I hope you enjoy this (edited) chapter! As always, I only own my OC.
Robert Henderson fought in Vietnam. My late grandfather - a man dad often called a barbarian - was a WWII Air Force vet. Old Michael Henderson forced my dad to sign up right after he graduated high school, just like he did. "No son of mine's going to be drafted. You volunteer, son. Serve your fucking country!"
So dad became a pilot. He flew high and fast, dropped bombs and shot planes out of the sky - all for a war he never believed in, never cared about. He just wanted to make his old man proud.
He fought for three years, until he blocked a hit meant for his wingman and ejected himself out of his crashing bird. Only to be shot in the arm, thigh, and his side. Luckily for his future children, a medic got him to safety. He was honorably discharged, but most importantly he eventually made a full recovery. He made it back home, he married his girlfriend, he went to college, and had his two kids.
But while Robert Henderson left Vietnam, Vietnam didn't leave him. Not for a while, anyway. There'd be times in the woods, where he'd just freeze up and peer into the bushes, waiting for something to come out. If we were walking in an area covered in overgrown grass he'd only look down as he created a safe path, yelling at me to follow every step he took. For a while, when I was too young to know what happened to him, I'd just roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness. It wasn't until I was nine that he told me his story. I stopped rolling my eyes after that. I started getting out of bed when I'd hear him moving around in the middle of the night, and we'd drink a glass of warm milk together with only the living room lamp turned on. He'd read The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood to me, and little by little would tell me stories about his fallen friends.
There was Dex, wild whenever they were back at camp, wrestling with their buddies and winning every drinking game. But when it came to flying, dad had never seen a more focused person in his life. Then there was Marty. Like my grandpa, Marty's father was also an Air Force pilot in WWII. He'd made his son enlist, too. Now, Marty wasn't great in the sky, but he was always ready to protect a friend. Evan hated clowns, but had no problem waving dangerous spiders around in front of the others.
None of them made it home.
I guess that's something else my dad and I share now. We made it home, trauma and all.
Trauma that keeps me up for hours. If I'm lucky enough to even get some sleep, it only lasts a few hours before I'm shooting up in bed, trying to hold in my screams. I started cutting my nails short after the sixth time I escaped a nightmare, having woken up to find myself scratching at my neck to rip off vines that were never there.
So yeah, I don't really sleep much these days. That's fine. Winter's finally come around, anyway, and it's my favorite season. Which is why I've pulled my dress chair over to the window by my bed, knees bent up to my chest as I watch the world outside continues to be covered with white powder. Occasionally I look down at the cast on my arm, wiggling my fingers. It's the weirdest thing - there's no pain. Not like it's numb or anything. It just doesn't hurt. Like, I can still carry something with it. It's mostly just sore. And the big gash on my temple's already faded into a white, raised line - just like the cut on my right hand - not to mention how much the bruises have healed. I'm tired, but I don't feel as physically broken as before. I'm too scared to even want to mention it to Dr. Owens. What if… what if the particles really did mutate me? What if I'm - what if I become the government's new Eleven?
I don't want to be some kind of lab rat. I just want to be me again.
There's a knock on my door, breaking me from my thoughts. "Sweetheart, can we come in?" My mom calls.
With a jolt I stand and clear my throat. "Yeah! Yes."
My mom opens the door while Dustin enters first, my little brother holding out a blueberry muffin with a lit candle. "Happy birthday!" He shouts, nearly blowing out the tiny flame. "You're finally sixteen! You're ancient! It's okay, though, you'll always be my little shit."
"Dusty!" My mom scolds, but she keeps smiling at me. "Oh, dumpling. Happy birthday!"
"Thanks, you guys." I smile back, the first relaxed one I've had in nearly two weeks. My mom pulls me into one of her world famous hugs, nearly knocking my brother over. He stumbles and makes faces at me, and I flip him off.
"Veronica, you better not be showing any rude gestures to your brother!" I instantly lower my finger.
"Sorry."
She scoffs and hits my shoulder, straightening up. "Oh, what am I going to do with you two?"
"Love us?" I offer, smirking.
"Sell one of us for another cat." Dustin says, yelping as he dodges my mom's headslap.
"Dusty!"
"Sorry! Shit."
"Dustin. Henderson. If you don't watch your language, you aren't getting any dessert tonight!"
He instantly pales, and thrusts out my surprisingly still-lit muffin. "Dearest sister. Milady most fair. Do us the honor of blowing out thy candle."
I do my best to channel Erica Sinclair. "I will when you stop talking like a nerd, nerd." But then I ruffle his thick curls and blow out my candle, making a wish as I close my eyes.
I wish El was alive.
My room is filled with my mom and brother's cheers, and I open my eyes to see my mom removing the candle from the muffin and offering the baked good to me. I take it before jumping on my bed. Uncaring of the crumbles getting on my bed - stuff half of it into my mouth.
What can I say? I've got a serious love for blueberry muffins.
Mom sniffs the air and gasps. "The cranberry sauce!" Dustin and I giggle as she runs to the kitchen. The scent of burning sugar fills the air, along with the sound of our mom cursing up a storm. "One day she'll figure out how to make homemade cranberry sauce." I manage to laugh out, and Dustin snorts.
"Yeah, sure." He sasses, then jumps onto my bed. He rolls onto his stomach and plays with the comforter. "So, you excited to see Steve Harrington today?"
I choke, coughing out some crumbs. I reach over to grab my glass of water and chug until my throat stops burning. "Uh - what?"
"Seriously? You forgot?"
My face falls. "Oh, crap."
"Jesus, you must be exhausted."
Fuck, he's right. I forgot.
A few days ago, Jonathan and I'd been hanging out with Nancy and Steve. Nance's boyfriend mentioned his parents were still out of town - because why would they come to Hawkins for any kind of holiday when they could be anywhere else - so he'd be spending Thanksgiving in front of the TV, eating a frozen dinner.
Obviously that didn't sit well with Nancy. I only nodded along sadly, trying to hide how much that affected me, too. She'd frowned and asked why he hadn't told her sooner as she could've asked her parents if Steve could join them; they're going out of town to visit Ted's family in Zionsville. Steve reminded her that he doubted her mom would be okay with her daughter's boyfriend staying with them anywhere overnight. Nancy reluctantly relented, then looked between Jonathan and I. Jonathan said he was sure Steve could come over, but the older guy politely declined. Will'd only just gotten out of the hospital, after all.
Which is how I found myself on the other end of a blue-eyed pout, a lip quiver to boot.
"Sure," I'd sighed out, "you're totally welcome, Steven."
"You know, when you say it like that I'm not sure you mean it." He'd teased, then frowned. "No, I can't - it's gonna be your birthday, I shouldn't -"
"Steve, it's fine." I argued back, shaking my head. "Really. Come over. I'm sure my mom will say yes, especially if I let her know you'd be eating microwavable food instead."
Steve sighed, then looked over at Nancy. "You're okay with that?"
Nancy rolled her eyes. "Yes. Besides, maybe you can keep Veronica from doing anything stupid while I'm gone."
"Don't forget me." Jonathan gently knocked into my right arm. "I won't be there to babysit our Rockstar either."
"Hey! Fuck you, I have great impulse control." That just set off a chain-reaction of laughs and taunts, distracting me from the fact I'd just agreed to host the guy I've basically been in love with for five years.
"Yo, milady. You good?" Dustin breaks me out of my head, and I nod.
"Yeah, sorry. Just tired. I only got a few hours of sleep. Tell you what, let me take a quick shower and then I'll help you and mom in the kitchen, okay?"
Dustin nods. "Sure thing, sis." He stands and walks to the door, briefly turning. "Make sure you look real nice for Steven." He makes kissy faces and my cheeks redden. I throw a pillow, laughing when it hits him square in the face.
It isn't until he's cursing his way down the hall that I let myself freak out.
Steven Harrington is coming over. For Thanksgiving. And my birthday. He's coming here. Oh, God, I'm going to have to dress nice. Not too nice, obviously. He's not mine to impress, no matter how much I wish he was.
Jesus Christ.
Suddenly, I start to giggle. And my giggles soon morph into laughter. Why? Because, for the first time in two weeks, my problem isn't an interdimensional monster. It's just simple teenage drama.
I'm nervously tapping my fingers against my knee, Mews curled up as far away from me on the couch as possible, occasionally hissing when my fidgeting makes her cushion bounce. Knowing it's completely ridiculous but doing it anyway, I poke my tongue out at the cat. Mews just growls and nuzzles back into her paws.
