~Sierra~
My head laid heavily in the cup of my palm as Jonathan and I bore witness to the third episode of 'What Will Nancy Puke Up This Time?'. We had successfully managed to evade getting it all over the interior of Jonathan's car the second time round. However, the bumpy country roads proved too much for Nancy's delicate condition within a minute of driving down them at 5mph. Dutifully, I had held back a fistful of her hair and given her some dignified privacy. This time round though, Nancy virtually threw herself out of the car. Right into an open jack o'lantern, the stomach contents extinguishing the lit candle. Real classy. Once she had ejected the majority of the alcohol she'd consumed that night, we waited with bated breath for her to give us the signal it was all over. Giving herself a few moments to heavily breathe, Nancy finally gave us the thumbs up. Jonathan and I entwined our arms around her, synchronizing our footsteps to her unsteady gait, and started making our way discreetly over the Wheeler's front garden. All nights were off, excluding the porch light her mom made sure was left on overnight much to Mr Wheeler's irritation at how much it cost them. For a brief second, Jonathan narrowed his eyes at me as I walked straight past the front door and around to the back of the house. Whistling gently, I angled my head towards the ladder leading to Nancy's balcony.
"You can't be serious" he said, expression gormless.
"Oh, I'm serious, Jonathan" I sharply replied. It was 10pm. Nancy's parents had no clue whatsoever that she was out at a party, let alone out of her mind drunk. I had sneaked into Nancy's house many times this way after a late night excursion. However, on those occasions we were at the level of tipsy where we could independently handle the climb to her bedroom without the risk of death. This was a completely different matter. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Inwardly groaning to himself, Jonathan hauled Nancy over his shoulder. When she gagged, we both froze and stared at her through widened eyes. None of us were able to move until Nancy jerked a thumb into the air, our cue to get on with it.
"If she pukes down my back, you're paying for my dry cleaning, Sierra" Jonathan grumbled and began the ascent.
"If she pukes down your back, it's going in my face, Byers. You'll be getting off easy in comparison" Just looking at Nancy's dozy face made me reluctant to climb behind them until they were in the bedroom. At least if I was on the ground I could dodge whatever could potentially come my way. So, I did just that.
Once Jonathan and Nancy had gotten close enough to the balcony, I deemed it safe to meet them. Knowing the right way to jiggle the door lock, I opened the balcony doors, clenching my teeth as the high-pitched creak penetrated the silence. As quickly as possible, we lifted Nancy over the balcony and guided her into bed. Jonathan turned away towards the desk of ornately framed photographs as I got Nancy out of the stained chiffon shirt and into her pajama top, an Outsiders shirt we bought on a shopping outing in Terre Haute.
"Jonathan," Nancy murmured dreamily, her eyes barely open before slipping to a close and her head dropping on the pillow.
Tenderly, I rolled Nancy onto her side and took a lilac cushion from the desk chair to place behind her, ensuring that she wouldn't return to sleeping on her back. It was a common practice in my household now. If I heard the loud click of the key unlocking the front door at 2am, I would know that Dad had arrived back home after a night with his other business friends. After enough time elapsed to be certain he wouldn't bother me, just waiting in the tense quiet, I would go downstairs where he would be slumped over the table. Cigarette lit in his hand and an empty glass of whiskey next to him, the condensation still trickling down. The usual position now. Despite being twice the size of me, he was relatively easy to move down to the floor. Like a ragdoll.
Sometimes after I had rolled him onto his side and got him comfortable, I would stand up and gaze down at him. Here I am, I would think, standing over your powerless body. You treat me like nothing, but I continue to help you so you don't die in your sleep. So you can go another day doing the same old shit - drinking, flashing your money, beating me. Every now and then I would question why I did it. The police would never have questioned me if I just stood there and watched as he choked to death. An accidental death. Zack and I could live in peace. The bruises would in turn meet their demise and never show again. But I would never be able to live with myself. It would haunt me. So, I bestowed him with another night. Another chance. He would never know that in that moment, I was the one holding all the cards that would keep him alive. That he was utterly vulnerable to whatever choice I decided to make.
"She still has photos of Barb" Jonathan whispered.
Next to him were a collection of photographs from over the years, spread out in a neat, invisible line on the desk where Nancy did her homework and wrote in her diary. One of her and Steve that I had taken this summer when we visited Tippecanoe Lake, cuddling. Steve appeared besotted with her, brushing his nose against her cheekbone as she looked directly into the camera, a sweet smile plastered on her pink lips. It was only now that the realization dawned on me that there was an uneven dynamic going on in their relationship. It's all bullshit. Nancy's drunken words, spluttering out, were beginning to make sense.
