Routine Nine:
II
"So, cool design on your sweater."
Eddie Munson is a fucking idoit. And he has the Queen of Hawkins High in his fucking van, obviously going through some fucking shit, and he's complimenting her clothes. Her hands are fiddling with her sweatshirt, which is why he looked, please don't think I was a pervy fuck staring at your chest, and he has to admit that the detail on the dove is fucking sick.
"My brother made it," she says, softly, "We make Christmas gifts for each other… It's- It's my favorite song from Prince's Purple Rain album, you know? When Doves Cry?"
He blinks, despite himself, and feels a laugh bark out of him. The purple tears on the dove.
"Chrissy Cunningham listens to Purple Rain?"
Don't think of Darling Nicki and Chrissy you fucking dumb-shit- She's emotionally fucking wrecked and doesn't need a horny fucking moron-
"What, do you only expect Madonna and Wham?" she asks, and she's smiling.
Her nose wrinkles when she smiles. When she really smiles. And he shouldn't be thinking its cute. He's Eddie the Freak, but even he's seen Chrissy the Queen, and wondered at the sweet thing that walked the same halls as him. He's not blind, and maybe he's always had a soft spot for Chrissy Cunningham since she was a sprite of an eleven-year-old at the middle-school talent show, because she sweetly told a fourteen-year-old, weedy, skinhead-looking shithead with bad acne and that he did a good job after his performance. Waved her pink little pom poms, grinning around her sparkly pink braces.
In his mind, he's always thought of Chrissy the Queen like Galadriel, untouchable, lovely queen of the pom poms and basket tosses, powerful and separate from the rest of these mortals. How could he not? All he had seen when he saw was her wealth, and her status as cheerleading captain, that she was the darling of the academic scene and pretty as the dawn. And he's Gimili, unworthy, only just admiring even as he bumbles and blusters about how bullshit everyone around her is.
But maybe she's not Galadriel the untouchable, the wisest and fairest.
Galadriel isn't the type to wander around Hawkins, no shoes, eyes far away, and saying words like 'fuck'. And sure as hell Galadriel wouldn't listen to fucking Purple Rain, and hey, it's not quite his sound, but Prince can fucking shred. And Darling Nicki was a daring as fuck song and even he can admit something in him wants to blush like a schoolboy at the thought of Chrissy Cunningham listening to the song.
"So," he mutters, idiot, chickenshit, trying to move away from the thought of 'grinding' and Chrissy Cunningham, "Everything alright, Cunningham? Not every day the Queen of Hawkins High ditches her sacred duties."
"I thought you were all about non-conformity, Eddie Munson?"
He blushes.
Because fucking hell. That means Chrissy Cunningham has paid attention at least once to his stupid as fuck show-boating in the cafeteria.
"I am! As the sermon ala Munson declares-" I am such a dumbshit she's probably fucking thinking, "Conformity to the status-quo is fucking killing the kids."
"Maybe it was. Killing me, I mean," her voice is fragile, and fucking hell does Eddie want the ground to swallow him whole.
He stares straight ahead and gulps quickly. He feels horrible, and wonders instead if she's Tenar before she recovered her name and was free from the labyrinth in The Tombs of Atuan, trapped by the title of the Queen of Hawkins. Bits and bits of her being erased until she became just the same as the Queens before her.
"Fucking shit, Chrissy, sorry. Do… Do you want to talk about it?"
She sniffs.
Oh, fuck I made her cry-
"I just really, really want a cheeseburger. And a milkshake. Is… Is that okay?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever you want, sweetheart."
"Thank you, Eddie."
"There are some napkins in the back," he mutters, thinking of her bare feet, "And some water bottles if you want to clean up your feet. And-uh, I think I have a pair of boots in the back with some socks. But there gonna be huge on you. And, I might have some extra pants or something, if you're cold."
She beams at him.
"That's really sweet of you. Is it alright?"
"Yeah, go for it, Cunningham."
She crawls over the seat. He does not- does not stare at her ass as she crawls over the seat, or even notice the fact that she's wearing green little shorts that barely cover all the pieces. Swear to god you moron. He starts the van up again once she's comfortable back there. Winces slightly as Welcome Home Sanitarium starts up again. He had been listening to his copy of Master of the Puppets since he had gotten his hands on it, nonstop on repeat-
"Um, if you want me to change the sound-"
"There's a rule in my brother's car- The driver picks the music and the passenger shuts their cake hole. What are we listening to?"
He swallows.
"Metalica. One of the musical genius of our fucking generation. Damn Cunningham, we need to expand your musical tastes. Prince is a start, but not the end."
She laughs.
"I actually don't listen to much music. My mom- My mom really doesn't let me other than classical or what we're dancing to at cheer or my ballet classes. At best I can sneak stuff by recording it off the radio at school and… I listened to Purple Rain because my brother copied his cassette for me and mailed it to me as a present. Had to be blank, you know? I have to listen to it in secret-"
"Man, fuck your mom!"
He blushes because shit he just- He looks at the rearview mirror. She stared at him through it. Chrissy smiles like the dawn. Bright and breathtaking, nose wrinkling slightly.
"Yeah, fuck my mom."
Eddie's heart does a single, violent throb.
And fuck.
Of course. He pretends like the best of them, he hates cliche- Anarchy and all that bull-shit- But here he is, the Freak half-in-love with the Cheer Captain, pinning from afar. Stupidly, the little crush that had started in his heart when Chrissy was fifteen, a sophomore and newly minted cheer captain that shared his first shot at pre-calc class, knocked at his ribs. Curled at his heart like a curse, like the Shadow that chases after Sparrowhawk in Earthsea, ever-present and actually a part of him all along.
You are so fucked Munson.