My mom's in the kitchen, finishing up the last of the feast. Pots and pans bang against each other, and the house just gets warmer by the second. A good warm. Homey. It's a quiet birthday, too, which is nice. It's what I need, after almost dying in the Upside Down.
Yet another commercial comes on, breaking the news cycle. I take another sip from my third cup of coffee, courtesy of Dustin. He insisted on treating me like the queen I am, so who was I to stop him? Happy birthday to me.
Speaking of Dustin, he's busy grumbling under his breath as he sets the usually unused dining room table. He keeps adjusting the cuffs of his powder blue dress shirt. His exact words to me were, "I can't believe we have to look nice just because Steve Harrington is coming over. This is bullshit." I only laughed and ruffled his hair once more, ignoring his teasing when I emerged from my room wearing the only nice dress I have. It's lace, green to match my eyes, and comes down to my knees. Thick straps rest just off my shoulders, and it's almost backless. Mom pinned my rampant curls into a loose bun, and I spent almost an hour on my makeup. It was either too heavy, which would've made me look like I was trying too hard, or too light, which would've made me look like I wasn't trying hard enough. It's my birthday, after all. I want to look good.
The phone rings and I leap off the couch to answer it. Maybe Steve's cancelled. He's probably canceling, right? "You've reached the Henderson residence, Veronica Henderson speaking." I answer, nervously formal. Dustin snorts at me and I flip him off.
"What's got you so uptight, Ver?" Jonathan asks, laughing into the receiver. I clear my throat.
"Just trying to sound professional, Johnny-boy. What can I do for you this fine Thanksgiving day? How's your brother doing?"
"Good, he's good. Sorry, I meant to call you earlier but -"
"Hmm." I jokingly harrumph. "Nancy managed to call me an hour ago, and she hasn't known me all my life."
Jonathan snorts. "Alright, alright, I see your point. You okay?"
"Yeah. Yes. I'm, uh, great. How are you?"
"Tired, but happy. Mom's making a mess, but it all looks edible -"
"Jonathan Byers, stop being rude! I'm trying!" Joyce shouts, and I laugh as my brother sputters. "Tell Veronica I said happy birthday! Shit, the potatoes!"
"Yeah, Johnny, wish me a happy birthday."
"Happy birthday! You're finally old enough to get your license. That means I'm done driving you home from work. I'm free of my chauffeuring duties." Jonathan teases.
Glaring at a random spot on the wall, I purse my lips. "Have I ever told you Will's my favorite Byers Boy?"
"Shut up, you love me."
"God only knows why." I mutter.
"I heard that."
"You were meant to."
"I - hang on, Will's here." There's some static as the phone shifts on the other end, then a softer voice comes through.
"Happy birthday, Huntress!"
My whole body relaxes, and I grin so wide it hurts my cheeks. "Thank you, Will. Happy Thanksgiving. Your brother being nice to you, buddy? Say no, and I'll personally come over there and beat him up for you."
"Jonathan's always nice to me."
"That's 'cause he saves up all the meanness for me." I joke. "I'm glad you're back home, buddy. I'm sure Dustin's gonna radio later."
"Okay. I'm glad you're home, too. Love you." Will whispers. I blink as I'm passed back to Jonathan.
"Hey, I've gotta go help mom. But I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah. Mark promised he'd call Beck in for the afternoon."
"Got it. Happy birthday, Rockstar. I love you."
"I love you too, Johnny. Bye." He hangs up before me and I set the phone back down, rolling my neck around, tense all over again.
"Dusty, is the table set? Steve'll be here any minute!" Mom calls from the kitchen.
"For the fifth time, yes!" He shouts back, grumbling and griping under his breath.
"Dustin Henderson, you watch your attitude or I'm sending you to you room with no supper!" My mom threatens. I snort. Claudia Henderson would never not feed anyone. Except maybe dad and Alison. Probably even them.
The doorbell rings, breaking me from my thoughts. I instantly straighten my posture, hands fluttering around the skirt of my dress to make sure everything is in place. I shaved my legs, right? Did I put on lotion? Do I have razor marks?
"Welcome, Steve! Dustin, quit blocking the door!" My mom orders, and I turn to watch my brother grumpily move out of the way, letting the older teen in. My heels click as I walk towards the small gathering, my right hand rubbing over the other arm's cast.
Steve looks the most nervous I've ever seen him - and that includes the Demogorgon incident. He's holding two bouquets, the largest definitely Thanksgiving themed, the fall-colored flowers tied together with a large orange bow. The smaller bouquet is simple, but nonetheless more beautiful in my eyes. I bite my lip, recognizing the flowers immediately by scene alone.
Gardenias. He bought me gardenias.
Trust, hope, purity, dreams, friendship, protection. A secret love, untold. You're lovely.
As soon as Steve's fully inside the house, my mom closes the door behind him. Dustin grumpily takes his jacket, rolling his eyes as mom glares his way. "Thanks, Mrs. Henderson. I, uh, got these for you. As a thank you. For, you know, letting me intrude on your family dinner and Veronica's birthday." He holds out the Thanksgiving bouquet, and my mother smiles even brighter, pulling the surprised teen into a hug.
"Oh, it's no intrusion, Steve! I'm going to put these in water. Dusty, you set up the table, right?"
"Yes. Jesus." Dustin yelps and rubs the back of his hatless head, griping under his breath as mom cheerfully walks towards the kitchen. She whistles and Mews prances after her. The cat stops for a moment to brush her head on Steve's leg. And wow, that cat really does hate me.
Steve snorts at the look on my face before his eyes flick over my dress. I pick at the lace, watching with narrowed eyes as his lips quirk up. "What?" I ask, crossing my right arm over my stomach.
"Nothing. Just nice to see you dressing up for once."
"You say the sweetest things." I clutch at my heart, widening my eyes even more. "Really. You make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
If only he knew.
Steve smiles, though, then awkwardly hands me the bouquet. "Oh, these are for you. Obviously. I mean, if they were for your mom, I would have -"
"Steven." He nods, and I smile gratefully, carefully holding the gardenias up to my nose to take a deep breath. "Thank you. These are my favorite."
"I know."
I look over at him, eyebrow raised. He shrugs. "I overheard you talking about them to Barb, last year. During the Homecoming dance. You were complaining about all the roses."
"Roses are so overdone." I comment, wrinkling my nose. "Like, find another flower."
He snorts. "Yeah. That's exactly what you said. And, um, you always smell good. Sweet. I mean… yeah. Anyway, Nancy came to school smelling a bit like you last week, after your sleepover. I asked her what it was, and she told me it was your gardenia perfume. So, I figured you probably still loved them. Happy birthday, Roni."
I bite my lip and look down at the bouquet, hiding my blush under my blonde curls. "Thanks. I mean it. These are beautiful."
"Yeah. I guess I see why you love them so much."
"Oh, sweetheart, let me put these in your room!" My mom cries out, making us both look towards the kitchen as she excitedly returns, holding her hands out to take the flowers. I smile at her eagerness and hand them over, and she walks away mumbling happily to herself.
"Your mom seems nice."
"She is."
My head snaps down at my brother's harshly-stated response. He glares up at a startled Steve before turning around, clearly leading us into the living room. I inhale sharply and gesture towards my brother. Steve rolls his eyes but follows after the younger boy, both of us confused.
Dustin takes a seat on mom's favorite chair, legs and arms crossed. He watches Steve with cold blue eyes, not even softening when he spares a glance at me. "So, Steve. Can I call you Steve?"
Said teen looks looks at me as we take a seat on the couch. I only shrug, rubbing at my temple as Steve returns his attention to my little brother. "Uh, yes. Because that's my name."
"Well, Steve, I'm Dustin. Veronica's little brother."
"I figured." He answers, still confused.
"As her younger brother, she often drives me to school. And takes me back home. Which means we spend, on average, twenty minutes in the car together. Ten there, ten back. And during those twenty minutes, we talk."
"I'd be surprised if you didn't."
"Shh, I'm talking." Steve sends me an offended glance, a smirk creeping its way onto my face. "Now, I've heard a lot of stories about you, and your old pals. Like how you would seek her out everyday, to try and mess with her." I stop smiling, simply watching my brother in awe at how strong his voice is as he talks to the much larger male. "I know you used to tell her she wasn't as smart as she thought, that people stayed clear of her cause they didn't want to catch her 'weird'. I know you called her 'blonde Gremlin'. I know you would just stand by and watch her defend herself from those assholes." Steve's face is starting to fall, hazel eyes a little sadder. "She also told me what you said to her, after she got back from the Upside Down." He says quietly, but mom is too busy clattering away in the kitchen to hear us.
