". . . And a high of 105 degrees this afternoon. That's the weather for today, now stay tuned because after these short messages we'll be playing Take On Me by A-ha. We know you love that song, folks."
I turn off my radio without moving from where I lie flat on my back on the edge of my bed, in the only position that doesn't make me sweat like a pig. It's only the first day of summer, but it feels like it's been hot forever. I have strategically placed a grand total of six fans in my room so that air is hitting me at every second.
But only if I lie in this position.
It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. My posture can suffer a little if it means surviving this scorching weather. I've already lost all six of my friends to the heat, that's how bad it is.
Okay, that's a lie. In honesty, they're all hanging out at the pool right now, but I got banned from that place two and a half months ago. Which is bullshit. The only reason it happened is because Billy Hargrove has an eternal grudge against me ever since I attacked him last year. A fight that I might remind you left me with a broke arm. He won, so I don't see why he's so angry about it. Long story short I accidentally did a cannonball on Curtis Frank and broke his collarbone. Nothing to get banned over in my mind. No one really likes Curtis anyway.
Of course, I still go to the pool whenever Billy isn't on his shift, but he works pretty much every day, which means I have to be discreet. To add onto the hardships, he put a picture of me on the billboard there so that everyone knows I shouldn't be at the pool.
I swear the guy needs to learn how to let some things go.
If I'm being completely candid, I'm not really in the mood to hang out with my friends right now. I would bet money that they aren't even at the pool anymore. The place kinda busts considering it's always crowded with little kids and old grandmas, not to mention Mike's mother. I would also bet money that Mike and Eleven have ditched everyone to go make out somewhere. I roll my eyes just thinking about it. The two have been inseparable for the past six months. Even when Max and Lucas were dating they didn't spend every moment of their lives together. But then again, they're just as annoying with how much they break up and get back together and fight and make up and bicker constantly.
So, if I'm calculating everything correctly, what's currently going on somewhere outside the safe confines of my house is Will awkwardly walking alongside Max and Lucas, who are most likely arguing about something completely useless, like the correct way to eat a banana.
I'm suddenly happy I'm not there with them. I do pity poor Will though, no one wants to be caught in the middle of a never ending feud between two exes.
It feels like at this point Will is the only person I can really stand. Max mostly too. I love my friends, I really do. In the past year we've gotten closer, but we've also grown apart. Like, sure Lucas and I bond over making fun of Mike and Eleven, but we also disagree on a lot of things. Sure Dustin and I made up last year, but since then things haven't exactly been the same.
Let me explain. At the Snowball, when Dustin apologized and I forgave him and everything was fine and dandy, I met Jonny Ross. At the time, it seemed like he was the perfect guy. At the time, I was tired of chasing Dustin only for him to neglect me. At the time, I needed someone. Anyone.
He was a lot different than anyone in the party. He wasn't nerdy, but he was smart. He was funny, but not rude. He was nice, but could take a joke. He listened. He was interesting. He wasn't a jerk.
I was with him for three months. Three months of happiness and fun. The gang even liked him. Except for one. I had to deal with Dustin smack talking my boyfriend every minute of every day. I didn't care though, I liked Jonny too much.
Even Will liked him, which said a lot considering Will is hard to get along with at times.
Of course, he had friends too, and even if some of them could be jerks at times, I hung out with them. It was only fair considering he hung out with my group.
For three months, I was happy. The mall opened up, and we spent every minute there. My arm slowly healed. My father got a big work offer, so he was happier than usual, and didn't have a lot of time for other things. My brother and I were on good terms, and we still are. No matter who comes and goes, I always know I'll have Steve.
Then, on March 29th, at approximately 12:35pm, the lunch bell rang, and I walked over to my locker only to see Jonny kissing Pam Campbell in the janitor's closet.
