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Few people don’t know how the social hierarchy of Hawkins High works. Billy Hargrove reigns as King, Steve Harrington is the former king turned outcast that somehow gets everyone to like him. They split the rest of the high school into those who follow Billy like a lost puppy, and those who don’t care for the ‘impracticality’ of the hierarchy.
New students are rare. The fall semester brings one in from Boston, a guy named Cameron Fischer. His first day is.. eventful.
Cameron wishes he could stop being the new kid. It’s hard, being a ‘troubled’ kid. He had gone through five boarding schools in Boston before his parents packed everything up and took Cameron and his 9-year-old sister, Phoebe, to Hawkins, Indiana. It’s small, smells like shit all the time, and there are no tall buildings to gaze out the window at. It’s not that bad though. Phoebe likes the tiny park that they drove past when they first got here. She likes their new house, with stairs, and a big backyard. Cameron isn’t opposed to living here either. He would say that he misses Boston, but he doesn’t. He didn’t have friends in Boston, or at least friends who he could confide in. Friends he could talk to about the trauma of his older brother dying in a fatal car accident.
Robert died two months ago, and his death still lingers in Cameron’s family. Robby had big dreams. He wanted to move out west, become a successful writer. He made hundreds of screenplays, hundreds of poems, and a fuck ton of short stories that he would read aloud to Phoebe before bed. Cameron’s parents want him to become a writer now. Carry it on or some shit.
Thing is, Cameron doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do with his life now. It used to revolve around Rob. It used to comprise editing Robert’s stories, pitching ideas for a science fiction story that Robby would shoot down at first, and then agree to with a bright smile on his face. He would ruffle Cameron’s black hair when he had a good idea, would even buy Cameron cassettes in thanks.
Now it’s all gone. Robert’s gone.
Cameron pretends that Robert’s death didn’t affect him. Sometimes, he pretends that Robert’s still here. More often than not, it’s a subconscious thing. He’ll slip and talk about something Robert had mentioned to him, or ask where Robert is. Two months isn’t nearly as long as the 22 years Robert lived. Truth is, Robert’s death affected him greatly. Cameron used to be a straight-A student. Then, his grades started plummeting, he started getting into more fights, lost all the good-natured sarcasm he once used and replaced it with snark. All bark, no bite, because his parents can’t afford another boarding school (and no boarding school will take Cameron) so, off to Hawkins it is.
Hawkins High is a world of its own. The counselor, Mrs. Jenkins, is nice enough though.
“So, five boarding schools?” The sun shines brightly through the window behind her desk, blinding Cameron when he shifts around in his seat. He nods, realizes she can’t see him because she’s facing the window. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sighs, turns around to face Cameron. Her body blocks the sun and Cameron can finally get a good look at the expression she wears on her face. Sad, almost. Cameron hates that. He hates the pity people send his way when they find out headmasters have kicked him out of all of his boarding schools for, ‘unsatisfactory grades and behavior.’
“Well, I’m sure you’ll fit in nicely here, Cameron.” She passes over his schedule, a small smile on her face. He tilts his head to the side and then flinches when an egg splatters on the window. A burst of laughter erupts from outside. Mrs. Jenkins’ expression doesn’t change. Her fake smile only grows, “Same ol’ troublemakers. Now, scoot!” He scrambles to get his backpack off the floor, steps back, and collides with a coat rack next to the door.
He mumbles an apology. Then a shadow casts over him. Cameron looks over to his right to see another guy standing there. He’s got a fucking mullet. His mullet looks better than a majority of peoples though, probably because of the blonde curls that sit on his shoulders. His eyes, when they flicker over and notice Cameron, are narrowed and a startling shade of blue. They hold so much... anger. Cameron’s shoulders rise to his ears unwillingly. This guy’s stare is dangerous, matches the jean jacket, unbuttoned white shirt, and jeans ensemble he has on. He radiates confidence that Cameron used to have.
“Billy Hargrove. I see we’re making these visits a weekly ritual.” Mrs. Jenkins sighs, pulling out her rolling chair and plopping down in it. Billy grins, all teeth, and it sends a shiver down Cameron’s spine. If he didn’t know any better, he would assume Billy was flirting with Mrs. Jenkins. The blush that rises to Mrs. Jenkins’ cheeks shocks Cameron. Is that the kind of town this is?