Another photograph was of Nancy and I from New Year's Eve 1981. We were fourteen at the time. It was an era where Nancy and I were determined to go to London together so we could meet Princess Diana and would watch the Royal Wedding with bundles of tissues in our fists, creased because we clutched onto them for hours and damp from all the tears we had shed. We had just started high school where we became friends with Cathy Shipton and Ally Lamplough. I vividly remembered Nancy and I getting so excited because we now had friends who lived outside of Hawkins. It was only a few minutes away from the 'Welcome To Hawkins!' sign, but it still counted. It would only take a semester for us to start drifting our separate ways. I started cheerleading, Nancy joined the book club with Barb, and the rest was history. Whilst I sat with the jocks and cheerleaders, Nancy and Barb sat in a limbo between the nerds and the art kids. No clique to define them. How liberating that must have been. How much I yearned to have that too. It wasn't until sophomore year that we properly connected again in AP English, outside of the family barbecues at summer and gift exchanges in an Italian restaurant off of Cornwallis the week before Christmas. Only then did I venture over to that unspecified zone. Nancy was half right about wanting to fill a void in my life. I wanted Dad to come through that front door - sober and proud of me. Proud of me that I was flourishing in high school. So often I daydreamed about how I could be by his side as he spoke with the jocks dads, openly chatting about the football game where I had been cheerleading on the sides whilst the other dad's sons had won. It was all I had ever wanted. To get my father's love, I had abandoned my friends. The price I was willing to pay at the time.
My eyes roamed over to the photograph Jonathan was referring to. Barb and Nancy were laughing in the monochrome photo, their eyes wrinkling up at whatever joke had been made. A pang of regret stabbed at my stomach, spreading out as wide as it possibly could.
"Come on, we should go now" I mumbled.
I took a fleeting glance at the photograph before leading the way out. We hoisted ourselves over the balcony, expertly sped down the ladder, and followed the beams of light shining from Jonathan's car. Jonathan turned the music down so it became a gentle hum and we sat in silence until we reached the intersection.
"Did you know Barb?" I asked Jonathan.
"A little, but not all that much." he replied. He was a man of few words.
That silence fell over us again. As much as I implored for my thoughts not to, Billy's face entered my mind. The glimmer in his eyes before that cool expression materialized, exiling any genuine emotion. He had felt something real. Had I just given him a chance to explain himself, would tonight have ended differently?
Jonathan's voice severed any emotional connection I had to the memory that repeated itself in my mind. He was going to collect Will from Lucas Sinclair's house. By the time I had processed what he had said, Jonathan was already out of the car. Eyes sleepy, I relaxed back into my hand and started closing my eyes when I heard a frantic, "What?" from Jonathan, an octave higher than his usual hushed tone. Keeping my eyes closed wasn't an option then, no matter how much they wanted to rest. Their words were indecipherable through the shut car window, but I could clearly perceive the muted tension play out on their faces. Will's head was bowed and I could only just see how his face was blemished from tears as Lucas desperately gesticulated with his arms moving wildly to convey whatever had upset Will. Jonathan, on the other hand, was unreadable. I could tell he was worried though. If it wasn't for his foot tapping rapidly against the floor, whatever anxiety he was experiencing wouldn't have been noticeable. Quickly, Jonathan guided Will to the car and I had to put on this pretense that I was none the wiser to anything.
What was going on with these two?
"Happy Halloween, Will" I yawned and rummaged in my purse for some candy. I gave Lucas a small wave which he returned. He was a good kid. Very smart and a great sense of humor. Babysitting for him and his little sister Erica was always a good night. The sass on the kid was admirable.
Will chuckled as he took it gently from my hand, sneaking one into his mouth. Now he was closer, I could see that at some point tonight he had been completely distraught. This was an issue that candy, no matter how much, wouldn't have been able to resolve.
"Did you guys enjoy your party?" Will settled back into his seat, trying to put on this brave mask. Much like his brother's foot, Will's twitching hands gave him away.
"Let's just put it this way, dude: stay away from vodka-infused punch" I grumbled and popped a candy into my mouth. God, Halloween was so much better if you replaced alcoholic punch with chocolate. I smiled as Will laughed at my remark, glad to see him appearing happy. "How are the others doing?"
Will's answer was brief. A simple, easy "Okay" before falling back into an uneasy silence. A subject that hadn't been broached hovered above us and it was becoming unbearable. If I thought that was bad though, it got a hell of a lot more awkward as the car crawled to the front of my house.
Dad had just arrived back home.
A bottle of vodka in his hand.
