Author's Note: Welcome back! Here we have some bonding between the girls, a ton of tutoring, and a curious newcomer on the scene. Hope you enjoy! :)

The doors of the red Ford sedan slam shut with a resounding thunk as the three friends clamber out, their shoes splashing in the puddles gathered in the divots of the cracked parking lot. Jennifer links her arms through Sara and Sam's, pulling them towards the sidewalk, and as they reach the large glass doors, Sam and Sara each grab a handle, pulling the two front doors open simultaneously. The three girls squeeze through the entrance like a conjoined trio, striding together into the sprawling Muncie Mall. This is their first foray into these labyrinthian halls since the Starcourt Mall had burned in the fire just this past July. Muncie, Indiana, was a forty-five-minute drive from Hawkins, so the girls had only decided to venture this far once the weather had turned chilly in mid-October, necessitating a wardrobe refresh.

The mall is huge. Myriad shops line the wide center aisle, which teems with clumps of patrons as they mingle without explicit purpose, browsing casually. Loud tangles of conversation and tinny muzak, which echoes through the small square speakers placed strategically in corners of the ceiling, hit them like a wave as they step across the cream tile. There is little time to take it in as Jenn continues pulling Sam and Sara forward, set on what they'd already agreed is their first destination: Merry-Go-Round, the clothing store most popular amongst almost all teens across America.

Jenn drops their arms as they cross the store's threshold, and the girls disperse, browsing the racks thoroughly, sometimes coming back together to ask for opinions or share excitement over what they've found. Sara watches with a knowing smile as Sam piles dark clothing into her arms, leather and black lace teetering as she heads for the dressing room.

Unlike her friend, Sara wanders through the store aimlessly. Her fingers skim over t-shirts, acid-washed denim, and plaid mini-skirts without stopping, content with merely surveying the options. She has brought a handful of bills stuffed into the front pocket of her black bomber jacket, but she already knows that she won't be spending them here, intending to save them for a new cassette or two at Camelot.

Before Sam had come to pick her up after swinging by Jenn's place, Sara had pulled open the vent grate in her bedroom closet, sliding the lid off her shoebox as she surveyed her savings. Looking down at the bills, she'd bitten her lip in misgiving at removing even a small portion of it. But, Sara had finally reasoned, essay writing's been going well, and so has waitressing. I deserve to get something for myself once in a while. It won't break the bank.

Suddenly, the path of her hand stills as her eyes catch on a swath of forest green. Delicately, Sara pushes the other hangers out of the way to reveal a calf-length dress, tight through the skirt and midriff, the low neckline and short sleeves shirred at the bust like a peasant top. This dress is gorgeous, and it's my size... She runs her fingers over the subtle brocade pattern of the material, feeling a pang as she tilts the price tag towards her. Well, that's a big fat nope. She starts to bury it within the rack again before the hanger is quickly plucked from the bar; Sara turns to see Jenn standing next to her, piling the dress on top of her small armful of clothes.

Sara meets Jenn's eyes, a protest pushing to her lips immediately, her chest tightening in guilt and shame at the idea of her friend purchasing her clothes because she can't afford to. But Jenn knows Sara; she can easily read the look in her eye, so she raises her eyebrow, saying blithely, "What, Sara? This dress is for me; I'm trying to incorporate some grungier pieces into my wardrobe, stretch my style a bit, you know? And, who knows. If it happens not to fit, well, maybe I'll let you have it." Jenn's eyes twinkle as she turns away, heading for the checkout line.

Sara's words die on her lips, her eyes softening as she watches her friend chat with the cashier as she pays, her bubbly laugh carrying across the store. Sara heads outside to wait for her friends, sitting on the small plastic bench until she sees Jenn emerge from between the racks, swinging her white shopping bag contentedly as she approaches. As soon as Jenn sits beside her on the bench, Sara wraps her in a tight hug; Jenn lets out a small huff of surprise before hugging her back, the plastic bag crinkling against Sara's back as she squeezes her just as tightly.

