NO SYMPATHY

A/N: I do not own Stranger Things or the characters. They are solely the property of Netflix, the Duffer Brothers, and their associates. Also, as you can probably tell, this is a continuation of Max's story from chapter 2 of Baby, Come Back.

"You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequence
of your choice."
—ANONYMOUS

"You buttered your bread, now sleep in it!"
—JIMINY CRICKET
PINOCCHIO, 1940

"Never bully anyone, 'cause karma has everyone's address."
—LADY GAGA

I never liked Angela. For as long as I'd known her, she was the meanest, nastiest, most stuck-up bitch on the face of the earth. Not only was she notorious for pretending to be someone's friend and talking shit about them behind their backs five minutes later, but she very seldom got in trouble for it. Even when she was caught red-handed (if ever), she always managed to weasel her way out of being held accountable for her actions. What's more, she and her friends took sadistic pleasure in bullying and publicly humiliating anyone who didn't meet their so-called "standards"—in other words, those who were shy, awkward, or were anything less than drop-dead gorgeous; basically, anyone like me, and especially me. To say that it made my blood boil is putting it mildly. The only person who had ever stood up to them was Max Mayfield, the only girl in this hellhole of a school that I considered a real friend. Unlike everybody else, she didn't have a phony or pretentious bone in her body. When it came to Max, there was no bullshit. What you saw was what you got. She always went out of her way to treat others with kindness and respect, and whenever she saw someone being bullied, not once did she hesitate to put them in their place, both with her words and her fists. And believe me when I tell you, if anyone—guy or girl—dared to mess with Max, she would fuck them up.
And that included Angela.
There's one instance in particular that I'll remember until my dying day, which happened when we were in fifth grade. It was the first day of school, and there was a boy who'd just moved here toward the end of summer vacation. His name was Giacomo [pronounced JOCK-uh-moe, and let me tell you, he was the cutest boy I'd ever seen in my life: taller than me, black hair, brown eyes, and a picture-perfect tan. Max once described him as looking like a cross between Richard Grieco [pronounced GREE-koh] and Janet Jackson. All the girls in our grade, especially me, thought he was a hot babe. I was actually considering getting him to ask me out once I got up enough courage to do so, but then I found out that he was a really good surfer, and practically an expert in skateboarding and BMX biking. Since I'm the least coordinated girl I know, not to mention the world's worst swimmer, I knew that I was way out of Giacomo's league. Max, on the other hand, is into that stuff, so I stepped aside and let her try to get to know him a little. As it turned out, they clearly had a lot in common. I don't know about Max, but I was convinced that somewhere down the road, those two would be together forever.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Remember when I said that every girl in school thought Giacomo was a babe? Well, Angela was no exception. If she'd had her way, she would've thrown herself at him the first chance she got, and then spent every waking moment telling him how wonderful he was and worshipping the ground he walked on. And finally, if he did decide to go out with her, she would've strung him along for a month or so and then broken his heart the minute his back was turned. That's the kind of person I hate most of all. Thankfully, not only was Giacomo a really nice boy, but he was also smart enough to see through Angela, and didn't even give her the time of day. And even though I knew I wasn't his type, and vice-versa, he still accepted me for me.
Well, needless to say, Angela was not happy when Giacomo rejected her. For once, she was starting to know how it felt to be treated the same way she treated other people. But instead of accepting it and changing for the better, she did the one thing that showed everyone just how shallow, petty and vindictive she really was: she started a rumor that since Max was "servicing" Giacomo, if you know what I mean. Now, if you know how public school works, anytime one of the pretty or popular kids spreads a rumor about somebody, it's almost like there's an unwritten law that requires everybody else to believe it completely without a shred of proof, no matter how ridiculous or disgusting it is. I didn't buy it for a second, for two reasons. First, because I knew damn well that it was a vicious lie; and second, my grampa, God rest his soul, always told me never to believe anything I heard until I had all the facts.
But, not surprisingly, everybody believed what Angela said about Max hook, line and sinker. And yes, I mean both the other kids and the teachers. That was even less of a surprise to me. The teachers in this town were and are fucking useless when it comes to helping kids who are being picked on, as well as way too lenient on whoever's causing the trouble. If I had a dollar for every time I'd heard them say "Just ignore them and they'll stop", I'd be living in a penthouse apartment in Malibu, and counting my money.
I knew Max would be pissed when she found out about it, and was she ever! She'd often told me how much she hated Angela's guts for as long as she could remember, and all the crap she put her through, but when she started that rumor, that was the last straw. The one thing Max never did was start a fight, but she sure as hell was going to finish this one.
And finish it she did.
It was the last warm and sunny day before fall officially began, and everybody in town was making the most of hitting the beach one last time. Like I said earlier, I can't swim to save my life, but I still enjoyed going. There's nothing like standing knee-deep in the water and letting the waves splash you until they knock you over. Sure, it makes me look like a huge dork, but it's a helluva lot safer than going out there and getting caught in an undertow.
Anyway, Max and I were on our way to the concession stand to get some nachos when she looked over her shoulder and saw Angela coming out of the ladies' room with three other girls in tow. Right then and there, I knew what was about to go down. I didn't want Max to get in trouble for fighting, but before I could say one word to her, she very quickly started to march over to where they were. I had to run to keep up with her, and in the back of my mind, I was praying that she wouldn't do anything stupid. In retrospect, I should've known that it wouldn't have done any good.
When I finally caught up with Max, she and Angela were standing nose-to-nose. Her fists were so tightly clenched that her knuckles were just starting to turn white. I knew what that meant, as would anyone else who knows Max Mayfield. She was seconds away from taking a swing. Sure, Angela would've had it coming, but at the same time, I was still determined to keep the situation from escalating any further.
Then Angela saw me standing there, and just as I thought, she started in on me—specifically, making fun of my chubby stomach and short, stubby arms and legs. That, combined with my pasty white skin, is the reason why everyone calls me Pillsbury Dough Girl. And I'll give you three guesses who came up with that name.
Thankfully, before she could call me that, Max shoved her, ordered her to leave me alone, and reminded her that this was between the two of them. And that's when Angela looked her dead in the eye and said something along the lines of, "Boy, no wonder your daddy's not around anymore. I guess he was too embarrassed to have a little skank like you for a daughter."
That did it. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY talks that way about Max's real dad. Even I knew better than to broach that particular subject with her. As soon as Angela said that, Max tackled her and they both fell down the boardwalk steps and into the sand, where she proceeded to pound the living shit out of that Barbie wannabe. One of her friends ran down there and tried to stop it, but Max turned around, laid her out in one punch, and continued her assault. Several other kids saw what was going on and ran over to egg her on. As for me, I just stood there, frozen in shock. I always knew Max was tough, but this was the first time I'd ever seen her get that fired up. And she would've continued wailing on her if one of the lifeguards hadn't broken it up. Right after he pulled Max away, she shouted, loud enough that the whole beach could hear, "IF YOU EVER SAY ANYTHING LIKE THAT TO ME AGAIN, I'LL PUT YOU IN A FUCKING WHEELCHAIR!"
I didn't see Max for the rest of the day. The lifeguard had called her folks, explained what had happened, and told them to take her home. I normally don't condone violence, but to be perfectly honest with you, I was glad she did what she did. Sure, she got in trouble for kicking Angela's ass, but she had every right to do so. And before you even think about telling me that two wrongs don't make a right, like Mom does, put yourself in my shoes for five minutes, and then you tell me how it feels and what you would do about it.
As for Angela, I don't feel sorry for her at all. She poked the bear, and she got exactly what she deserved.

THE END