Chapter Text
As the children left the elementary school, one boy with short black hair, just long enough to show some curls, walked alone. It would be summer break soon and Eddie had heard other kids talk about the plans they had for the summer. Camping, fishing with their father, it sounded like fun. And they also talked about middle school, something Eddie wasn’t sure his father had remembered to arrange for him.
Eddie pulled on the sleeve of his t-shirt to hide the bruise as he watched the first yellow bus drive by – he lived too close to use that service, but he wished he could. It was better than walking home. Some kids rode their bicycles home, and he watched them chat and laugh as they cycled down the road. he’d love to have one too, but his father said they couldn’t afford it.
Letting out a sigh, he started his daily walk.
The first part wasn’t too bad as he had to walk through a park with a small pond with a big willow tree next to it, and a couple of trees scattered around the area. There were ducks and pigeons, and if he was lucky, he might see a squirrel. However, after the park he still had to walk ten minutes through the neighborhood he lived in.
A couple sat on one of the benches, Eddie only briefly glanced at them, and they only had eyes for each other. A jogger approached him and passed him without paying him any attention. An old man walked his dog. A guy near some trees looked left and right before handing the other person a small bag with something. Drug dealer, Eddie had seen enough of those to recognize them instantly, and he averted his eyes – they didn’t like being seen and he didn’t want any trouble with them.
The walk through the park was just like every day.
Once he crossed the street, he cast his eyes down. The area wasn’t maintained well, and he didn’t want to trip over anything that could be discarded here, or step in dog poo.
He looked up when he heard some shouting through an open window, something about not doing enough in the house and being a lazy bitch. I recalled his father had said those words to his mother, back when they still lived in Hawkins. Sometimes he had even beaten her. Although it was kinda true, she hadn’t done a lot in the house; she was high on some drugs most of the time. Eddie kicked an empty can; it rolled down the sidewalk and into the gutter. Now he was the one who was shouted at or hit when he wasn’t quick enough or dared to talk back to him.
Rounding a corner, he noticed a man holding a knife and shouting at another. He backed away, turned and ran away. If there’s danger, you run. That’s what he had learned living here. If something happened and he was a witness, that man could come after him. Moreover, if he was a witness the police would question him and that would be a lot of trouble. His father had told him he should never talk to the police; they’d go to jail if he’d do that.
That’s why they left their home.
That’s why they left his mother behind.
Thinking back to that day still brought tears in his eyes, so he tried not to think about it too much. She had died, OD on drugs as his father explained. When he and his father had returned home, they had found her on the couch. She may have been addicted and hadn’t done a lot of cleaning, she was still his mother, the one who told him stories at night, and with who he had made up stories. They had played in their small backyard with pretend swords to settle a score. They had followed a treasure map to the basement where she had hidden some snacks.
He rubbed his eyes, but tears still rolled down his cheeks.
That day, when she lay there on the couch, he had clutched her arm as his father moved around in the house. When he returned to the living room with his mother’s orange suitcase, his father had told him they’d leave. Eddie had protested, but his father had pulled him away from his mother. The police would come, he said. They would ask questions and search the house and lock them up. They had to leave.
So, they had. They left Hawkins and moved from Indiana to state New York and had lived in this neighborhood for two years now. He hated it.
He reached a house that was in dire need of repairs that never happened. There were some discarded cigarette stubs and beer cans around the house; Eddie couldn’t even remember the time when there wasn’t anything littering the area of their front door.
As he went inside, he dropped his backpack and checked to see if his father was around but couldn’t find him. It seemed he was left alone again; his father was probably at the scrap yard with some friends, or at the car shop repairing a car. Maybe even repairing a car he had stolen.
A growl in his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, so he decided to embark on a quest to the kitchen, carefully avoiding the shadows on the floor, cast by the furniture, as those were swamps, he could sink into. A game he had often played with his mother.
After safely reaching the kitchen, he soon discovered his quest had been pointless, as the cabinets were as empty as they had been that morning. With a defeated sigh he sat down at the kitchen table. It wasn’t clean, but he knew he had wiped it the last time he had sat down to eat here, yesterday. It looked like powder residue stuck to it. He got up at once, turned to the sink to grab a damp cloth and wiped the table clean. He knew his father snorted cocaine here, as his mother had done as well. It had claimed her life and he didn’t want it where he ate. When the table was clean, he went back into the living room, there wasn’t anything to do in the kitchen anyway, where he noticed a pack of cigarettes belonging to his father on the table. His father usually had some packs lying around, so he could always get a cigarette without having to search for one. His eyes moved to the telephone cabinet. In the top drawer was weed, he knew that. He also knew he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, so he hadn’t. Dad had reminded him often enough he wouldn’t have a place to go if the police would take him away.
With nothing better to do, he went to his bedroom. God knew when his father would be home again. He lay on his bed for a while, turning the knob on the small radio that had once belonged to his mother.
The radio host announced the next song to be Music by John Miles and it started as so many songs, just a guy singing. It was nice, but nothing special. Then suddenly the guitars started playing and Eddie stared at the radio, his mouth partly open and eyes wide with wonder. This music was amazing. What had the singer just sang? In this world of trouble, my music pulls me through? He turned up the volume and listened to the song in awe.
Late that night Mr. Munson returned home. Eddie left his room when he heard the front door open and close, and stopped halfway down the stairs. With his hand on the railing, he examined his father for a moment, who seemed to be in a good mood.
