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You had always felt invisible.
That’s what you basically were, honestly. The most boring girl you would see around Hawkings, the most plain, and you’d only stand out if you were in middle of real girls.
Real girls — that’s what Carol had told you, that you were not a real girl, because real girls used time on themselves, made themselves look pretty, like women have to do. She and Tommy H had made you a nickname to mirror your appearance — Rags. Because in today’s standards, washing your face and applying cream onto your pimples wasn’t enough, you’d have to drown your face into different colours and style your hair to look straight from the model magazine. A “natural girl” was screaming poor, even homeless, and that kind of thing would get you bullied.
You knew it was stupid, but you were head over heels for Steve Harrington. The Steve Harrington on top of it, your heart just refused to pick someone who would actually have chances with.
But one day, Carol and Tommy noticed you looking at Steve, and snickered. “Forget it, Rags. He’s never going to like you. I mean, just look at yourself, you’ll never be beautiful enough for him.”
Beautiful. The word echoed in your mind a few times, and that day after school, you dug up all your savings and travelled downtown — everyone would stare at you after the weekend with their mouths wide open.
And that was exactly what happened. As soon as you stepped in through the school doors with your brand new curly hair, red heeled boots reaching over your knees and a skirt going just shy over the length that would be acceptable in principal’s eyes. Chewing a gum in your mouth, your face painted with fresh makeup you had woken up two hours earlier than usual for. Boys stared, their girlfriends scowling at them for looking at you.
Carol and Tommy looked you up and down too as you approached them, and you could swear you saw attraction in Tommy’s eyes, which Carol seemed to notice too as she slapped the back of Tommy’s head. You smirked, walking past them, right towards Steve.
“Wow,” he breathed out, before frowning, observing your face.
You grinned. “Do you like it?”
He blinked. “I… I didn’t know you’re into this kind of style.”
You shrugged. “My friend gave me a gift card for a stylist on my birthday and I thought to use it yesterday. She made me realise that this will show off my true potential.”
He nodded slowly. “Uh, yeah. At least she made you look different, and good for you if it’s what you want.”
It wasn’t anywhere near the kind of reaction you expected to get from him, the kind where he’d stare at you mouth open, completely in love from the moment you stepped in front of him.
But before you could say anything else, Carol appeared in front of you with some of her girlfriends. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but everyone can see through the act. Cut it off.”
You popped the bubblegum once in front of your face. “If I remember correctly, you weren’t such a diva a few years ago.”
She scowled. “I’ve always been popular,” she seethed. “You, on the other hand, are trying to pretend. Everyone can see it from miles away and nothing has changed, people are just feeling awkward seeing you dressed like a slut.”
You grinned. “Your boyfriend drooled after me, though.”
“He did not—!”
“Ladies!” a voice interrupted and Mr. Clarke emerged through Carol’s gang. He blinked, staring at you for a moment and choking out your name.
“Yes, Mr. Clarke?” you asked with a sweet smile, batting your eyelashes, and he frowned, clearly confused before he cleared his throat.
“There isn’t… a fight starting here, is there?” he asked, looking between you and Carol, and she scowled.
“No, I won’t waste my time on this wannabe popular girl.”
You huffed. “Well, I won’t waste my time on this bitch either.”
Carol’s scowl deepened, but she spun on her heels and walked away anyway, her girlfriends reluctantly following.
Weeks went by, and your and Carol’s feud had been building for a while. But nevertheless, and to Carol’s disappointment, you actually gained popularity, people wanted to sit with you, hang out with you, preferred you over Carol who was seen as a bully beside being popular — and it didn’t take long before you were invited to your first house party at Steve’s, the kind where only the cool people were invited to. Drunk teenagers making out all around the house wasn’t your cup of tea, but you still agreed — fame and popularity kind of obligated you to attend.
“Hey, Rags—” Tommy called out, offering you a drink before he chuckled at your glare. “Sorry, Sexy. Is that better?”
You rolled your eyes. “I’d prefer if you called me by my actual name.”
He hummed, his eyes travelling along your body and you held in the want to hide yourself from his eyes. “Well, no offence but your actual name associates to the old you.”
“Your girlfriend is waiting for you somewhere,” you tried to hint, hoping he’d just go away, but he pouted.
“Oh, what Carol doesn’t know, can’t hurt her,” he muttered, before leaning closer to you. “Besides, right now you look much sexier she has ever—”
“Back off,” Steve’s voice suddenly growled from beside you, which made Tommy sigh and lean back.
“We had something going on here,” Tommy cocked his head towards the living room. “Do you mind?”
Steve crossed his arms. “I don’t think she consented.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, looking at you. “You did when you decided you want to be one of us, didn’t you, sweetheart?”
You shook your head, putting the drink he had put into your hand down. Tommy’s lazy smile immediately turned into scowl. “I guess Carol was right, you’re only pretending to be one of us,” he grumbled, before disappearing to the crowd.
Steve sighed, taking your hand. “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”
He led you to the garage — very romantic — and pulled out a stool that was leaning against the wall for you, before grabbing one for himself. “They’re right in one thing.”
You scoffed. “They’re not right in anything.”
Steve was quiet for a moment. “You’re trying to be something you’re not to get attention and admiration. But now you’ve noticed the downsides and don’t know how to get out without trapping yourself. Rumours already fly, and you’re afraid you’re making them worse if you backpedal.”
You looked down, knowing that no amount of denying it would convince him. He had caught you, saw right through you, everything was ruined. You stared at your hands, the bright pink glitter nail polish you had put on for this party. None of it was you but you knew how to pull the ropes, making people fall to the act — but then you weren’t able to go far enough to make people actually believe you.
“I knew that… if I… you would never see me if…” you stammered, tears starting to fall into your cheeks. “I know it’s stupid but—”
Steve sighed, grabbing your hand gently to stop you from talking. “Do you think I never saw you before?”
You raised your head to look at him, your lips parting. “Huh?”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re the nice, innocent, shy girl. And me, a bad boy who’s supposed to be popular was head over heels for you. I knew you liked me and I wanted to tell you I liked you too, but… dating someone like you could have made you a huge target for bullying.”
“Please don’t try to comfort me by claiming that,” you choked out before you pulled your hand off his grip to wipe your tears, staining your hand with mascara. “Great.”
Steve leaned back, grabbing a bag of tissues from one of the drawers and handed it to you. “Yeah. I understand why you don’t believe me. I’ve kinda been an asshole, not doing enough to stop Carol and Tommy from harassing you.”
You wiped your eyes in silence, listening to the faint sound of music behind the door. Steve sighed again, standing up. “C’mon. Let’s go on a ride, you need to get away from here.”
Your eyes snapped at him again. “But this is your house—”
He laughed. “They won’t do anything some money and fresh paint won’t fix, if even that. They know Dad would sue the crap out of each of them if they burned down the house, they wouldn’t dare.” He waved the car keys in front of you, smirking. “You can’t tell me you aren’t tempted.”
You blinked at the car keys, then at him, before a reluctant smile broke into your face and you stood up. “Okay.”
He opened the passenger side door to you. “It’s a date, by the way.”
You felt yourself blushing and bit your lip, which made him grin wider. Even when you looked like that, like your face was in progress to melt off by the amount of makeup rolling down your cheeks, you still felt more beautiful than you had felt during these few previous weeks, but this time just as you are.