"Guys, why is no one wearing costumes?"
Carrying her helmet in tow, Tatum grinned wide as she walked out of the middle school, spotting Mike and the gang donning impressive Ghostbuster costumes staring in horror toward the school bus emptying a mass amount of kids definitely not dressed up for the holiday.
"Aw, lads, you look cool."
While the others turned in the teen's direction, Dustin didn't.
"Please tell me that isn't Tatum."
Lucas' face scrunched. "Who else has a British accent in Hawkins?"
"I was kind of hoping it was just Mrs. Rivers," Dustin said as he turned grudgingly. He offered Tatum a meek smile. "Hey, Tatum."
"I dig the costumes," she told them, examining the pack on Mike's back. "They look awesome." She pointed from Mike's name tag to Lucas'. "Why are there two Vankman's?"
Lucas pointed an accusatory finger in Mike's direction. "Because Mike doesn't have ears."
"Hey!"
"Okay, alright." Tatum waved a hand to cut the growing argument off. "There can be two Vankman's."
"Thank you!" Will expressed. "It's not a big deal."
"Maybe it isn't," offered Dustin, "but the bigger problem at hand is the fact that we are the only ones at school wearing costumes! We look like dweebs."
Tatum scoffed. "You do not look like dweebs. You guys should own it."
"You don't remember what middle school is like, do you?" Mike asked miserably.
"No, I went to a school with uniforms and we were never allowed to dress up." Tatum paused before smiling. "So, since you guys are allowed to wear costumes at all, whether or not everyone else is, you guys should enjoy it for my sake. Just bask in your awesomeness."
Will's eyes narrowed. "Why does your accent make it sound so reassuring?"
Tatum shrugged. "That's some concept the Americans made up. And, my stepmum loves Ghostbusters so she'll definitely enjoy the costumes."
"That's enough to get me through first period," Dustin said with a nod. "Let's do this, boys."
Tatum grinned, waving them off as they confidently walked toward the front doors of the school. Sighing as she reached her bike and swung a leg over, she brought the engine to life. "Those kids are going to eat them alive." She was quick to make her way over to the high school lot, not taking the time to put on her helmet and instead sliding into the slim spot that had been made by a double parked camaro.
"No helmet? Seems illegal."
"And double parking isn't?" she asked, climbing off her bike and basking in the beauty that was Billy Hargrove.
Billy, propped on the hood of his car just as he had been the day before, lowered his sunglasses with a smug grin. "What were you doing over at the middle school?"
"My stepmum forgot the bring the candy she wanted to hand out to her class, so I was dropping it off." Tatum set her helmet on the seat of her bike as she pocketed the keys. "You coming to class?"
"I was thinking about skipping homeroom," Billy replied, flickering his nearly burnt out cigarette into the grass. "What about you?"
Tatum smiled, stepping back from the camaro. "Cute, but I'm trying to graduate."
"Are you going to the party tonight?" he called after her.
"Yep!"
"Need a ride?"
Glancing over her shoulder on the way to the school, she said, "I've got one!"
"Please tell me you did not just turn down that hot piece of ass."
Tatum's ear perked as she spotted an alarmingly confused Carol walking in her direction. "He'll survive."
Carol shook her head. "I do not understand foreign girls."
"Neither do boys," she replied, "and that's why it works so well."
"Did you two really skip class together?" Carol asked as the two pushed through the front doors of the school, headed for the senior wing of lockers.
Tatum's brows furrowed, Carol lingering as she logged in the combo of her own locker. "Why would you figure that?" she questioned, sliding off her backpack and grabbing what materials she needed.
"If you think nobody noticed that both of you were missing during sixth period and your bike was still here, you're wrong."
Are all small-town people so nosy? she thought, tucking her books under her arm without shedding her leather jacket. "I was over at the middle school helping my stepmum with one of her classes. They're reading Romeo and Juliet and the kids pay more attention when someone with an accent reads it."
Although Carol's eyes narrowed, she nodded lightly. "Interesting. That makes sense, though."
Tatum tapped her head before pointing at Carol. "You know it. I'll see you in third period." Waiting until Carol disappeared down the hall, she sighed, shutting her locker with a shake of her head.
||
"You get that this isn't a game, right?"
Sitting shotgun in Steve's BMW, Tatum's brows lifted below her epically well-done Ziggy Stardust face makeup. "I got the talk last night. You don't have anything to worry about."
"They can do whatever they want to us," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "It's the government. If they found out that she told you, they could ruin us. Arrest us, destroy our families or worse."
"Steve, I got it," she assured, tapping along to the beat on her lap absently. "I know you didn't want her to tell me about it, but you can trust me."
