"You're adorable, Dusty!" Mom gushes as Dustin poses with his homemade proton pack. I stand off to the side, leaning against my truck, trying to fight the smile that dares to threaten my face. Dustin looks ridiculous in his Ghostbuster costume, each pose for mom's camera sillier than the last. I hide my laughter with a cough when he lifts the hose of the proton pack towards the tree, pretending like he's catching the fake ghost we hung a few evenings ago. It's a small moment, but it makes me feel normal, like things haven't changed at all within the past year.
"We gotta get to school," I remind them, but my mom waves me off. Her laughter carrying on the breeze. The sound is soft and so rare that I can't help but give them a few extra minutes together. Mom is rarely home to see us off to school and it's been so long since I've heard them laugh together like that.
"Lacy," she calls, putting her arm around Dustin and walking him over, "you're not going to wear your costume?"
"I haven't worn a costume to school since seventh grade," I say, shaking my head quickly and then eyeing Dustin. "You're going to wear yours?" I'm slightly concerned that he and his friends will be the only ones and looking at the size of the dumb grin on his face tells me that he hadn't even considered it.
"It's Halloween," he argues, looking around like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard me say. "Everyone wears their costume." His eyes are dancing with excitement and I'm slightly jealous. Halloween used to be my favorite too.
"If you say so," I grin, nodding for him to get into the truck. "I'll see you later, mom."
My mom smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Be safe tonight," she reminds me, cupping my cheek with a warm embrace, "but have some fun too." Her eyes hold a hint of worry and a lot of love, and I nod, wishing I could promise her both without a shadow of doubt, but for some reason I am having a hard time believing that both can exist at the same time.
Dustin and I load his bike into the truck, and I start the engine, listening to its sputter to life. As we drive to school, I can't help but glance over at Dustin. His excitement is infectious and I find myself smiling despite my initial reluctance towards him wearing his costume.
"You wore something under that, right?" I tease, trying to keep the doubt out of my voice. Being the only kid who shows up to school wearing a costume sounds like a nightmare straight out of my own subconscious.
Dustin shoots me a sideways glare, his own voice borderlining amusement and annoyance. "It's Hall-o-ween," he enunciates, sounding slightly crazy, "why wouldn't everyone be dressed up? Not everyone's a stick in the mud like you." He crosses his arms, daring me to argue.
"I'll make you ride your bike in the snow," I threaten and Dustin snorts a laugh, not believing me in the slightest. "Take it back," I continue, leaning over to pinch the soft spot of his arm. I might be the responsible one, but sometimes it's important to remind Dustin that I am still his older sister.
He squeals, laughing now, inching away from my hand, "You're so boring you're probably going as a librarian."
We pull into the parking lot and I laugh, shaking my head at my brother. The lot is slightly busy, but from what I can see, most of the high schoolers aren't wearing costumes. I lift a brow at Dustin and he rolls his eyes, "So all high schoolers are boring, what else is new?"
Dustin hops out of the truck, adjusting his proton pack one last time. I help him lift his bike out of the truck, smiling at him, "Don't forget my kit-kats."
"I won't," he promises, pushing his bike into the crowd, "I'll see you later, Lace!"
I watch Dustin disappear into the sea of students heading toward the middle school, his proton pack bobbing up and down as he navigates through. Shaking my head with a smile, I head the opposite way, waving through the busting hallways of the high school. The familiar chatter and clatter of lockers opening and closing surround me, grounding me into the routine of the day.
I spot Nicole down the hall, her bright, enthusiastic wave impossible to miss. She's with Tina and their friend Heather, a heavy looking stack of orange fliers split between them. Nicole waves, making her way over to me, Tina and Heather following close behind.
"Morning," Nicole chirps, taking a flier off the top of her stack and handing it to me, "this is for you."
"I already received my invite," I say, glancing at Tina with a raised brow. She exchanges a look with Heather, the two girls smiling at a joke I'm not aware of. This raises my guard slightly and I narrow my eyes on Nicole, who is still smiling sweetly.
Tina and Heather are on the cheer team with Nicole and were tolerated by Carol for the most part because they either threw the best parties or knew the best gossip. I didn't really care for either of them, but can tolerate them for the most part.
"It's not for you," Nicole rolls her eyes, pushing out an annoyed sigh.
I pop open my locker, taking a moment to exchange my books. "Then why are you handing it to me?" I question, watching Nicole shake the flier enticingly. Her insistence always has an agenda and my stomach begins to tighten with nerves.
"Just take the flier, Lace." She snaps and I snatch it from her hand, setting it on top of my books and shutting my locker. It's too early to fight with her.
"Happy, weirdo?" I ask, glancing at Tina and Heather, who are giggling once again.
