FORTY-ONE
— keep us safe
ORIGINALLY, SHE THOUGHT herself to be a decently responsible person— she had been a babysitter for years. Clean the boo-boos, make the kid a PB&J, walk the dog, sweep the floors, entertain the middle schoolers. She knew what to do under pressure. She always had a solution. That persona Lucy held up— the problem-solving, some-what responsible persona— had diminished. She was panicked. Her hands were shaking, her vision was clouded with tears, and she had a knot in her stomach the size of Canada. If she thought for two long, there was a chance she'd puke. The last forty-eight hours, she thought, had permanently changed the chemistry of her brain. She was frazzled.
"Would you hurry up!"
She had raided the drawers for medical supplies. Lucy ran around the house like a mad-man, her hands pulling open any closet or container in sight. She peeled through first-aid kits, removed gauze, found a box of Hello-Kitty bandaids, and stashed medical tape in her pockets. Now, she sat on the floor, besides Steve. Her knees were pressed to the wood, legs folded beneath her body. The paper-towel in her right hand was drenched with crimson blood. Her fingers smelled like metal. And, with all of that, Steve's face was still a bloodied mess.
It seemed as if she had a non-stop worry. Her stomach ached. Her chest was tight. She stared down at Steve, and her eyes burned with tears. She could hear the kids bustling outside— she worried for them, too.
He shouted again. "Lucy, please," Dustin called. "We need to go!"
"Piss off, Henderson!" she shouted. Lucy chucked the medical supplies in the car— she paused, and purposefully aimed for his head. With a heaving chest, Lucy turned to the house. She pushed wisps of hair from her eyes, and exhaled, "How the fuck are we gonna get him into the car?"
Mike's eyes widened. "Get him in the car?" he spat. "We can't take him!"
Lucy blinked. "How 'bout I leave you there, Michael?" she raised a brow. "Lock you in the house, so Billy can wake up and say, 'hey, I'll fight the Wheeler kid!' My money is on him."
He stayed silent.
She re-entered the home, grumbling amongst Max's urgent shouts. Lucy moved to her knees, hands on his face— she shook him. "Come on, wake up." Silence. She could've cried, right there, sitting on the floor of the Byers house.
She lifted herself up. Lucy moved to the doorway, where Mike and Dustin started bickering from the car. Their shouting ignited the pounding in Lucy's head— she inhaled, and pressed a firm hand to her eyes. "Shut the fuck up!" she yelled. "Listen, as much as you shits are getting on my nerves, I'm the one who's gonna keep you safe!" she gestured to herself, a hand on her chest.
The crickets, the wind-chimes, and the car engine was all they heard.
She marched back in the house, took Steve by the legs, and began dragging him towards the porch.
Mike blinked. "I don't think—"
"So help me god— you are testing me, Wheeler!" she silenced him. "Uh, uh, sh! I'm in charge, and I am this close," she held her pointer-finger and thumb together. "...to loosing my patience."
Lucas gulped. His eyes were wide.
She panted. "Someone help me get him in the car, before I rip all your heads off!"
They were frozen. The wind-chimes played their short tune, and a breeze raked through her frizzy hair.
"Now!"
'Shit driver' was the epitome of Max Mayfield. The tires of the blue Camaro screeched against the gravel with each turn. They bumped in their seats, hands clutching the door in an attempt to plant themselves. The red-head stomped on the gas, her right foot hitting it with intensity. She gripped the wheel, her knuckles white, and her wrists tense. In her head, Lucy made a pros and cons list to the situation— the cons, a thirteen-year old was behind the wheel. The pros: she seemed pretty concentrated on the road.
The wheels screeched. Lucy's body snapped left, and against Mike— he was sandwiched between her and Dustin. Steve's head laid on her lap, and his legs were sprawled across both boys. The vehicle practically turned on its side, when she turned. Her body whipped forward, "My neck!" Lucy let go of Steve, just for a moment, and he almost rolled onto the ground.
She held his face with her right hand. With the left, she dabbed the blood from his swollen eye. The vehicle rocked, and she tried to steady herself. Lucy pulled Steve closer, and the side of his forehead was pressed to her lower stomach. The warmth that radiated from Lucy's body caused him to stir.
She finished pressing the Hello-Kitty bandaid to his eyebrow. Steve grunted, and his eyelids twitched— soon they were open. His voice was raspy and low, and a grunt came from deep in his chest. All of his senses were fucked— he was seeing double, his hearing was muffled, and his body was numb. The gasoline tin in Mike's arms sloshed, and he mumbled.
"Nancy?"
Mike's face contorted in disgust. His shoulders went slack, and his posture worsened— of all things, being compared to his sister had ruined his day. He would blame the fact that Steve was half-blind.
Lucy mumbled, "He's up."
A pained grumble left his lips. Steve screwed his eyes shut, and lifted a hand towards his gash.
"Hey, buddy. No, don't touch it," Dustin cooed, speaking as if Steve were a child. "It's okay, you put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you're okay."