“Only so we can have these moments together.” Billy drawls, moving his tongue to run along the top row of his teeth, grin getting wider as Cameron sees Mrs. Jenkins motion for Billy to sit in front of her. She looks over at Cameron, her blushing expression turning into an exasperated one.
“Scoot!”
Cameron grips his schedule and his backpack strap tightly and gets the hell out of dodge, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t want to see a teacher and student getting it on during his first day at Hawkins High. He’s starting to like it here.
-
“Hey! New kid!”
Cameron sighs and stops in his tracks. He was just about to get to his first period. English III. He’s not that great, was only getting better at the subject thanks to Robert. He would love to actually learn something in class. He’d really love it if his first day could be normal, like any other day. Getting beat up is not normal.
He turns around, comes face to face with a kid with a dozen freckles on his face and dark brown hair, and a girl with light brown hair with a piece of pink gum in her mouth. She blows it and pops it in his face. They laugh when he scrunches his nose. “Don’t look so disgusted, new kid. Tommy. Tommy Hagan.” Tommy extends a hand. Freckled. Cameron takes it in his and gives it a good, firm shake. “Cameron Fischer.”
The girl doesn’t extend her manicured hand. She waves instead, “Carol Perkins. Welcome to Hawkins, Cameron. You met the bitch, right? Mrs. Jenkins?” He nods, leans his body to the left, and rests his shoulder on the row of lockers there.
“She doesn’t seem so bad.” That must be some false statement because Tommy and Carol practically burst out laughing. They share a look and start laughing even more. “New kid, you’ve got a lot to learn about Hawkins.” Cameron isn’t sure what else there is to Hawkins. It seems like any other school. Boarding school might not be the best foundation for his comparisons, though.
Carol brings out a hand from her red windbreaker, leaves it open in front of Cameron. He stares down at it for a second and then looks at her, mouth ajar. There’s a question hanging off the tip of his tongue. She scoffs and raises her eyebrows, “Schedule?” She asks, waving her hand in front of his face. He nods and sticks a hand into the front pocket of his red Members Only jacket. He digs out the crumpled up piece of paper and places it in Carol’s hand.
She looks it over, popping her pink bubblegum every so often. It annoys Cameron, but he’s not gonna say shit right now. She points at a line on his schedule, moves over to his side to let him see what she’s seeing, “We have chem together. Mr. Eriksen.” Cameron nods and says nothing because he’s not so sure what to say, anyway. “He’s an asshole. Kaminsky’s even more of a bitch, though. Teaches for smarter people.”
The bell rings right after Tommy speaks. Tommy sighs and brings Carol in with an arm around her shoulder, “We’ll see you at lunch, yeah? We sit on the right side of the cafeteria, just a couple of tables behind the lunch line. Hey, where did you say you were from?” Cameron straightens himself out, wipes his left shoulder down. “I didn’t. I’m from Boston.” Carol hums and looks up at Tommy.
Seriously, what kind of fucking town is this? She’s looking at Tommy like she’s awaiting his fucking verdict, like the city Cameron is from affects his choice on whether Cameron can sit with them. Public schools will never make sense to Cameron. He went to one in between his five boarding schools for about a month before he knocked someone out for thinking they could talk shit about his brother. Luckily, Indiana is far enough for no one to know about Robert.
“Boston, huh? Right, well. See ya at lunch, new kid.” Their smiles make Cameron’s stomach twist. So fucking fake. He smiles back, though. Decency, and all that. His mother would probably scream at him for being rude and having no manners if she saw him sneer at them like he wants to.
He shouldn’t sneer. Not yet. The first day and he’s already being invited to sit somewhere. Hawkins can’t be so bad if he’s already got some friends. He should at least try to keep them.
-
The day goes by quickly. He’s forced to introduce himself in every class, but it’s not that bad. A few girls smile at him when he’s up at the front. He tries to memorize their faces so he can ask Tommy about them later. He’s never been one to shy away from a pretty girl. She might make this whole new kid thing a lot easier.