"Incredibly," Nicole shoots back, but there's a grin on her face that heightens my unease, "now, walk over and hand it to Billy." Her eyes gleam with mischief, and I should have known what she was up to.
My stomach twists. The last thing I want to do is hand anything to Billy Hargrove, but Nicole's determined look leaves no room for argument. I can't help but wonder why she's so invested in this. Is it just for her own amusement, or does she genuinely believe she's helping me? Nicole's determination is both infuriating and a bit comforting; at least someone cares about my love life, even if it's in her own twisted way.
"Screw you," I laugh, handing the flier back to her. She refuses to take it so I try to push it back to Heather or Tina, who take a step away. "You invited Billy yesterday," I remind her, clutching my books to my chest, "he's supposed to be driving with us."
"This is more official," she states, handing her books and fliers off to Heather. Nicole takes a moment to fix a loose piece of my hair and then tugs at my skirt, straightening out the fabric with a satisfied nod, "You have the best legs."
"I'm not giving this to Billy," I tell her, ignoring the compliment. She's trying to fluff my ego, but my nerves are fluttering. I don't want to admit that the idea of approaching Billy makes my heart race.
"Yes, you are." Nicole says, shaking my shoulders with a wide grin, "This is phase one and you have to make the first move." Nicole is pushy when it comes to boys, but this is different. She's enjoying her role of matchmaker, and while the idea is sweet, I wish it was any other boy.
"You're insane." I laugh, but for a moment I am slightly fearful for my life. Nicole has this look in her eyes that I have only seen when she is desperate for a boy's attention. The determination in her gaze is frightening and I look at Tina and Heather for support, "It's your party, you do it."
Tina shakes her head, her own gaze firm, "Nicole says you have to do it." Tina's voice is solid, as if Nicole's word is law.
"I'll do it," Heather offers, reaching to take the flier from me, but Nicole slaps her hand away.
"We talked about this," Nicole reminds her, "you and Billy have nothing in common."
Heather scoffs, snapping her gum. "Says you," she spits, "I haven't even had a chance to talk to him before you claimed him for Lacy."
Nicole turns to face Heather, a cool look on her face that is meant to remind her to fall in line. Carol had the same look with us and I guess I had a similar one with the tennis team. A reminder that despite being friends with us, we were still in charge.
"Lacy," Nicole says, looking back at me. "Give Billy the invitation. I don't care if you're the biggest bitch about it, but you're going to walk over there, flaunt those long legs, and give him the flier."
I laugh, covering my mouth with the invite. Her look might work with the cheerleaders, but it falls slightly short on me. "And if I don't?" I tease, slightly mocking her glare with my own.
"So help me, God. I will cut off all your hair while you're sleeping, like we did to Jennifer Brady in 8th grade." Nicole threatens and I inhale slightly, knowing that she isn't kidding. My mind flashes back to that sleepover at Carol's, when Jennifer had told Nicole that she was too fat to wear a bikini to her pool party. Nicole had tried to pretend like it didn't bother her, but stayed up later than all of us, taking a pair of kitchen scissors, and chopping off Jennifer's long blonde locks.
I press my lips together, shaking my head, wondering if I could take her in the struggle for the scissors. "Fine," I snap, deciding that if she can toss a cheerleader in the air, she could probably beat me in a fight, "but I want you to know that this is stupid."
As I walk away, the flier in hand, my heart races. Why am I so nervous? It's just Billy. But then again, it's Billy Hargrove. He's not just anything. There's nothing simple or easy or slightly likable about him, and yet… I turn and look at Nicole, gripping the flier a little tighter.
"Just go," Nicole says, shaking her head like I am the most pathetic, helpless case she's ever seen. "Hold on," she calls, stepping in front of me to pull my sweater down slightly so you can see the top of my chest.
I slap her hands away, feeling the burning of a blush cover my face. I scan the hallway for Billy, who is standing near his locker. Tommy and a few of the basketball team members surrounding him. I inhale, shooting Nicole a hateful glance before pulling my shoulders back and heading down the hallway towards him.
My footsteps feel heavy, like my shoes are filled with lead. Each step is a conscious effort, my resolve wavering with every inch closer to Billy. I know I don't have to do this, but Nicole's eyes are burning a hole into my back, a silent command that's impossible to ignore. Although, for a moment, I consider walking past him, flipping Nicole the finger, and heading to my first class. The temptation is strong, almost overpowering, but there's a small voice in the back of my head egging me on. It's that same competitive spark that ignites before every tennis match, deep within me, that hates backing down from any challenge. And Billy Hargrove might be the biggest challenge yet.
My pulse quickens as I approach him, and I curse myself for letting him get to me. What is it about him that makes me so flustered? Is it his arrogant smirk, or the way his eyes seem to see right through me? I can't let him know he's affecting me. I need to stay cool, composed.