Steve pulled away. "No," his words were slurred. "Hop... where's Lucy? Where is Lucy?" He stumbled on each syllable, panic rising, when he felt a hand clutch his.
She intertwined their fingers. "I'm here, Steve," she whispered. "I'm here."
He let his head fall back in her lap. Steve nodded, and his hearing finally came-to. "Remember last year, when Jonathan beat you up?" Lucy spoke. "This is worse. You look terrible."
Max couldn't stop the laughter that escaped her lips. The car swerved, and Lucas spoke. "Make a left at Mount Sinai."
Steve hummed. He was groggy, and could hardly comprehend who was speaking. Slowly, he turned his head left. "What's going on?" Steve slurred— through the rear-view mirror, he could see Lucas. "Oh, my God!"
Dustin cut in. "Relax, she's driven before!"
"Yeah, in a parking lot!" Mike spat.
She kicked his foot. "You're making it worse!" Lucy said, her teeth gritted.
Steve shook his head. "Oh, my God!" he mumbled. "Oh, my God!"
Max stomped on the gas. They flung around, and a worried cry left Lucy's lips. She clutched onto Steve, and her butt lifted from the seat when the redhead made a sharp left turn.
"I told you he'd freak out!" Mike yelled— she nudged him into Dustin.
He buried his face in her legs. "No! Whoa, stop the car, slow down," he groaned, voice breaking. He writhed against her. Steve clutched the bottom of her shirt in his hands.
"Chill, Steve!" she demanded. "Don't make me drop you— you're gonna rip my shirt!"
Max screamed, "Everybody shut up! I'm trying to focus!" her right foot pressed down on the gas.
Lucas' voice cracked. "Make a left now, Mount Sinai!" his voice cracked. "Turn left!"
She swore, the car nearly flipped. Lucas let out a girlish shriek, Steve released a bellowing cry, and Lucy had accepted their fate. They transformed into rag dolls, each passenger thrashed in their seats. Shoulders clashed against shoulders, butts slid from off the leather. Mike almost dropped the gasoline. Then, she stomped on the brakes— the tires screeched, and they jolted forward.
"Hello!" Steve screamed. He exhaled, his chest falling flat. They had come to a complete halt.
Mike blinked. "Incredible."
Max pulled the keys. "Told you," she turned back. "Zoomer."
She pushed Steve off her lap. "Why didn't I drive?" Lucy murmured. "Why didn't I fucking drive!"
He grunted. "Guys," Steve slurred. "Guys, no."
In the mess of it all, they had collected supplies. Masks, bandanas, hock sticks, full body gear— why the Byers had all this, it was a mystery. When Lucy was still a hot-disaster of tears and bruises, they had stuffed the trunk. And, now, it was going to be put to use.
She breathed out. "Steve, I need you to listen to me," Lucy rested a hand on his shoulder. "Cooperate, or I'm locking you in this stupid fuckin' Camaro. Got it?"
He grimaced. "No, what?" Steve spoke. "You're— Hop, you're a horrible babysitter. What are you letting them do, my god."
A voice split the air. "Lucille!" Dustin cried. "Get your goddamn goggles!"
She groaned, and started towards the trunk. With two goggles, and two bandanas in hand, she tried to diffuse the situation— Steve's eyes left her when Mike moved to the pit. He saw the gallon of gasoline in his arms.
"What are you, deaf? Hello!" he shouted, "There's no chance we're going in that hole, all right? I made myself clear!" His face fell— he watched as Lucy tied the bandana around his neck.
She sighed. "Harrington," Lucy fumbled with the goggles. "Put these on, okay? Your eyes all puffed up, this might make it worse, but I don't care."
He ignored her. "This ends right now!"
Dustin intervened. "Steve! I know you're upset, okay," he exhaled. "But, the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance."
He looked him up an down, as Lucy forced the goggles over his head. He didn't resist, but only opened his mouth. "You let these little shits do this?"
"They wanted to leave you at the Byers," she threw her hands in the air, "I single handedly had to lug you into that goddamn Camaro! Do you know how many times I dropped you, Harrington? I can count it with my fuckin' fingers and toes. I was done with their bullshit."
She tightened the red bandana around his face. She muttered, "Not my fault you got the ever-living shit beat out of you."
Steve winced when the yellow goggles finally made it over his head. She snapped them over his swollen eyes, and let her arms drop to her side. "Worst fucking idea— ever!"
Dustin snatched a backpack from the trunk. He turned to Steve. "I know you promised to keep us safe, alright."
His words traveled through her mind. Her shoulders fell, and she dropped her head— her eyes fell onto the makeshift necklace that hung loose from her neck. The one from Christmas, the one they had made. She held the pendant between her thumb and pointer-finger, and the word 'Defender' danced in her eyes. Now, her heart was thumping with determination.
Dustin shoved the backpack into Steve's arms. "So, keep us safe."
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does anyone know how to write a dbq 🤗 my teacher assigned our first dbq ever and the exam is next week!
the stress is consuming me
yolo