That's how I always knew if he was going to be in a bad mood. I would watch him attentively, surveying his movements and facial expression from my bedroom window. These alone would lead to an inconclusive result. The bottle of Grey Goose vodka was synonymous with a bad day and the subsequent slap around the face.
I could take Nancy yelling at me. I could take learning how Billy most likely fucked Bryony after sharing so much with me at The Communion. What I couldn't take right now was being on the receiving end of my Dad's frustrations. Swiveling my head around, I saw Will was fast asleep.
"Jonathan," I whispered and felt my eyes burn with embarrassment "can I stay at yours tonight?"
I wasn't expecting Jonathan to agree to my request and instantly drive off. If anything, I was expecting questions followed by splutters of half-answers to absolve any indication of wrongdoing on my Dad's part.
"Can I ask a question?"
Here it was.
I had been in this situation so many times now. When a teacher saw my bandaged hand in Math class two years ago, I said I had a DIY mishap. He had never slammed it in the door when I tried to run away from him. When the cheerleading coach caught a glimpse of a bruise on my face after the unpremeditated high temperatures had melted away my makeup, it became the result of falling over some of Zack's toys. The incident where he had punched me never occurred. Not in the real world. In the real world, he was an esteemed businessman and perfect father. Anything contradicting that must be a work of fiction. They would never believe me. Now Jonathan, his eyes barely looking at me, was going to ask why I didn't want to return to my house.
I had two choices.
Either pretend that I wanted to sleep with him or sway the conversation to another topic.
There was no option to tell the truth. No in-between.
"If your dad does to you what he did to my mom, you'd tell me right?"
"What?"
"If your dad does to you what he did to my mom, you would tell me. Right?"
He knew.
Jonathan Byer's knew what was behind that flawless front. He saw there was a monster in my home.
I tilted my chin, looking straight at him. Tears glittered in my eyes and I nodded. Words were unnecessary. He nodded back at me and went back to focus on the road. I went back to staring out at the velvet black sky embellished with stars, wondering what would be seen if we were all the way out there. Sometimes, on a particularly bad night, I would squeeze my eyes shut and imagine peering down at the world and witnessing an alternative reality. Scientists said if one were to look down upon Earth from light years away, they would be looking at a world where dinosaurs still reigned supreme. Mine was where my mom was still here, where he was gone. Afterwards, I would press down hard on my thighs until I made the skin bright red. A reminder that whatever I conjured in my head wasn't real. No amount of hope would make her come back now. I could hear the crunch of Jonathan's hands clenching his leather steering wheel and a deep exhale. The heavy weight of the truth burdened on us was palpable. Jonathan knew what would happen if he divulged this to anyone. No one could do anything to help. Dad would manipulate them into believing I was nothing but an attention seeker.
Just like her mother.
I could see Agnes Agnew in her polka dot hooverette dress shake her head in disappointment and get straight to baking my father an apple pie as a consolation for his unruly daughter. Truth would never come to light. Mom had learned the hard way.
Our bodies jolted as we drove over the old roads' signature potholes and darkness shrouded any other obstacles. As we approached the Byer's house, a gravel road twisted past an old oak tree. I wonder what would happen if I climbed all the way to the top, what I could see. Soon enough, Jonathan gathered a sleeping Will in his arms and we entered the house, leaving my thoughts about the oak tree outside. Waking up with a start, Will quickly excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Jonathan and I to confront the silence between us yet again. Jonathan muttered something about putting the TV on and seeing what was on. With a crackle, the screen showed the local newsreader, Kayla Johnson, as serious as ever with her bleached blonde hair and pearly white teeth.
Late night Hawkins news was a never-ending drama as of late. A small town terrorized by disappearances. It all started with Barb and Will, but recently another kid had gone missing. A little girl called Annie Jackson who lived a few doors down from Steve. Jonathan and I were glued to the screen as we watched her parents implore whoever knew where she was to come forward, tears streaming down their cheeks. It was the worst possible situation one could be in. God, if that were to happen to Zackā¦
No, I couldn't even think about it. Just stop, Sierra.
Cutting sharply to another scene, Kayla announced that a new mall was coming to Hawkins next year, opening in May 1985. It was strange thinking that far in the future. Steve, Nancy and I would be graduating. Jonathan had quit high school the year before so he could work more at the recent chain of grocery stores that had opened in the next town over from Hawkins. I would never admit to them that it frightened me to be leaving the safety net that was high school. As much as I loathed it, the thought of being away from familiarity terrified the hell out of me. Yet, I desired the exact opposite. I found myself confusing, a living contradiction.
