tinged indigo, the orange of the clouds a deep burnished rust.
As she leans against her friends, Sara turns her chin over her Jenn's shoulder, glancing behind her once again towards the picnic bench where the lanky figure of Eddie Munson still sits. But instead of leaning against the table's edge, he's now seated sideways on the bench, his elbow resting casually on the tabletop, his body facing the same direction as she is. Sara realizes that he must also have been watching the final sunset of summer.
Eddie's gaze flicks up, catching Sara's. As they meet eyes, he brings a joint loosely to his lips, his chest expanding as he breathes in. His expression is neutral as he nods his chin up in acknowledgment.
Sara stares at him for a moment before turning back around without a response, but she catches eyes with Sam, checking that Jenn isn't looking before she mouths with exaggerated movements, her eyebrows quirking, He has weed.
Sam waggles her eyebrows back, her lips pulled into a suppressed grin as Jenn throws her arms around both of their shoulders, saying emphatically, "If that sunset's an omen of this coming year, then the future is for sure br-ight!"
Sam groans good-humoredly as Sara throws her head back, laughing at her friend's horrible pun.
The girls sit atop the dome for a good while longer, their shouts and peals of laughter echoing against the trailer homes until the faded light starts to make it hard to see. Sara climbs down first, stretching her arms above her head, uncaring that her short band tee reveals a large strip of her stomach as she waits for Sam to dismount the dome too. Sam's leather jacket creaks with her arm's motions as she climbs down. Once Sam makes it to the ground, the two girls hold out their hands for Jenn, who grasps onto them desperately as they swing her down onto the ground. Jenn smooths down her pink sweater as she lands, sniffing, "I would have had it."
Sam and Sara both snicker, prompting a glare from Jenn, and the three start off towards Sara's trailer where Sam's red Ford sedan is parked. As they pass by the picnic bench, Sara glances over, but the area is now empty; only a lingering hint of earthy smoke on the air remains. She doesn't spare this a second thought as Jenn pulls her forward toward her front yard, embracing her as they reach the car.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Sara says warmly, hugging Sam too before backing up, watching them get in and waving wildly as they pull away. Her heart is light as she stomps up the wooden steps of her front porch to the screen door, pulling it open and stepping inside.
As she enters, she hears the tinny music and the exaggerated voice of a game show announcer. Turning to the couch, she sees her father, Dennis, his feet sprawled as he watches the screen, a beer in his left hand where it rests on the arm of the couch. Looking farther to the right, she sees her mother, Sherry Rose, wrapped in a shawl and reading a book where she sits across the room in an armchair, her reading glasses perched on her nose.
"Hi." Sara greets them with a carefully neutral tone as she walks slowly past. They both glance up, nodding at her before going back to their chosen activities.
A rare moment of calm, she thinks, letting out a breath as she reaches her room, closing the door softly with a click behind her. She kicks off her Doc Martens, leaving them in a pile by her door before beelining to the bed where a large black cat is sprawled casually, his paws in the air. He trills as she approaches, and she scratches him under the chin, a pleased smile blooming on her face as he starts to purr.
"Hiya, Silver," she coos, rubbing his fluffy belly before moving over to her closet, slipping on a pair of sleep shorts and a loose Misfits t-shirt before sitting at her desk. From her messenger bag she pulls out the summer reading book: The Pearl by John Steinbeck. Like she has many times, Sara flips through the pages, her eyes flicking over the notes that she'd scrawled in the edges, wanting to be prepared for the first day of school. If I were a betting girl, I'd figure that no less than five classmates will ask me to write their first essay on this book. She smirks, thinking of the money she'll earn from the transactions— money that she'll place carefully into the small shoebox in her closet, concealed within the slatted vent in the lower corner of the wall. a burst of hollow laughter from the studio audience suddenly echoes through the thin walls into her bedroom, and Sara's smirk slowly falls, her face growing pensive as she leans her cheek on her palm. A pang of wistfulness hits her as she remembers how things used to be when she was a kid: how the house would resound with laughter, would tingle with the scent of herbs on the stove, would rumble with Stevie Nicks' croons as she and her mother sang along. Now, it was still, only the tinny sound of the distant television breaking the silence between the members of the Campbell household; it was scentless, aside from the vague sour tang of cigarettes which clung to every surface; it was empty, devoid of togetherness, of delight.
Later, once the tinny sounds of the living room television have ceased, Sara slips into bed and clicks off her bedside lamp. She pulls the covers up to her chin, breathing deeply as Silver settles at her side, his presence a comforting warmth against her. A slight smile ghosts across her lips as she closes her eyes; confidence and determination replace her earlier ruminations. Just one more year, she thinks to herself. Follow the plan, and then everything will change.
And she was right: everything would change. But though Sara had anticipated every move, had ironed out the potential snags, had carefully planned and prepared for the upcoming school year... One knows how the old saying goes.
The devil fools with the best-laid plans.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Your feedback, reactions and/or thoughts are always welcome :)