PRETTY SICK!
— the eyes that follow ☆

Gunmetal blue irises locked on a paperback copy of The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath, it's spine contorted in a way that would alter the shape of it, the pages on the left were curled behind themselves to save Angie the pain of a cramped pinky from holding a book the "proper way" that caused the least damage. Books were meant to be worn in, just like shoes, or denim — she knew a book was good when the edges were frayed and the spine looked flimsy, which were the kinds she looked for when she sifted through yard sales for boxes of books. Her headphones that blasted 'Army Dreamers' by Kate Bush muffled the sounds of the Hawkins High School parking lot, which bustled with students who were headed towards the double doors for their first period.

Kate Bush was the first female solo artist to enter the UK albums chart at number one with the album that Army Dreamers was on, which a woman was past due to reach, but Angie thought that she really deserved it with that one. It took a lot for her to not shake her hips and bust an absolute move as she crossed through the dewy grass and along the cement wheel stops once she haphazardly placed her book in her backpack. In the rare moments she had free time, she spent it dancing to her music tapes or the radio, but more so her tapes. It made her feel free for a short while.

For a moment, all was well as she carried on her stride — until a blue Camaro revved its obnoxiously loud engine directly beside her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin with a surprised, "Oh!"

Angie recognized the Camaro as Billy Hargrove's; a new, and handsome, face around Hawkins. He came into the diner on Saturday, or maybe Friday, but definitely not Thursday... Whichever it was, they had a small chat while he waited for his food to come out which consisted of the blonde learning a few things:

Billy lived in California before he moved to Hawkins.

He moved into a house on Old Cherry, which wasn't far from the trailers where Angie lived.

He liked to rev his engine — a lot.

And he liked her hair. Angie spent years to have her hair perfected, she never blow dried, she used a t-shirt to wrap it (never a towel!), she used her extra spending money for oils, and expensive shampoos and conditioners, and she learned how to make the perfect concoction of items at home to create a hair mask that she did weekly. Her hair was her baby, she'd be nothing without her silky blonde strands that spent hours styling, as vain as it was to admit.

No one complimented her hair besides the old ladies at her local K-Mart when she worked there a year prior, so she would be a dirty liar if she said she hadn't been a little charmed by his crooked smirk and swoon-worthy glamour.

She straightened herself out and cleared her throat as he got out of the car, flattening her pink floral dress that she wore underneath the brown leather jacket — which engulfed her, as it belonged to Vincent and was many sizes too big for even him. A redheaded girl got out of the car first, in a hurry to get to Hawkins Middle School, while Billy stepped out confidently and looked almost perplexed as he observed the parking lot. Angie didn't blame him, Hawkins was no California.

He winked at her just as he strode towards the school, and she thought she might have almost dropped dead from a brain aneurysm right there on the grass (the good kind of course). His air of confidence and fact that no one ever came to Hawkins made people's heads turn to look at him while he walked... no — strutted — inside of the dingy little high school. Angie could tell he was arrogant, and probably a dick that would leave her the moment he got in her pants, but a part of her wondered if he had more depth to him than she saw at first glance. The blonde was no stranger to hiding her secrets behind dewy eyed expressions and feigned naivety, and she wouldn't be the only person in that town either, she knew that much.

She pondered on it throughout her school day, as did the rest of the school, it seemed, because everyone had the name 'Billy' on the tips of their tongues while they whispered behind their hands and giggled, or looked disappointed if someone they had a crush on looked in his direction. It felt almost nostalgic to watch people make the new kid the talk of the town, just like they did to Angie years prior. The only difference being that her reign was long over, and they moved onto bigger and much better things, that being Billy and wondering what his prerogative was. What his 'first move' would be as Hawkins' newest alpha male — she chuckled in her head at the amount of dick measuring that must have been happening with Billy.

