Chapter Text
Max taps her fingers on the door to the locked bathroom stall, chipped green paint and a doodle of a permanent marker heart-and-arrow, a pair of initials scribbled out on the inside.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m—” a sniffle, a quick deep breath. “I’m fine.”
Yeah, right. Max glances down at the gap between the door and the smudgy tile floor, where she can see the crisp pleats of Chrissy Cunningham’s cheerleading skirt and the tread on her stark white sneakers.
Another sniffle, the toilet flushes, and Chrissy’s shoes make a soft scuffing sound when she stands up, probably straightens herself out, and opens the door with a smile that fools a whole lot of people.
Max has seen a lot of bullshit things in her life. That smile is one of them.
“Sorry,” Chrissy says, for absolutely no reason. “I’m sure that was gross.”
Max shrugs. “Heard worse.”
Chrissy makes a face on her way to the sink. “Worse than vomming up pizza day, really?”
“I hang out with a bunch of boys.”
“Oh, with that D&D club, right? Not that I know anything about D&D, but they always look like they’re having fun.” Chrissy pumps some hand soap that smells like Fruity Pebbles and flips on a faucet. “Those boys seem really nice.”
“They’re alright. They’re just… boys. Gross comes with the territory.” Max is surprised Chrissy knows anything about Hellfire. She can’t imagine what Eddie would think about that, that destined-to-be-prom-queen, Jason-Carver-arm-candy Chrissy Cunningham knows about his club and talks about it kindly. Fondly, even.
“Lucas is really good at basketball,” Chrissy goes on. “And—Dustin, I think? I had a diorama due for bio and dropped it in the hallway, I thought it was totally ruined. He was there in a second with a thing of super glue. I actually think it looked better after he fixed it.”
Max remembers that. How could she forget, when Dustin wouldn’t shut up about it for three days straight. The boys had teased him—Dustin’s got a cruuuuuush, blah blah. When he’d gone all pink, Eddie had clapped him on the back, whistled and said, “Hey, a guy could do a lot worse than Cunningham.”
Huh. She’d sort of forgotten about that part until now. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t be surprised that Chrissy’s a nice girl, regardless of who her boyfriend is. Maybe he already knows.
Because Chrissy is a nice girl. Your quintessential high school sweetheart, even if she had just been ralphing her guts out.
The point is, she’d just been ralphing her guts out and now she’s going out of her way to say a bunch of nice things about Hawkins’ resident nerds. Maybe she’s just trying to distract Max from what she heard, but Chrissy also could have told her to get lost and left it at that.
“Yeah, that’s Dustin for you.” Max fidgets with her headphones. She’s starting to feel a little weird, ready to head out, but— “So, you sure you’re okay?”
“Perfectly fine. Just school stress,” Chrissy almost convincingly explains, all casual while she tidies up her lip gloss. “I haven’t been sleeping well so I get these headaches and it makes me a little nauseous.”
Uh-huh.
Max digs into the side pocket of her backpack, offers Chrissy the bottle of store-brand ibuprofen she keeps for her migraines. “Better than nothing, if you need something.”
Chrissy gives her a smile. It’s not bullshit this time. Max appreciates that; she doesn't hand out her pain meds for bullshit.
“Thanks.” Chrissy shakes out two, tosses them back, dry-swallows them. Oof. Hardcore.
“Do you want some gum?” Chrissy picks through her makeup bag, concealer and eyeshadow palettes clicking together, and offers Max a handful of Bazooka.
“Oh—yeah, thank you.” Max could wallpaper her room with her collection of Bazooka Joe comics, but she’s always trying to get her hands on more.
You really can’t underestimate the kindness of someone who gives up their gum, even if it is in exchange for ibuprofen. Still a cool gesture, which is why Max lingers by the bathroom door.
“So, hey, do you know, uh, the guy who DMs Hellfire?”
Chrissy tilts her head, smile turned apologetic. “I… don’t think I know what that means.”
“Sorry, I mean, the guy who heads up the D&D club. Eddie,” Max clarifies. “Do you know him?”
“Oh, um. No, I don’t.” Chrissy packs up her makeup bag, fits it snugly into her pink backpack. “I’ve seen him around but, um. Jason…”
She trails off, but Jason… covers it, honestly.
“Well, if you wanted to try something stronger than over-the-counter meds, he sells, you know”—Max lifts her eyebrows, once, twice—“stuff that would help. With the headaches and all.”
Max is about a hundred percent sure that’s not the core of Chrissy’s problem, but she is sure that Eddie’ll have something in his lunchbox that would probably help whatever’s going on with her.
“Just something to think about.” Max hitches her JanSport up on her shoulder, tucks her headphones back around her ears.
“Do you—” Chrissy halts, teeth scraping off the lip gloss she’d just reapplied, twitchy fingers twisting a spare scrunchie around and around her wrist. “Do you think he’d help me?”
“It’ll cost you,” Max tells her, “but, yeah, why wouldn’t he?”
“I, um.” She tugs at that scrunchie some more. “It’s like I said, with Jason and everything…”
Ah. Right. Well, Max isn’t sure how to put this, but she’d bet the rest of her ibuprofen that Eddie would love nothing more than to sneak around behind Jason Carver’s back to deal for the guy’s girlfriend.
Besides, Eddie’s got a little bit of a thing for strays. And Chrissy sure looks lost right now.
“He won’t care,” Max assures her. “He might even get a kick out of it, actually.”
“Oh.” Chrissy’s cheeks go pink like her backpack (interesting, Max thinks, though she doesn’t totally know why). “Um. Do you know how I could… ask him?”
Without Jason knowing. Probably without anyone knowing, Max figures, but Eddie can be surprisingly discreet when he wants to be, and you don’t keep your clients happy if you go around airing out their dirty laundry. He won’t tell anyone Chrissy came to see him.
“Note in his locker. It’s down the senior hallway, the one somebody spray-painted ‘freak’ on.”
That makes Chrissy’s face crumple. She snaps the scrunchie against her palm. “That’s so mean.”
“Yeah.” Max shrugs. She’s pretty sure they both know it was Jason’s idea, even if he didn’t spray it himself. “I don’t think he really cares. Makes it easy for people to find him, anyway. Just slip a note in there with a time, he’ll meet you in the woods behind the football field.”
“Okay. Um. Thanks, Max.”
How about that, Max didn’t think Chrissy knew her name. That’s pretty cool, too.
“Sure thing.” Max nods and clicks on her Walkman. She elbows the door open, turns to Chrissy one last time. “And, hey, just in case it doesn't go without saying, but if you do decide to meet up with Eddie…”
She mimes zipping her lips. “Jason won’t hear about it from me.”