Eddie remembers the first time he watched Chrissy perform a cheer routine in vivid detail.

He remembered thinking that this girl had a talent; not many people find what they're good at as young as 6th grade.

It was the Talent Show for the Hawkins Middle School.

Usually, it was a pretty pathetic affair. Middle schoolers weren't renowned for their overwhelming talent. It was for the parents only, and you didn't care much about anyone else's kid, so parents usually had to suffer through upwards of twenty acts of mediocre 'talents' until their kid came up.

If you were a middle schooler, you cheered and whooped when your friend went on but found everyone else's set incredibly, mind-numbingly boring. Sometimes you were mean about other people's skills. That's just how middle schoolers are.

Any old Tom, Dick, or Sue could walk on and claim anything to be a talent, as proven by Tommy whose talent was burping the letters of the alphabet, or Nancy Wheeler who recited all of Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Raven'. If it was a contest between who he hated more; 7th graders or 6th graders, as annoying as kids like Tommy were, 6th graders were the absolute worst. They were basically babies that thought they were so cool because they were in middle school now, so usually, they were a bit insufferable. And they either were scardy-cats that would whimper when older kids were around or mouth off and didn't know what was good for them when an 8th grader told them to scram.

He could tolerate his fellow 8th-grade performances, he would roll his eyes at most 7th-grade performances, but Eddie Munson wouldn't be caught dead watching a 6th grader if he could help it.

The 6th graders always went first. Eddie got halfway through Nancy's recitation before slipping out the back in the hallways to wander around by himself, deciding he had much better things to be doing than attending this. It was generally frowned upon by teachers to not stay, but fuck them, you know?

He ran his fingers through his newly shorn hair.

He'd tried to dye it earlier this week. His uncle had nearly turned blue in the face when he'd seen it. He muttered about kids acting up and Eddie knew that Wayne assumed it was because he was nervous about going to high school soon or that he was reaching his rebellious stage, but that wasn't it.

Eddie didn't quite have the words of gratitude to tell his uncle how glad he was that they were still…together. That after his parent's death, he hadn't been shipped off to a foster house, left to fend for himself.

In fact, Eddie felt rather embarrassed about it. He'd seen John Taylor of Duran Duran dye his hair a reddish tint and wanted to emulate that. He knew nothing about hair dye and bought the cheapest stuff he could, so it turned out horrible. He didn't have the courage to admit this to Wayne, because it was a really dumb move, so he just stayed quiet when his uncle saw his mangled hair.

Off it went.

Eddie was still getting used to the feeling of air blistering across his head compared to the hair past his ears he'd had before.

He checked the roster, trying to figure out how long he had to hide before he could come back. If he was gone the entire time, someone would notice, so the safest bet was to return when the 7th graders started.

He made a 'yuck' noise as his finger passed the name of each 6th grader.

There were three in total he tolerated, and they were the summation of his band, along with two kids from his grade. They were the only kids with a semi-decent musical bone in their body, so Eddie had begrudgingly allowed them in at the suggestion of his 8th-grade bandmates.

He looked at the collection of names for the last act. A group of giggly 6th graders doing a dance of sorts.

Eddie committed the act to memory and then went to the music room.

He was shocked to see someone already in there.

It was a girl. From her small stature, he was sure it was a 6th grader. He was about to snap at her, and ask her to leave but realized she was in the middle of practicing.

He watched her for a few moments; over and over and over she did her moves, with an acute sense of rhythm. The way she moved her body was mesmerizing. She clearly loved whatever the heck she was doing, and he couldn't remember someone having so much passion for something since, well, since Eddie himself had discovered the guitar.

"Oh! Sorry!" The girl squeaked when she turned, stumbling back into a couple of cymbals hanging on the wall.

"It's ok. No one really uses the band practice rooms," He said, "Guessing that's why you're here."

The girl inhaled sharply. She looked close to tears, "Midge told me that I looked like a goose flapping its arm when I'm doing the routine and Jess agreed with her and I know that I know it but now I'm worried I'll forget and I'll be ugly up there and-,"

"Who?" Eddie interrupted her, confused.

"My friends."

Eddie snorted, "They don't sound much like friends."