Once Sam joins them with bags of her own, the trio heads to Brookstone's, testing out the massage chairs and playing around with the variety of novelty items. The three girls generally cause a ruckus until an employee eyes them severely, starting towards them with a reprimand on his lips; before he can really get started, they retreat with their tails between their legs, only giggling once they're a safe distance away.

Finally, after a brief stop at Auntie Anne's for pretzels and lemonade, they reach their final destination: Camelot, the mall's hub for all things music, including vinyl, cassettes, and even posters of popular bands, stretched into plastic cases on a rotating display against the wall near the cashier's desk. Here, the girls stay together, moving from section to section, skipping over country and heading straight for the best ones: pop for Jenn, punk for Sara, and gothic rock for Sam. As they pause to browse the pop section, they end up directly across from the poster display, and Sara's eyes catch on the most visible one: a Van Halen poster, the titular figure's mouth open as his legs splay in a leap, his dark wild hair flying around his head. It reminds her uncannily of another Eddie who lives a little closer to home. And as Jenn tracks her gaze, noticing the poster, it must remind her of him too, because when she looks back down, her fingers still flicking through the cassettes, she asks, "How's your charity case doing lately? Still driving you up the wall?"

Overhearing the question, Sam looks over at them, crossing her arms as she moves closer. Sara cocks her head, running her eyes over the poster as she reflects on the tutoring sessions she's had with Eddie Munson since their initial meeting.

–

On Thursday, September 19th, Sara slides again onto the picnic bench and finds Eddie on the opposite side, his leg jiggling as he waits for her; she notices that, same as last week, he's neglected to bring anything with him.

"No book again, Munson?" She asks dryly, to which he replies flippantly,

"Well, it worked out fine last time, so…" Eddie trails off, shrugging carelessly. Sara huffs instead of replying, a slight prickle of irritation rising within her at his blase answer. And then, when she pulls out her copy of the novel, opening it to chapter eight, ready to discuss the portion they'd agreed to read— he rubs the back of his head, his gaze sliding to the side as he says, "Yeah, about that… I read up to chapter five. Five is close enough to eight, right, Campbell?"

The prickle of irritation expands in her chest, flaring into indignation as she frowns sharply. "Look, this is just a waste of my time if you're not gonna actually try," Sara spits, already turning to leave.

But Eddie stumbles up quickly, rushing around the bench to head her off, standing in her path. Her frown grows as she stares up at him where he towers over her, his hands held out placatingly; she watches his brow furrow, his dark eyes a bit panicked as he stammers, "No, don't leave, please—"

She leans back, crossing her arms, staring at him as he wilts under her withering gaze. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, scratching at his elbow as he says finally, "You're right, Campbell. I'm sorry. I'll do better, I swear." His mouth twists into a wry smile, and she can feel herself softening; he deals the final blow as he murmurs softly, his gaze darting back and forth between her eyes, "I promise."

Sara Campbell doesn't give second chances; her customer policies have always been rather harsh and unforgiving, and she's always enforced them, even when her classmates had begged and pleaded. But there's just something in his voice— something sincere, something vulnerable in the way that Eddie so readily admits his fault that she finds herself rolling her eyes, spinning back around on the bench, her shoulders falling as she pats the empty seat next to her resignedly.

"C'mon, Munson," she sighs. "You're reading first."

They read up to chapter eight together, alternating like they'd done the week before. When Sara pulls out her notebook, digging again in her bag for a pen, she hears Eddie say from beside her, "You don't have another pen in there, do you?"

Her fingers still for a brief moment before moving again, wrapping around a second pen, and when she passes it to him, he asks hesitantly, "...Do you think you could rip out a page for me?"

She obliges, tearing the paper from the back of the notebook and sliding it over silently. As she writes, she can hear Eddie's pen scratching over the paper, sometimes catching on the uneven wood underneath until she shakes her head in exasperation, earmarking their page in the novel and sliding the closed book over to him. "Here— just write on this." He nods, his lip tugging up in a small crooked smile as she meets his gaze for a moment. And when she turns away, she bites her lip to conceal her own small smile.

