Chapter Text
October, 1989
Matt presses his head against the window in his new room, looking out at the neighborhood. It’s so different here. There are actual trees and he can see the color of the sky and hear the birds chirping. Absent are the continuous sounds of sirens blaring and people yelling in the streets. It’s…peaceful. He hates it.
“Matt, quit your daydreaming and help me with these boxes!”
Matt sighes. “Okay, ma!”
In the living room, boxes are piled against the wall haphazardly. He grabs one filled with his cassette tapes and heads back towards his room. His mom, who’s busy unpacking in the kitchen, turns to look at him.
“Don’t think you’re getting away with only unpacking your own things, mister.”
“Yeah, ok. I’ll help. Jeez.” He rolls his eyes.
After dropping a few of his own boxes in his room, he goes back and grabs one of the ones labeled “STEVE” and carries it to the empty bedroom next to his own. As he opens the door and stares into the unoccupied room, he’s suddenly hit with a wave of anger and frustration. He drops the box, kicking it across the room. Then he groans, embarrassed by his own childish outburst, and decides to go help his mom in the kitchen instead.
By noon, they’ve almost unpacked everything. The boxes in Steve’s room are the exception. They’ll stay that way until he gets back, whenever he gets back (if he gets back, a little voice in Matt’s head nags). They really didn’t have that much stuff, considering how small their last apartment was. Still, Matt feels exhausted as he slumps across the kitchen table.
“I’m gonna go grab us something for lunch, wanna come with?” his mom asks.
“Nah, I’m good. Just bring me back whatever.”
“Alright. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Matt continues to rest against the table, closing his eyes and almost falling asleep when the sound of the doorbell makes him jerk upright.
He opens the door just a crack to see a dorky-looking kid around his own age, wearing glasses and a dinosaur-patterned shirt and holding a pie tin.
“Oh, hey there!” The kid waves a bit with his free hand, nervously. “You just moved in, right? I live across the street.” He gestures behind him. It’s an actual house, unlike the apartment unit that they’re currently standing in the doorway of, and a nice one at that. This kid must be rich.
Matt raises a skeptical eyebrow, ready to close the door. “Yeah and?”
“I just came to introduce myself. I’m Gus Porter. My dad is Perry Porter. You might have heard of him before. He’s on the Gravesfield Morning News, Channel 5?”
“Nope,” Matt says, popping the p.
Gus stands there expectantly and Matt finally realizes he’s waiting for him to introduce himself.
“Matt Tholomule,” he mumbles.
Gus looks a bit confused but he smiles and nods. “Anyway, uh. Welcome to the neighborhood. We also wanted to give you this pie.” He holds it out and Matt reluctantly opens the door a bit wider to take it.
“Thanks.”
“Well, see you around then.” Gus smiles again before turning to go back home and for a brief moment, a thought floats Matt’s mind. He immediately scolds himself. He couldn’t be making the same mistakes again. Especially not here, in a small town, of all places.
~
Hillside High isn’t as different from his old school as Matt thought it would be. Sure, it’s less crowded and has more open spaces, but the classes are the same (boring) and the familiar cliques are all accounted for. It’s immediately clear that certain groups rule the school and one girl in particular seems to be the queen bee: Boscha Riegel.
He knows if he can make it into her group, he’ll be set for the next two years. Sure, he could just try to lay low and fly under everybody’s radar; but Matt knows he’s a natural target for unwanted attention from his peers. He’s short, obnoxious, has a hard time keeping his mouth shut. So, he might as well try to get ahead of them by securing some protection.
It’s loud and stuffy in the school cafeteria. Matt walks past the congealed lunch offerings and opts for an apple instead. His eyes scan the lunchroom. Boscha is sitting at her usual table, wearing a colorful tracksuit with her strawberry-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail in a matching scrunchie. There’s a girl he recognizes from his classes—Skara, if he remembers correctly—and some of the others from the cross country team.
Taking a deep breath, Matt steels himself before heading over to their table. When they see him, they pause their activities and stare (only one of them appears to actually be eating, the rest are chugging protein shakes and doing their makeup or lifting weights).
“Hey,” he says.
Boscha blinks. “Are you lost?”
“Uh, no. I was actually wondering if I could sit with you.”
“Sit. With us,” Skara reiterates.