After that newsreel, there was an interview with my dad about the mall. He had bought shares in it and exchanged contracts with his business buddies, and was now gloating about how much character it would bring to Hawkins. To my delight, there were interviews afterwards with those who objected to the building.
"All that money that could go to local, independent stores is just going straight into Anthony Nightingale's pocket. He doesn't care about promoting Hawkins, just himself!" a woman in what I assumed were her mid-40s yelled.
I had no idea who that woman was, but I wanted to coax her into the biggest hug ever. Whilst Jonathan and I were engrossed with the woman slandering my father's so-called good name, Will came out of the bath and fled straight to his room. I took the chance to go to the bathroom and immediately noticed once again there was no steam coming from the bath. Dipping my fingers into the water confirmed my suspicion: it was ice cold.
"Hey, Jonathan" I called out and beckoned Jonathan to come over as he leaned against the door frame. "I think something's up with your hot water. This is the second time I've noticed the bath water has been cold"
"Yeah, I've noticed that too" Jonathan skimmed his hand over the water and backed away slowly. Concern etched his features for a fleeting moment until he fully straightened his back. "Come on, we should get some sleep. You can have my room"
"I don't mind sleeping on the sofa, Jonathan"
"No, no. That's not my style" he gently laughed and led me to his room. "Sorry about the mess"
It wasn't that bad, truth be told. The floor was slightly littered with photographs he had taken, and a porn magazine that he hastily kicked under his bed, but other than that, it wasn't the worst I had seen. I thanked Jonathan and we just stood still for a moment, thoughts on what to say lingering between us. However, instead of saying anything, Jonathan hauled me in for a tight embrace.
"I mean it" he whispered. "You can tell me"
He released me and I smiled warmly at him. I wondered how much Joyce had told him about my father. Moreover, I wondered whether she had warned my mother about what lay ahead for her. Probably not considering I had come into existence.
"Thanks, Jonathan"
"Don't mention it. I'll be in the living room if you need anything"
"Okay, sure. I owe you, man"
"You don't owe me anything, Sierra. I just want you to be safe"
Smiling at each other, Jonathan left the room and me to my own devices. I would have to leave early in the morning so I could get dressed in time for school. Shit, it was English first period. There was no option but to see Billy. What could I say? Just a repeat of my last speech or forgiveness? I shook my head, that was enough for tonight. Trying to avoid my thoughts, I got myself underneath the bed covers, crinkling my nose as I breathed in this weird, earthy odor.
"Perhaps not" I mused and tossed the covers aside, leaving myself bare.
Curling up, my eyes slipped to a close, allowing the darkness to enclose around me.
"You weren't there for Barb"
Snapping myself awake, I reached to feel my pounding heart. It was like Nancy was right next to me, eerily breathing into my ear. Oh, Barb. Memories of the party, the night where everything changed, flooded into my mind. I had been getting myself a glass of water from Steve's kitchen when I saw her rolled-up, auburn hair race past me and up the stairs. Away into the bathroom where we would exchange the last words spoken between us...
I had quirked my brows up at Barb going up the stairs in a rush, as if desperate to escape something. I could tell why from the kitchen, hearing Tommy's taunts about how stupid she had been trying to open a can of beer, calling her a virgin in every aspect. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin but to Tommy this was the ultimate insult he could hurl at someone alongside the binary opposite. Virgin or whore. Whore was only ever directed at girls. Never at men which told me everything about him that was required. Barb didn't deserve to be Tommy's target tonight. Creeping up the stairs, I walked slowly along the hallway, surrounded by photographs of a baby Steve and his parents, until I could see a shadow cast outside the bathroom door. I curled my fingers around the mahogany door, opening it slightly.
"Barb, are you okay?"
She gasped and hurried to put away something. I had made her feel uncomfortable. Great. Well, what did I realistically expect? I wouldn't feel particularly good if someone was lurking outside the toilet watching me either. Quickly, I scanned the room to see if I could find something to distract us both from this awkward moment. Absolutely nothing.
Wait, why did she have her bag strapped over her shoulder? Was she leaving? Before I could question her motives, I noticed a book with purple writing poking out from the bag.
"Is that The Color Purple you're reading?" I asked and eagerly entered the room, forgetting all social niceties that would have sternly penalized me.
"Yeah," Barb replied, surprised that I recognized it. "You've read it?"
"Only like five times!" I exclaimed and positioned myself so I sat next to the sink. "Did you know it was partially inspired by a story Alice Walker's sister told her about their grandfather's love triangle?"