When time is up, Sara tells Eddie to read up to chapter twelve for next week. He nods solemnly, folding his notebook paper and sticking it into one of the pockets in his jean jacket. As Sara stands from the bench, pulling on her messenger bag, she turns back to see him holding out the small baggie; she plucks it from his fingers, grinning as she says casually, "Oh yeah, almost forgot— Sam told me to say thanks for last time. It really chilled us out."

Eddie turns to meet her gaze as she looks down at him where he sits on the bench, winking at her as he grins toothily. "Happy to satisfy my customers."

–

On Thursday, September 26th, an unexpected family member greets Sara as she leans her bike against the railing of her porch steps: Silver trills as he bounds down the wooden stairs, his bushy black tail held high in the air as he sees her. He rubs between her ankles, that tail sometimes catching and pulling on her black, mid-length skirt.

"Hi, Silver!" She coos, picking him up and turning him on his back in her arms, his paws curling as she carries him over to the bench.

"Is that your cat?"

Eddie's voice carries across the grass; he cranes his head to see the fluffy shape better as Sara approaches, skipping her usual spot on the bench to stand next to him, where he sits on the opposite side.

"Yeah — his name's Silver. He's a black smoke Maine Coon, if that means anything to you." Eddie shrugs, then runs a tentative finger against the top of Silver's head. The cat promptly whips his neck back at the contact, appraising Eddie with his piercing green eyes from upside down.

"Hold your finger out for a second. Don't move," Sara instructs, and Eddie complies quickly; Silver stretches his head out to sniff him delicately, and after a moment, he rubs his cheek against Eddie's long finger.

"Okay," she says, her voice colored with a chuckle as Eddie looks at her wide-eyed with wonder, a surprised, child-like smile on his face. "You can pet him now." Eddie scratches tentatively underneath Silver's chin, and she smiles fondly as she feels him start to rumble in her arms. "He's purring. I think he likes you," she says warmly. Eddie's smile brightens at her words, looking down at the cat as he continues to pet him. As he does, she runs her eyes over his face, feeling like she's really looking at him for the first time: at his wide brown eyes, which now are softened to deep cedar; his soft nose; his strong chin and angular jaw; and finally his full lips, currently pulled into that wondrous smile—

Blinking, Sara steps back a bit, and Eddie drops his hand. She lowers Silver softly onto the grass, and he promptly trots under Eddie's bench, lying contentedly in the shade between his feet.

"Traitor," she sniffs, pretending to be offended, and Eddie quirks his eyebrow, smirking.

"My cat now."

–

On Thursday, October 3rd, Sara notices— with some amusement, as she drops her messenger bag onto the bench beside her— that Silver is again nestled against Eddie's black Reeboks under the wooden bench on the other side of the table. She smiles and starts to open her mouth to comment on it, but Eddie cuts her off, his dark eyes gleaming as he declares, "Quiz me, Sunshine."

Sara releases the strap of her bag, sitting down slowly as her eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion. At her expression, Eddie leans forward, his voice impatient as he explains, "We have a quiz in class tomorrow on the first, like, fifteen chapters of the book." He pauses, cocking his head as he smirks, asking with mock tenderness, "Don't you remember, my dear, sweet tutor?" He leans back, crossing his arms confidently. "So, quiz me."

Sara blinks, caught off guard by his sudden insistence; she looks up, her mouth half open as she tries to formulate a question off the top of her head. But he's truly surprised her, so her thoughts swirl, and she can't grasp onto any details tightly enough to turn them into questions. She tries to hedge, to give herself time to think. "Okay. Uh…"

At her lack of coherent response, Eddie leans back on his palms, his Hellfire shirt stretching across his chest as he does; he spreads his legs comfortably, settling into his seat as he says dryly, "Oh, by all means, take your time. I was actually just hoping to spend this next hour staring at your face while you thought really hard, so thanks for fulfilling my fantasy."

