Chapter Text
I don't want to die.
That's all I could think as I laid there on the hard earth; I don't want to die today. Not today. Not here. And I don't want her to die today either, if she's not already dead. That last part came unbidden, unwanted. It was unthinkable. Yet here I was, thinking it.
The incessant flapping of wings thundered around us, snuffing out any attempt of calling out to her, of hearing an answer. It also had the peculiar effect of taking away all the air around my head. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I just knew I didn't want to die. I knew it was likely, that every square inch of my body hurt for a reason, that I was being torn to bits.
Wait. Maybe I should rewind a bit, tell you the whole story. Might be more emotional that way. And you know what? I think I'll let her tell it. I want to know her side of the story. And I want her to survive what comes next.
Y/N:
Fall 1974
The Third Grade
The first day of third grade dawned bright and sunny. My mom dropped me off at the front door to Hawkins Elementary and watched tearfully as I trotted inside. She was always like that: overbearing and a little emotional. I was her first child, so every milestone seemed especially important to her, though little Dustin being around helped to divide her attention a little bit. Thank God for little brothers.
I waved goodbye from the open doorway then happily went in search of my friends. I had quite a few, just like everyone else at 8 years old. We lived in a small town, so we had small classes and a limited amount of kids to choose from when it came to playdates. Ally, Chrissy, and Laurie were my best friends; we spent every possible moment together (which, being 8, meant school hours and the occasional sleepover).
I found Ally on the floor of Mrs. Jackson’s classroom. She was drawing something, a bunny maybe, in bright red crayon. I plopped right down next to her on my knees and waved my hand in front of her face until she paid attention to me.
“What?” Her little face was all pinched together in frustration.
I smiled at her anyway, all teeth, “Hello!”
The corners of her mouth tightened, trying to keep up her annoyed facade, “Hi, Y/N. You got in the way!”
Bowing my head, I apologized. She accepted, pulling me in for a sudden hug.
I pulled myself away, “Hey, Ally, where’s Chrissy?”
She frowned, “I don’t know, maybe outside? Wanna go find her?”
I nodded, but Mrs. Jackson came in and announced that class would begin in 5 minutes, and that we should put our backpacks into our cubbies to begin the day. I was relieved to see both Chrissy and Laurie enter the classroom, covered in grass stains and mud. As if they’d been rolling around in the playground that we used for recess; a small grass lawn with a swing set and monkey bars. They were always the more physical of the group, wanting to chase and jump on each other as opposed to sitting and coloring or telling each other stories.
There were other children in our class, of course, and I knew everyone. It was third grade, there were no personal grudges of any sort that lasted beyond a day, forgotten as soon as they were forged. There was Charlotte, Nancy, Barb, and Carol, and there was Steve, Jonathan, and Tommy. There was also Jeffrey, and Joseph, and Mary, and Paula. All of us here, together, in this small classroom, dropped off by our mothers and ready for a bright new day.
The morning passed slowly, Mrs. Jackson having us focus on our multiplication tables. I struggled through mine, I had difficulty trying to multiply six by anything. I saw Ally blowing through her tables, her math already near perfect. The difference between us was almost infuriating. Almost.
It didn’t stop me from sitting with her at lunch, Chrissy and Laurie regaling us with tales of their adventures (they climbed a tree outside without adult supervision, such rebels!). But the really special thing that happened that day didn’t occur until recess.
The first Event was small, so unremarkable I’m certain that no one even noticed us. But I remember every single detail. He was sitting under a tree, maybe the same tree that Chrissy had climbed earlier. He was reading a book in the shade, his back resting against the rough bark. The dark, curly mop on top of his head kept getting in his eyes, and he was wearing a dark t-shirt with jeans. He looked no different than any other child on that playground, yet he was sitting alone.
I couldn’t help it, I was a curious child. Wordlessly, I jogged away from the hopscotch game with my friends, towards the boy. He did not look up as I approached, seemingly fully absorbed in his own little world.
I cleared my throat, hands on my hips, standing above him like some kind of giant.
He did not react.
I huffed before sitting beside him, bumping into his arm as I fell off balance a little. Still, he did not look up. I leaned over, reading the page he was on. Well, trying to read. Seemed like a bunch of nonsense at the time, made me question his sanity a little.