Honestly, it was like I knew it would happen. He was too perfect. We worked too well together. Nothing is ever as it seems, and all good things come to an end. That's what I told myself. But nevertheless, I was devastated. I shut Jonny out for a week, and he had to hear from Max that I had caught him in the act. He called me about a million times for the next month, but I just pretended he didn't exist. I didn't tell Steve what he had done, because my brother actually got along super well with him. They played basketball together all the time, and in honesty I think Steve was glad I was friends with at least one person who wasn't a complete geek. I was too.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that Jonny had cheated. I didn't know if he had done it with Pam before, or if it was a one time thing, or if Pam was one of many. I didn't know anything because I refused to talk to him about it. I just shut him out and continued with life like I had before. I cried for a week, and then I moved on. Or I pushed away my emotions at least.
I still saw him at school of course, and there were many times where he'd attempt to talk to me and I'd have to quite literally run away. I began to feel bad for being such a coward about it; I probably should've talked to him instead of acting like a child. I was just afraid that if I heard his voice I'd end up forgiving him.
After that, not a lot happened. We still went to the mall, but it wasn't as fun as I remembered. I still played basketball with Steve, but it wasn't the same. Life seemed a little more dull.
And then my dad got fired.
It was out of nowhere, super sudden. My dad was riding a high with whatever opportunity he got, and then something happened and the company he worked for was forced to downsize.
It. Was. Hell.
For a month, he was unemployed. He was home all the time. He drank. Boy did he ever drink. I was lucky to make it past him without something happening. Steve was out looking for a job as well as applying to different universities, which meant that I was forced to deal with my father alone many times. Steve told me to just sleep over at a friend's, but when I couldn't, things got ugly. I'm surprised that the neighbours didn't hear the screams. The ones of my father and me alike. I took beatings every night for a week until one day, something that had never happened before occurred.
~Three months earlier~
"You've got some place to sleep tonight?" Steve pours himself a glass of water and chugs it in one go while I sit at the kitchen table working on my Science project. I'm supposed to have it finished by tomorrow, but with my sprained wrist it doesn't look good.
I'm guessing I don't have to tell you how it happened.
"Yeah, at Max's," I lie. Steve likes Max, so he won't second guess it. It's what I usually tell him I'm doing. He has an interview with a guy from some store in the town, and says that he'll be gone for a while. I know that the interview won't last long. It's the same routine every time: he goes in, lies about his resume, flunks when he's called out, and then goes to a bar to drink in despair. No matter how many times he comes home at three in the morning smelling of alcohol and desperation, he still won't be honest with me about it. I've even cleaned his barf from the kitchen floor, and he just insisted he ate something funny for lunch.
I couldn't actually sleep at Max's tonight, because she and Lucas are on a date and since it's Saturday it'll probably go on until midnight. I couldn't sleep at Will's because he's away for the weekend. I wouldn't sleep at Dustin, Lucas, or Mike's anyway. And I don't think Hopper could handle me sleeping at his house with Eleven. Lately he's been a little frantic, especially with his daughter spending every waking moment with her boyfriend.
That's right, Hopper adopted Eleven. At first I didn't know how to feel. But since Eleven was living there for a while anyway, I figured Hopper had her under control.
I guess I was wrong.
It's been a week and a half since my father lost his job, and this is the most pain I've been in since the Billy incident. I've got a pounded and bloodied face, a sprained wrist, a twisted ankle, a cracked rib, a bruised throat, and a still healing arm.
It's best if I don't move.
"Are you sure you can't tell your Science teacher you need an extension?" Steve glances at me as wince while reaching for the scissors, and leans forward to grab them for me.
"No," I croak, "I've only got a couple more things to do here."
He nods and refills his water, taking a sip before sighing. He's a little bruised as well, though he's managed to stand up to dear old dad pretty decently considering the man is drunk half the time. He's protected me loads of times, but I can tell he's tired of me not doing anything to help myself. I would be too.
"Well, if you need me I'll be down at the library."
"Wait—hold on." I hold a hand up, "You're applying to work at the library? You. Steve Harrington. The library?"
"Yes, Liz. The library," he says seriously and I throw him a look, "I'm desperate, okay?"
I cock my head to the side, "Don't you need to know how to read to work at a library?"