Sara darts her gaze from the sky to his face, noting his manic, wolfish grin. She squints, her lip twisting as she, rather childishly, wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out at him. Eddie's gaze drops to her tongue, and she flicks it back in, but not before his eyes have caught on the glint of metal in the center.

He leans forward eagerly, folding his arms against the table, his tone intrigued as he draws out her nickname. "Sunshine!" He says, his eyebrows tugging up as he smiles manically, and she gets the distinct impression that he's impressed. "Nice metal."

She crosses her arms, her eyebrow quirked as she says, with a bit of teasing challenge in her voice, "Does it surprise you, Munson?"

He considers the question for a moment before tilting his head to the side as if a thought has occurred to him, his eyes falling to half-lidded as he quips, "Well, I suppose it shouldn't; you already have such a barbed tongue, might as well get the jewelry to match—"

He throws his head back and laughs loudly as she promptly flips him off with both hands.

–

On Thursday, October 10th, Sara's most recent tutoring session with Eddie, she notes that his worn black backpack is beside him on the bench when she approaches. As she sits down, he pulls out a somewhat disheveled notebook, one of the papers stuck inside fluttering slowly to the grass beneath him as he does. Sara pulls out her own supplies, watching as he digs in his jacket pocket, retrieving the tiniest nub of a pencil she's ever seen as he tosses open his notebook carelessly. As he flips through the pages, Sara can see a mishmash of notes— math, history, English, and biology all interwoven throughout the pages, with some loose handouts stuck randomly throughout. That's an absolute fucking mess. Yet she suppresses a smile as his eyes meet hers, his expression open as he finds a blank page, writing "Essay Brainstorm" on the top in scrawled print. …But it's progress. She writes the same across the top of her paper.

"Hey," Eddie says, craning his head around to look near his feet. "Before we start, where's the furball?"

"He has a name, you know," Sara replies wryly, though she glances around the grass with him, not detecting Silver's signature bushy tail nearby.

"Yeah, well, get him for me, would you? I have something—" He digs in his pockets, searching through a couple before pulling something out: it's an orange guitar pick with a hole punched in the middle. Through the hole, he's threaded a piece of white twine, and Sara realizes that he's made Silver a makeshift cat toy.

"Silver!" She calls, turning around on the bench; after a couple repeated attempts, she sees him dart from behind the trailer, his large tail bobbing as he heads towards them, his path halting as his eyes catch on the orange pick dangling in the air, held in Eddie's long fingers. His pupils enlarge dramatically, and he wiggles a bit in his place; suddenly, he launches forward, and Sara laughs as he bounds towards Eddie, who quickly pulls the toy out of reach. Eddie's husky chuckle joins her, and she straightens as Eddie dangles the toy closer to the ground, letting Silver catch it, his teeth tugging on the twine, not making any headway against Eddie's much firmer grip.

"Aw, Munson, you shouldn't have," Sara jokes, but she watches him warmly as he bends, his face just visible above the tabletop. Though she can't see, she knows that he's dangling the pick below the bench, and at the sight of Eddie's wide smile, she feels a sudden bloom of fondness. She leans an elbow on the table, resting her head on her fist as he brings his arm up, dangling the pick higher over his lap—

Suddenly, Eddie stiffens, his limbs going rigid, his face contorting. "Fuck—!" His voice is high and distressed before he cuts off the shout, clamping his mouth shut, his expression pained; immediately, Sara leans over onto the table, pressing herself against it to try and peer over the other edge to see what happened. She slides a little further until she can just make out Silver's large black form on Eddie's lap, his nails digging into Eddie's jean-covered thighs.

"Silver!" Sara admonishes, her tone both guilty and sympathetic as she stutters, "Munson, I am so, so sorry—" She reaches for the cat, but he's a little too far away; her arms wag helplessly for a moment before she looks up into Eddie's face, wincing as she says, "You can just push him off—"

Eddie's gaze darts quickly up to her eyes, his brown eyes wider than normal as he stammers, "Uh, it's fine, my fault anyway—"

She lifts herself off the table with her palms, suddenly cognizant that she's wearing a low-cut top and that by pressing herself against the table, she must have given him an ample eyeful of her cleavage, close-up and in high definition.

