The Neighbor's Cat (Billy Hargrove x OC // Stranger Things)

13. Barbara

Billy drummed his fingers on the hood of his car as he glared at the middle school.

Where the hell was Max? She was late, again. And she knew how pissed he got when she pulled that kind of shit. He had trained her to meet him at his car after school on time, every day. But ever since he started giving Peters rides, Max had gotten it into her head that Billy wouldn't rip her a new one in front of a classmate. It was half true, of course — he didn't need to repeat the  California incident — but he was quickly reaching the end of his patience, and Max was going to get it when he saw her. Peters or not.

"How long are we going to have to wait?" Samantha asked, twirling her hair.

Billy exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"She's supposed to be here. She's late," he mumbled, fingers drumming more violently. "I'm gonna kill her."

Today, things were a bit different than usual, though. Aside from Max's lateness (which had become something of a norm, anyway), it wasn't Randy Peters that was occupying the passenger seat of his Camaro. Samantha Thompson had stopped him in the hallway before sixth period and asked if he was busy after school, and of course he told her no — that he was free and very interested. Peters had popped into his head momentarily, but then he had recalled her and Harrington's closet rendezvous and figured the annoying little dipshit could hitch a ride home with her new boyfriend. Billy was entitled to some fun.

Besides, Samantha was something to look at. Peters wasn't. Plain and simple. And at least he knew that with Samantha he was gonna get something good out of his night. With Peters, he just never knew. It could be something entirely normal or it could be something batshit crazy, like some game of Russian Roulette.

"So... your sister coming, or what?"

Lifting his watch, Billy cursed. Max was twenty minutes late and so was Peters, and while he was thankful Peters had decided not to show, he was pissed that Max hadn't. For Peters, it was a weight off his chest. He had simply hoped she would walk out, notice Samantha standing beside him, and turn the opposite direction. So whatever the hell she had decided to do instead saved him some trouble. But Max was causing trouble, and he didn't like that. At all.

"Screw it." Flicking his cigarette butt, he pushed off from the car. "Little shit can skate home."

He made his way towards the driver's door, fighting to keep his temper in check.

"And don't call her that," he snapped to Samantha, who looked confused.

"What?" she asked.

"Sister." He opened his door. "She's not my sister."

Slamming it shut, he kicked the engine to life, waited for Samantha to close her own, then shot backwards. He could feel her looking uncertainly at him as he cranked the wheel with more aggression than necessary, but slammed the gas and shot forward, anyway, throwing her back into her seat. He just barely missed Peters, who was making her way into the parking lot as he was squealing his way out. She jumped backwards as he rushed past, but he pretended not to see her. In his rearview mirror, though, he watched her lift her arms in disbelief, then disappear as he turned onto the main road.

Doesn't matter, he told himself. Harrington will give her a ride.

But as much as he tried to convince himself, he couldn't get her expression out of his head.

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Randy couldn't believe that Hargrove had ditched her. After promising to give her rides, he'd gone back on his word and left her at the school, alone, to walk home.