"No, no, they're just…worried about looking stupid." The girl said, rocking back and forth on her heels, playing with a strand of bouncy blonde hair between her fingers. Her nail polish was chipped and one of her socks was slipping around her ankles, and he could tell that this was maybe her first time wearing makeup, because it looked a bit sloppy.

"You're a sixth grader, right?" He asked, leaning against the door.

"Uh-huh. Chrissy Cunnigham. I mean, Christina. My momma says I should use my god-given name because she gave it to me."

"No one calls me Edward." Eddie snorted, "If you want to be a Chrissy, who cares, right?" He shrugged. He walked over and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "And don't worry about your routine. You're a sixth grader so you'll look stupid no matter what."

There was a moment of shocked silence and Eddie cursed at himself. He always said the wrong thing and went too far. And now he was going to be called into the principal's office and would be given like 80 detentions for saying what everyone thought, but no one else was dumb enough to say out loud. He was going to make this bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked sixth-grade girl cry and he'd be labeled as a bigger trouble-maker than he already was. Instead, she laughed.

"I guess that's true, huh? Sixth graders probably look really stupid to the other grades."

Eddie let out a sigh of relief, "You have no idea." He said, "Don't take offense. You'll get to make fun of all the other sixth graders when you're in 8th grade." He pointed out, "It's a rite of passage."

"I dunno," Chrissy said, eyebrows knitting, "I like being nice to people."

He resisted a smile. He was an 8th-grade boy and therefore thought he knew everything, so he was resisting the urge to tell her that those sort of humanitarian feelings would soon fade. It always did. You got to 8th grade and you got jaded and cynical and being nice became an outdated and uncool pastime.

Not that Eddie went out of his way to be mean to people, but he'd learned from enough of his own class and Hawkins as a school that they weren't going to be nice to him. So he was better off returning the favor.

"Are you in the show?" Chrissy cut off his thoughts.

"I am. I'm in a band. I play guitar." Eddie said brightly. He eagerly went to the case. It was his old guitar. Wayne promised for this 8th-grade graduation he'd get a nice one and Eddie was counting down the days he could have a guitar worth his talent in his hand.

"That's so cool!" Chrissy exclaimed, "I wish I could play something."

"Really? No musical talent?" He asked.

"My mom made me take piano, but I stopped a few years ago. I didn't get farther than hot cross buns."

Eddie unzippered his guitar and held it gingerly before thrusting it out. He had no idea why he was being so nice to a 6th grader, but no one was here to see them, or to judge them, and she was being nice back. He wasn't used to people being nice back.

"Try it."

Chrissy blinked, "I can't touch that! I'll break it." She said in a stage whisper.

"Are you clumsy?" He asked.

"No, I guess not-,"

"It's okay. It's pretty beat up anyway." Eddie assured her, "A few more dents will just give it character if you do drop it."

Chrissy giggled, and usually, he hated the sound of girls giggling (girls were still icky to him, and he was very sure girl cooties were a real thing) but it just made him pass it off faster. She clearly didn't know a thing about guitar; the first pluck made Eddie's ears want to bleed.

"No, like this," He said, taking it back and showing her. Chrissy jumped to sit on a desk, watching with rapt attention as he showed her how to place her tiny hands and how to strum the guitar.

Time slipped away. He had no idea how long he spent, falling overwise to teach her the basics, but it felt like no time it all. But it had to have been a good amount of time because soon someone was pushing into the practice room.

"Oh my god, there you are Chrissy! We're about to be on!" A petite angry looking girl said.

"Coming!" Chrissy said, "Thanks for showing me." She said, "I had a good time."

"Anytime," Eddie croaked, nodding back, "You're a fast learner." He had ideas of passing on his talent to a protegee, to her, fill his head all of a sudden.

That is, until the girl looked distastefully at him, the one in the doorway.

"Chrissy, don't you know who that is?" She asked, "You shouldn't be alone with him."

"No, shouldn't I?" Chrissy asked.

He only caught mere whispers of her hurried explanation, but it was enough to doom anything they might have had in this practice room; trailer park, poor, dead parents, act out, weirdo, freak…

He looked down, sure that if he looked up to meet Chrissy's eyes, he'd see disgust or pity. And neither was acceptable.

