No Surrender | Eddie Munson

Chapter Eighteen: The Grand Alliance

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE GRAND ALLIANCE

RAMBLINGS OF A LUNATIC — BEARS IN TREES

Maybe this writer's block that I've been perceiving
Is to stop me diving deeply into my internal being
Falling into darkness below my surface tension
Emotional suppression, my coping mechanism

——————

A day passes.

I try to act like nothing is wrong, I try to push everything to the back of my mind. I babysit the Sinclair kids and send out my essay for early admissions and pray that this will all calm down. I'm not so sure.

Steve's parents are away on another trip, which I suppose is good. It means that I don't have to explain myself.

But I miss El. I worry about her. Every call I make goes straight to voicemail.

I just need a distraction.

"Okay, this is a bad idea."

Finally tearing my gaze from the blur of trees outside the car window, I look to Steve. "What is?"

"This! Going to her, apologising. What am I even apologising for? The fact she lied?"

"The apology is a starting point," I explain, twisting at the hair tie still encircling my wrist. "You go there with your flowers and you talk to her about how you feel."

Scoffing, he stops the car at the side of Elm Street. "I feel pissed!"

My eyebrows raise. "Yeah, that's definitely what I've been sensing." Leaning in until a hand on my forehead pushes me back, I point to me nose. "See this blood? I'm basically you, I'm in your head. Trust me, I'd really rather not do this every day but I can't control this shit."

"How 'bout I pay you back, then? You help me out with Nance and I'll try and find a way for you to control these powers. Then we can kick ass or whatever. I'll be your Robin."

"I thought Batman didn't have powers. I feel like it'd work better if the roles were reversed since, you know, you're rich and I'm an orphan."

Groaning, he gets out of the car, stooping down to meet my gaze again. "Look," he huffs, "j-just— just go with the metaphor."

At this point, I'm only doing this to mess with him. "Isn't it an analogy?"

I'm bout fifty-seven percent sure it isn't. Words aren't really my academic strong suit.

"Beth!"

"Right. Sorry."

He tries a smile — the classic, King Steve smile with his perfect, fluffy mullet and a stupid pose that makes him look like he just fell out of an infomercial. "How do I look?"

I sigh and toss the flowers to him, "Absolutely stellar."

Not even a minute passes. My door opens. "I need to ride shotgun."

Confused, I look up to see Dustin stood outside, the bouquet of roses in his hand. "What—"

"Come on, scoot! Steve, do you still have that bat?"

We exchange glances but neither of us have a clue what he is getting at. "'Bat'?" he repeats, arms falling limp at his sides in exasperation. "What bat?"

"The one with the nails?"

Halfway out of the car, I freeze. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'll explain it on the way."