It was a little silly, how people got so invested in the lives of others. But she couldn't blame them, so many of them were so plain, and so boring, a new and unique face around Hawkins could spice up their lives quite a bit. Though none of them were quite as aggressively blunt with him as they were with a new girl that cropped up out of nowhere the year before, Angie thought her name might have been Jenny? She couldn't have bothered to pay attention, too busy with the beginning of her hunt for Pete. But she did know that she was Russian, which raised eyebrows and put people on edge — for God knows what reason. People were too neurotic about the Cold War and 'being spied on by commies', when, as far as Angie noticed, Jenny sounded like she wanted nothing to do with them.

(And judging by the crowd she hung around, Jenny seemed like the "I hate the government! Let's play metal instead!" type. Much like her brother, Vincent.)

As Angie found through her investigation into her brother's disappearance, they should have paid more attention to the glaring problem right in front of them rather than random people who came from overseas; Hawkins Lab and how it seemed a lot more likely to be working against the general public than for it. But people liked to be stupid.

Her day drew on, yet hours blended together as they did every other boring day of her senior year. She spent her lunch doing a walk around the school with nose shoved into a book or her sketchbook — as always; she had no one to sit with, or knew of anyone who wanted to sit with her... maybe? And then, as she sat in her second to last period, she had a fleeting memory of her conversation with Steve Harrington and she started to panic, as she hadn't given herself enough time to prepare herself and what to say for every possible scenario that could go down. Angie's head spun anxiously for the rest of the day, and she remained unfocused on anyone or anything else as she thought of ways the conversation could go sour.

There were three big ones: Angie started an argument by accident, Steve secretly hated her and was actually about to tell her off, or both at once and a sniper waited in the bushes to take her out. The third was ridiculous, but still possible, no one knew what waited around each dull corner in Hawkins. Possibility versus plausibility was not Angelica's strong suit.

Everyone's eyes locked on her, she thought, as she walked out of the school after the bell rang for the day to end; her head spun unpleasantly, and she thought her knees could lock up at any moment and she would be crumpled on the pavement like a dead insect as she waited by her Pinto for Steve to find her. Angie waited for ten minutes, and then fifteen: by then she could feel the intense stare of being watched by Billy Hargrove, who also looked to be waiting for somebody. Maybe the redheaded girl he came with.

She pursed her lips and thought about ditching the stupid brunette as holes felt like they were drilled into her skull. Then finally, after nearly a half hour, Steve's figure became visible once he came out of the school, and Angie was not happy as he stopped in front of her, his cheeks flushed.

"Sorry, Kaminsky... he kept me after class and started going on and on and on —" Angie offered a lazy eye roll in response, though she wasn't surprised by his lack of punctuality. "Just — I'm here now, and I want to talk. Okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead," she responded, albeit moodily. He couldn't have been assed to try and behave to be on time for something he seemed so apologetic for the day prior? Unbelievable, un-bel-ievable.

Steve took a breath and leaned on the car next to Angie's, much to the dismay of the couple who were in the middle of making out inside, as they knocked on the window haughtily and the brunette jumped away in surprise. "Jesus, go to Lover's Lake or something," he chuckled awkwardly and side-eyed Angie, who still remained unimpressed, and her face made it obvious. "I just wanted to say sorry for like, totally abandoning you last year. It was a dick move and I couldn't find the balls to say it until now — I get if you want to leave it at that and never talk again, I completely understand, but I feel like I have to at least say something. It's like, one day everything was fine and normal, then the next it just - poof ... it got turned upside down and it's like you're halfway across the world now."

Her heart twisted in her chest, and she felt her expression falter and soften as she pressed her lips together unsurely. Angie didn't know how to feel, or how to approach this response, one that was so apologetic towards her of all people; she hadn't gotten that far when she played it out in her head. Not only that, processing her emotions wasn't something she practiced often, either. "But... why? Why did you do it in the first place?" she asked, her throat constricting as the seconds passed while he searched for the words to explain.

"Uh, well, believe it or not, but my cute little face got into a bit of trouble, no big deal," he admitted, and a ghost of a smile crossed Angie's lips, "And that's so not cool, but it's like, one second everything was normal, then the next I had to pretend that nothing happened. By the time I got out of my own head, you already pulled away and I felt like if I talked to you, I'd spill my guts and get us both in trouble."