He waited a long time after they'd left but finally dragged himself to the auditorium. It was the tail-end of their performance. There were five girls on stage. Four looked like fish flopping around, all movement and no rhythm, but Chrissy? It's like she was made to wave pom-poms around. She was hitting the beats. She was grinning. She was spinning and looked like she was having fun. Whoever told her she looked like a goose was obviously jealous because it was so clear she was leagues above everyone else.

He wished he could tell her, but he had a feeling they would never talk again.

If she was hanging around those types of girls, she was going to become a person Eddie wasn't interested in talking to. She would get to 8th grade and not just become cynical but become a bully. He would do well to forget her and forget that fleeting moment of almost friendship.

And with that, Eddie pretty much pushed any ideas of Chrissy Cunningham out of his mind until six years later, when she asked to buy drugs from him.

Now, he hadn't harbored any untoward thoughts of her as a 6th grader when he was an 8th grader. He'd thought she was a pretty cool cat, but that was as far as romantic inclinations went.

It wasn't until he was staring at the note at the beginning of that day that seemed like eons ago when that memory resurfaced. But now he was left wondering, and perhaps vainly hoping, that she was still as nice as she once was.

He doubted it. He was sure she was as cruel as any other cheerleader. He'd had his own run-ins with them and wasn't too pleased to hear that she was the captain, of all things. The idea that perhaps she'd retained her smiling, kind tone was a pipe dream.

One that had strangely come true.

It wasn't a crush in 8th grade, but it was almost like an immediate weird fluttering when he realized that she was not mean and scary.

Eddie didn't believe much in fate. How could he believe there was some bigger plan out there when he consistently got such a short end of the stick?

But Wayne, to some extent, sort of did believe.

Eddie was an early August birthday which meant he was the youngest in his original class, you see. Apparently, it had been a bit to-do deciding to put him with the kids he had been with or wait until the next year. His mom wanted him out of the house to do drugs, so despite Wayne arguing it would be best for his nephew to be kept at home until next September, Eddie went to school as the baby of the class.

So, when he'd failed senior year the first time, Wayne hadn't even batted an eye. He'd just said that the world was righting itself because he held onto the idea that Eddie was always supposed to be in the class below.

When he'd failed a second time…well, Wayne didn't have some grand and 'bigger picture' explanation for that.

Now, though, Eddie was starting to wonder.

As he watched Chrissy perform, her first performance back since getting nearly killed, during the pep rally…he felt himself considering foolish notions, like the idea he'd been held back to be able to meet her.

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he sort of liked that idea.

Chrissy's cheer skills had only blossomed since he'd first seen her in 6th grade. He hadn't really been paying attention to the cheer team anytime else, to be frank. It was no wonder Jason had plucked her out to be his girlfriend two years ago; who wouldn't fall for that?

There wasn't a single guy in the stands who wasn't watching Chrissy go.

At this realization, Eddie felt a flash of jealousy rise in him. It was the first time he'd really felt it rear its ugly head, but Eddie didn't like it one bit.

As the lacrosse team came out to ramp the students up for the next school sport to have a game, Eddie slinked under the stands and waited until Chrissy walked by. He yanked her under the bleachers, and she sputtered and fought until she realized who it was.

"Eddie!" She hissed, "Someone could see." She said, though, from her grin, it was obvious she was only weakly complaining.

"Midge and Tina were far too into their argument about eyeshadow to even notice you missing," Eddie harrumphed, having heard their annoying pitches all the way down the path.

"Probably," Crhssiy agreed, "It's stupid, really. I like makeup as much as the next person, but I thought they were about to start slapping each other." She tilted her head, tugging her ponytail tighter, "So, what's up?"

Or, she was asking why she was pulled under here. Other than Eddie just wanting to see her, obviously.

Until now, they'd played it very safe at school. Neither wanted to be tripped up and called out on something when they found enough time outside of school to explore with each other. Until…

"You were great out there." Eddie blurted, "You looked super cute."

"Just cute?" Chrissy asked, stepping up to him and touching his cheek, grinning.

"Well, hot," Eddie rolled his eyes, chuckling as he stared at the bleachers above him where students stamped and cheered. They were in a shadowed alcove, unlikely that anyone walking by would see them, but that was always a possibility.

"Was it?" Chrissy asked hands on her hips, grinning ear to ear.