She pulls back quickly, dropping onto her bench again, ducking down to look under the tabletop, calling Silver over to her side with a waggle of her fingers and a soft 'pss-pss' sound, simultaneously hiding from Eddie the embarrassed flush that blooms across her cheeks. By the time she straightens, she's managed to school her expression; Eddie, for what it's worth, looks a bit sheepish as his gaze darts between her face and the paper in front of him, unable to settle.

She breathes out through her nose, pushing her embarrassment down, forcing her tone to be matter-of-fact. "Alright, enough fucking around. Let's start working on this essay."

–

So on Saturday, October 12th, when Jenn asks Sara, "How's your charity case doing lately? Still driving you up the wall?", Sara isn't exactly what to say at first. She feels her expression contort several times as a few emotions flick across her face. Finally, she replies,

"I mean, it's certainly not a cake-walk; half the time, he's annoying as shit, but…" She huffs a chuckle, shaking her head in a bit of bafflement. "He's doing better than I thought he would. I think he's actually getting something out of it." Her gaze warms as she looks from Jennifer to the poster on the far wall. She smiles, adding, "Actually, Silver's taken a liking to him, and on Thursday, Munson made him this, like," she gestures with her hands, trying to mime what it looks like, "guitar-pick-thing on a string, to play with him. But he stupidly dangled it over his crotch, so Silver jumped on his lap and clawed him." Her eyes dance in amusement as she finishes, her voice colored with chuckles, "You should have heard him scream; it was like a full-on shriek. You'd never guess such a high-pitched sound would come out of Munson's mouth."

As she finishes talking, she can't help but remember how his wide eyes had darted back up from her cleavage to her face; involuntarily, to her dismay, she can feel her face heat a bit with the recollection. "So, yeah, that's basically it," she says quickly, turning away to try and hide her pink cheeks. But, of course, Jennifer is a bloodhound, picking up on the change immediately.

"Are you blushing?!" Jenn exclaims loudly, capturing the sides of Sara's face in her palms, pulling her closer to examine her expression as Sara sputters.

"No, no, I—"

But Jenn isn't having it. Her eyes twinkle to the point of effervescence, and she wiggles her hips excitedly. "Sara Campbell!" She crows, shaking Sara's face where she grips it, "Do you like Eddie Munson— your pupil?! How scandalous!"

"First of all, you're making the idea sound super creepy; he's literally older than us. But that's beside the point because, really, it's not like that, Jenn," Sara pleads. Her eyes dart helplessly towards Sam, but her other friend is turned away, her dark head lowered as she flicks through the cassettes in front of them, seeming to ignore their exchange.

Jenn eyes her for another moment before releasing her, smirking as she says doubtfully, "Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Sara sighs long-sufferingly, turning away to try and catch Sam's eye again. "Let's just keep looking," she says resignedly, and Sam's gaze finally darts up. She shoots Sara a small smile as they all move further down the row.

––

Mercifully, Jenn had dropped the subject soon after. On the following Monday, all was normal at their lunch table as they snacked on french fries, dipping them into a communal puddle of ketchup as they debated heatedly whether Ms. O'Donnell and Mr. Richards would make a cute couple, even though Mr. Richards was, from all appearances, already married. Jenn argued passionately that they would, whereas Sara was appalled at the very thought; in her typical way, Sam threw kindling onto both fires, remaining somewhat impartial in the debate.

Sara had noticed in English class earlier that Andy, her only customer due for an exchange today, had been absent, so she startles a bit as she hears an unfamiliar voice directly to her left. "Hey, Sara?"