I look blink over at Dustin, completely lost. "Hang on, I never -"
"Yes, actually, you did. When you took your painkillers your first night home." He looks at me with a pained expression, like somehow Steve's words hurt him, not me. Before I can comment, Dustin turns back to Steve, who's biting his lip. "You told my sister - the best person in the world, by the way, who deserves way better than the shit she gets -"
"Language, Dusty."
He shushes me. "Yeah, whatever. I learned it all from you." He responds, not once looking away from Steve. "You told her she was nothing. You said Barb should've made it out, not her. You looked Veronica in the eyes and told her that, like she doesn't matter. Like her dying wouldn't have destroyed anyone."
"Dustin -"
"Leia, no. It's not okay. I don't care. You're my big sister, and I don't like you hurt. Even if the person who hurt you suddenly decides you're cool enough to be friends with." Dustin scowls up at me.
I smile back, teary. "Oh, kiddo. Yeah, it hurt. But I said some pretty awful stuff to Steve. Things I didn't mean. Just like he didn't mean what he said." Dustin keeps frowning. "We were both hurting, just for different reasons. I promise you though, Steve isn't a bad guy." My eyes flick up to Steve, who's watching me with a surprisingly unreadable expression. I look back down at Dustin. "D, as much as I complained about the arguing, Steve was never the real problem. Yeah, he was a dick, but... he always had some redeemable qualities. Like, even though they didn't deserve it, he always took care of Carol and Tommy. The day after I took you home, he asked how you were. The dumbass has a big heart, he just pretends he doesn't."
"Like how you pretend?" He whispers, and I nod, standing up so I can cross over to where he sits and brush a hand through his curls.
"Yeah."
Dustin sighs. "Fine." Then he turns back around, looking up at Steve. "Whatever. I'll let it go. But the minute you start acting like a dick to my sister, it won't be her arrows that you're afraid of. It'll be me." With that he holds out his hand, and after a few seconds Steve shakes the offered limb. Dustin jumps up and gives us both a big, gap-filled smile. "Cool. I'm going to help mom."
"I could -" Just as Steve's standing up, my mom takes a quick break from her cooking. She waves her wooden spoon at him.
"No, no. You're the guest! Besides, someone needs to keep my restless daughter entertained."
I roll my eyes but smile nonetheless, then notice how stiff Steve is. "Hey. Why don't you come to my room?"
Steve shrugs and stands again, letting me lead him past the mouth-watering smelling kitchen and towards my room. I enter nervously, realizing it's not as neat as it usually is. Thank God my laundry's in the basket. Small miracles, I guess.
I sit down on the bed and cross my legs under the skirt of my dress. The soft material fans around me like a princess's. I'm sure it makes me look soft. Thawed. Earthy.
Steve sits down across from me, hair bouncing a little as he looks around my room. I watch as a curious grin grows on his face. "You know, I wasn't expecting it to look so…"
"So, what?" I ask, a little anxious.
"Warm." He finally answers, looking over at me. "I guess I thought there'd be, like, snowflake wallpaper, at least."
I snort. "I'm only the Ice Queen at school. Here, I'm just Veronica. Big sister of a crazy-overprotective nerd."
"He's a good kid." I tilt my head. "Dustin. But I guess having you for a sister made that possible."
"The credit goes to my mom, really. She's - well, she's the best. I know most teen girls don't get along with their mother's, but something about Claudia Henderson makes it impossible to fight with her." I openly admit, never shy about how much I love my mom. "I mean, she can be a little overbearing sometimes. And she has the worst taste in pets."
He smirks. "Yeah, I saw that. You don't like your cat, do you?"
"Mews isn't mine. She's my mom's. And it's a mutual dislike, by the way."
"So what pet would you want?" Steve asks me, watching as I twist over the covers to lean against the bed's headboard. He shifts as well, eventually lounging across my bed. He sends me a comfortable smirk, waiting for my answer.
I bite my lip, staring off into space. "A dog. A big one."
"Wow, specific. I can tell you really put a lot of thought into this." He sasses, tone much lighter than any time we would argue at school, but it's still familiar.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I have, though." I smile at him. "I want a Bernese Mountain Dog."
"Yeah, I don't know what that is."
I laugh kindly. "They're big, and fluffy, with black, white, and brown fur. They love the outdoors, and the amount of energy they have rivals my brother's. But they're also watchdogs. They protect, and they're just so friendly." I shrug. "Mom has Mews, and Dustin has Yurtle the Turtle."
"'Yurtle the Turtle'?" Steve starts to laugh, and I join him, nodding. "Oh my God, that's great."
"I know. D's very proud of his pet-naming skills."
We calm down, and Steve smiles softly at me. "What would you name your dog? If you got one. And would it be a boy, or a girl?"
"I honestly don't care. I just want one. So badly. I ask for one, every year. I have since I was nine. Dad always promised he'd get me one, but… well, dad promised a lot of things." I shake my head. "Sorry. Um, names. I actually never thought about them, before. I guess I always figured I'd decide when I met them. Like, what if I fell in love with a name but it doesn't match who they are?"
Steve nods. "Yeah. I mean, life never happens according to plan, right? Things always change." I smile at him, and he gives me a confused look. "What?"
"That's the wisest thing I've ever heard."
"Heard at all? Or heard me say?"
"At all. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."
He snorts. "No, I'm not. I just eat a lot of fortune cookies."
I tilt my head and lean forward to rest my chin on my uninjured hand. "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?" He asks, shifting around.
"Put yourself down like that. Pretend to be worse than you actually are." Steve sighs, head rolling back like he's about to come up with a distracting response. "Look, we're friends now. We've known each other for years. I know we only started talking my freshman year, but we would pass each other all the time in elementary and middle school. How much time did we waste ignoring the other's existence, only to spend a little over a year arguing over stupid shit?"
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. About everything. All of it."
"I'm sorry, too. So, now that we are friends, can you please do me a favor and see yourself in a better way?"
"You never did before." He tells me, but it isn't in a brutal tone. It's accepting.
I shake my head, though. "That's not true. I mean, yeah, you were an ass. Maybe you still are. But I never thought you were just that. At least you're not a dick like Tommy." I joke, his shoulders relaxing. He sits up, clearly in deep thought. "What?"
"I'm just… how are you? Really?"
I pause, letting my gaze fall down to my cast, roving over the different messages and pictures from my friends and the Party. "Fine."
"Hey. I know you, too. And even if I didn't - Roni, you don't get over what you went through quick. You're not supposed to."
I sigh, closing my eyes. "I'm not. Okay, I mean. At all. I don't want to worry Nancy or Jonathan, because they've been - I know they care about me a lot. But it's a little smothering. You know? Like with my mom. And I get it, but… I can't breath." I exhale, eyes still shut. "It's like I never really left."
"What do you mean? Hey, Roni. Look at me." The bed creaks as Steve moves closer, and when I open my eyes my vision's briefly filled with withering vines and white flecks. Holding in my whimper, I blink again. The Upside Down disappears, replaced by hazel eyes wide with worry. "Roni?"
"I think I'm losing my mind." I finally admit out loud, voice barely above a whisper. Steve bites his lip. "Sometimes, a lot of the time, when I blink I'm back in that hellhole. And then I blink again, and I'm back. It happens at school, at home. It's worse if I step too close to the woods. I'm scared of the woods now, Steve. Me. I grew up in them, and I'm scared." I breathe in, then out. "My shrink says I have PTSD, and the guy I see when I have my appointment, he agreed."
"Is that all the, uh, doc said?" Steve asks me. I nod, not ready to talk about what else Owens told me.
"Yeah. That's it." He lets out a breath and moves back to his original spot. "Just, can you not tell Nancy yet? Or Jonathan?"
"Hey, it's your secret. I won't say anything." He holds up his pinky and I snort in disbelief, but take it anyway. "Is your mom sure she's okay cooking without some help?"
"Hey, Dustin's not bad." He's not good, either. Kid nearly burned water the other day.
"Yeah, well, I make some mean mashed potatoes and stuffing. I kind of had to learn how to make edible meals." He shrugs. "I usually just heat up frozen meals. It's easier, especially when my parents aren't here for the holidays. What's the point in cooking a whole feast if it's just you alone in your castle?" Steve sighs and shakes his head. "There isn't one. Besides, it'd only -"
"Remind you of a time when they were there." I finish for him, briefly thinking about my dad. "I get it."