"Oh ha ha." He rolls his eyes as I grin, slapping down another atom on my model.
He sighs again and runs a hand down his face, putting his now empty water glass down and throwing me a two fingered salut before grabbing his keys.
"Wish me luck."
"You'll need it." I return the salut as he walks past me, and chuckle to myself as I get glue all over my fingers. I have about an hour before my dad returns from his own job interview. I hardly know what his job is. Something with insurance and money and stuff. I never dared ask, and I care even less. I hope to god that this company hires him because if not that means he'll come home even more angry than usual, and this time he'll be sober.
The ticking of the kitchen clock and the scratch of my pen on paper are the only sounds that I hear for the next sixty minutes, and then the sound of a car engine fills my ears, and the light of two headlights floods the kitchen.
"Shit," I mutter and pick up my poster board along with all my supplies, racing up the stairs as fast as I can with my limp. It's only eight o'clock, so I can't really fake that I'm asleep. I can't really hide either, last time I tried that I got my sprained wrist. So I just sit on my bed in my room, shoving my project underneath so that my father doesn't decide to break it. I pick a random book on the shelf that I never use and hold my breath as I hear clattering downstairs. I can usually tell if the footsteps are angry or not, but this time my breathing is so heavy and loud that I can't focus.
Ten minutes of sitting there and it seems as though I'm in the clear. I put my book down and lean back on my bed, closing my eyes and thinking that maybe just this once I will make it through the night.
Maybe just this once I'll escape unscathed and I won't—
CRASH.
THUD.
BANG.
"LIZ!"
My eyes snap open and my heart skips a beat. I sit bolt upright on my bed and stare at the door, silently awaiting another call.
"LIZ GET DOWN HERE!"
I stand up so fast that I trip on my messed up bed sheets and go tumbling to the ground, desperately wriggling so that I can untangle myself. I don't want my dad to call again, because the last time I waited for him to call for me three times things got ugly. I hastily scramble to my feet and swung open my bedroom door, stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen, where my father stands with his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed. A broken chair sits on the ground and a blazing look sits in my father's eyes. I'm confused for a second before I spot a glue stick in his right hand.
The colour drains from my face and I let out a small puff of air before making eye contact with my seething father.
"How many times have I told you to put your damn shit away?" His words are harsh but his voice is quiet and steady, and I know that he is trying to contain his anger. It's the calm before the storm. The eye of the hurricane.
"I'm sorry," I stammer out, "I thought I got everything—"
"Well you didn't, did you?" I can feel his anger boiling, building up higher and higher with each word he speaks.
I'm silent, hoping that it'll buy me time. It doesn't. He just explodes.
"Answer me, girl!" He throws the glue stick at me and I duck, hearing it hit the wall behind me with a thud.
"I-I didn't see the glue stick! What do you want me to say?" I take a step back as my father begins pacing, and decide to try to change the subject, "how did the interview go?"
It was the wrong thing to say. It was the worst thing I could've brought up in this moment. It makes it sound like I'm mocking him.
"What did you say to me?" He turns on me with a fire in his eyes that I know too well.
I'm silent again, and he takes three long steps towards me before shouting in my face, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
I smell alcohol on his breath, and the only thing I can think of replying with is, "I hope you didn't drink that whiskey until after you got home, because drinking and driving probably isn't a good idea. I mean driving angry is bad enough, and considering you don't exactly look like you've had a great day it's probably . . . best . . . that you, uh . . ."
I trail off as my father's face turns bright red and his fist is heading for my face before I can say another word. I duck under it, which is hard, but not as hard as usual considering he's getting drunk already.
"I mean, not only is driving under the influence putting yourself in danger, but it also puts others in danger," I blabber on as I dodge his punch and walk under his arm, quickly heading further into the kitchen to avoid his wrath, "studies show that in the past five years there's been a 60% increase in deaths by—"
I'm interrupted by a glass wizzing past my head and smashing into the wall behind me.
"Shut up!" My father shouts, "enough with your smart mouth!"
