Chapter Eight: Under the Tarp
Hiding under a tarp, Eddie shivered as he tried to get comfortable in the tiny boat. It barely fit his frame; his knees curled up close to his chest. It had been a long fucking night and day. Every minute was filled with fear that someone would find him.
Every time he tried to close his eyes; he saw Chrissy's mangled body, her soulless eye sockets dripping blood. Maybe the critics were right, maybe Hawkins was haunted. Whatever demon threatened their town was never going to leave.
God, Clara. How was she going to respond to this? In a matter of hours, if not already, she would learn about her twin's death, and he would be blamed. Even if they didn't find him guilty, she would blame him for being a coward and running away.
That was the problem. He always ran away. He was a coward, and he didn't mind admitting it, but it still stung. Was that why she never seemed interested in him? Hargrove certainly hadn't been a coward and ever Harrington, as dumb as that seemed, wasn't as much of a coward as Eddie was.
Shifting slightly, he tried to get comfortable. His current plan was to hide out here until Rick got back. Then, he would steal Rick's car and hightail it out of Hawkins. To hell with trying to prove his innocence, no one would believe him if he told them what actually happened to Chrissy.
What would Uncle Wayne think? That question stumped Eddie. Would his Uncle be on his side? Or would the old man believe whatever the news said? It was a question that would never be answered… at least not in person.
Eddie kept trying to keep comfortable, it wasn't easy in the small confines of the boat. He was constantly shifting, forcing himself to stay calm. No one could find him here. Not in the known drug addicts' place…
Never mind. This was a terrible place to hide.
He froze under the tarp, heart racing as he heard footsteps outside the boat shed. He could barely hear the muffled words until the door was pushed open. He made out Henderson's voice and then Harrington's. He felt his heart slow, then pick back up for a completely different reason when he heard a very familiar voice.
"Steve, what are you doing?" came Clara's voice. She was right above his head; he could faintly make out her shadow from the flashlights they had brought.
"He might be in here," Harrington said. He might have shrugged, Eddie couldn't see, but he assumed. Harrington was aways shrugging or fixing his damn hair. He was such a pretty boy.
"We should take the tarp off," Henderson said, a little nervously. Good, he should be nervous. After all, Eddie was a murder now. "Take it off, Steve."
"Oh, if you're so brave, you take the tarp off!" Harrington hissed.
The footsteps near the boat increased and Eddie pleaded silently that they would just go away. Clara didn't need to be dragged into this… and if she found him, he knew she would kill him.
"Someone was here," Buckley said.
"Maybe he heard us," Maxfield said. "Got spooked and ran."
"Don't worry," Henderson snorted. "Steve will get him with his oar." Clara's voice was gentle when she spoke.
"I know you think you're being funny, but considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don't find it funny in the slight—"
Someone's hand grabbed the tarp and Eddie lunged. He slammed Harrington against the wall, holding a broken glass bottle against the jock's neck. Harrington let out a strangled yell and the rest of the group backed away, holding up their hands. Except for Clara.
Let him go," she told Eddie. "Steve isn't going to hurt you… right, Steve?"
Harrington nodded as best as he could with the piece of glass against his jugular.
"Right. Yeah."
"Steve, why don't you drop the oar?" she asked.
"What? No!" Eddie let out a small grunt, pushing the glass closer to Steve's neck.
"He's cool," Henderson yelped. "He's cool… right Steve?" "
I'm cool, man. I'm cool."
As Harrington dropped the oar, Eddie pushed him away.
"What are you doing here?" Eddie asked, looking at Clara. He ignored all the others in the boathouse, focusing his complete attention on her. She didn't have a chance to answer before Henderson cut her off.
"We're looking for you. Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band. And this is Max. The one who never wants to play D&D."
Slowly, Clara inched closer to Eddie, lightly touching his hand.
"Eddie," she said quietly. "We're on your side." His eyes shot up to hers. She had never used his first name since they started high school. It seemed foreign, but wonderful coming from her lips. Maybe he'd be lucky, and she'd say it again?
"Yeah!" Henderson agreed. "I swear on my mother… right guys?"
"Yes. Yes. We swear," Buckley nodded.
"On Dustin's mother," Max said.
"Yeah, Dustin's… Dustin's mother," Harrington echoed. They all looked at Clara who rolled her eyes.
"I'm not swearing on Mrs. Henderson."
Taking a shaky breath, Eddie yanked a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face.
"Jesus Ch…" He leaned against a wall, slowly sliding down until he was seated on a bench.
"We just want to talk," Clara said, kneeling in front of him. Her eyes searched his as her hand tightened on his. "We want to know what happened?" Eddie looked at her, tears building in his eyes. He had never been this vulnerable in his life.
"You won't believe me."
The girl in front of him let out a broken laugh, it wasn't a sound Eddie liked hearing… not her laugh, god not that, but the brokenness. Before she had gone missing, she laughed all the time. He would be able to hear it from across the cafeteria and he always glanced at her from his table. After she came back, she barely laughed and the sound she just made didn't really count.
"Try us," she told him. Taking a deep breath, he told them his tale. It was a pleasant one, but even if the girl of his dreams hated him after he was done, at least she would know the truth.