"I know you do."
The heaviness nears overwhelming, so I smack my right hand on my knee and grin. "Well, if you want, you can make mashed potatoes and stuffing next year." I offer him, then bite my lip.
He just blinks at me. "Next year?"
I try to play it off, and it works. "Yeah, you know, if your parents screw off again and leave you on your own. 'Thanksgiving with the Hendersons' can be your new tradition!"
He grins, reminding me a bit like an overly-excited puppy. It's adorable. "You know, Roni, that doesn't sound too bad."
I grin back and perk up a bit, just in time for my mom to call us out for dinner. "Come on. Let's kick off this new tradition." I say, and move to get up. Steve is faster, though, and helps me get off my bed, steadying me as I get my crutches in place. And as we follow the delicious smells wafting around the house, I start to feel a little less frozen.
I smile as Dustin sits next to me, groaning about how much dinner he ate and leaning his head on my shoulder. I pat my own food baby, more than satisfied with what I had. It was more than I've eaten the past two weeks, but not enough that anyone has to roll me into the bathroom to kneel before the porcelain throne.
"Jesus Christ, mom can cook." Dustin moans, and I snort, shifting my body around on the couch until I get into the perfect position. My brother grumbles as I do so, but eventually settles down when I'm comfortable.
"You having a good birthday?" He asks me quietly, taking my hand. I smile - even though he can't see it - and watch as Steve helps my mom in the kitchen, laughing in that naturally charming way of his, thanking her as she packs him some leftovers.
"Yeah. I really am." I kiss his forehead and nuzzle our curly hair together, giggling softly at how ticklish the gesture is.
Mom and Steve come in, the latter carrying an armful of wrapped gifts. "So, I was thinking we open presents first, and then we can have dessert." My mom offers, settling into her chair as Steve sets the presents down on the table in front of me. He sits in the chair across from my mom's, leaning back with an eased expression on his face.
I blink, realizing I haven't responded to my mom. "Sounds like a good idea. Dustin can help me. Notice how I said 'help', bro. As in 'don't open all my gifts like the Tasmanian Devil would.'"
"Hey, I was seven!" Dustin lisps out, and I nudge him away.
"Whatever. Move." He huffs but does as I command, scooting up so he can help me open the more complicated-wrapped presents.
The first few are pretty simple, but nonetheless appreciated. My aunt and uncle who live in Michigan sent me some sweaters that are definitely too pink and scratchy. Dustin wrinkles his nose at them, and my mom hushes his ensuing laughter, reminding him "Payback's a you-know-what!" I simply folded them and set to the side, silently bemoaning the fact that my mom would be sending them pictures. Steve sends me a wink, and I roll my eyes but smile back.
Dustin got me a whole stack of comic books. It takes me more time than I care to admit to realize they're the ones I bought him last Christmas. I narrow my eyes and wrinkle my nose his way, but accept the gift nonetheless - hey, it's the thought that counts.
It isn't until I get to a cylinder-wrapped gift that things become a little more personal. Less "gifts" and more "presents."
I unroll the paper and set it down. The brown cardboard tube is unassuming to most, but I know exactly what it is. I smile as Dustin pulls out a painstakingly wrapped hip-quiver, complete with new arrows - practice and hunting tipped ones.
"I noticed your old one was all banged up, and Mark said you'd been eyeing that model at work. Do you like it?" My mom asks, clapping her hands together while Mews jumps onto her lap.
I smile and hold up the quiver before removing one of the sharp-tipped arrows, the triangular metal shining in the light. "It's beautiful. And these are perfect. Thank you."
"Well, technically the arrows are from Craig. And the engraving was chosen by Chief Hopper." She points down at the bottom right corner of the hip-quiver, smiling when I see the carefully etched Robin Hood.
"This is… wow." I whisper.
"Totally badass." Steve says, and I peak over at him.
Dustin lets out a relieved sigh. "Leia, man, you don't understand how hard it was to keep this quiet. Mom talked about it in September. The secret was killing me."
I snort at how overdramatic my brother is, then ruffle his hair. "Yeah, yeah. We're all proud of you for keeping your mouth shut."
He smacks my hand away, then perks up and hands me a cool box. Seriously, it's fridge-cool. "Um, run out of hiding places?" I ask him, taking it from him as I set the hip-quiver and arrows aside.
"No. These had to be chilled, milady."
"Okay, weirdo." I snort, then calmly rip open the paper. It's a shoe-box, but Dustin doesn't actually have the money to buy shoes, so I know it's not what it seems.
And, as usual, my instincts are correct. The box is filled with Candy - none of that old Halloween shit, actual store-bought candy. I'm talking 3 Musketeers, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Heath Bars, Sugar Daddy Large Pops, and at the very bottom… nearly a handful of Smarties. The tablets, not the UK version of M&Ms. Yeah, yeah, I know M&Ms came four years after, but still. The good Smarties.
I hold up a roll, carefully turning it in my fingers.
"Hello. Excuse me? Hey, Smarties!" Someone whispers on my left, and I look up as menacing as possible to see the redhead girl in my English class poking at my desk with her pencil. Something I'd been trying to ignore for almost a minute. The irritant disrupting my brooding is Barbara Holland. I've known her since elementary school, technically, but we didn't really talk. We just ran in different circles, mine being Jonathan and hers being the overachievers destined for far better than Hawkins, Indiana.
I place another tablet in my mouth and stare at her, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?" I ask, expecting her to back off with special thanks to my frozen tone.
She only narrows her eyes. "I've known you since we were kids, Veronica. That doesn't work on me."
I glare, aggressively chewing on another tablet. "What do you want, Holland?"
"Well, Smarties, I wasn't in school yesterday. And I know you take decent notes. Could I borrow them? I'm a little lost right now." She tells me. I just sigh through my nose and pass her the loose notes, sitting back in my chair as I flick through Lord of the Flies. "You really like those, huh?"
"They're the best." I mutter, then close my mouth. I've fallen into a social trap - bonding with a classmate.
"Eh, the other Smarties are better."
Unable to help myself I look at her in shock, eyebrows furrowed and neck forcing my head out at her. "Excuse you?"
"You heard me." She whispers, but as usual the rest of the class is ignoring anything that has to do with me. For their sake. What can I say? I've got this school well-trained to fear the Ice Queen.
"Take that back."
"Don't think I will, Smarties."
"Stop calling me that."
"Nope."
Barbara smiles at me, then leans forward conspiratorially. "By the way, I already had the notes. I just thought you could use another friend."
And it was at that moment, I met the first person - Jonathan not included - who saw through my frozen walls.
"Veronica?" I open my eyes - unaware I had closed them in the first place - and see my brother staring at me, a scared expression on his face. Realizing I'm crying, I carefully wipe away the tears. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I know… Barb called you… and the nougat saved your life, but I thought you should have your favorite. I'm really sorry, it's too soon, and I -"
I pull my brother into a tight hug, smiling. "I love it. So much. Thank you."
"Yeah, you got it." We break apart and my mom leans forward to squeeze my hand.
"Is that it?"
"No, actually, you have one from the Hollands." I tilt my head in surprise, taking the present from her. "They dropped it off, when they were visiting you. It's from Barb, but you can open it..." I tear apart the wrapping paper, "... when you're ready."
I grin at the hardcover copy of Lord of the Flies, and open it to find a folded note. I know I'm going to be a mess when I read it, so I leave it in the sleeve for now and hold the book to my chest.
"Who's ready for dessert?" I ask, getting ready to stand.
"Wait, hang on, I got you something!" Steve practically yelps out, his hands shaking as he passes me my present. "Okay, before you say anything - no, it wasn't expensive. But if you don't accept it, I'll feel really embarrassed, and no one wants that, okay?"
I just snort but cautiously untie the bow on the small box. I lift up the lid, then gasp. "Oh. Oh my God. Jesus Christ, Steve."
"What is it, dumpling? What'd he get you?" My mom asks, leaning forward. My brother puts his chin on my shoulder, giving us all a low whistle.
"Damn."
I carefully pluck out the small ring. It's simple - if straightened, it'd be an arrow, but it was carefully molded to wrap around the finger. "Oh, that's gorgeous!" My mom announces.
"And totally not necessary. But -" I hold up my finger to stop my mom from scolding me, and smile at Steve. "I really, really like it. So I guess I'm going to have to accept it."