His fifth period, the class right before lunch, is chemistry. When he gets there, after stopping a kid in the hall and asking him where the science wing was with a blush on his cheeks, Carol is already waiting for him. She saved him a seat right in front of her.
The countertop of the lab tables needs a lot of work. The black is fading, the wood is peeking through on different sections of the table, and there are scratches all over it. Cameron wipes a hand over it and sets his notebook down. His backpack tumbles to the ground. “Thanks, Carol. Hey, you wouldn’t know this girl in my English class?” Carol looks up from her nails, quirks a brow. “She’s got dark hair. Brown. Brown eyes, too. I think her name is Heather?” Carol’s eyes widen. She does a good job of pretending like they never did, steels her expression in mere seconds.
“Heather Holloway? Yeah, I know her. She’s nice, I guess. Hangs around Billy nowadays.” She waves a hand around and gives a pointed look behind her. Cameron adjusts his head to see Billy Hargrove again. This time, he’s taking out a switchblade to jab it into the black countertop, adding more scratches to the table. “Don’t look at him.” Carol hisses. She sounds like his mother when she’s lecturing him under her breath.
“Think he could get me in with her?” Carol’s smile is mocking. She scoffs and brings her hand up to look at her nails. “Sure. Cameron, he’s a criminal,” She says, shaking her head, “I heard he lit a state trooper on fire.” Cameron seriously doubts that. Carol goes on, though, “He just did a year at Jackson County Juvenile Detention Center.” Cameron rolls his eyes, props his elbow up on the table so he can rest his head in the palm of his hand, “Well, I doubt that. He knows her, he can work something out with her.” He mumbles. Carol shakes her head again, “I’m serious, Cameron. He’s crazy. He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers after his dad took his away.”
Cameron looks over Carol’s shoulder again. The natural gas lights up. Cameron would’ve brushed it off as a fault line if he hadn’t seen Billy turn it on himself. Billy brings out a pack of Marlboros from the front pocket of his jean jacket, sticks one in between his teeth, and leans down to catch the flame from the natural gas. He takes a puff before the boy sitting next to him snatches it out of his mouth and snubs it out on the countertop.
Billy rolls his eyes. Cameron hears him mumble, “Geez, Steve.” Steve rolls his eyes back at Billy and goes back to looking down at the notebook he was writing in before Billy got up to no good.
Carol clicks her tongue at Cameron. “Cameron? It’s not worth it.” Billy Hargrove looks up. His eyes stare right into Cameron. He sneers at Cameron, eyes narrowed. Probably itching for a fight. Cameron’s worn that same sneer so many times before, especially in the immediate weeks after Robby’s death. Cameron ignores it and moves his head back so that Carol is right in front of him instead.
He smiles at her.
“Fine. I’ll get to Heather another way.”
-
Lunch sucks in Hawkins.
The pile of rice and chicken sitting on his lunch tray looks.. mushy? Bland, colorless, and it’s going to taste like cardboard, Cameron can already tell.
He picks one up anyway and starts looking around for the table Tommy and Carol are at. He doesn’t look like a fool just standing around because he finds them quickly enough. Two other people are sitting with them, a boy and a girl. Cameron would be intimidated, but he’s over all of that shit by now. Losing your older brother in a car accident makes you change your priorities. They’re chatting about someone called, “Harrington.” when Cameron makes his presence known by setting his lunch tray down and sliding into the chair next to Tommy.
The chatter stops for a moment before Tommy breaks the silence, “Find us alright, new kid?” Cameron chuckles and nods, picks up the spork on his lunch tray, and starts pushing the rice around, “Yeah. Lunch always suck?” The table erupts into laughter. Even Carol laughs. Cameron thought she didn’t like him at all after he insisted on getting to know Billy Hargrove for the sole purpose of getting to know Heather Holloway.
The girl sitting across from the three of them extends a hand, “Tammy Thompson.” She’s got dark hair and brown eyes that are the color of the earth. Her skin matches her eyes. Cameron shakes her hand with a smile and looks over to the boy sitting next to her, “Mike Lewenski.” He says, green eyes shining with mischief. His voice sounds familiar, Cameron thinks it might be a voice he heard in the morning. The person who threw that egg at Mrs. Jenkins’ window.
