Hey Jude (Eddie Munson)

sunglasses at night

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July 4th, 1985...
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Corroded Coffin practice had sucked all around. The vibes were off. The music lacking. The emotions all over the place. The sound completely disjointed. Eddie chalked it up to missing last week on account of Gareth being sick and them canceling. And while he truly had been and they couldn't practice together, they most definitely couldn't go on at The Hideout the following Tuesday now sounding like that.

Frustrated, the rest of the guys spilled out of Gareth's place, leaving Eddie behind with the drummer. Gareth had snatched two beers from the garage refrigerator, handing one to Eddie before settling down on a chair beside him. He whistled airily, toying with a drumstick.

"Heard you went to that Mayfield party. News is you're not the only super senior." From what he knew of Jude, she'd started school late, despite Gareth insinuating she was left behind. Some mixup when she began school as a child. Father missed the cutoff or something. Maybe it was a coverup for her shortcomings academically, but he was never one to judge. Especially when looking at his own history. 

"I didn't go, I was working," he clarified, taking a sip of his beer.

"Heard you talked with her outside too," Gareth goaded, cheek twitching into a smirk. Smug little bastard, Eddie thought. He was going to kill Jeff. He'd only let it slip in passing he'd seen the birthday girl. "She's hot. Her brother sucks, but she seems nice. Not like the rest of those assholes."

He wasn't wrong. Jude was pretty. Eddie even acknowledged that. He found her as such, in the way he was certain many at school also did. Striking, with those blue eyes and freckled cheeks. The slight uptick in her nose, the natural pouted look of her lips. Flaming red hair. Those shapely thighs from hours of tumbling. He'd never seen her at any game—hell, hadn't even gone to a game at Hawkins. But he could tell she took the sport seriously. Muscles honed from hours of training. Discipline.

But it had been her eyes that night which bothered him. The way they narrowed before she looked up to the sky, head tilted up toward the stars. Inhaling deeply, like she'd been struggling to do so. He'd been perfectly content to linger in the shadows by his van. Hadn't initially planned to purposefully drop his lighter to draw her attention, without stepping toward her. Wanted to give her a moment to take in his presence and not spook the girl who already looked breathless as it was. That eloquent sadness within her gaze. She looked like she had needed a friend. And, since there was no one else around to be that for her, he decided he might as well be.

What he hadn't expected, however, were the words she spoke. Her disregard for the party. Desire to simply be elsewhere than there. He could relate in that regard. Hated having to put on airs with the same people who tried their hardest to make his life hell—to get a rise out of him. If only he'd cared. He'd accepted things as they were years ago. Understood for some people it was easy to settle into the spotlight, and for people like him...well, he preferred to slip away unnoticed anyway.

Jude seemed nothing like her popular counterparts who were loud and boisterous. Rude. Antagonistic and condescending. Instead, she seemed uncertain and quiet. Out of place in the booming room filled to the brim with guests and music shaking the whole block. Thorny in a way, what with her clipped speech and directness toward him. Until he made her laugh, and then he saw it: the glimpse she kept tucked away to herself. Vulnerability. Before sliding a mask back into place.

Who was Jude Mayfield? Did anyone really know?

But he felt like he'd seen her. Watched as she slipped back inside the home, shoving through the sea of party guests.

Lost.

Searching, searching, searching...and coming up empty.

Eddie settled for, "She's alright. Don't really know her."