"What do you mean?" she frowned and felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of her stomach, "What happened, Steve? I'd never get mad at you for talking to me — about anything."

"Not you —" his eyes darted around the parking lot for anyone who could have been listening, before they landed on a group who leaned against the wall of the school to smoke and looked away quickly. She thought it might have been Edward Munson and a few of his friends — Gareth and that Jenny girl or something. Angie's poor vision cursed her once she realized she didn't get a good look at them before Steve started to talk again, "I just can't, seriously, I didn't mean to bring it up."

The normally composed and laid-back Steve Harrington looked nervous, and it made Angie even more concerned about what happened. But he straightened his back as he took a breath and regained his composure, looking into Angie's eyes.

"Okay," she started, dragging the 'Y'; though she felt very confused. "Um... I'm still hurt. Really hurt. But I guess I shouldn't have pulled away so fast either — Carol and Tommy were just so... mean, they treated me like the other people they bullied and I couldn't handle it. I really wish I could've been there for you, too, I'm sorry for that. But I still need time, or something... to think."

"I should've been there to stop them." Steve shook his head and reached into his pocket for a crumpled up neon orange sheet of paper, which he had the courtesy to at least unravel for her before he held it out for her.

"It's fine, Steve — Come and get sheetfaced...? Clever, I guess." Angie took it and glanced up at him for a second. "You're asking me to come to this?"

"Yeah, like, just a night to feel normal and stupid again. I haven't seen 'Chicago the Party Animal' in a while, way too long, actually," he told her with a small grin spread across his face.

She rolled her eyes as hard as she could and smacked him gently with the sheet, "Don't call me that," Angie chuckled and read the rest of the blinding page, "a costume party? I don't have a costume to wear to this."

"Just put on a dress and a Jason mask, you can be sexy Jason."

"Sexy Jason?"

"Yeah, like a sexy nurse but... Jason."

"No, Steve," Angie laughed and put the sheet in her backpack, "I might come, maybe. You should be sexy Jason."

"No dice — I'm already matching with Nancy: Joel Goodson, look at my glasses." He pointed at the ones that sat atop his head before he pulled them down to sit on the bridge of his nose, but he cracked her a smile. "Next year?"

"Oh definitely. A sexy Freddy and Jason combo, if we're feeling risqué."

"Good, I get Jason. You're coming to this one though, you have to," Steve insisted and pushed his hair back with the sunglasses as a headband. "We need this, just to forget about everything in the past year and try to be stupid teenagers for the night — like old times."

"Old times," Angie chuckled, though it lacked humor. "You say that like we're 40 and balding already."

"Hey," he stopped her, his finger raised to point at her sternly. She might have taken him seriously had she not seen the glint of mischief reflected in his deep brown irises and the crinkled corners of his eyes. "No — no way. There's no way that this hair is going anywhere by the time I'm 40. If you say the b-word around me, you'll jinx me."

"Bald."

"Stop it."

"Balding."

"Angie."

The blonde chuckled and glanced down at her feet for a moment, looking at her white tennis shoes as she felt the humorous bubble in her chest fade away. Both teens were left in awkward silence while Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed his heel on the ground, and Angie sighed gently, "I should go, um, I have work soon."

"Yeah, got it." He nodded and straightened up to look down at her, "Let me know if you need anything, at all. Anything, you know?"

"Same goes for you, Steve," she replied as she shook her head and fumbled with her keys to get into her car. Angie wondered if she could really hold him up to that offer.

The brunette nodded and watched her as she ducked and sat down in the driver's seat, "Hey, I'll see you at the party."

"Maybe!" Angie exclaimed over the sound of her car starting and the windows, which definitely muffled her voice.

Maybe. That was a lie to herself, but she couldn't let Steve know that she'd been so easily convinced by him, or else he might have taken it as them being good friends again. Which they weren't. Totally not even close. Angelica still felt her stomach twinge with a mixture of anger and sadness when she thought of all of the times she'd needed someone and no one was there. But now, she couldn't exactly blame him, as it seemed like she did the same thing to him as he did to her. Pulled away when they both needed each other.