Cameron shakes his hand with a smile too. “So, where ya from?” Tammy asks, picking up some rice and stuffing it in her mouth. “Boston.” Her eyebrows quirk up. Mike takes a sip of the chocolate milk that Cameron went without. He’s had too many experiences with spoiled milk cartons to even think about grabbing one now. Boarding schools, for all the money they insist they need, never have good food. “How is it up in Mass? Cold all the time?” Mike asks, folding his arms behind his head.
He’s the perfect picture of nonchalance, even though Cameron knows these small-town people are desperate for something from a big city kid like him.
“Not really. It gets nice during summer, just like anywhere else. 80 degrees sometimes. Mostly in the mid-70s.” Cameron says, stuffing his mouth with the tiniest bit of rice. The cardboard flavor that he expected still makes Cameron wince in disgust. He spits it out onto his plate and takes the apple instead.
“How are you liking Hawkins so far? How long you been here, anyway?” Tammy asks, twirling a curl of her dark hair around her finger. Cameron shrugs and takes a bite out of the green apple. “It’s alright. Only been here for about a week now. You guys are making good company though.” What a fucking liar. Even the boys who Cameron had to share a room with during boarding school are better than these guys. He still says it, though.
The rest of them smile at him, so he must’ve been convincing when he said it. “Just stick around with us, and not Steve Harrington and his gang of outcasts,” Tommy says, a smirk growing on his face. Carol tries to hide the snort she lets out by shoving her face into Tommy’s side, yelping when Tommy pokes a finger into her stomach. She bats his hand away and looks up and over Tammy’s head. She groans when she sees something Cameron can’t.
“Speaking of outcasts. Here come Steve and Billy.” She sinks further into her seat and closes her eyes, like the sight of them will permanently blind her or some shit. Maybe just looking at them will bring their social status down. Steve and Billy are talking animatedly, Steve’s hands flying everywhere as he tries to explain something to Billy. At least, that’s how it looks to Cameron.
Tommy snickers. “Hey, fags!” Cameron furrows his brows. He didn’t think Indiana was that bad. Guess you never know until you wind up in one of the smallest towns he’s ever lived in, smack dab in the middle of the state. He’s seen a couple of ‘Reagan, Bush ‘84’ signs, but he didn’t think the entire town stood for those ideals. Boston was one of the most accepting cities Cameron had lived in, next to New York. He only lived in New York until he was 10 though, so he probably doesn’t have the clearest idea of how accepting New York City is.
Tommy’s use of the word fag is making Cameron doubt his choices in friends. “What the fuck did you say?” Billy Hargrove’s glare is powerful. Steve, who is standing right beside Billy on his right, sighs. He runs a hand through his brown, floppy hair like this thing happens every day, without fail. From what Cameron’s seen, he’s willing to bet it does. Tommy never shuts up, and Billy’s got anger he wants to take out on someone.
Speaking of Tommy never shutting up, “I said, hey fags.” Billy’s jaw hardens. His hands turn into fists and clench and unclench repeatedly at his sides. Tammy, Mike, and Carol don’t even look in his general direction. Cameron’s never been one to shy away from drama though, and this is gonna make an excellent story for dinner time. Billy catches his eye, “What the fuck are you looking at?” He hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. Cameron puts his hands up, “Just watching, man. First day and I already get to witness a fight? Pretty good story for my little sister.” He says, the corners of his mouth going up when he sees Billy’s shoulders deflate the slightest bit.
Steve huffs out a laugh with a slight smile on his face, “Right. Billy, let’s go. Everyone’s waiting outside.” Surprisingly, Tommy hasn’t said anything. Probably caught up with the fact that Cameron chose not to assist with his blatant homophobia. Billy looks over at Steve, his glare completely gone, and suddenly, Cameron gets it.
No straight man looks at another man the way Billy is looking at Steve. Cameron might not be the same, but he can’t deny the fact that he sometimes looks at Tom Cruise for too long whenever he watches Risky Business. Cameron keeps his mouth shut on his observation. Steve shoves Billy to the door that Cameron can see leads to the bleachers. They disappear from the table’s view. Everyone is quiet now.