I throw up my hands to protect my face as he throws another glass, which skims my elbow and crashes into the sink.
I'm in no mood for this. I've been beaten bloody the past ten days and I've had enough.
"Stop!" I shout as my dad runs towards me. I put my hand between us and he slows to a halt, giving me a quizzical look as I throw him an exasperated one, "For Pete's sake, Dad, stop! Can't you go one night without this?"
His face contorts from confusion to anger faster than a jack rabbit on a jet ski, "you want me to stop? Why don't I stop when you've learned your goddamn lesson!"
"You want me to learn a lesson? What lesson, Dad?" I shout, not really controlling what's coming out of my mouth, "All I'm learning from this is that you're an asshole that beats his children for a laugh! What a great lesson! I'll be sure to pass this one on to my kids!"
His fury is a match for mine, and a look of fear comes across my features as I realize that I have never yelled at my father like this before. He raises his arm to slap me, but I grab his wrist in the air, looking him dead in the eyes as I do so. I don't know where this courage is coming from, but I do know that there's no going back. I've had enough of this bullying. I have to make a stand.
The silence is deafening. The clock stops. There's no ticking. No noise at all.
"Are you sure you want to cross this line?" His voice drips with venom. Calm, but laced with a promise that his threats won't be empty. I gulp.
"Was Thomas Edison sure he wanted to invent the lightbulb?"
"Was Thomas . . . What?"
My hand still holds his wrist as I shrug, "well I mean, it took Edison, what? A thousand tries to successfully create a filament that would burn for thirteen hours. And then he had to wait another month to design one that would get him a patent for an electric lamp, and then—"
"Enough damnit!" He shouts and I know I have to act quick. His left fist comes hurdling towards me and I grab a plate from the drying rack to my right, swinging it across to make contact with my father's head. It breaks across his skull and he shouts out in pain and anger, holding onto his now bleeding head. I stand there stupidly, maybe basking in my small victory and the shock of what I just did. Soon enough, the man before me is yelling out in rage and running towards me, tackling me to the ground. The back of my head hits the tile and I yelp, using my dad's momentum to push him off me and scramble to my feet.
I grab the broken leg of the chair my dad must've fallen on and hold it in front of me like a sword.
"You're dead, do you hear me?" The words don't affect me like they should, like they usually do. I've got a newfound confidence that standing up to my dad must've brought into my system. A rush of adrenaline. Like I can do anything.
And then he's tackled me again, and the chunk of wood goes flying from my grasp as I slam into the cupboard behind me and the air leaves my lungs. I feel a fist connect with my cheek as my dad grabs my collar and lifts my head to face him.
"You've made a big mistake, Lizzie."
I freeze, my heart plummeting into my stomach and anger bubbling in my throat.
"Do not call me Lizzie." I reach the broken leg again and slam it into my father's neck, hitting him off of me and giving me the opportunity to stand up and kick him in the side as hard as I can. I hear a crack and back away as my dad yells out in pain. I decide now is the time to run; I know I can't take him head on.
So I turn and bolt out of the room, out the door and onto my bike, wearing pyjamas and bunny slippers and a smile on my face. Despite myself, I can't help the good feeling of finally standing up to my dad. I let out a cheer into the street and ride all the way out of my neighbourhood and into town, pedalling hard until I get to the library. I park my bike and rush inside, running head on into just the guy I'm looking for.
"Liz?"
"Steve!" I shout, earning a few 'shh's from people inside. I tug on my brother's sleeve and he follows me outside, frowning at my getup as I grin hugely. His eyes widen as he inspects my face.
"Is that a new bruise? Liz you said you'd be at Max's." He touches my face lightly and looks suddenly angry.
"I lied," I say giddily, "I'm sorry."
"Why are you so happy?" He asks suspiciously.