"No, I didn't! That's interesting to know. I wonder where he fits in" Barb said and also made herself comfortable, sitting down on the other side of the sink. "I love Shug's character. Fearless and able to be herself"
"Not to mention accepting Celie for who she is regardless of their many differences that would otherwise keep them apart, supporting her to take control in her violent marriage. Shug is a blessing" I sighed and leaned back onto my hands. "What else do you like reading?"
"Anything that strays from the norm. Kinda like me"
I laughed heartily with her, admiring her ability to joke about herself. More so, how she was able to be confidently 'abnormal' in a sea of normal people.
"Are you okay, by the way? I saw you rush up the stairs" I asked and examined her hand. Gathering some toilet paper, I dabbed her cut where blood was dripping.
"To be honest, I'm probably better off away from those guys" Barb murmured and peered down at her feet, dangling in the air. "Why do you hang out with them?"
"Who? Steve and Nancy?"
"Steve, Tommy, Carol" she listed and mirrored me, leaning back against her hands. "They're, well, assholes"
I respected her there and then. No one dared to call them that. Not even when they weren't around.
"Steve's okay. I've been best friends with him since kindergarten and I know there is a good guy deep down there. As for Tommy and Carol, yeah I agree with you. I only hang out with them when Steve is there because I don't really have much of a choice" I said in a faraway voice, wishing that a choice would just manifest.
As if she had read my mind, Barb spoke up.
"You do have the choice though"
I lowered my head, kneading my chin into my chest. I knew she was right, but I just couldn't face that yet. Despite knowing that they spoke badly of me, I still stood around them like an annoying fly. They made me feel like I pestered them just by being there ever since I got into AP English. It wasn't like we had a friendship beforehand, but they didn't act like it pained them to tolerate me back then. Why did I persevere just for Steve? Through my endeavor to find something else to focus on other than the ire of my conscience, I glanced at Barb's watch. I had completely forgotten amongst all this talk that Zack needed picking up from my grandparents.
"Oh shit, I didn't realize that was the time!" I gasped and leaped off the side. "Hey, are you free this Saturday?"
Barb was right. I did have a choice, and she had empowered me to make the right one.
"Really, a cheerleader with a nerd like me?" She also gasped and smirked at me, gesturing to the crimson cheerleader uniform I was wearing.
"I know, how scandalous" I laughed with her and we smiled warmly at each other. "But no, seriously, if you're free, I've got some books I think you'd like. There's a nice cafe just off Harlington Avenue. They do pretty good coffee there if that's your vibe"
"Depends what's next on your list" she giggled and revealed another book from her bag. "Mine's The Queen's Gambit"
I wanted a bag just like that - full of books just waiting for their pages to be touched.
"No way! I've been eyeing that up since it came out, but I'm like 50 pages off from finishing Shame by Salman Rushdie. Have you heard of it?"
"No, what's it about?"
"It's about how shame begets violence, characterized by the feud between two families and delves into magic realism. It's really fascinating how Rushdie personifies shame throughout" I had gotten so excited to share this enthusiasm with someone other than myself. No one else actually smiled when I spoke about books like this. Instead, it was met with a gaping mouth and bewilderment, and no one in AP English knew my secret love of reading. They all just thought I had a knack for analyzing text. "So, should we say Saturday? I can bring the book with me for you to borrow"
"Well, I should be finished with Queen's Gambit then so we can swap?" she suggested and I keenly agreed. "Great, see you Saturday!"
"Cool! See you then, Barb"
But I would never see her on Saturday. Our little get-together where we would exchange books and avidly discuss what emerging themes got us most excited never took place. Instead, Barb went missing that night, taken out of nowhere. Lukewarm tears cascaded down my cheeks and I finally choked out a cry that had burrowed itself away for too long. I never told anyone about our conversation. No one knew how on my bedroom desk I still had the 1983 calendar opened up on November, the 11th day highlighted in yellow and the cursive black ink saying, 'Meeting with Barb - bring Shame!' with a heart next to it. I had never fully known Barb and I mourned that lost opportunity. Nancy was right. I hadn't cared about her until it was too late.
The long groan of the door shook me from these thoughts.
2am, the bright red LED clock told me.
I readied myself to get out of bed. Jonathan had probably changed his mind. Instead, I let out a gasp as I saw it wasn't Jonathan waiting for me to clamor out of his bed.
"Will?"
Nothing. He just stood there. Like that night where he stared out at the forest, lost in his own mind. Will opened his mouth, a sinister hiss escaping.
What the hell was happening?
"I know everything about you, Sierra"
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope you all equally enjoyed reading it! I have to say, writing this story makes me feel so happy and I'm over the moon with the reception it has received. Thank you to everyone who has supported this story. It really does mean a lot :)