Tammy shovels more rice into her mouth, even puts some bone dry chicken in. Mike is silent too, keeps on sipping at his chocolate milk, and makes that stupid bubbly noise that Cameron finds so fucking annoying. “You guys normally go after someone like that?” Cameron asks. He doesn’t hear the answer because the bell rings, signaling the end of their 52-minute lunch break.
They shoot up from their seats, nearly tipping over the chairs. Cameron does the same, slowly because there’s no fucking fire and he doesn’t want to go to his AP World History class yet. History might be his best subject, but he hates doing work. Not because he’s lazy, but because he can’t see a point in it anymore. Nothing is gonna come out of it, anyway.
Still, he picks up his backpack from where he had set it against the leg of the table, slings it over his shoulder, and watches Tommy and Carol walk off. Tammy lingers for a while, turns her head to send him a small smile. He smiles back. Tammy is a pretty girl.
Then Mike leads her away with a pale hand on her shoulder.
Teachers come out of their classrooms to push everyone into their classes. Cameron follows the crowd and starts heading to history. The day is almost finished. Cameron can go home and tell Phoebe about the kid with a tan that sticks out amongst the Indiana natives that lack the sun in their skin and the curly blonde hair that resembles her own.
-
Cameron’s last class of the day is Pre-Calculus, something he sucks in. He’s gonna have to visit Mrs. Jenkins tomorrow and request a schedule change. Math was never his strong suit.
He’s leaning against the hood of his baby blue Ford Sierra, smoking a cigarette when Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington push out the front doors of Hawkins High. They’re talking about something again, Steve is waving his hands around again.
Billy is looking at him with love in his eyes again. Steve is doing the same though, so Cameron can’t give either of them shit for doing it in public. Clearly, they’ve mastered the art of making sure no one knows about the looks they give each other.
That doesn’t mean they’ve mastered the art of noticing when girls look at them. A crowd of them is lingering by the front doors, giggling to themselves as Billy makes a face at something Steve says. Cameron thinks for all Tommy said about Billy and Steve being ‘outcasts,’ they have the entire female population wrapped around their pinky. Billy, more so.
For good reason. If Cameron didn’t already know that Steve and Billy were an item, he would think about the abs he can see poking out of Billy’s unbuttoned shirt. He’s a good guy, though. He thinks. He wouldn’t go after someone who’s already infatuated with another person. Not his thing.
Billy looks over and finds Cameron staring. Cameron looks to the side, pretending that he was just surveying the parking lot, but it’s in vain. King Billy is coming to protect his throne, most likely. Cameron isn’t a stranger to guys who think too highly of themselves and will proudly proclaim themselves a king. Boston boarding schools were full of them.
Billy Hargrove isn’t like the guys from Boston. He’s all bark, all bite. Apparently, he lit a state trooper on fire after the guy tried to give him a speeding ticket. Who does that shit?
He kinda scares Cameron, even when Cameron sees how his eyes go soft when he’s looking at Steve Harrington.
Billy stomps over to where Cameron is, Steve hot on his heels with an exasperated expression sitting on his face. “Hey! Never answered my fucking question during lunch. What the fuck are you looking at?” Billy rolls his shoulders back so smoothly that Cameron is enraptured by the sight of it. He’s got the whole macho man thing down to the smallest detail. The earring he wears in his left ear should lower the manliness, but it doesn’t. He bets girls go wild for that kind of shit here.
Cameron sighs and runs a hand through his black hair, pushing through the tangles his hair has developed throughout the day. “Nothing, man. Just trying to get through the day.” Cameron says. Billy scoffs, shifts his weight, and sticks his hip out. Steve sighs from where he’s taken his spot next to Billy’s right. “I’m sorry. Cameron, right?” Steve smiles, extends a hand. It’s covered with light brown freckles and moles, “Yeah. Cameron. You’re Steve and Billy, right? Heard lots of things about you two.” Steve laughs, shaking Cameron’s hand and letting it drop after a while.