"Of course. I don't think a single straight dude wasn't looking at you. And some of the gay ones too," Eddie mumbled, reaching to pull her against him, hands grasping her bottom, "That little ass doing its thing."

Chrissy's eyes glittered, "Oh! You're jealous, huh?"

"No." Yes.

Chrissy reached up, kissing his cheek, "You know there's no reason to be jealous, right? I don't care about any of the other boys watching me. I just like knowing you were." She said, pulling him down by roping her arms around his neck to kiss him.

Eddie melted into the kiss, and within seconds, it went from a quick kiss under the bleachers to something much warmer, needier. Eddie groaned as Chrissy pulled away, his head a hazy mess. It was so much so that he didn't notice her hands undoing his belt.

"Wait, wait-," He stumbled back, hitting a metal support pole, "Chriss…"

"Don't you want to?" She asked, face ever so innocent.

"Want to? Always, of course, but I thought we talked about…" He swallowed hard, "We're at school."

"And everyone is above us, paying attention to the pep rally. Jason is doing a big something for the lacrosse players, so he's not anywhere else, and the girls are all probably getting changed. We don't have much time, so, please." She said, breathlessly kissing him, "Show me that I'm yours."

That's all it really took. As a general reminder, Eddie knew he wasn't the best at making sound decisions, and this certainly was a dumb idea if he heard one. Good thing he was king of dumb ideas.

He wasn't sure what she expected; if she thought he'd push her against the wall, lift a leg up and catch her moans with his mouth, but he surprised her when he flipped her around, helping her place her fingers against a beam, bending her down to flip up her skirt.

"Does cheerleading turn you on?" He asked as his finger swiped between her legs. All Chrissy could manage was a whimper, fingers clenching the bar tight in anticipation. With hands grasping at her hips, he leaned in, breath tickling the hair falling out of her ponytail over her ear, "You're the lookout, girl," He murmured, knowing that he was not going to have the facilities to notice anything else going on around them. Hopefully, she wouldn't either, but he enjoyed teasing her.

Ever since the time in his van where he did not have condoms, he was in the habit of carrying them everywhere. When he'd put it in his backpack, he'd had the thought that maybe it was stupid to carry them to school, but boy had he been wrong.

Chrissy let out a garbled moan as he slipped into her and he snaked one hand over her mouth.

"Gotta be quiet, or someone may investigate," He whispered, and wedged his palm between her teeth, "Try not to bite my hand off." She nodded, and her body gave a full shiver that made Eddie almost lose his marbles right there.

"God, does this get you off? The idea that anyone could find us?" He asked, rocking his hips slowly, teasingly, "That someone would find the Perfect Miss Cunnigham impaled on my cock absolutely begging for it?" He asked. He never thought he was much of a wordsmith, but the dirty talk fell quickly from his lips.

"Eddie…" Chrissy moaned around his hand, and from her tone it was clear it wasn't in annoyance, but need.

"I know, I know, I got you," He assured. He was well aware of their time limit too; they would certainly be found if the mid-day pep rally let out while they were still going. More than that, eventually the two idiots would notice that Chrissy was not weighing in on their discussion of Avon pallets and come looking.

The thought of Chrissy being his, being seen and acknowledged to be Eddie's in the most primal way of communication humans could experience was almost too much, and though he'd considered fucking her slowly, he knew he himself did not have that will-power.

His other hand grasped her hip, finger digging into the exposed skin as he started moving. Chrissy's uneven, warm breath against his hand was just as loud as the moans he was accustomed to when they were at his trailer, and a thousand times hotter. The thrill of it was getting to him too; he thought of a hundred other dirty places he could take her, and foolhardy started thinking of how many they could hit before school ended, how far could they take this and how close could they get under Jason's nose.

"Do you want me to take you against a desk at the school? Or maybe against the back wall of the building? Or should we finish what we started and should I have you on the picnic table?" He asked.

"I…I got off to the idea of you…taking me in your car…during lunch once," Chrissy whispered, her voice breaking as she struggled to keep her tone even, "That students were walking by and they couldn't see us but we could see them," She admitted.

"Oh, Jesus," Eddie said, tensing hard. He hadn't actually expected an answer, much less a volley. But it was a good thing that that's what it took to get him off because they were close to being caught.