“I won today!” Mr. Munson exclaimed.
Winning something at this time of the day, Eddie guessed it was probably poker or a dog fight at the scrapyard. While it was a reason to be excited, his father returning home in a vile mood because he had lost at gambling happened way more often. With both the gambling habit and the drugs, they often didn’t have any money to spare.
“Did you buy some food?” Eddie asked carefully, his hand still on the wooden railing.
“Don’t act like I don’t feed you,” Mr. Munson snarled. “I bought food the other day.”
Eddie cringed but mustered the courage to continue. “T-that was three days ago… the food is gone.”
A moment of silence hung between them. “Fine,” Mr. Munson grumbled. “I’ll get some tomorrow. Now get to bed!”
Immediately Eddie turned and went back upstairs. Back in his room he grabbed the book he had been reading: Nobody's Boy by Hector Malot, one of the books he had gotten from his mother. Reading was one of the few joys he had left, and one his father let him do. He resonated with Remi, as he too knew what hunger was.
The following morning, Eddie was getting ready for school, which meant he drank some water for breakfast and went to the hallway to get his schoolbag, but his father grabbed it before he could.
“You don’t need this. I need you to be on the look-out.”
“I…I don’t want to,” Eddie muttered.
Mr. Munson slapped Eddie in his face. “Don’t get cheeky with me! Yesterday you complained about wanting food. You want some, you’ll need to do your share.”
Eddie’s lip trembled as he rubbed his cheek. A part of him wanted to ask what had happened with the winnings of the day before but he didn’t dare. Maybe the winnings hadn’t even been in cash but in small bags with herbs or white powder. That wasn’t uncommon either.
“Got any more complaints?!” his father snarled.
Eddie quickly shook his head, lowered his head and followed his dad, who took him to a bus stop and used the bus to get to a better part of the city.
They walked through the area with big yards and nice houses until Mr. Munson spotted a suitable car. He instructed Eddie to stay on the look-out, saying that if they’d get caught, they’d both go to jail. The last thing Eddie wanted was to go to jail, so he did as his father said and looked left and right to ensure no-one would see them. It didn’t take his father long to get into the car and start the motor.
“Get in, kid,” Mr. Munson said, and Eddie quickly got into the passenger seat.
Mr. Munson drove the car to the repair shop where he sometimes worked and sold the car to the owner. He gave Eddie ten dollars. “Here, some money for food and a bus home. And make sure to clean the place before I get back home.”
Eddie held the money as if it was a valuable treasure and he ran off. First to the store to buy some bread, peanut butter, cornflakes, milk and a pack of cookies; he didn’t want to buy too much as he had to carry it home as well, and he wanted to save some money for if it was needed later. When he returned home, he did as his father instructed and washed the dishes, put the dirty clothes in the laundry machine, cleaned the sink and the table with a wet cloth, and brushed the floor with a broom.
When he was done, he went to his room to listen to the radio for a while. He didn’t like every song they played, there were lots of boring ones older people seemed to like, but when It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll) by AC/DC came up he pretended to play along on an imaginary guitar. Wouldn’t that be cool, he thought to himself, rocking on a guitar like the men from bands like AC/DC, Aerosmith and KISS.
That evening Mr. Munson brought home some burgers and they had a rare family dinner that almost felt normal. After dinner, Mr. Munson went to the weed drawer and Eddie used this to go silently to his room. He picked up Nobody’s Boy with the intention to finish it this evening and glanced at the other books in his room. He had a small collection already, mostly thanks to his mother: a couple of Scooby Doo and Fred Flintstone comics, an encyclopedia, Charlie and the chocolate factory by Roald Dahl, all five books of the Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander and the The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain collection, the first two books of The Dark Is Rising series by Susan Cooper, and Momo by Michael Ende.
The comics, the encyclopedia, Charlie and the chocolate factory, and Nobody’s Boy had belonged to his mother, before she died. The other books had been gifts from her and his grandparents on her side of the family.
He touched the book Momo; a gift from his mother, but he hadn’t received it until months after her death. His uncle Wayne had visited after his dad had called him, and had brought his books, as his dad hadn’t packed them, the wrapped Christmas gift, and the radio. His uncle had thought his mother would have liked it if Eddie would get her books, so he had brought those as well
That was the first and last time his uncle had visited, for some reason his uncle and father had gotten into an argument; uncle Wayne had told them they could return as the police had ruled it an accidental overdose, but his father said he liked where he lived now. Then uncle Wayne had mentioned that Eddie didn’t look happy, to which his dad said that if his uncle wanted to raise kids, he’d need to get his own. Uncle Wayne had frozen, left without a word and had never returned.
Eddie settled on the bed and opened the book, but his mind was busy with family now. He wondered how his grandparents were doing; he hadn’t seen them or heard from them since they had left home. He didn’t dare ask his father about it. He knew his father’s parents were dead; he had visited their grave. The only grandparents he had left where the parents of his mother and he longed to see them again.
When Eddie was tired brushed his teeth and went to bed. His father didn’t come in to say goodnight, he never did.
The next day Eddie prepared for school again and this time his father didn’t stop him as he was still asleep, and Eddie knew his father wouldn’t be home when he’d come back from school. He wasn’t sure what he preferred, his father spending time with him or hanging out with his friends.
As he ate a bowl of cereal, he pondered what to tell the teacher about why he was absent the day before. Hopefully the teacher wouldn’t ask.