“Yeah.” He shrugs, attempting to act casual.
Boscha lets out a short, forced laugh. “That’s really funny. Now, I think it’s time for you to leave. You’ve wasted enough of our time.”
“Alright. I get it,” Matt turns around slowly, looking over his shoulder. “People at my old school were afraid of me too.”
“What, you think we’re gonna let you sit with us just because you called us chicken?” Boscha asks.
Matt smirks, staring her down.
“Just sit down, jerk,” she orders. He sits. “Ok, here’s the deal, we’ll let you in, on one condition.” She looks at Skara and nods. “You’re gonna do us a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“See that girl over there?” Boscha points not-so-subtly towards a girl with big glasses and dark hair. “I need you to get intel on her.”
Matt raises an eyebrow. “What for?”
“She stole our best friend.” Boscha says bluntly. “I’m gonna make her life a living hell.”
He looks back over at the girl. She looks sweet. He doubts she’s capable of anything truly malicious. There’s a snooty-looking blonde sitting next to her who he presumes is the aforementioned “friend”. He’s not against playing dirty but…
“I don’t know.”
Boscha scoffs. “Now who’s chicken.”
An abrupt loud sound reverberates throughout the cafeteria. There’s a kid facedown on the floor in the middle of the walkway, his tray of food tipped over and splattered everywhere. The jock who tripped him snickers. Matt frowns. His arm throbs where it was broken last year.
“Fine,” he says to Boscha. “I’m in.”
Boscha’s only response is a self-satisfied smile.
With a sigh, he heads over to the other table, figuring that it’s best to get this whole thing out of the way as quickly and painlessly as possible. He has his attention focused on his target — so much so, that he doesn’t notice somebody else walking up to him.
“Hey!” They tap him on the shoulder. He turns around. The pie boy is standing there wearing another ridiculous patterned shirt, this time with planets on it. “Mattholomule, right?”
Matt blinks, trying to make sense of the weird amalgamation of his name. He doesn’t have time to correct this right now, nor does he care to.
“Uh, yeah, whatever, look I gotta—”
“Do you want to sit with my friends and I? I know it’s crazy, being new and all. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Before he has time to object, Matt’s being pulled in the very direction that he was already headed, right up to the girl who he is supposed to be spying on.
“This is Willow,” Pie Boy says, “she’s basically my best friend.” One by one, he’s introduced to the rest of the group at the table. There’s the snooty blonde girl who started all of this trouble: Amity. The girl with short, curly hair and an Alf sweatshirt who Amity seems to be oddly smitten with: Luz. A brunette girl with a fishhook earring: Viney. And a lanky and awkward guy with a University of Connecticut sweater that he’s swimming in: Jerbo.
“So,” Luz says as he reluctantly takes a seat next to her. “You just moved here, huh?”
Matt stiffens, looking at Pie Boy. “How did you know?”
“Well, there’s only one highschool around here, so unless you’re driving two hours to get to school or you’re one of those weirdo homeschoolers, you just moved here,” Amity explains.
“Where are you from?” Viney asks.
“New York.”
Jerbo looks at him like he’s a celebrity. “Woah. What brings you to Gravesfield?”
These kids sure are nosy. Matt rubs his neck. “Oh, you know, just a change of scenery…”
“How do you like it here so far? How are your classes?” Willow asks, seeming genuinely interested. He’s already feeling the guilt creep in.
Matt shrugs. “It’s alright. Different. My classes are fine. Well, except for Physics. I have no idea what the hell is going on in that class.”
Pie Boy bounces excitedly. “Oh! I could help you! I took it last year.”
“You’re a senior? You look younger than I am…” Matt says, eying him skeptically.
“Haven’t you heard? Augustus Porter here is the school prodigy. He’s skipped like, five grades,” Luz gushes.
“Two, Luz. I’ve skipped two.”
Right, that was his name. Gus. Augustus.
“Anyway, I can tutor you, if you want to come over after school?” Augustus asks.
Matt opens his mouth to say no, to make some dumb excuse about a fake job, but then he pauses. Maybe this could be an opportunity to find out more about Willow. He said they were best friends, after all. And it’s not like he’s agreeing to hang out as friends or anything; it's purely professional. He can get what he needs and cut ties with them. Clean. Simple. Nobody has to know.
Matt attempts a smile. “Sure.”