He smiles in relief, then gestures to the ring. "It should fit on your right thumb. I saw it last week at the jewelry store on Main, when Nancy and I were shopping for you. She figured out your ring-size the night she stayed over and told me, so I could make sure it was perfect. It's only gold filled, but it'll last way longer than a gold plated one. I don't know how I know that, I -" He rambles, and I slide the ring onto my right thumb easily before lunging forward to wrap my arms around him. It's a slightly awkward hug, given our positions, but it's warm and real.
"Thank you. For the flowers, and this. I'm never taking it off."
"Great. That lowers the risk of you losing it." He comments, and I playfully poke him. We release each other and I turn to see my mom watching us, a small smile on her face. She doesn't give me any other kind of look, though, and simply stands.
"Okay! I'm going to get dessert ready. Steve, if you wouldn't mind helping me -"
"Of course, Mrs. Henderson."
"Claudia, dear. You can call me Claudia. Dusty, please pick up the wrapping paper."
My brother doesn't complain. Or at least, he seems to be waiting for our mom to disappear into the kitchen. As soon as both she and Steve are out of sight, he looks up from me from his spot on the ground. "Steve Harrington, huh?"
"No, shut up, D. Besides, he's with Nancy." I nod my chin towards the kitchen, frowning.
My brother snorts. "I'm so glad I don't have to deal with relationship bullshit."
"Yeah, wait a year. I'm sure you'll change your tune." I wink at him and he rolls his eyes, moving around the living room.
Dessert is pumpkin pie with sixteen candles shoved around, my mom playing The Crests 16 Candles. I hum along to the words as I blow out the tiny, flickering flames, my wish remaining the same.
I wish El was alive.
Between Steve and Dustin, the boys ate almost six slices before calling it quits, my mom packing up a few more slivers for Steve, complaining about him being "too skinny."
He smiles, though, completely content with her words.
No parents, big house. Frozen dinners.
We all walk him to the door, my mom and I hugging him while Dustin just shakes his hand, all tough-guy. Steve just smirks at him and waves as he marches through the snow, backing out of our driveway and onto the plowed road.
Dustin marches off to his room after mom attacks him with kisses, but he doesn't moan about it. He also carefully grabs all my gifts - even the stupid sweaters - and takes them to my room.
I smile as my mom kisses me, warm hands pulling me into a tight hug. When she steps away, though, her somber expression makes me look at her in confusion. She simply brushes blonde curls out of my face. "There's one last gift for you. On your bed. It's from your father."
"Oh."
"He called, earlier, and asked me to wish you a 'happy birthday'." I nod. "He said he's respecting your wishes, but didn't want you to think he forgot."
"Thank you." I squeeze her hand, knowing it's probably even harder for her.
She smiles. "I'm so proud of you. My little fighter. Happy birthday, dumpling."
"Thanks, mama. Goodnight." I kiss her cheek then sleepily stumble towards my room, patting my food baby.
Closing the door behind me, I smile at the gardenia resting in a fancy glass vase. Beside the flowers are my gifts, Barb's on top of the stack. Briefly opening the book, I pluck out the letter and meander over to my bed. A particularly large box is waiting for me. I roll my eyes, hoping dad isn't trying to assuage his guilt with another extravagant gift - even though I told him not to.
Plopping down on the marshmallow-like mattress, I open Barb's note first. I barely make it past the first line before I'm bursting into silent tears.
Hey Smarties,
Congratulations! You did it! You're finally sixteen! I mean, you're still short enough to be confused for a middle schooler, but you're two years closer to legally being able to drink. Gone will be your days of drinking illegally. At least you won't be wasting your time at stupid high school parties. There's more to life than that, you know? No one wants to aspire to be like Tommy H and his goons.
It also means we have almost two more years of high school, and then we're done with Hawkins High and finally seeing the real world. We'll be in college - you're only fooling yourself if you think Nance and I won't be forcing you to apply. You're meant for more than this place, Smarties. You always have been. And hey - archery is an Olympic sport, so when you think you're ready you should totally aim to get in. Get it?
I know, I'm hilarious. I learned from the best. Not you. You're not funny, Ice Queen.
Okay. I've veered off course. Look, the point of this note is for you to know that no matter where we go in life, no matter what our future holds, you are important to me. I see you for who you really are, Veronica. And that person is amazing. Remember that.
I love you,
Barb
I sniffle when I finish, putting the paper aside so my tears don't ruin the carefully penned note. Someone knocks on my door and I try to even my breathing. "Yes?"
"It's me. There's a moron who wants to talk to you. Are you okay?" Dustin asks, and I cough to clear my throat.
"Mhmm."
"Okay. I'm coming in, please be decent!" He opens the door and closes it behind him, thankfully not commenting on my blotchy face as he holds up his walkie. "This is Dustin. I'm with Huntress. You can relay your message now, over."
The walkie crackles.
"Jesus, turn on your walkie. I tried calling you earlier." Lucas scolds me, his tone brightening a few moments later. "Happy Birthday, from your favorite Sinclair!" He passionately declares, and I smile while wiping at my face. "Because we all know I'm your favorite. Over."
"Uh, actually, it's me, nerd. Over." Erica's voice comes out through Lucas's walkie. I snort as some sort of fight goes on at the other end.
"Get out of my room, Erica!" Lucas, Dustin and I rolling our eyes as we grin.
"Listen, nerd, everyone knows I'm her favorite. I am your favorite, right?" Erica asks, turning her sass to the max as she addresses me. I laugh and take the walkie from Dustin, holding down the button.
"Yes, Erica. Of course you are. Over." I shake my head, though, and point at Dustin with a big smile. He smiles back.
"Good. Here you go, nerd."
"Sisters suck." Lucas complains, having regained control over his walkie. "But not you, Veronica. Obviously. Over." Lucas amends.
"Behave." I tease, then clear my throat. "Shouldn't you be going to bed? It's late. Over." I tell them, smiling when I hear some grumbling from whoever is holding down their button.
"I just wanted to wish my Huntress a happy birthday. God, mom. Over." Lucas snips at me.
"Watch your tone, mister. But thank you. And happy Thanksgiving. I love you. Over and out."
"I love you too. Over and out." Lucas tells me. The connection goes dead and I carefully hand the walkie back to my brother.
"Thanks, D."
"Yeah. I know it was… today was hard. What's that?" Dustin asks, pointing at the box.
"Oh, um, dad sent me a present."
"You going to open it?"
I shrug, then nod back at my brother. "Not without you, Gimli."
He grins again, and joins me on my bed. Together we rip open the box's tabs, revealing carefully wrapped gifts. The top one is in bubble wrap, and giving Dustin a distrusting look I set it on the bed, opening it open.
"Holy shit."
I nod. "Holy shit."
I'm holding my dad's framed Purple Heart. Tapped carefully to the metal part of the frame is a letter, which I pluck off. I look at Dustin, who gestures for me to open it before pulling out a shiny jacket and showing it to me, impressed.
Dad didn't just send me one memorabilia. He also included one of his most prized possessions - although, it's not really something he can wear anymore considering he isn't exactly in-shape. It's his old flight jacket, in better condition than I ever expected. "C'mon. Maybe the letter will explain his trip down memory lane." Dustin tells me, shrugging.
I sigh but open it anyway, breathing in deeply. Then out.
"'Dear Veronica. Damn, that's too formal. Then again, I've pretty much become a stranger to you these past four years. My fault. Never yours. God, I messed up. I messed up so bad. I hurt your mom, and your brother. And I hurt you. No apology in the world could take back what I did and how you found out. I'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting it. But I won't ever regret those years I spent with you. The camping trips we took. The first time you held a bow. The first time you got a bullseye. How you stood up for Jonathan against Lonnie. Hey, he's my friend, but I'm man enough to recognize he's also a dick. Like me.'" I briefly stop reading to look over at Dustin. "Wow. We definitely got our trashmouth from him."
Dustin laughs, and waves his hand for me to keep reading. "'You were right about everything you said in the hospital. All of it. About trying to buy your love with a new car, and the visits. How I've been forcing you to act like things aren't weird because of me. I messed up, kid. I'm not just a shitty man, I'm a shitty dad. You know, you reminded me about something else, too, in the hospital. Not in your words, but in what you accomplished. You're a survivor of your Hell, like I was a survivor of my own. We aren't so different, you and I. Not in that sense, anyway. We both made it home. But where I failed to do right by my second chance at life, I know you'll succeed. You lost someone you love. That won't ever go away. But you're strong enough to keep living. To persevere, to move on, to grow. When you look at my Purple Heart, I want you to remember that you're the bravest girl I've ever met. You deserve to live, darling. You're going to keep surviving. And as for the jacket, well, it ain't doing me any good hanging in the back of my closet. I love you, Veronica. And I am so unbelievably proud of you. Always. Dad.'" I grin as I read the very end of the page. "'P.S. Tell Dustin he's going to get a cool present when he turns sixteen, too.'"