“No good things, right?” Billy asks, his shoulders deflating. He smiles at Cameron now. His sneer and overall anger have disappeared. Funny what love can do. Cameron shrugs, biting back a smile of his own. “Eh. I wouldn’t take Tommy Hagan’s word as law. He’s homophobic.” This makes Billy’s slight smile flatten into a line. Steve notices the change when Cameron does, shifts his feet, and looks anywhere but at Cameron. “Is that a problem for you? Homophobia?” Billy says, his tongue poking at his cheek.
Cameron nods, “Yeah. It would make me a liar if I said I hated all fags, considering I’m one myself,” Billy’s jaw drops, as does Steve’s. They exchange looks. “Or at least half of a friend of Dorothy’s. Tom Cruise is great, but so is Madonna, you know?” They nod stupidly, like they’re in some trance. It makes Cameron laugh loudly enough to attract attention from the group of girls hanging around the front doors. Billy regains his composure first, smacks Cameron’s arm with a grin on his face.
“Shit, man. You can’t say that shit around here, alright?” He warns Cameron. Cameron puts his hands up in surrender, “I got it, dude. Boston is accepting, but it’s still the 80s. I’ve got plenty of experience with hateful bitches.” He grins at them. Steve shakes his head, shaking himself out of whatever surprise they both went through. Cameron probably should’ve worded it better.
Steve laughs, running a hand over his face, “There’s more people that like both? I thought... Well, I didn’t think I would meet someone like me in Hawkins.” He mumbles. Cameron nods, “There’s an entire spectrum, man. Plenty of people.” He says, taking a drag of the cigarette he had ignored after Billy and Steve came out.
He takes the pack out of the back pocket of his jeans. He extends it out, offering. Steve shakes his head, Billy opts to take one out of the pack. “Billy told me but..” Steve trails off, crossing his arms over his chest and holding up his chin with a hand. Billy flicks open his lighter and lights the Camel up, “I’m from California. Hawkins isn’t like San Diego, not in the slightest.” He mumbles around the cigarette. Cameron nods, “I know what you mean. Culture shock, right?” Billy laughs and nods, “Exactly.”
The parking lot has mostly cleared out by now. If people were sticking around to see a fight erupt between Cameron and Billy, then they were massively disappointed. “So,” Cameron starts, zipping up his Members Only jacket after a harsh breeze flows into the parking lot, “How long have you guys been together?” He asks. Steve’s cheeks go rosy pink and he tilts his head to the side, scratching at the side of his neck. Billy, on the other hand, smirks and places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Since Halloween.” Cameron hums, nodding.
It’s December now, so two months in a hick town in a gay relationship? Cameron might have to quit his fake attraction of Heather Holloway. Focus it on the guy in his AP World History class that had the sweetest smile when Cameron asked him for a pencil.
Steve groans, “Was it really that obvious?” He pouts, looking over at Billy. It makes Billy laugh, how defeated Steve looks. It makes Cameron laugh too, “No, not really. You might wanna tone down your looks, though. Anyone who isn’t completely fucking straight could probably pick them up.” Cameron says. Steve bites down on his lower lip and nods. Billy laughs at the expression.
Cameron thinks they fit nicely. An angry boy and his dingus of a boyfriend.
Billy throws down the half-done cigarette on the gravel, stomps it out with his biker boots. He looks over at the bleachers. Cameron looks over and sees two girls. Heather and some other chick with the coolest necklaces Cameron has ever seen. Blonde hair that comes down to the bottom of her neck. Probably lesbian, he thinks. Then she and Heather laugh and share a kiss. Definitely likes women, that’s for sure.
Steve walks over to them with a silly grin on his face, leaving Billy and Cameron standing by Cameron’s 1982 Ford Sierra. Billy looks back over to Cameron, a smirk on his face, “We’re gonna get burgers from this joint. Benny’s. Then we’re gonna get high off some California weed. Wanna join?” Cameron laughs and nods. Billy joins in. “Right. Let’s go, I’m taking everyone. We can ride in my way better Camaro.” Cameron shoves Billy’s shoulder slightly. “Shut up, man.”
At first, he’s worried that might have been the wrong move until Billy bumps his shoulder with a wolfish grin, all teeth. Just like it had been in the morning when Cameron first got here.
Cameron thinks as long as he sticks close to this group of people, Hawkins will be alright.