"I stood up to him!" I shout, then quiet my voice and bounce on the balls of my feet, "I stood up to him, Steve. Like, for real. He was about to slap me and I grabbed his wrist and he was all like—" I dropped my voice an octave to imitate my father— "'Liz are you sure you wanna cross this line?' And I was all like 'did Edison wanna invent the lightbulb?' And then he was all like 'what?' And I had to explain it to him and then he tried to punch me but I smashed his head with a plate and then he tackled me and I'm pretty sure I have a concussion but I got away and kicked him and I'm pretty sure I broke his rib and I also hit him with a chair and then he said I was dead but in reality I've never felt so alive and like—"
"Woah woah woah." Steve put his hand up, but there was a smile on his face as well, "Slow down, kiddo. You stood up to Dad?
"Mhm," I squeak and await his reaction. His smile turns into a grin and he hugs me so tight that I'm lifted off the ground.
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment." I hug him back and his relief is evident. I chuckle a bit.
"Yeah, sorry." I grab my bike and we begin walking through the dark street.
"So, tell me how it happened again." He grins at me and I clear my throat.
And then I'm off. I tell him the story in immense detail, and neither of us can stop grinning. We know we can't go back to the house, so Steve ends up calling a friend to ask if we can sleep at his house. He says 'whatever man', so we crash in his basement, me ending up falling asleep curled up against Steve on the pullout couch, replaying the events of tonight over and over in my head until I drift off to the sound of my brother's light snores.
~end of flashback~
After that night, it was another week before I was really home. I wanted to stay away from my father because I was still deeply scared of him. I slept at Max's for seven whole days, which was a little sketchy for me considering Billy is in the same house. I couldn't escape his awkward glares at breakfast, and his subtle death threats at dinner, but I was too happy to care about how he said he'll drown me in my sleep.
Then, the power of standing up to my father started going to my head. I no longer stayed home at night. Instead, I went out and roamed the streets and just lived because I figured that if I could stand up to my father, I could do anything.
The first week was bad. I had a run in with the law, and Hopper was not happy. I had stolen a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of spray paint.
Long story short, I had to take a long shouting from the Chief followed by a lecture from Steve.
But the thing is, I no longer cared. Three
months ago I realized that nothing mattered. I even stopped hanging out with most of my friends. I started doing poorly in school, and even Mr Clarke wondered what was going on with me. I was no longer nice and happy and friendly. I was rude, and angsty, and wild. Before, I was reckless, but then, it was like danger was drawn to me like a moth to a flame. I went looking for it. I laughed in its presence. I left it behind wherever I went.
Steve wasn't around much, but when he was, all he did was tell me that I needed to smarten up. He told me that if I kept going at the rate I was then I'd turn into him. Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted.
But it was only after I got a B in Science that I realized I did need to get my act together. At least a little bit.
So I dropped the stupidity and worked at my usual rate in school. I'm still more impulsive and reckless than ever before, but I reunited with my friends. My dad got another job, but he still tries to beat me to a pulp whenever he can just to show me a lesson from when I stood up to him. And though I still try my best to fight him now that I know I can, that doesn't mean I'm any better of a fighter than before. Ergo, he still wins every battle. So I end up just spending most of my time out of the house. I sleep on the streets a lot of the time, unless my dad is on business trips or is out for some other reason, which is often. This new job he has means more travel than ever before, and that's good news considering I don't want Hopper to catch me sleeping at a bus stop again.
It's like an in between. I ended my Steve Stage (that's what I call it), but didn't go back to my normal self. I'm more independent and confrontational. I question things. I pick fights.
I guess I'm just growing up.
And so I lie in my room, turning the radio back on to listen to Take On Me and just enjoy all my fans and the air they blow for me. I lie on my bed, happy I'm not stuck with Lucas and Max like Will indubitably is. Even Dustin is gone for Nerd Camp, and doesn't get back for another two or so weeks. My brother misses him more than I do. It's like all I hear from Steve is 'when does Dustin get back?' over and over again. The more he asks the less I care. It's peaceful without Dustin. It's a good thing he doesn't know that Jonny cheated, or else all I'd hear from him is 'what did I say about him? I knew he was bad news'.