She's gesticulating with a fry when she hears this sudden voice right next to her ear, so as she jumps slightly, the fry falls from her left hand to the floor beside her. Automatically, she dips to the side to get it, but tanned fingers grab it first, and she looks up into soft brown eyes as the owner of the voice smiles at her. His white teeth gleam in contrast with his bronzed skin as he straightens. She swings back up as he drops the fry onto the table, and she registers his wavy black hair as it swoops over his forehead, falling softly over his ears; her eyes fall to his green and white letterman jacket, where the name 'Chance' is stitched in white thread.

Her gaze darts back up to his eyes as he says, his voice clear and smooth, "Sorry if I startled you— I don't know if we've officially met. I'm Chance. I'm on the basketball team with Andy." He smiles at her again, revealing those white teeth.

She smiles almost automatically back, replying lightly, "Yeah, I gathered."

Chance tilts his head, his brow crinkling in slight confusion until she lowers her gaze significantly to his chest; he looks down, laughing a bit as he says, "Oh, right, yeah. Says it right there."

Sara huffs a laugh, too. After a beat of silence in which they stare at each other, Sara shifts, leaning her elbows on the table. "So, what's up?"

Chance's brows dart up a bit as he shakes his head at himself, saying quickly, "Right— Andy's out sick today, but he told me he'd commissioned your services. He asked if I could pick up his homework for him."

As he speaks, Sara's expression drops a bit; she's never exchanged with an intermediary before, and she sucks her teeth as she considers the idea. Her expression must convey her hesitation as Chance says lowly, his voice softening, "Look, I get that this is kinda weird — you don't know me, so if you're uncomfortable, I totally get it. I'll handle Andy." His mouth tugs up in a reassuring grin, and Sara Campbell must be losing her mind because this is twice now in the past month that she's made exceptions to her normal rules.

"No, no— it's okay," she says, her tone acquiescent as she digs in her messenger bag beside her, pulling out the black folder. "It's two bucks," she continues on quickly, "I don't know if Andy told you—"

"Don't worry, I have it." He reaches into his letterman jacket to pull out two folded dollars; as he holds them out to her, their fingers brush on the exchange, and she pulls her hand back quickly, pushing the bills into her pocket and flipping open the folder to give him Andy's work. He takes it from her, folding it and putting it in the same pocket where he'd pulled out the money.

"Thanks," Chance says, and Sara nods; as he goes to leave, he hesitates. She watches as he turns back, his mouth falling open soundlessly for a brief moment before he adds, "You know, what you're doing—"

She frowns slightly, unsure what he's about to say, but it drops as he continues, "it's pretty entrepreneurial." He smiles again, finishing, "I respect the hustle."

Sara's face slackens in surprise, and then she smiles back. "Oh! Thanks."

Chance nods, looking at her over his shoulder as he turns again. "I'll see you around."

She doesn't reply as he walks away. But as he moves out of her line of sight, her eyes catch on a table across the aisle: the members of Hellfire Club seem to be engaged in deep and intense conversation, just as she'd been with Jenn and Sam before they were interrupted. Only one member is gazing in her direction — the one at the head of the table, his ruffled hair swaying a bit as he sees her looking at him, nodding up at her with a smile across the cafeteria. She smiles and nods back before she's pulled back to her own table when she hears her name called.

But it's not Jenn's voice that calls her; instead, it's Sam, her lips pulled up in a grin as she leans on the table, shifting closer as she says to Jenn, "Is it me, or did he seem a little…?"

"Flirtatious?" Jenn finishes, fixing Sara with a suggestive look. "Why, yes, Sam, I believe you may be right."

Sara shrugs, conceding hesitantly, "I guess…"

"No, Sar," Sam adds, her voice keen, "I really think so. He was cute, too!"

Sara tucks a corner of her bangs behind her ear, her mouth tugging up in a small smile as she sticks another fry in her mouth, her mind on tanned skin and a gleaming white smile.

Author's Note: Chance is a canonical minor character in Season Four, along with Andy. He's also friends with Jason. Is he interested in Sara, like Sam and Jenn say? Or is he just being friendly? Only time will tell...