A/N: This was meant to be a single chapter, but again, my long-winded self made it longer than intended—a whopping 10k! So I split it up.

Also, since the last chapter update, I started AND finished reading the Stranger Things novel "Runaway Max," so for those who have read it, you might see some lines taken from the book in the upcoming chapters. For those who haven't, I highly recommend it, especially if you're a fan of Max. It is a good read that gives deeper insight into Max's past, life in San Diego California, and why they moved to Hawkins.

Also also, I apologize if there are any inconsistencies from here on out. After reading "Runaway Max," I was deeply affected by it, so I might—emphasis on "might" —end up changing some things to try and be as accurate with the characters and their situations/dynamics as possible.

Lastly, I aim to post on Sundays before 5 pm EST. But we'll see ;)

Happy Birthday . . . Susan? Part I

Max stared down at the torn bits of her mother's scrapbook with only two things on her mind. Billy and vengeance. She fought off the sting of tears with a heavy sigh and ran her finger over the last page she'd been working on. All that effort down the drain. Today, Billy would get his. She just had to find the perfect moment–the perfect punishment that would put him in his place.

If that's even possible, she thought to herself.

She'd been sitting on the floor for over an hour waiting for the solution to her mother's gift to pop into her head, but Billy had done too much damage, and considering her mother's celebration was later that night, it would be impossible to have it fixed and finished in time. It was the lowest of blows, but she didn't want to be sad anymore. She wanted to make him pay.

She ignored the pang in her chest and gathered the salvageable photos into a pile. The sound of the front door slamming jolted her from her slow movements and she scrambled to shove the torn bits into the white box under her bed.

"We're home!" Her mother's voice rang out from the living room. The cheerful sound of it made the guilt in Max's chest tighten even more. Not getting to see her face when presented with the scrapbook hurt more than she thought it would.

Susan's birthday treat had been a spa day gifted by Niel, and Max had opted not to tag along so she could finish the scrapbook.

Until Billy got his grubby fingers on it.

But Max didn't really enjoy the idea of being primped and pampered, anyway. Being made beautiful wasn't a concern of hers. She would do a lot of things to see her mom happy, but having a stranger pull and tug on her hair and paint her nails was last on the list of activities she'd willingly participate in.

Max glanced once more at the end of her bed where she'd shoved the white box and grabbed the small pile of photos she'd combed through. She selected one of her favorites-a candid of her and her mother lounging on a couch having what she remembered to be a heartfelt conversation about Max's new friends. This would have to do until she could make another book.

Hold it together, Max. Don't cry.

She spared herself a glance in the mirror to make sure it didn't look like she'd been crying. When satisfied, she left her room in search of her mom. She found her in the kitchen where she sat looking down at her freshly painted nails with a small smile on her face. Susan looked up and gave Max a warm smile.

She bit her lip and handed her mom the photo. "Happy Birthday, Mom." She ignored the small waver in her voice as she fought the urge to cry again. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She'd planned for her mom to be surprised, but touched by the scrapbook. Now she was only getting a single photo. Once again, Billy ruined everything for her.

"Where did you get this?" Susan asked.

"I . . . found it . . ." Max said with a small shrug. She lied, not wanting to mention her dad. "I . . . had something else, but—"

Max slammed her mouth shut as the sting of tears threatened her eyes again. She looked anywhere but at her mom.

"Max," her mother said softly. "What's wrong?"

Billy tore it up because he thought I needed to be punished. Again.

"I just didn't get it finished in time," she mumbled.

"Aw, it's okay, sweetie. You can give it to me later," she said and looked down at the photo again with a smile. She ran her finger over it fondly. "I'm going to frame this. Do you want to come to dinner with us tonight?"

Max blinked in surprise and shifted on her feet. "But I thought it was just for you and Neil."

"He felt it would be better to make it a family dinner this year. Isn't that lovely?" Susan said. She stood from the table and stepped up to Max. She gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and Max looked up at her and returned her smile, still trying her best to hide that anything was wrong.