"Sorry that I didn't get you…" Eddie apologized as he buckled his pants.

Chrissy, grinning so brightly that it made his whole body feel like melted butter, was vibrating with joy, "Eddie, if you don't think that did things for me, you clearly have no idea."

He shrugged, "Guess I don't." Sometimes, he was still blindsided by the fact that Chrissy Cunningham wanted to date him.

He was about to promise, still, to make it up to her, when Midge's voice pierced the break in the band music.

"Chrissy! Chrissy, what happened to you?"

"I'd better go before she investigates." Chrissy said, reaching up for a final kiss, "See you tomorrow?" She asked.

"Nothing could keep me away," Eddie promised.

He waited for a few beats until Chrissy had left. She was bouncing up the path to the front of the bleachers, waving to Midge. Gareth, whipped as hell, was carrying her cheer bag. Gareth turned to see her first, but then his eyes trailed back to Eddie peaking out from the bleachers and his eyes bugged. Eddie ducked back under the bleachers before Midge turned to see him lurking.

It wasn't long before Gareth came stomping over, shaking his head at Eddie as though Eddie had sprouted two heads.

"You lair!" He hissed.

"Hey man. Funny seeing you here." Eddie said, "I, uhm, always come here during pep rallies." Not untrue, by the way. Eddie hated pep rallies. Until, of course, he got a girlfriend who was front and center of them.

"To fuck girls like Chrissy Cunningham?" He demanded, "Oh, shit, man," He grasped his hair at his roots, pacing, "You said nothing was going on!"

"Nothing is!"

"Oh, oh!" Gareth swung around, "I'm not stupid! I know post-coitus sex-hair when I see it! And that stupid orgasm grin? Jason's out there on the field so clearly, it wasn't him so tell me Eddie is there someone else down here to get a crack at Chrissy freaking Cunningham?"

"Keep it down, will ya?" Eddie said, pointing above them, "Okay. When we had that conversation, nothing was happening. It's newer." He said, because, he'd been caught. And he knew when he'd been caught. And despite it all, Gareth was still one of his best friends.

Gareth seemed like Eddie had slapped him to hear the news. The fear was written all across his face. Eddie forced an awkward, uneasy laugh.

"Why are you looking at me like you're at my funeral?" He asked.

"Jason will kill you," Gareth whispered brokenly, "He actually will. I don't…I…"

"Are you worried for me?" Eddie asked, frowning.

"Of course I'm worried," Gareth said, now angry, "You escaped death once. And I thought you were smarter than this."

"I did fail senior year twice-,"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Gareth swallowed, "Eddie-,"

"No one else knows."

But that wasn't true. The Party knew. Cheryl knew. And now Gareth knew.

"Rumors always grow and the truth always comes out," Gareth said, leaning against the underside of the bleachers, "It won't be long, you gotta know that, right?"

The thought had crossed Eddie's mind, late at night, but he was a master of just…ignoring things he didn't want to think about. But of course, it had.

"We're almost to the end of school and then it's different," He said, "We…I…it's just going to be different. We just need to make it a few more weeks."

Gareth took a few breaths, "I'm just really scared for you, Eddie. I don't want to see you dead. I think Jason might bludgeon you and the town will just turn a blind eye"

"I know. I love you too, or whatever," Eddie muttered back, "And I'm touched by your concern, really, I am." He said, "It's nice to know that people care."

"You're so stupid, you know that, right?" Gareth said, "We should rejoin society." He motioned to the world outside the bleachers.

"Gross," Eddie teased, "And yeah, yeah, I don't have a single thought traveling across my brain. If it did, it would die of loneliness, I get it. But honestly, dude, don't worry so much. It's almost unreal how good this all has been, and how good I know it's going to be. We're both fine." Already, Eddie was dismissing Gareth, thinking of how eager he was to see her at his place tomorrow for a 'study session'. They would actually study, of course, as well as do some other non-academic things.

The irony of the situation is that in their tutoring for English class, tomorrow they'd be going over some common literary terms…such as dramatic irony and foreshadowing. And, well, we'll just leave those thoughts right there.

But no one ever thinks of their life as a book, and certainly, Eddie Munson did not, so these words would hold zero meaning to him, other than annoying things he needed to know to graduate.