Chapter Text
A crowd of students and families surged out of the stadium and into the parking lot, inducing an exaggerated eye roll from one Eddie Munson.
He really wished the damned drama department would let go of their space any other night of the week, but the teacher was adamant Friday was the only available day because all students and staff would be at “the game”. She'd relayed this all to him with raised eyebrows and a scathing tone.
Fucking sports.
There’d be a traffic jam of fanatical, small-minded midwesterners in about five minutes-–when all those hip-flasks smuggled in would really start working their magic-–so Eddie had to herd his little sheep to the van quickly if was going to get them all home in time as promised.
The freshmen were still warming to him–-it was only the beginning of October–-and they cracked quiet smiles at his impression of a stuffy field trip chaperone.
If ‘86 was really going to be his year–-and it fucking would be because he did not want to be a 21-year-old senior–-he’d definitely found the right kids to take the throne.
He smiled a little at the thought as they approached his van. It was time to get the fuck out of Hawkins.
“Alright, my brave companions...”
Eddie was about to begin another theatrical lament over the shit show that would be the parking lot at any given moment when his eyes landed on a familiar someone leaning against the chain-link fence.
The young woman was enveloped in an oversized flannel [faint evidence of a Black Sabbath shirt peeking out beneath] that was haphazardly tucked into her tight, acid-washed jeans. He followed the trail down, past what he instinctively knew was going to be a perfect pear-shaped figure, to her feet only to see they were pigeon-toed and clad in beat-up Chucks.
Annie Banannie.
“Fuuuuck,” he muttered to himself.
The group’s chatter felt lightyears away as he took it all in.
The cigarette, poised between cherry-red fingernails, was stubbed out on the trash can before deposit. Anna Miller was many things, but not a litterbug.
An older couple–-her grandparents-–slowly approached, and Anna’s smile widened as she looped her arm through the woman’s and helped her along.
JoAnne had been quite sick recently–-hell, Eddie had been giving her weed since July to help with the side-effects of chemo. He knew Anna would come back eventually. She may have left him high and dry, but she’d never do that to the people who’d raised her. So it should not have been such a surprise to see her–-even here at Hawkins High, of all places.
Jim had always loved bringing his family to the football games-–Eddie would never forget the obscene amount of popcorn and hot dogs he’d been permitted to eat here as a kid while ol’ Jim tried to teach him the ins and outs of the game. He never quite latched on, which was a complete understatement, but Jim never cared–-he’d just ruffle Eddie’s hair and hand him a soda.
His chest tightened painfully at the memories.
Anna had begged over and over to be let off the hook for “Friday nighters” once they moved on from junior high and Jim finally caved late that last summer, much to both Anna and Eddie’s exuberant relief. Jim continued to bring them home a bag of popcorn each through the end of basketball season senior year.
Eddie knew Jim and JoAnne had been coming to games long since then-–they were friendly neighbors after all–-but tonight was special. He could practically see the two older folks glowing in the presence of their granddaughter.
He wondered briefly if he'd glowed like that too back in the day. Anna had that affect.
Anna shook some of her long blonde hair away from her face, serendipitously catching his [quite obvious] stare. Her eyes widened a little, but she quickly schooled her Debbie Harry lips into a perfectly neutral expression.
And then, after a contemplative pause, her face softened in acknowledgement. Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded.
He felt as breathless as he did the first time he laid eyes on her.
It was 1974.
Eddie was standing outside his uncle’s trailer [probably hitting things with sticks and rocks, as he was so often wont to do as a child] when a station wagon pulled into the Miller’s yard across the road.
A girl with a mop of blonde hair barreled out after Mr. and Mrs. Miller, her cheeks tear-stained.
Eddie paused his efforts to observe quietly. There wasn’t a load of kids his age around this place, so the prospect of a new friend was deeply intriguing. Especially one who looked like this.
The girl wore a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt that absolutely swallowed her, hitting just above the knees of her ripped jeans. Her high-tops were scuffed and flecked with mud.
Mr. Miller walked toward the trunk and began pulling out a couple suitcases and a turntable. The girl clutched a box of records in her arms, which, of course, Eddie tried his best to get a peek at but failed. Mrs. Miller offered to carry the box but the girl shook her head and gripped it even more tightly. The older woman shrugged and gently laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
The Millers left her alone in the yard and she flopped down in the patchy grass.
When the girl caught his gaze, he swallowed nervously as heat sprang to his cheeks.
The girl offered a small wave. Eddie, relieved, followed her lead. She smiled a little at his response, displaying two missing teeth near the front.
Eddie held his breath.
He might have only been 9 but he knew cute when he saw it.
“Eddie!”
The flashback was interrupted by an onslaught of shouts.
“Do you know her or something?”
“Does she go here?”
“Who is that?”
“Babe alert.”
He exhaled–-shooting a disapproving frown at that last remark–-and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“That,” he began, catching one more glimpse of Anna before she disappeared into the crowd, “is the White Witch.”
Gareth shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, but Eddie ignored it. As he did the murmur of whispers in the back seats.
He threw the van into gear and sped off toward Henderson’s neighborhood, suddenly no longer in the mood for some humble RPG.
All this time he’d spent pushing it down–-the anger, confusion, sadness, and heartbreak–-, he should’ve been preparing for this exact moment.