Before she could process that too much, to the point where it upset her, she switched her focus onto the stupid party. What the hell was she going to wear?

𓆩♡𓆪

"Jesus, what'd they do to you?"

"What?" came from Genevieve, or Gen, Volkova as she processed what Eddie Munson had said to her when she zoned out on the two figures who lingered in the parking lot. It took her a second longer than expected to recall what he'd asked her, as American accents still felt foreign to her ears when she wasn't putting in the effort, "Nothing."

Eddie scoffed, which almost turned into a laugh as smoke billowed from his mouth into the cool October air. "You look like you want them dead."

Steve, probably. Angelica, no.

"I don't," Gen stated plainly with a shrug, and she plucked the cigarette from his fingers to take a long drag from it. Eddie turned his head to look at her slowly, his mouth barely agape in offense as he watched her smoke his cigarette.

He blinked in disbelief, then snatched it back from her. "So, what? You have a crush on Harrington or something? In love with your best friend's boyfriend? " Eddie teased, singing the last part. His shit-eating grin made him more punchable than ever as he bumped her with his entire body.

And Gen nearly felt nauseous.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she replied, fixing her denim jacket, and Eddie raised his hands in defence. "No, idiot. I don't have a..." Gen held back a visceral gag, "A crush on Harrington, of all people."

"I was just asking, you never tell me about your wittle cwushes." He took another hit from the cigarette and stuck his bottom lip out at her, then tossed it to the ground and crushed it under the ball of his boot. Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back against the red brick of the school, an expectant look on his face for some kind of explanation.

She stared back at Eddie blankly, a hard refusal to his nosiness, and he rolled his eyes in response and dropped his arms to his sides. "Don't be such a hardass. Ignoring whatever reason you had to be looking at Harrington like you were about to pounce on him — are you going to that party?"

"Maybe, I don't like Halloween." Gen's brows furrowed as she recalled the orange slip of paper Nancy Wheeler shoved into her hands and insisted she attended, and she felt her stomach churn unpleasantly at the thought of Nancy expecting to find her friend, then being upset when she couldn't.

"Free booze is free booze, my friend," Eddie replied, raising his hands by his head and shimmying his shoulders with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, "plus, I need more clients, parties are breeding grounds for potential business. Like festering mold, ready to spread," he cackled and waved his fingers in her face tauntingly.

Her face scrunched up involuntarily in disgust and she shook her head at him. "If Hopper catches me sneaking out again he's going to wring me by my neck."

"Just tell your cousin to cover for you or something. Or maybe, I dunno, lie? Say you're coming to my place to study or something." Eddie shrugged, "Or that we have band practice, or... Edith's."

"When have either of us studied — ever?" She asked, but they both knew the answer. "I might go, I might not. I don't know yet. I don't have a costume."

"Get something from downtown," he told her and stretched his arms out above his head as he groaned. "Let's leave, this place makes me depressed." Eddie started to walk towards his van, which left Gen to trail behind him. He babbled on about nothing — literally nothing of substance while he kicked the stray rocks on the pavement with his dragging feet.

She sent a fleeting glance towards Steve Harrington as she walked, and narrowed her eyes in thought when she made eye contact with him while he ducked into his car. The last thing they needed was him getting loose lipped because he felt like it, and the last thing she wanted was for people to find out the truth. Gen made a promise to Peter Bell, and she planned to keep it.

—————
—–— AUTHOR'S NOTE
gen!!!!!! hrrvevwaaaaaaa this
is like a little teaser of her bc
you get an entire chapter more
in depth of her next chapter 😈

i might explain her powers in
detail in the next a/n because
she never really does it herself?
she like, just doesn't think of it.
so i'll probably do that unless
i change my mind LMFAO
anyway... vote and comment
please!!! i love seeing your
guys' opinions on everything
and bc youre hilarious AF lol

thanks!!

PRETTY SICK!
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