This time, when I bumped his arm, it was entirely intentional. Finally, he looked up at me with the biggest, brownest, saddest eyes I had ever seen.
I tilted my head to the side and asked, “Who are you?” It’s a fair question , I thought, I know everyone here. But I’ve never seen you before.
He looked back down at his book, but I heard him mumble out, “Eddie.”
“Eddie.” I repeated, “What are you reading?”
“The Hobbit.” Still so quiet. His words could barely be heard over the chatter of the other kids.
My nose scrunched up into my face, “What’s a hobbit?”
Eddie let out a scandalized gasp that was so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin, “They’re just the best people ever!” He launched into a long-winded story of hobbits and dwarves, of mountains filled with gold. He explained that there were more books, but that his mom wouldn’t let him read them yet. They were for adults, he said, not for good little boys like him.
Well, I wanted him to talk.
Eddie was a year older than me, and I had never met him before because he just moved in with his Uncle Wayne. His dad had to go away, and his mom was sick, so he would be living with Uncle Wayne until she was better. His big, sad eyes would get bigger and sadder when he talked about his mom, so I tried to steer clear of that topic as much as I could.
We spent part of every recess after that together for the rest of the year, and for the years after that. My parents would never take me to his house, they said it wasn’t safe. I didn’t understand what they meant, how could Eddie’s house be unsafe? He lived there. If it wasn’t safe for me, it wasn’t safe for him, and he should come live with us. My parents would just give me a sad smile and tell me to go wash up for bed.
1977
By sixth grade, it became an unspoken reality that he’d be living with Wayne for the foreseeable future. One vulnerable day, he revealed that his mother’s illness was not entirely natural. She had turned to drugs when she realized she’d married a deadbeat who was in and out of prison and she’d been left to raise her child alone. Wayne had taken custody of him during her first stint to rehab, which hadn’t entirely worked. Thankfully, he met Gareth and Jeff in band, the three of them certain that they were going to become rockstars. I promised I’d be their number one groupie if they let me tag along.
As for my social life, it thrived. My mom wanted me to be involved in everything, and I do mean everything. I was in Girl Scouts, band, and every club the school offered. I was also on the soccer team, our sights set on the championship trophy. The sheer amount of activities I was in meant that I barely had time to sleep, let alone spend time with friends outside of my clubs.
I grew apart from Laurie and Chrissy, but Ally and I remained close; she was on the soccer team with me. With her and Eddie by my side, I knew I would be okay. I also knew that we were, in a way, family. And family needed to be protected. That’s how the second Event happened, a tad more memorable than the first. For everyone.
Eddie was a bit of a weirdo, and as a result, had drawn some attention to himself. He was starting to morph from a silent, shy boy into an enthusiastic bubble of geeky energy. I was glad to see it, happy to see him grow into something with more confidence than an autumn leaf on the sidewalk; delicate and ready to be crushed.
However, some boys in his grade thought that made Eddie a perfect target. He was loud and goofy, and I’m certain those boys were just jealous of his self-assurance, but it was hard to convince him of the same. They called him a freak, a weirdo, a nerd. They laughed at him on the sidewalk and they splashed him with water after it rained. They gave him wedgies, and once they even tried to stick his head in a toilet. Every time they picked on him, I could practically see the walls around Eddie’s heart build itself up, brick by brick. His shine was fading, shrinking in to be protected by those walls.
“Y/N?”
I turned. Eddie was on the other side of the street, half hiding behind a tree. He softly called my name again, so I looked both ways before crossing to his side. I realized with a jolt that he didn’t have any hair, but that’s not what I focused on. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying. He sniffed. Definitely crying.
“Eddie?” I asked, hesitantly. I had never seen him this upset before, not even after the attempted swirly, “What happened?”
He sniffed again, “Um, my-” His face collapsed into tears, “It’s m-my mom.” The last word was punctuated with a sob.
“Oh, Eddie.” I reached out to him, letting him fall into my arms.
She died in her trailer; stone cold sober for three months. Heart attack. Eddie cried the entire time he explained that she had visited just a week ago, she seemed better. She seemed fine. She was going to be his mom again.