Dustin huffs. "Well, good."
I ruffle his hair, then kiss his cheek. "Alright, D. It's late enough. Go to bed."
"I'm not even -" he yawns, then frowns. "Tired. Whatever. Goodnight. Happy birthday, love you Leia."
"I love you too, D." Dustin leaves my room, and for the first time all day I'm alone. The fear creeps towards me like thick vines, until I pick up the Purple Heart.
I'm a survivor. I'm brave. And I deserve to live.
I peer up at my companion as I take a sip of the cool, thick liquid, some strawberry syrup coming up through the straw. I swallow and sit back in the booth, cast-foot swinging. "You look happy. Happier." Nancy corrects herself, having finished her rant about Mike trying to get money out of her piggy bank. I raise an eyebrow and take another sip of my strawberry milkshake, then lean back.
"Yeah?"
"Yes." Nancy insists, reaching over to squeeze my right hand. "Even if it's just a temporary thing - Vera, it's a good look on you."
I blush and look down. "Thanks. I'm trying, but -"
"It's hard. I know."
"I know you do." I smile at her and watch as she removes her hand to drink from her own glass. "Hey, I talked to Craig. He said he'd be happy to have you join my lessons. If you're still interested in learning how to shoot. I'll probably only be able to give you aiming tips, but -"
"No, no. I want to go. It's something I have to do."
I nod, then take a sip. "You're worried it isn't over, right?"
She breathes in through her nose, looking around warily. "Especially since it's still -"
"Open." We both look out the window, as if we can see Hawkins Lab from the little dinner in Downtown Hawkins. I give Nancy a sad smile, then bring my left leg up to rest my chin on my knee. The waitress Shelly just snorts as she passes me, but the staff at Sally's Place have known me almost my whole life, and short of me not tipping I can get away with treating Sally's like it's my home. "Fucking government nutjubs." I growl out.
Nancy snorts before taking another sip of her strawberry milkshake, briefly watching a few Hawkins residents moodily walking through the snow. "How was your Thanksgiving? Did your younger brother drop gravy on your lap, too?"
I snort, remembering the story Nancy was all too-quick to tell. "No. He didn't. He did threaten Steve, though."
Nancy laughs and sits up. "Really? Dustin? Steve's twice his size!"
I nod. "Mhmm. Brought up our past and stuff. It was sweet, though. And, you know, I explained that we were both jerks to each other."
"What he said to you, though, at the Hawk -"
"Was understandable. What I said really hurt him. Look, I don't hold our arguments in the past against him, and I don't think he holds them against me?" I raise an eyebrow for confirmation, and Nancy smiles, taking my hand once more.
"He doesn't! Really! And you have no idea how glad I am that you and Steve are getting along, now." I exhale in relief. "Oh, I forgot to ask - did you like the ring?"
I raise my right thumb and watch the gold filled arrow shine under the fluorescent lights. "Yeah. Thank you, for making sure he got the right size. And for letting him get it for me."
"Why wouldn't I have?"
I give her a confused look. "You're his girlfriend, and he got me a ring. And you're asking me why that could've been a problem?"
Nancy rolls her eyes."I'm not like Carol or Tammy. Besides, I was the one who pointed the ring out to him. I knew it was made for you."
I nod, then frown at her mentioning of the two upperclassmen. "Not like Carol and Tammy? That's for damn sure. They're complete duds."
"The absolute worst."
"Awful." We both stare at each other, then begin to laugh hysterically. Sally's is empty enough that no one is paying attention, everyone else just focusing on getting warm. When we finally quiet down, clutching our aching stomachs, the world seems a little lighter. I'm struck with the realization that it's been nearly two hours since I've seen even a flash of the Upside Down.
I can be better, it can get better.
"I'm glad we got to do this, finally." Nancy says, cheeks flushed. "Go out for strawberry milkshakes."
"Me, too." I raise my glass in the air. "For Barb."
"For Barb." We clink our glasses and take another sip.
A few moments of silence past, the sadness overwhelming. I clear my throat, shifting my weight. "Do you remember in Ms. Cooper's class, when Barb refused to dissect the frog?"
"Yeah." Nancy smiles at me, her blue eyes far away. "You backed her up. What did you say again?"
A laugh bubbles out of my chest. "That it went against Barb's religion."
Nancy snorts. "And then you distracted the class with a whole philosophy discussion."
"Mhmm. It was totally worth the week of detention."
Nancy gives me a look. "We weren't even friends, then." I hum. "Not really. It was - what - our third month as freshmen?"
"Second. I think."
She shrugs. "It doesn't matter. You were the Ice Queen with one friend. Barb and I had been close since middle school. I remember being so scared of you those first couple of months in high school."
"And now I'm a traumatized mess, and you're a badass who can handle a gun."
"You're a badass even without a bow. Stop it." I roll my eyes but nod. "That's not the point, though. I was scared, because I'd only ever known you to be cold. Hell, you terrify the seniors on a regular basis. But there you were, probably having only spoken to Barb three times, and you were protecting her. I remember it so damn well. Class had ended, and we were watching you walk through the halls like what you did was no big deal." I can't help but smile as Nancy tells the story. "Barb just turned to me and said 'That's going to be our new friend'. Like, it was so final that I didn't even think about disagreeing with her."
I wipe away a few tears. "Two days later she was telling me I need more friends. And, well, that she owed me. Which was true. No one needs to spend longer than a class period with Ms. Cooper."
Nancy laughs, nodding and wiping away her own tears. "God, I know!"
We laugh then look down at our drinks, taking a few sips. "We should do this more. Talk about her. Even though it hurts."
Nancy sighs and looks at me. "You're right. It's just… this is…"
"Hard." I take Nancy's hands this time. "Really hard. But we'll get better."
"Yeah. We will." She clears her throat then gives me a once-over. "You know, I noticed that you're actually wearing makeup. And are a little overdressed for Sally's." My eyes flick over her, knowing she's as dressed up as I am. Nancy snorts, then leans forward, removing her hand from mine so she can cross her arms. "Who told you?"
"Told me what?" I ask, taking a long sip from my milkshake.
"You're a terrible liar." Is all Nancy says, and I send her an offended look.
"Hey!"
"It's true."
"I'm just out of practice. I've spent four years being honest."
"All I'm hearing are excuses." Nancy teases, and I grin, finally conceding.
"Dustin. He sang like a canary." I say in my most mafia-accent, and Nancy groans.
"Your brother sucks." I pout and crumple my napkin, throwing it at her face and smiling like a maniac when it hits her in the center of her eyebrows. Nancy goes a little cross-eyed, then sticks her tongue out at me. "Alright. I deserved that. Your brother's the best."
"Don't you dare forget it." I point at her, but the threat means nothing when I take an extra-long sip from my straw.
"Just do me a favor and act surprised." I give her an unamused expression. "Jonathan's really excited, okay!"
I hold in my teasing, but there's a glint of pure happiness in Nancy's eyes when she mentions his name. I know it's just my heart trying to tell my brain what it wants, but Nancy almost seems more excited when she brings up Jonathan than when she's talking about Steve. But that's just me being jealous. Hoping for too much. "Okay. I'll do it for Jonathan. And my mom, who's probably stressing herself out. No wonder you wanted to do milkshakes today."
"Well, I had a promise to keep. And Jonathan was too enthusiastic to distract you. He'd have given it all away immediately if you didn't already know." She smiles. "Who would have thought that the stoic Jonathan Byers could be so happy about a party?"
I shrug, then finish my milkshake. "I know. It freaked me out, when he acted like that on my 13th birthday. He told me later it was because he wanted to distract me from my dad being gone." Nancy nods, but thankfully her eyes are empathetic and not pitiful. "Then he got excited for his own birthday, too. So in a way, I have my dad to thank for getting my best friend to really celebrate his day, you know? I mean, he was like that with Will's. But everyone loves Will."
"He's the sweetest of the bunch."
"I'd drink to that, but I'm all out." Nancy laughs, then checks her watch.
"Well, good, because I've gotta get you to your surprise." She flags over Shelly, who comes over and shakes her head.