Billy is leaning against the lockers, a bored expression on his face as he scans the crowd. Tommy's voice is loud, talking about their upcoming practice, but Billy doesn't seem slightly interested. I can't help but feel a flare of heat in my chest when I notice how his eyes lift at each girl that passes, his gaze lingering on them, but his expression never changes. I don't know if it's the idea of him looking at other girls that bothers me more or if it's the fact that I care that he's looking at them. I lock my jaw, inhaling deeply, settling the butterflies in my stomach.
"Lace," Chuck greets, smiling brightly. He opens up the circle for me to stand next to him, eyes glancing down my shirt. I bite my lip, reminding myself to get Nicole back for this later.
"Hi Chuckie," I say, but my voice sounds a little tight, the nerves from my stomach spilling into my words. "Having a good morning?"
"I am now," he flirts, and I press my lips together firmly, forcing the look of contempt from my face.
I glance at Billy, finding that his eyes are on me. His signature smirk is now plastered on his face, and I feel my heart pick up in pace. I hate this. I hate that he holds so much power over everyone, myself included.
"This is for you," I say, handing Billy the flier before I lose my nerve. Billy lifts his brow, taking the flier from me without any hesitation. His fingers lightly brush against mine and I ignore the spark that shoots up my arm, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I need to stay calm, act like this doesn't bother me. But his smirk tells me he knows exactly what he's doing.
"An official invite," he chuckles, "hand-delivered by the princess herself. How special."
"Try not to get emotional over it," I say, my voice is even and almost bored-sounding, but Billy's smirk grows and I don't think I'm fooling him. Billy pushes off the locker, closing the distance between us and I swallow, ignoring the smell of his lingering cigarettes.
Billy's eyes lock onto mine, the smirk never leaving his face. "I'll try to contain myself," he says, folding the flier and slipping into his jacket pocket. "Looking forward to seeing you there, sweetheart."
My pulse quickens, but I force myself to roll my eyes. "That makes one of us," I retort, taking a step back. I need to put some distance between us before I lose the upper hand completely.
"I'll save you a dance," he calls after me as I turn to leave, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I don't give him the satisfaction of a response, marching back to Nicole and the others.
Nicole's eyes are practically sparkling with delight as I rejoin them. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
I shake my head, exasperated. "You owe me big time," I mutter, but I can't deny the small thrill that ran through me during the exchange. Nicole, as irritating as she can be, might be onto something.
The morning block of classes pass in a blur of lectures and note-taking, my mind replaying the exchange with Billy. His smug smile, the way his eyes locked onto mine – it's infuriating how he manages to get under my skin so effortlessly. Nicole's gloating only adds to my irritation, but there's also a strange sense of exhilaration simmering beneath it all. By the time PE rolls around, I'm more than ready to release some pent-up energy.
The gym's familiar scent of sweat and rubber hits me, but it's a welcome distraction from my swirling thoughts. Carol is waiting for me, sitting at the bleachers, examining her nails. She spots me and waves, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Hey doll," she calls out, her voice dripping with mockery. "How's it feel to be Billy's personal messenger?"
I roll my eyes, taking the spot next to her. "Don't start, Carol," I warn, though there's no real bite to my words.
Carol leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "Nicole said he looked pretty interested."
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. "He was probably bored. Tommy was talking his ear off about basketball."
"Better him than me," Carol sighs, tossing a glance across the gym where the basketball team is warming up. Tommy is in the middle of the action, his loud voice carrying across the gym. Hawkins High School always schedules the boy's basketball, football, baseball, and soccer teams the same PE period, to give them an extra block of practice. They never ever did this for any of the girls teams, despite our win record being more impressive than most.
Billy is now standing next to him, laughing at whatever Tommy is saying. He looks different in his PE uniform, less of a badass and more of a high school student. He picks up one of the basketballs, dribbling it lazily as Tommy continues to talk.
"Come on, Lace," Carol nudges me, bringing my attention back to her. "You can't tell me you didn't feel a little thrill. He's hot, and you know it."
I snort, pulling my eyes away. "He's also an arrogant jerk."
"Yeah, but you like a challenge," Carol teases, standing up and stretching. "And you're drooling," she says, pretending to wipe my chin.
I open my mouth to protest, but before I can, our PE teacher blows the whistle, signaling the start of class. We head over to join the rest of the students, and I try to push the thoughts of Billy to the back of my mind.
As we begin our warm-up laps around the gym, I can't help but steal glances at the boys' side of the court where Billy and the basketball team are running their warm-up drills. His movements are smooth and confident, each shot he takes landing effortlessly in the hoop.
Carol catches me looking and smirks. "See something you like?" she whispers, jogging beside me.
I blush, quickening my pace. "Shut up, Carol."
She laughs, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Admit it, Lace. You're totally into him."