Wait. Family dinner?

Max's stomach sank.

"Billy's going?" she asked. She'd hoped that because of the concert sale, he'd be gone long enough for her to plan her vengeance.

Susan nodded.

So that's what they were arguing about this morning. Crap. That means Billy is going to be even more angry than before.

Max's eyes suddenly widened. It hit her all at once—this was the perfect opportunity to make Billy suffer. To send a message. She felt herself perk up after all. She must have let herself think too much because her mother spoke after a long, silent moment.

"You don't have to if you don't—"

"Of course, I'll go, Mom."

Susan gave a right smile and another arm squeeze. "You riding with us or with Billy?"

I'd rather walk over glass barefoot than ride with Billy anytime soon.

"I'll ride with you. It's your birthday after all."

Susan's smile widened. "Our reservation is at 7, but Neil wants to leave early, so get dressed OK? He promised me we could take the long route into Indy to explore the area a bit."

"Indy?"

"Yeah," she beamed. "That's what the locals call Indianapolis here. Isn't that neat? We can explore, have a nice dinner, then we'll come back home and have cake and ice cream after. Like always."

Max nodded at her mom. Once she left for her room, her smile slid off her face. She nervously chewed her nail as she combed through the options to get back at Billy. An idea struck her, and she smiled. It was all coming together.

. . .

Billy startled awake at the sound of a honking horn. He scrambled up and tried to blink through his blurry vision. It wasn't his alarm making that noise, but someone outside. He rubbed his eyes furiously to see the time on the clock read 4:37. He felt his shoulders relax.

Damn. Thought I overslept. No wonder the alarm didn't even go off yet.

This nap was going to be his only fuel while he waited in line for his Metallica tickets. Rule of thumb was that you didn't sleep when camping for your tickets. Not unless you wanted to basically let others cut in front of your spot. Wasn't worth the risk of missing out. He slumped back on the bed and let his eyes fall shut. He could still hear the muffled voices of his dad and Susan, which meant they hadn't left yet. He still had time.

When Billy peeled his eyes open again, the house was silent. The muted light from the window told him some time had passed. Yet, something didn't sit quite right. With a groan, he rose and glanced at the clock.

5:10. Fuck! Why didn't my alarm go off?!

He cursed his alarm as he pulled himself out of bed and fumbled his way to the closet. If it weren't for Max, he could have his radio to help him wake up. Music kept him motivated. Getting ready in silence grated on his nerves.

Damn you, Max.

Even after breaking her things, he was still unsatisfied. She needed to learn he was the superior one of the two of them, that he was not to be messed with. And he'd happily drill that into her bones until she went crazy, refusing to even think about screwing with him again. But he'd think about that later. Right now, he had somewhere to be.

It felt as though the world was against him. Billy was so sure he'd set his alarm. The idea of pissing his dad off again made his stomach churn.

He chose the black dress shirt from his closet. Fit for a funeral. He essentially mourned and loathed the idea of having to sit through dinner like a family. Not to mention at this rate, the only concert tickets he'd be able to get were nosebleeds. Of course, his dad didn't care about that. Only the lie of a big happy family.

"We came here to change, so we'll change."

His dad's words still haunted him. He wanted to spit at the notion they'd ever be a family. Not if he could help it.

He grumbled over the fact that he'd been forced to watch Max all week. Stuck inside like a child. Now he was forced to change his plans for Susan's birthday. And was told he had to not only get the cake, but get it before 6 and then drive the hour to the restaurant and be there by 7. His Dad's words had been like a whip:

"Do not be late."

He shuddered and cursed himself for doing so. Hell would seem like a carnival if he showed up late to this dinner. Thankfully he hadn't overslept by much more. He could still make it, sit through the dinner, and leave out with enough time to try and score some tickets.

Of course, it would have just been better had his Dad picked up the stupid cake himself. Asking Billy to do it was another punishment. At least that's how it felt. And driving to Indianapolis? He'd never understand why going all the way there for dinner was the plan. All for Susan—to make her happy.

Never gave mom this kind of treatment, Billy thought. He grabbed his leather jacket and tugged it on. He scoffed as he slammed the back door behind him. We'll change, my ass.

He stomped toward his car, and his thoughts were interrupted by the darkened look of the sky. He frowned. Why is it so dark out? It's only 5. Maybe because it's winter . . .

He hated how cold it was—the first snowfall made him wish he was back in California spending his days on the beach, surfing the waves. The only body of water here was the pond, and there was no way anyone could enjoy that. He'd never say it out loud, but he missed home.

Hawkins was a nightmare. Having his car and the occasional hook-up with a chick whose roots were bleached blonde was the closest he'd get to lessening that yearning he felt deep inside of him. The girls wouldn't know a thing about California and had probably never seen the ocean or dipped their toes in the sand, but they'd do. For now. He'd do just about anything to forget about the reality that had become his life—anything to keep him out of that house. Away from him. Even if that meant camping out in the frigid cold to snag some last-minute tickets.

Respect and Responsibility. His father's words echoed loudly in his head and he shook off the distracting thoughts. He reached for the handle of the car door only for something to catch his eye. Was he seeing right? Maybe he was still half asleep.

Billy rubbed his eyes only for his worries to be confirmed. His stomach sank and he shook his head. No, no, no.

He knelt beside the back left tire and rubbed his face angrily. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" he shouted. Lying there beside the flattened tire was a perfectly polished kitchen knife.

Max.

He cursed and scrambled to get the spare tire from his trunk. Though he always worked on his car in the garage back home, he'd never had to change a tire before, and he didn't have time to spare any thoughts of how Max had pulled this off, or how angry he was. His hands were cold, but he ignored the ache and set to his task.

It had taken him 30 minutes to change the tire. He wasn't convinced he'd even done it correctly, but with only ten minutes left to grab the cake, he couldn't risk taking any more time. If he'd just gotten the cake sooner instead of taking that damn nap, he could have avoided this altogether. Max wouldn't have had time to slash his tire. If he wasn't tasked with keeping an eye on her every waking moment, a lot of things would be different.

He pulled up to the bakery and didn't bother to shut his car off. The lights inside were off, and a man was locking the door. Billy felt nauseous as he rushed out, stumbling slightly.

"Wait, wait, wait. Excuse me!"

The man shook his head. "Sorry. We're closed."

"But it's not even 6 yet. There's still, like, seven minutes," Billy pleaded. His heart pounded in his chest.

The man laughed and looked at Billy in disbelief. "Sonny, you might have gone a little too far back for daylight savings time. It's almost 7! I just finished cleaning up the shop for the night."

Billy's eyes widened and he let out a mock laugh. This guy must be crazy. "7? What do you mean it's 7?" He checked his watch: 5:52 p.m.

"Take a look around. All the shops are already closed. Seems to me like you need to have your watch looked at." He gave a sniff and a shrug of indifference.

Everything settled in Billy's stomach like a lead weight. She'd duped him again.

She fucked me over. Dammit, Max!

Just like the chilling wind, reality swept over him in an instant. If he was late to get the cake . . . that meant he was late for dinner. And the restaurant was nearly an hour away.

Oh, shit.

Billy put his hands on his hips and paced, dragging his fingers through his hair. He spun and turned back to the clerk because showing up late and empty-handed. Not an option.

"Please, can't you just let me get the cake? All you have to do is walk back in and get it, right?"

The clerk shook his head and sighed, "Sorry, son. We toss everything at the end of the night. Health regulations and whatnot."

He watched the man leave and bit his lip hard enough to break the skin. He had no choice but to turn up without the cake and be more than an hour late. Even if he tried to find a replacement, his dad had ordered a custom cake. He'd know the difference.

With a grumble, Billy jumped back into the car and sped off down the street, squealing tires and all. He couldn't fight the sense of dread that planted itself inside of him. He'd be lucky to come out unscathed, but he already knew that was wishful thinking.

Neil's going to kill me.

To be continued . . .