The only people that know are Max and Will, and them being my best friends, they actually helped me through it. I would've told Eleven, since her and I are close, but I wasn't entirely sure she'd understand, and I didn't want her to worry about her relationship with Mike.
I feel a bead of sweat drip down my temple, and my face snaps to whichever fan is blowing air on that part of my face.
"Why are you failing me?" I mumble to myself as it turns a little too slow, exposing me to the hot air for a solid three seconds. I move my arm to adjust it, positioning it a little more to the left. It's not quite right, so I move it back the other way with my other arm.
I groan when I can't do it without moving my entire body, and I flip onto my stomach, which causing the bed to move and knocks over three of my other fans.
"You've got to be shitting me." I sit up and angrily reposition the three fans, only to knock the one other off of my bed.
"For Pete's sake!" I stand up and kick the fallen fan across the room, watching as it breaks against my dresser. My hands finds my hair and I tug a few strands out of my ponytail, sitting back down and flopping dramatically backwards onto my pillow. I give up on the other three fans, pushing them off of my bed and leaving only the two that sit on my nightstand. The sound of my heavy breathing and the air still blowing across my room fills my ears until I hear a noise downstairs.
I frown into my pillow, glancing at my watch.
2:22pm.
My dad shouldn't be home for another three hours, and Steve's at another job interview so he shouldn't be home for another two. I hear pounding footsteps up the stairs and my door swings open. I don't move from my position on the bed, not even bothering to see who it is.
"Liz!"
I don't answer, but I'm still relieved that it's just Steve and not my father.
"Liz, wake up!"
I keep my face in my pillow and remain quiet.
"Liz damnit!" I feel a weight on my back and groan as my brother bounces up and down on my spine, the creaking of my old bed annoying me further.
"What?"
"I got a job!"
My eyes snap open and I turn around, causing him to fall off of me and the bed as I sit up.
"You got the job?" I stand up and so does he and I jump up and down like a stupid girl, "oh my god! You got the job!"
"I know!" He laughs and I do too before stopping jumping.
"Wait, where did you get a job at?"
"Scoops Ahoy. In the mall." Steve frowns at the fans all on my floor before stepping over them and out of my room.
"I love Scoops!" I exclaim as I follow him out, "Jonny and I used to go there all the time before . . . You know. But they have the best sundaes."
"Right?" He seems ecstatic, and I trudge behind him down the stairs as he slides into the kitchen on his socks and turns up the radio that's perched on the counter. I watch as he dances to Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham!, laughing at his ridiculous dance moves and the way his hair flops up and down. He lip syncs the words to me as I pour myself a glass of orange juice and shake my head in amusement.
"Hold on," I yell over the music, "hold on!"
I turn the dial down and the volume decreases as I try not to smile, "does this mean that you have to wear the ridiculous uniforms the staff sports there?"
He stops dancing and the colour drains from his face.
"You have to wear a hat!" I exclaim as realization dawns on him. I laugh uncontrollably, snorting orange juice from my nose and swearing as it burns my nostrils. He's speechless as I double over in joy, and his expression melts from shock to annoyance as I point at him and laugh.
"Get bent, Liz." He shoves my finger away, "I'll just get another job."
"We both know that isn't happening," I say through laughter, "Oh, I'm going to visit you every single day."
He rubs his temples and groans, "you never fail to give me a headache."
He shakes his head at me as I turn the music back up and do the exact same thing he did to me; dancing and lip syncing the lyrics all around him, basking in him being so distraught and the level of embarrassment I know he's feeling in that one moment.
I know this summer is going to be great now.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hey guys. Long time no write.
I know it's taken a very very long time for me to publish this, and I don't really have a valid excuse other than I just have writer's block and no motivation. This means updates will likely be slow, and I'm sorry about that.
Since this whole quarantine thing has begun I've had a lot of time to think about where I want this story to go. That being said, I'm none the wiser than when I first started writing it. Whoops.
Anyway. Let me know what you're excited for, and if you catch any errors please tell me because I will not be offended I would rather you let me know.
Word Count: 5,666