"Nope. No, no. These are on the house, girls."
"Shelly -" I start, but she shakes her head again.
"Our most loyal customer was hurt by some - and pardon my French - assholes. Think of it as 'welcome home' and 'Happy Birthday' milkshakes wrapped in one."
"Thanks, Shelly." I whisper, and the older woman gently pats my shoulder
"Thank you." Nancy grins, then gets up to help me stand and leaves the money anyway, as a tip. "We'll be back soon."
Shelly smiles and waves to us, then walks away to get another table's order from the window. As soon as we leave the warm dinner, a cold gust of wind rushes past us. Thankful for the flight jacket, I lower my chin to keep warm. The two of us maneuver around patches of ice to reach Karen Wheeler's car. As soon as Nancy's behind the wheel she's starting up the heater. I pretend not to feel as cold as I do, but I'm sure I can hear her snorting about my nickname as the engine roars awake.
We drive to my house in comfortable silence, until Nancy breaks it. Her fingers, once tapping against the steering wheel to the soft music, suddenly stop.
"Jonathan isn't just happy about your party because it's a party he can get behind." I raise an eyebrow at her, but it goes unseen as she's focused on the road. "I never told you. About… about that night. After you were taken from the school. Chief Hopper drove to pick us up. And tell us about Will. About you. Jonathan lit up when he heard his brother was going to be okay. But the minute Hopper told him what happened to you - he stopped breathing, but also started breathing too fast."
"Panic attack." I whisper, looking ahead guiltily.
"Yeah." She whispers. "Well, we all did. But Jonathan. He wasn't even that scared when we were fighting the monster." She finally looks at me, then squeezes my hand. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I just… you deserve to know. And I wanted you to understand why letting Jonathan think this is a surprise is important. Because we all almost lost you. He almost lost his sister."
"Thank you. For telling me. But you don't need to worry, I'm going to sell it. I happen to be an excellent liar."
"Good." Nancy smiles. "Because we're here."
I grin as she pulls into my driveway, then turns off her engine. "Showtime." She snorts, and we both get out. I clear my throat, building up a breathless laugh. "Thanks for the milkshakes, Nance." I say as we get to the front door, loud enough to be heard without screaming.
Nancy throws me a wink. "Of course. I'm just sorry I can't spend the rest of the night with you."
"Hey, it's okay. We can hang out on Monday!" I open the door, frowning. "I guess my mom and Dustin went out?"
Nancy walks around me, discreetly bumping my hip as she shuts the door behind us. "You sure you're okay being alone?" She mouths a countdown for me, just in time for all the lights to turn on and the kids, my mom, Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, and Steve to come jumping out from the dining room.
"SURPRISE!" They all shout, blowing their party horns and throwing streamers. I laugh and duck my head to avoid being hit.
"Oh my God!" I shout, smiling like a moron. I may not have been surprised, but goddammit I'm happy, which is even better. "You guys!" I honestly tear up a bit, looking at all the people who came here to celebrate me.
My mom and Dustin are the first to hug me, Nancy narrowly avoiding being pushed onto the ground. Next are Lucas and Mike, the latter of whom squeezes me as hard as he did in the hospital. I bend down a bit to kiss the top of his head, and Mike releases me with a smile.
My own smile widens when I see Will rushing towards me, still a little skinnier than normal but body glowing with happiness. I'm quick to wrap both arms around Will's shaking body. "Hi, buddy." I whisper, then plant kisses all over his face and hairline. "I'm so happy to see you out."
"I'm happy to be out. Hospitals suck." I nod and squeeze his shoulder. He's only an inch shorter than me, so we're already practically eye level. I don't bother saying anything else - the matching looks in our eyes is enough for me to simply pull him back into a hug, hiding our faces in each other's necks. We know we have each other, that we can talk when we need to. When things get to be too much, because they will. They already are. But for now, we can focus on the good. The positive.
"I'm glad you're okay."
"I'm glad you're okay, too." I tell him, then we separate.
Joyce hugs me next, kissing my cheek and smiling down at me. "Thanks for bringing Will." I whisper, knowing how hard it must have been for her.
But she only shakes her head with a warm look. "I wasn't about to let him miss this. We're just lucky he was already being released, or I'd have had to fight his doctor."
"Yeah, and then you'd be spending some quality time with me in holding." Hopper quips at her, but gives me a genuine smile as he pulls me into a hug, mindful of my broken arm.
"Thanks for the gift." I tell him, and the Chief just shrugs.
"It was that or an application to be my new officer. You're more useful injured than Callahan and Powell on one of their good days."
"Oh, hush, they're nice men." My mother tells him, not having one mean bone in her body.
I roll my eyes, but wince when my mom slaps me up the head. "Hopper, you could've just given me an internship!"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll see. You know you don't get paid for those, right?"
"Nevermind." I wrinkle my nose and he snorts, stepping aside.
Steve gives me a brief-but-strong hug, then gently taps my right thumb. "Still like it?"
"It's the best." I tell him honestly, and he grins before walking away to greet his girlfriend. I don't have time to miss him though. Jonathan is there, and with a surprising amount of strength he lifts me into a spinning hug. I hold on tight as he honest to God giggles.
"Happy Birthday!"
I laugh more as he bounces me a bit, both of us ignoring out moms as they urge us to be careful. "It really is!" I tell him, at a volume only he can hear. Jonathan smiles up at me, then keeps spinning around with me in his arms.
He tires himself out a bit, and gently deposits me on one of the cushioned chairs, taking my new jacket and giving it an odd look. "Wait. Isn't this -"
"Mhm. Sent me his -"
"Too?" I nod as he points to my heart, covered by my purple sweater. My own Purple Heart. "That's… wow."
"I know. He saw that my other jacket was destroyed, and… I'll show you the letter later." He nods then sits on the couch, in the spot closest to me. We all gather in the living room, and I laugh when Clue is pulled out, Dustin and Jonathan grinning. Joyce and my mom disappear into the kitchen while Hopper supervises us, griping about how a case is "never that easy" until my younger brother reminds him about the owl that flew into Eleanor Gillespie's hair. That shuts the Chief up real quick, though he still grumbles whenever one of the boys slips into a thick British accent, throwing around crime scene words as if they're real detectives.
A triple layer chocolate strawberry cake is brought in when Lucas correctly accuses Mrs. Peacock (Steve), with the candlestick, in the ballroom. Cheers are silenced with a slightly darkened room - I reach over and take Will's hand, both of us a little freaked out but not wanting to show it - and a well lit cake. The most off-key "Happy Birthday" is sung to me, but I'm smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. I lean over to blow out my candles, briefly making eye contact with Mike. As the flames flicker out, I nod to him.
I wish El was alive.
Cake is served with extra napkins for the kids, and the minute Monopoly is pulled out of its cage by an evil-looking Dustin, Hopper declares he's gotta check back in with the night shift. I throw him a pleading look, urging him to take me along, but Hopper just ruffles my loose curls and hugs my mom and Joyce goodnight before leaving me to my doom.
I really hate Monopoly.
We waste nearly three hours on it, and for once I'm actually winning. But then I bankrupt Lucas, who throws me a glare and narrows his eyes. Before I know it the board is flipped over and he's shrugging innocently, faking a stumble even though he was sitting down, the little prick.
While the others yell at him I just laugh, shaking my head and smiling over at Jonathan, who smiles back and squeezes my hand. Justice is served when Lucas is forced to clean up the game and reorganize everything to Dustin's exact specifications. Catching the kids yawning, my mom and Joyce step in and declare the party over. They groan, though Will looks a little relieved. Us four teens see the kids and Joyce off, with Jonathan promising to be home soon.
While Steve and Nancy help my mom and Dustin clean, Jonathan and I go to my room. We both sit on my bed, bumping our shoulders into each other and smiling goofily. He looks at the flowers in the corner of my room. "Secret admirer?"
"One of Steve's birthday gifts."
"Got it. I still can't believe she told him to come to yours for Thanksgiving. I was expecting her to, I don't know - ask him to come with her instead? Isn't that what girlfriends do?"
I roll my eyes. "How would you know? You've dated four girls. Besides, Nance isn't like most."
"No, she isn't." Jonathan gives me an understanding look. "And he isn't like most guys. Well, not anymore."
"He never really was. He just spent too much time with assholes to let it show." I whisper, smiling out the door as if Steve is right there, staring back at me. "We're quite the pair, huh?"
