━━━━ 𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗠 !
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓
Upon entering the Byers' residence, the crew was welcomed with the familiar aroma of cooked rice and a handful of seasonings. Some sort of bizarre opera music was blaring on the radio, which was extremely unusual. Will knew for a fact that his mother would never listen to that genre of music.
"Mom?" The youngest of the Byers boys called out with a hint of anxiousness. He briefly scanned the downstairs of the house in hopes to locate his mother.
After stepping into the living room, the teenagers identified a figure maneuvering throughout the kitchen. However, it most definitely wasn't the petite, bubbly woman they were expecting to find. Instead, they were met with the one and only Murray Bauman, who had seemingly made himself at home by preparing a feast.
What the hell was he doing in California? More importantly, what was he doing in their house?
"Well, well! Aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes, huh?" He hollered, pivoting around to face the group of five.
Murray wore a patterned apron with a pastel color scheme. It looked as if it belonged to an eighty-year-old grandmother, not a man in his mid-forties. He fumbled with the wooden spoon in his hand while he concocted the mysterious meal.
"Hi, Murray," Jonathan smiled and waved, the marijuana causing him to be completely unfazed by the partially-bald man's unexpected presence.
"You kids like risotto?" Murray asked in an eager tone before pointing a finger at Will. "I know the birthday boy does!"
Murray was unequivocally right about that. Risotto was one of Will's favorite dishes of all time. The brunette boy tried not to crack a smile at the thought of a special dinner being assembled in honor of his fifteenth birthday.
"How did you know?" He queried.
"I know everything, William. Never underestimate my abilities," Murray replied with a wink.
With someone as crazy as Murray Bauman in the house, this particular dinner was going to be one to remember.
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎱 ꒱
"So there I was, headed down the I-5, going to see a client out in Ventura," Murray explained as everyone dug into their meals. "I'm looking for a motel to stay for the night, and suddenly, bam! It hits me! Didn't the Byers move here?"
"Small world, isn't it?" Joyce chuckled.
The kids, however, didn't find his commentary humorous in the slightest. They just gulped the risotto down in silence, still shaken up from the events at the roller rink.
"So I thought, hey, you know what? Why don't I drop in and say hello to my old friends?" The partially-bald man laughed.
"It's so sweet of you," Joyce grinned.
"Sweeter of you to let me stay," Murray chuckled.
Will cringed to himself. Were they . . . flirting? He almost choked on his dinner at the thought of that being a possibility. The last thing he needed in his life was Murray Bauman as his step-father.
"And he cooks, too," Joyce added, motioning to the delectable risotto on everybody's plates.
"Mm, and cleans! A regular little housewife," He joked, pretending to fluff the hair on the sides of his head.
El rolled her eyes at the joke. She clearly wasn't amused by Murray's humor. Will couldn't exactly blame her, though. After the intense bullying she had experienced that day, the last thing she needed to hear was a bundle of obnoxious jokes.
"You should just stay," Joyce suggested.
"I'd be tempted, Joyce, except, you know, you have that, uh . . ."
"Right, that business trip," Joyce nodded.
"Business trip? What business trip?" Will asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
His mother never went on business trips. She was a telemarketer, meaning she constantly worked from home. Hearing that she suddenly needed to travel was a shock to him.
"Oh my gosh, I almost forgot to tell you guys," The woman chuckled. "This thing came up at work at the last minute, and it turns out I have to go to a conference tomorrow . . . in Alaska."
"Alaska?" Will gasped, raising his eyebrows.
Not only was his mother going on a spontaneous business trip — she was going to a meeting in an entirely different state! And Alaska, of all places! The entire scenario was a lot for Will to process.
"Crazy, right?" Murray snickered.
"That's where they're based — the Britannicas," Joyce explained. "Joan and Brian Britannica."
Argyle whipped his head around to face Murray, his eyes bright red and glossy. He couldn't hide the blatant fact that he was stoned.
"So do Eskimos, like, still live in igloos, or are they, like, fully-blown living in the . . . in the suburbs now?"
Murray cocked his head and slowly rotated so that he was facing Joyce.
"Who is this?" He asked, fluttering his eyelashes.
Joyce ignored his question and proceeded to talk to her eldest son, who was entirely zoned out. He looked as if he were in his own little world.
"So, Jonathan, this means you're gonna have to, you know, take charge while I'm gone."
"Wait, what?" Jonathan perked up, cluelessly raising his eyebrows. "What's going on?"
Joyce shot him a puzzled expression. Had he seriously not listened to a word she said?
"Your mom's going to Alaska," Argyle whispered.
"You're going to Alaska?" Jonathan gasped, his eyes widening with disbelief.
"Mhm," Argyle nodded.
"What's going on in Alaska?" The oldest Byers boy questioned.
"The Britannicas are there."
"The Britannicas?"
"Jonathan, what is wrong with you?" Joyce asked, confused as to why her oldest son was acting so clueless. It seemed as if he were on drugs or something.
"I think I know what's wrong with him," Murray remarked, stifling his laughter.
"We just had a super stressful day," Jonathan fibbed.
"Stress, huh?" The bearded man raised an eyebrow, a smirk planted on his face.
"This girl got schmacked in the head today at the roller rink," Argyle stated.
"Schmacked?" Murray questioned him.
"Yeah, it was one of those vicious skate attacks," Argyle explained.
"A skate attack?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't, like, an ice skate. It was a plastic skate," Jonathan clarified.
"No, it was, like, rubber," The long-haired teenager corrected him.
"Rubber."
"Rubber."
"You know what? I'm not sure," Argyle shrugged. "Anyway, she seemed like she's gonna be fine."
"She's totally fine," Jonathan said, nodding his head in agreement.
"She didn't look fine," Mike blurted without glancing up from his meal.
El turned to face Mike, her eyebrows furrowing. She couldn't believe what he had just said. Without further notice, she dropped her fork and napkin and abruptly stood up from the dining room table.
"El, aren't you gonna finish your . . ." Joyce asked, her voice trailing off.
It was too late. El had already begun to storm upstairs and into the comfort of her bedroom.
Will sighed and covered his forehead with the palm of his hand. His mother was definitely going to demand an explanation for El's unusual behavior.
"What is going on, you guys?" She frantically asked, shooting daggers at the four teenagers remaining at the dinner table.
"Okay, I sense tension," Murray lightheartedly chuckled. "Is it the risotto? Everyone hates the risotto?"
"No, of course not," Will shook his head.
"It's incredible," Jonathan reassured him.
"This risotto is schmackin', dude," Argyle said.
"Still have no idea who he is," Murray chortled, pointing his thumb at the long-haired teenager.
The remainder of the dinner was silent, except for the occasional sounds of Joyce conversing with Murray. Will and Mike hurriedly devoured their food in hopes to flee the situation as quickly as possible.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 !
i fucking hate how this chapter turned out. anyway how's everyone doing?