Currently on their way to pick up their topic for Tina's party, Steve shook his head. "I'm just worried that she's losing it. Earlier today she saw a girl that looked like Barb and then started talking about telling her parents about what really happened. Barb's parents can't know. No one can know. You shouldn't even know."
"I got that part," Tatum sighed. "But I'm with you on this one. Barb's parents wouldn't keep it secret even if you tried to tell them the stakes. They lost their little girl. It's better for them to chase false leads than to know she died from a monster taking her to literally another dimension."
Steve paused, pulling up just shy of the Wheeler's driveway. "Tight. No one ever agrees with me."
Nancy bounded down the front steps, attempting to tell Tatum she didn't have to climb into the backseat, but wasn't able to get the point across. "Love the makeup, Tate," she said, buckling her seatbelt as the car raced off.
Tatum flipped a curl over her shoulder excessively. "Why, thank you. You guys ready to drink?"
"God," Steve let go of an exasperated sigh, "I so am. We haven't partied in what, two weekends?"
"Is that too long without a drink for you, Harrington?"
"Oh, I never said that I haven't had a drink in two weeks," he scoffed. "My dad's never home long enough to drink all of his beer and he buys more without realizing there's still some at home. I'm saying we haven't partied in two weeks, which yes, is too long to go without partying."
Ah, high school.
The trio piled out of the BMW as they reached the packed street Tina lived on, the party already raging. Quick to make their way inside, it was a wonder how many people were already drunk off their asses.
It wasn't long before Tatum had a drink in hand, attempting to talk to those around her as Shout at the Devil by Motley Crue was blasting throughout the house.
A commotion erupted from the backyard.
"That's how you do it, Hawkins!"
Tatum's eyes rolled as she took a deep sip of her drink, recognizing Billy's all too familiar voice before spotting him being escorted inside to the chanting of his name. "Oh, boy," she murmured as the leather clad figure wandered their way with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
Tommy cut up close as Billy reached Steve, Nancy and Tatum. "We've got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington."
A very drunk party goer forced his way into the conversation. "Yeah. Eat it, Harrington."
Steve dully removed his sunglasses, holding gaze with Billy. "Is that right?"
With both Tatum and Steve amused and annoyed by the new arrivals, they missed Nancy disappear into the kitchen.
"Yeah, that's right," Billy said with a devious grin. "I've been here two days and already taken your title. How does that make you feel?"
"Like I need a drink." Steve bailed in Nancy's direction, leaving Tatum behind.
Billy's eyes fell on Tatum, not hiding the fact he'd looked her over more than once as his minions slid back into the party. "Impressed?"
"With how light American beer is?" Tatum asked with a raised brow. "Hardly."
He pressed a hand over his heart on his bare chest. "That hurts."
"Oh, like you care what anyone thinks," Tatum replied, finishing off her drink and setting the empty cup on a rogue table full of bottles.
"Maybe not these small-town quacks, but you might be different."
Tatum rolled her eyes yet again, heading for the backyard. "Ready to lose your newly won title?" she asked over her shoulder, well aware he was in tow.
Billy's brows shot up. "Oh, really? You think you're up to the task?"
"Please."
"I'll hold your legs."
Tatum held out a cursory hand, grinning in his direction as they stopped shy of the open keg. "I've got it."
"Ladies and gentlemen, we've got another contender!" Tommy shouted, offering out the tap to Tatum. "The current record is twenty-five seconds."
"I did that after a Queen concert when I was sixteen," she scoffed, putting the tap to her lips. In one quick push, her legs rose as she executed a flawless handstand on top of the keg, sucking down the watery beer as the crowd around her shouted a timer.
"Twenty-seven...twenty-eight...twenty-nine...thirty....thirty-one!"
Tatum dropped down triumphantly, wiping the little drops that had formed at the corners of her mouth with a cocky smile. She feigned a dramatic bow, letting herself bask in the cheers and claps on her back.
"Damn, she ate you for dinner, Hargrove!" Tommy yelled, laughing so hysterically it was notably from blind drunkenness. "All hail the Queen!"
Tatum patted Billy on the chest, winking as she left him behind, walking back into the house without a waver in her step.
And while she didn't find Nancy or Steve, she did find an unlikely partygoer.
"Jonathan?" Tatum swung an arm around his shoulder, no doubt startling him. "I didn't think you would come."
He laughed a little nervously. "I didn't think I would either. I was going to take Will trick or treating, but he really just wanted to be with his friends tonight. Be normal, y'know." He pointed toward the backyard. "Were they chanting 'all hail the queen' out there?"
"Oh, I broke Steve and Billy's records on the keg stand," she coolly replied.
"I dig the makeup, by the way. I love Bowie."
"He's pretty wicked, right? One of my happiest days was when I saw him in concert. He's even more amazing in person."
Jonathan's brows shot up. "You got to see him live? I'm so jealous."
Steve by passed the duo with haste, not sparing a minute to say hi to either of them on his way out of the house.
"Hey, Tatum, got a minute?"
Tatum caught Billy over Jonathan's shoulder, hesitant to leave Jonathan. "I-"
"You're good," Jonathan assured, backing away. "I'm gonna go check on Nancy. She looked like she was having a bit too much fun."
"No such thing, Byers," Billy replied, taking his spot in front of Tatum as Jonathan hesitantly left them behind. "I've got to admit, you've bruised my ego."
"Don't take it too hard," she said with a soft shrug. "Nobody pays attention to what girls do, so they'll still call you the Keg King if that's what you need to sleep at night."
"Every king needs a queen, don't they?"
Tatum's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You're incredibly cheesy, which is not something I expected. And Queen Elizabeth doesn't have a king. Her husband is Prince Phillip."
Billy held up his hands in defeat, still donning an annoying attractive grin. "The sentiment was still there."
"And it was strangely appreciated."
"Want to get the hell out of here?"
"God, please," she replied, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket and dragging him out of the room.
"God save the Queen!"
| |
On the first day of November with the presidential election hanging daunting overhead, Billy Hargrove sat on the hood of his camaro in the high school parking lot five minutes longer than he usually had to before the reality that who he was waiting for wasn't going to show.
With a last cursory glance to the slim parking spot that he had gotten used to making for her motorcycle, he hopped off the hood before heading into the school.
He wouldn't be seeing Tatum for a few hours.
Instead of heading off for the school like she had every morning since senior year had started, Tatum drove in the opposite direction towards the woods.
She hoped Nancy would forgive her for going without her.
Despite nursing a mild hangover, Tatum took the road out of town in a fur lined denim jacket, tight black jeans and yet another ratty band tee, pockets lined with cursory equipment to get into the cabin if need be.
She didn't have much of a plan, and her entire strategy was based off of a scene in one of her father's novels. It went decently well for twelve-year-old Tanner Cortez who needed to get into an abandoned cabin he was convinced could take him to another dimension.
She imagined encountering Eleven might be to the same affect.
Tatum left her bike farther back than where it had suddenly died last time, hoping that the sound of the engine hadn't made it out to the cabin. Stashing it behind decent tree cover, she pocketed the keys before heading in the direction of the rigged plot of land.
She did her best to keep the sound of her racing heart out of her ears, instead humming a poor rendition of Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash to herself as she slowly made her way through the woods.
The cabin came into view, oddly more eerie in the late morning sunlight.
Tatum stepped over the trip wire with ease, her footsteps seemingly growing louder as she tried to keep her cover. She made a walk around the cabin in its entirety, noting that there was only one way in or out, and all of the windows were well covered.
It was evident that no visitors were wanted.
As she made her way back around to the side, one of the blinds snapped up, causing Tatum to drop on all fours. Her eyes widened, hesitantly rising to a crouch and peering around the corner.
Several locks on the front door unbolted, the front door opening wide.
A small brunette stepped outside, no older than Nancy's little brother, and hesitantly looked back inside before descending the porch stairs.
With the girl's back turned to Tatum, she rose, brushing off her knees.
But one step gave her away.
The brunette turned sharply over her shoulder, eyes wide.
"Whoa," Tatum quickly said, holding her hands up defensively. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Tatum," she replied, putting a hand to her chest. "You're Eleven, aren't you? El?"
A face of confusion and hostility crossed her face, a hand starting to rise.
Psychic powers.
"Easy. Easy. I'm friends with Mike. You know Mike. He's a little taller than you, weird haircut."
"I know Mike," she hesitantly said.
We're getting somewhere, she thought. "I know about what happened. About the people looking for you."
"The bad men."
Tatum nodded, "The bad men." She didn't take the risk of stepping forward, worried of spooking the girl that could likely throw her across the forest. "They trusted me enough to tell me about last year, about Will, and about you. Which means you can trust me, too."
"I'm not supposed to trust anyone."
"Which makes sense."
Eleven's eyes narrowed. "You talk...different."
"Yeah, yeah I do," she agreed. "I'm from England."
"England?"
Tatum gave an assuring nod. "It's another country. Across the ocean."
"Like the quarry?"
"A little bigger." Tatum paused, swallowing to calm her mouth as it ran dry. "I moved here a couple months ago. My dad is from Hawkins. I was born here, too. Were you born here?"
Eleven hesitantly shook her head. "I don't...I don't know."
Tatum pointed past the girl. "Where were you headed?"
"School. I want to see Mike."
"Want a ride?"