"The best kind of pair. Who needs a significant other when you've got a sibling?"
I narrow my eyes. "Lots of people. Because incest is illegal."
"You know, it wouldn't technically be incest since we aren't actually related -"
I groan and cover my ears, pretending to gag while Jonathan chortles. "Oh my God, I hate you so much. Ew, ew, ew. That's so gross."
"Thanks, I'll try not to be offended."
"No, please. Try." I snark, and he pokes me in my ribs. I retaliate, both of us diving into giggles.
As we begin to sober, Jonathan pulls me into his chest. "I was so scared that this wouldn't happen. That you wouldn't be here."
"Me too. I've never been more scared in my life, Johnny, until I was stuck there. I… I could feel my body shutting down." I admit, and he shudders. "I wanted it to shut down."
"Don't say that." He growls, and I nod, clutching the collar of his shirt with my left hand.
"I'm sorry. It was the truth, though. But the minute Nancy found me and I heard your voice… you got me back long enough to fight collapsing. You saved me, both of you saved me. I'm here because you two wouldn't give up on Will, Barb, and me. You're the fighters. I just know how to fight."
"You're a fighter, too. Okay Ver?"
"Okay, Johnny."
Someone knocks on the open door and we separate, wiping away our tears. Nancy and Steve thankfully don't comment on it, entering my room with hands clasped together, though Nancy is quick to rush over and hands Jonathan one of the packages in her hands. "You left those out there. I thought you would want to actually give her your present." She smarts at my best friend, who rolls his eyes at her haughtiness but accepts it with a gentle look. It's hardly platonic, but Steve doesn't say anything. Or even notice it, really, because I catch him staring at the ring on my thumb, a small smile gracing his face. "This is for you, from me. And Mike, who wants some credit even though he did nothing."
"Well, the kids are broke."
She snorts, then passes over my present. It isn't particularly dense, but it isn't heavy either, and I curiously unwrap it to find a leather bound journal in my hands. The front has a compass embroidered on it, my initials etched beneath it. "Thank you. This must have - thank you."
"Hey, you're only sixteen once. Besides, it's more than just a birthday gift. I figured you could use it."
"To write about my feelings?"
"Would that be so bad?" She lifts a hand to tap on my forehead. "You have a lot, in here. Things no one in this world can really understand, except Will. Things that you shouldn't bottle up, but that you don't have to tell us." I nod. "It's so you have a place - aside from the range - that you can get angry."
"Thank you." I repeat once more, and we pull each other into a hug. After a few moments we separate, and she steps away so Jonathan can give me my gift.
I rip off the paper and tear open the box, grinning like the Cheshire Cat when I see the mountain of mixtapes inside. "Jesus Christ, Jonathan."
"It's got everything you like. Scorpions, The Clash, AC/DC, the Rolling Stones. You like it, you name it. For the Falcon. Now that you'll be able to drive yourself around."
"Still need my license."
"Which you're getting as soon as possible, so I can stop driving you around." I laugh and nod, pulling him into a hug.
"Thanks, Jonathan."
"Like I was going to give you anything else." I smile into his neck, grateful to be with my family.
The snow falls around me as I sit on the steps in my backyard. My hands are warm enough thanks to the gloves, but my cheeks are flushed as I bring my cigarette to my lips, inhaling the smoke and exhaling through my nose, well-practiced. I'd been good for a few months, until the Upside Down happened. Now, it's at least two cigs a day. Just enough to stop my hands from shaking when the world closes in on me. Because yeah, I'm back, but I'm not always here.
I bend my left arm, smiling at the lack of pain. It actually healed faster than we were told, the cast off two weeks early. Thank God, by the way, because four weeks without archery had me losing more of my mind.
It's Christmas Eve, exactly a month after my birthday. And in that time I've slapped Carol in the face for trying to shove me to the ground, actually got an A on Kaminsky's final test of the semester, and passed my driver's exam.
But in that time, I haven't once ventured into the woods. Nor do I plan to, not really, even as I sit here with my bow and arrows on my lap, just waiting for a monster to creep out.
I really am losing my fucking mind.
My mom is off picking up Dustin from the Wheelers, where Nancy and Steve are no doubt curled up. Jonathan is probably back home by now, with Will. Their house is decorated with Christmas lights once more, only this time they aren't up as an alarm. My house is decorated with them, too, from my roof to the living room. But not in my room. I just keep picturing colorful bulbs flickering and monsters coming out of the walls.
Like I said, Steve and Nancy have each other. Jonathan has Will, Joyce, and old Chester the dog. And me? Well, I'm out here smoking. My mom was gone all day, visiting her cousin Thomas in Carmel. Dustin was with his friends, playing D&D.
I spent my day with the Hollands, pretending it was just any old Saturday. No lights, no tree. Just a fire and a nice lunch, surrounded by pictures of Barb. I'd taken to visiting them a couple of times a week, even when I was stuck in my cast. Despite being bound to a contract, I've done my best to offer them small clues. We know what happened to her, but they don't and that isn't fair.
I don't offer fake, unbelievable clues. I stick to vague-from-trauma facts. I mention being grabbed on our way back to her car. I talk about a dark room, about being stuck in what felt like a maze. Of being chased, and then running for days through the woods until Jonathan and Nancy found me on their hike. It's not enough to make things right, though. Not unless the government has a change of heart.
Taking one last inhale of my cig I grind it out in the snow. As I start to stand, something rustles in the trees. Without missing a beat I lift my bow, arrow already notched, and point it towards the source of the noise. The lights above me aren't the brightest, but they're lit enough that I can make out a small shape, just watching me. Almost like a person. They step a little closer - as cautious as a doe - and I see it's familiar. Too familiar. Impossible.
"El?" I whisper, lowering my bow. I look down for the briefest of moments to pull out my zippo and flick it open. But when I raise the flame the figure is gone, as if it was never there before. And it probably wasn't.
No, it definitely wasn't.
I roll my head and walk inside, locking the backdoor behind me and stepping out of my snow boots. I go into my room first, peeling off my damp clothes and adding them to my nearly-full laundry basket. I sniff my hair, sighing in relief when there's no distinct cigarette smell but still spritzing on some of my perfume. I change into my pyjamas, happy my family likes to keep Christmas comfortable and casual, and slip my zippo into my pants pocket. To protect me from the dark. I carefully put away my bow and arrows, and stroke the sleeve of my flight jacket. I tap the frame of my dad's Purple Heart, and stop to stare just above my desk.
Flowers don't last forever, it's true. But the gardenias Steve bought me will last at least a few years, pressed onto a page from my diary and framed. My brother helped me nail it up, and he was even kind enough not to tease me for it.
It's not the only thing I have hanging, though. My walls are no longer bare. Even with only a month having passed, I've managed to collect and put up pictures of the Party, of me and my friends, and random posters Nancy and I bought at the Hawkins Indoor Winter Fair. And while all of these things help remind me I'm not alone, I don't have the heart to tell anyone that they don't actually ground me. Because when I do see the Upside Down - and it's more often than I'd like, more often than I tell Dr. Owens and Hopper and all those damn Lab assholes - they're there, too, trapped under vines, coated in slime. Cracked and covered in white flecks.
I sigh and walk over to my laundry basket, quickly starting my load before realizing I still haven't washed my hands of the cigarette smell and make a b-line for the bathroom, knowing my mom and Dustin will be home soon.
I scrub my hands, hard and long. Rub them raw, even. Sometimes I have to, or else it feels like I've let go of Barb all over again. I just want that feeling gone.
As I dry my hands, the lights in the house flicker. On. Off. On. Off. On.
Off.
The whole house is instead filled with a dark blue light. The air is thin and white specks float around. The mirror and walls are covered in vines, writhing and moving. I try to hold onto the sides of the sink, but the vines creep up and I hastily bring my hands away.
Another vine - one on the ceiling of the bathroom - slithers down towards me, snaking its way like it wants to choke me. With a firm glare I pull out my lighter and flick it on, heat radiating towards the vine. My mind tells me they shriek and shake, slipping away like thieves in the night. My mind tells me I'm fighting them, that I'm winning a battle that isn't actually happening, because I'm not in the Upside Down, I'm home.
There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.
Suddenly the lights are back on, or maybe they always were. I'm back. I'm here. I'm sure I'm here.
That wasn't real.
I breathe in, then out, and smile when the front door opens and my mom shouts her greetings as my brother complains about the cold. But as I leave the bathroom to join them, I can't help but fear the dread in my stomach, like everything is not what it seems.