Halley's comet | Steve Harrington

i. closing time

For her own convenience, there was a small wicker basket attached to the front handle bars, specifically for times like this. Her mom was still working, and Jonathan was at home waiting for Will. Which meant it was up to her to pick up the few things they needed for the next few days.

Halley reached into her pocket, coming up with a worn piece of notebook paper. Unfolding it, she found the list of things that her mother had written before she left for work.

Eggs, bread, butter, crayons (don't tell Will)

Smiling at the last item, she folded the paper back up, and mounted her bike. The store was down a hill, and while it wasn't steep, it still pushed enough wind into Halley's face to make goosebumps crawl up her neck. She couldn't lie, the fresh air was a little freeing; it made her feel almost invincible, as the musky air filled her nose and soft chirp of crickets littered the atmosphere. She loved her mom and her brothers, absolutely, and nothing would ever change that, but it was nice to feel like she didn't have to worry about everything sometimes. When the sky was a shade after dusk, and she rode through abandoned streets, Halley didn't have to worry about money, or her deadbeat father, or any of the kids at school.

Fluorescent white lights drew Halley into the Hawkins' store like a moth to a flame. She knocked down the kickstand, and left her bike by a rack outside the door, then made her way inside.

Small shopping basket in hand, she mentally went over the list. The store was mostly empty, as it was nearing closing time, so Halley had no trouble getting to the eggs.

She placed a carton in the basket as carefully as she could. Butter should be nearby. Two sections over, she found it, choosing the discounted one that expired in a few days.

It was beginning to look like her trip to the store would be uneventful, but things just couldn't go her way. Instead, as she was making her way to the bakery to pick up a loaf of, hopefully, fresh bread, she spotted the one and only King Steve. The Hair Harrington. The dickbag that ran Hawkins High.

"Shit." She pretended to be interested in wine prices when she noticed his gaze shift towards her. Halley prayed he didn't recognize her.

No such luck. "Well, if it isn't Bitchy Byers." The smirk was evident in his voice, and Halley had the urge to drop everything and just leave. But they needed groceries, so she would have to endure whatever Steve would do.

"What do you want Harrington? I'm kinda busy here." She gestured to the basket in hand as she turned to face him. Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to care.

"And you're shopping for alcohol?" his tone had a sharp lilt, like he had just caught her in the act of something. As if he believed she would actually attempt to buy the wine.

She scoffed, shifting the basket to her other hand. "Well, I need something to get me through this conversation." Steve seemed slightly taken aback by her response, but not enough to render him speechless. Halley wondered if anything was enough to do so.

"Damn, Byers, who pissed in your cereal?" He leaned on a half empty shelf, and Halley prayed it would collapse beneath him, to no avail.

She rolled her eyes, using her free hand's middle finger to push hair behind her ear. Steve laughed at the antics, but she wasn't trying to be funny. "Look, I have stuff to do, so get whatever half assed plan you have over with, okay?"

Halley looked around, wishing she could find a scapegoat, but there were no other customers in sight.

"Jesus, someone's strung up tight. Can't I say hi to a friend?" He held a tone of innocence but Halley could see mischief gleaming in his eyes. And she did not want to deal with his bullshit at the moment.