But now she wasn’t. Now that hope-filled future was gone, and Eddie was left with a sickening knot in his stomach that would never go away and a father whose (albeit limited) lessons centered around how best to hotwire a car and avoid the police. That’s not what he wanted. He wanted his mom. Wayne took the day off to comfort his nephew, picking him up from school and driving him away from me.
So when a seventh grade boy decided that the following day was a good day to have some fun? Well, I couldn’t be held responsible for my response.
It was outside, after the final bell. I finally had a day off with no extracurriculars, so I was planning on having Eddie come home with me for movies and snacks. Wayne had to work again, he could only afford to take one day off, and I knew Eddie shouldn’t be alone. Therefore, sci-fi movies and candy.
I waited on the main sidewalk for him. Eddie was always a few minutes behind the main crowd, always took some extra time to clean the instruments, called them his babies. I waved when I spotted him, and he offered me a smile and a wave back. He looked marginally better today, as good as could be expected.
But then Eric Johnston spotted him, too. Everything moved in slow motion: the smirk that touched Eric’s lips as he realized he had an opening, Eddie’s cute little jog towards me, my first step in their direction. Eric walked diagonally to intercept Eddie’s path, sticking out his foot at just the right moment. Eddie fell flat on his face.
The instant rage that filled my body was unprecedented. I had never been so angry. My face flushed a deep, fiery red as I closed the last few yards to Eric.
“Hey!” I yelled at him.
He turned, looking genuinely confused. That confusion stopped him in his tracks and he stood there, waiting for me, stunned. How dare someone like me speak to someone like him? Surely it was a mistake, perhaps I thought he was somebody else.
But I didn’t. I knew who he was. I saw what he did. And I was pissed.
Through the crimson haze around my eyes, I saw Eddie start to pick himself off the concrete. His palms were bleeding, and those were tears in the corners of his eyes, ready to spill over at the slightest nudge.
“Were you talking to me?” Eric asked.
The audacity in his tone only fueled my rage, “Yeah, I was. Apologize. Right now.”
He laughed, laughed in my face. Like it was absurd. Like I was a child, asking for unicorns to be real, and he was a wise old man who knew better. That was the line, the final tug that snapped my internal rubber band.
I punched him in the face.
He fell backwards, onto his ass. I thought that was fitting, seeing as how he knocked Eddie on his face. I saw blood begin to stream between his fingers, a steady pour out of his injured nose. The ache in my hand was worth it to see him groan and cry in the dirt the way he had surely wanted Eddie to. He just never thought someone would fight back.
I turned on my heel, ignoring Eric for the time being, to check on Eddie. He had made his way to his feet by this point, eyes wide and still full of tears.
“Come on.” I said, holding out my hand.
His fingers reached for mine, shaking, but I finally had him. I didn’t hold anything below his third knuckle, too afraid of hurting the scrapes on his palms further. We walked all the way to my house.
Of course I got in trouble. I got sent to Principal Greer’s office the next day, who called my mother, who grounded me for a month. She lessened my sentence from three months after I explained what had actually happened, that I was just defending my friend from a bully, but she was firm about the fact that violence is never the answer.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure she was right. I mean, Eric wasn’t even making eye contact with either me or Eddie anymore, let alone picking on people. He seemed to have learned his lesson. Regardless, I only got to see Eddie at school, which was a bummer, but I still had all my extracurriculars to attend. Life remained largely the same, except for how people treated me.
Before, I was the friendly girl who everyone had class with. They knew my name, but they didn’t know me . Now? Now, I was the girl who punched a boy in the face. The girl who wasn’t afraid of consequences. Now I was cool. I had all sorts of people talking to me during class now, cute boys who wanted to take me on dates, interesting girls who wanted to have a friend like me to show off. It was flattering, if a little overwhelming.
We never talked about it, Eddie and I, this second Event. But we were closer, more open with each other. A deep trust had rooted between us, firmly entwining us together for the rest of our lives. It let us be vulnerable, honest about our problems and our lives. Complete and total disclosure. This was the new us, the new way of things, and it lasted for years.
I think that’s why it hurt so much when I had to draw away from him.