"I am not," I insist, though my protest sounds weak even to my own ears.
We continue running, but my eyes keep drifting back to Billy. He catches me watching him once, and our eyes lock for a split second before I quickly look away, my heart pounding in my chest.
After the warm-up, our teacher splits us into groups for different activities. Carol and I end up in the same group, doing a circuit of various exercises. As we move through the stations, she doesn't let up on the teasing.
"Seriously, Lacy," Carol says as we finish a set of squats. "You should just go for it tonight."
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, annoyed by how flustered I feel. "There's nothing to go for," I mutter. "He's a distraction."
Carol rolls her eyes. "From what? Taking care of your brother? The kid's practically grown, you have to cut the cord eventually."
I glare at her, but she just laughs, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "That's not the point," I grumble, not sure if I could ever explain it to her.
"Yeah, yeah," she says, waving me off. "But it wouldn't kill you to take the stick out of your ass."
As we finish the last set of warm-up exercises, our teacher blows the whistle again, giving us a short break. Carol immediately heads over to where Tommy is lounging against the wall, leaving me to catch my breath alone. I grab my water bottle, taking a long drink as I survey the gym.
The gym is buzzing with activity: the echo of bouncing basketballs, the murmur of conversations, the occasional ring of a laugh. Despite the noise, my eyes inevitably find their way back to Billy. He's leaning against the bleachers, looking almost casual for once, the usual tension in his posture softened. There's a basketball tucked under his arm, and he's talking to a few of the other team members, his expression relaxed.
I try to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. But it's no use. My eyes keep drifting back to him. And then, as if he senses my gaze, Billy's head turns and our eyes lock. The smirk that spreads across his face makes my heart skip a beat. He bounces the basketball once, twice, then suddenly it's flying through the air towards me.
I barely catch it, my fingers fumbling over the smooth surface. The ball feels heavier than it should, my hands clumsy around it. "What the hell?" I exclaim, glaring at him, my voice echoing slightly in the gym.
Billy saunters over, smirk firmly in place. "Just seeing if you're any good at a real sport," he teases, eyes dropping down the length of my legs in my gym shorts before settling back on my face. His gaze is intense, almost challenging, and it makes my skin prickle.
I roll my eyes, pushing the ball to his chest with more force than necessary, "I'm not interested in proving anything to you, Hargrove."
"Come on, sunshine," he teases, bouncing the ball back to me again. "Let's see what you've got."
There's a challenge lining his voice that makes my jaw lock. The competitive drive flaring up, refusing to back down. Billy lifts an eyebrow, clearly noticing, and crosses his arms over his chest, waiting
I dribble the ball a few times, though it's clear I'm not very talented with it. The echo of the ball on the polished floor seems louder than usual, every bounce syncing with the rapid beat of my heart. I take a shot at the hoop, but it bounces off the rim, missing completely. Carol and Tommy burst into laughter, and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Their laughter makes me bite my lip, refusing to look towards them.
Billy chuckles, but instead of walking away, he bounces the ball back to me. "Try again," he says, standing a few feet away with an expectant look, his eyes never leaving mine. I can feel curious looks from our classmates in the gym, the pressure mounting.
I hesitate, feeling the weight of their eyes on me, but the competitive spark within me refuses to dim. I can hear Carol's snicker from the side, a reminder that I will never hear the end of it if I back down now. I dribble the ball again, the sound sharper, more determined. I take another shot. This time, it's closer but still misses.
"Better," Billy says, nodding in approval. "One more time."
Determined not to embarrass myself a third time, I dribble and shoot the ball once more. It hits the backboard and finally swishes through the net. The sound of the ball sliding through the hoop is like music to my ears.
"Yes!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in triumph. The relief that washes over me is almost overwhelming.
Carol and Tommy, still leaning against the wall, exchange amused glances, but refrain from more laughter. Billy claps slowly, a satisfied, almost genuine smile on his face, "Not bad, Henderson."
Before I can respond, the whistle blows again, signaling the end of our break. Billy turns away without a second glance, heading back to his side of the gym. I'm left standing there, the ball still in my hands, feeling slightly confused and something else – something I'm not sure I can name. I watch him go, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Part of me is annoyed that he's so smug, so sure of himself. Another part of me – the part I'm trying desperately to ignore – is intrigued, drawn to him, the challenge he represents.
Carol jogs back over, a knowing grin on her face. "If I didn't know any better," she laughs, nudging me, "I'd say somebody has a crush."
I shake my head, but it's difficult to fight the small smile that tugs at my lips. "You're ridiculous, Carol."
"Maybe," she replies, her grin widening. "But at least I'm not in denial."
I don't respond, instead focusing on the instructions from our PE teacher. But even as we move through the rest of PE, my mind is racing, trying to sort out my feelings between irritation and excitement.
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated :)