CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.
4x01: The Hellfire Club

Stephanie Renee Hughes knew a ton about secrets.

She kept Gina Flores's secret when Gina broke her mom's vase after an insane smoke session between their friend group. She kept Josephine Foster's secret when Jo stole some money out of her dad's cash register to buy weed from Eddie Munson. She kept Warren Aquino's secret when Warren ran into his neighbor's parked car in his first few months of driving.

Stephanie was good at keeping secrets, because she was a walking secret herself. She was a lesbian in a 1986 Hawkins, Indiana. She was in love with Robin Buckley and had been since the seventh grade when they were all required to take music class, and she accidentally stabbed Robin in the hand with a violin bow. She stole the artificial hair dye she used to dye her hair pink every two months. She thought Nancy Wheeler was hot once when freshman were taking too long to walk in the hall and Nancy snapped for them to get a move on. She and Jo used to hook up on the downlow for a few years, here and there.

See—there were many secrets Stephanie harbored. For the most part, they were fairly innocent, but only a few knew. That small group included her friend group, her cousin Corey, and her little sister Sam.

Stephanie knew Sam was hiding a lot from her.

She was pretty sure Corey was too.

Stephanie knew secrets, so she knew Sam had enough of her own to write an entire novel. It all started when Will got lost in the woods, and ever since then, she was more closed off than she'd been when their parents died.

Or, she closed off to Stephanie at least.

Sam was good at hiding the fact she even had secrets though. She used to act totally normal around Stephanie, like there was nothing for Stephanie to be out the loop of. But Stephanie knew her little sister better than anyone on this planet, so she noted the change of octaves in her voice or the little crease in her eyebrows. She heard her sister screaming at night, yelling things that made absolutely no sense unless you were people like Corey who did know all of Sam's secrets. The next morning, the duo would come out of their respective rooms like nothing happened, as if they'd trained themselves to recover from things like that. Sam would put on her radiant smile and make horrible jokes that even had Aunt Kat groaning.

Until Sam stopped forcing that radiant smile on. That was when Stephanie really knew Sam had more secrets than she could handle.

Stephanie had a feeling she knew what one of them was now though:

High school changed Stephanie for the better, but it was changing Sam for the worse.

It was honestly all Stephanie could think about right now as she walked down the hallways towards the cafeteria for lunch—she wasn't thinking about Robin, or about the fact Jo and Gina were traitors who left school early due to a horrible case of Senioritis. She was thinking about that look on Sam's face during the pep rally, or that forced cheeriness in her voice during morning announcements on the PA. She thought about—

"Stephanie Hughes?"

Stephanie paused, a little in fear, and turned around. The voice who stopped her was a dark-skinned older woman with gentle eyes and an adorable fashion sense. Stephanie wondered if she was supposed to know her, so began wracking her brain for a memory.

"Hi, ma'am," Stephanie greeted while she thought. "That's me."

The teacher smiled. "Yes, I'm Mrs. Rowley. Your sister's in my AP Chemistry class."

"Oh." Stephanie's eyes widened in surprise. This was weird. She hadn't had to talk to one of Sam's teachers since Sam was in middle school and their aunt and uncle kept flaking out of Sam's teacher conferences; Stephanie used to have to go as her guardian. "Um—is Sam doing alright?"

Mrs. Rowley seemed exasperated. "She's doing excellent, sweetie. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Sam's sort of been... avoiding me, in a sense?"

"Oh," Stephanie repeated, like an idiot. Her shoulders dropped a smidge. "Yeah, well.... she's been doing that a lot lately, Mrs. Rowley."

Mrs. Rowley frowned, and Stephanie hated the fact Sam's teachers were noting her recent behavior change too.

"I don't know if you heard," Mrs. Rowley explained, "but the thing is: I told her I spoke to Principal Higgins, and we agreed she should move up a grade next school year if she wanted to."

Stephanie had very much not heard.

"Are you serious?" she asked, unable to stop her mouth from dropping.

Mrs. Rowley cleared her throat, and the look in her eyes told Stephanie that Sam had a similar reaction.

"Yes, actually. She excels academically. I feel that if she went into junior year, and if she tested up to take senior-level science and math, she could go very far," Mrs. Rowley informed, and—holy shit, Sam was fifteen and already more successful than Stephanie could ever be. "I know it sounds like a lot, but I wouldn't be asking this if I didn't have full faith in her. Your sister, Stephanie... I really think she could take the classes with ease."

"Well, I," Stephanie huffed lightly, "don't doubt that."

"I just wanted to make sure she was... okay," she said, like she was trying to word her thoughts properly. "That the offer hasn't been the reason of her sudden mood change."

Stephanie swallowed, nodding.

"She's okay," Stephanie said, and she made an internal note to get better at lying. "Yeah. She... has just had a lot going on the past few years. Change isn't something she's much a fan of, but I can definitely talk some sense to her. This sounds like something that'll be good for her. I'm sure she'll come around."

Mrs. Rowley smiled, making Stephanie wish she'd had this amazing woman for her Chemistry class instead of Mr. Kaminski. The only good thing to come out of regular-level Chemistry was the fact she sat by Robin and could ask her for a pencil every day.

"That'd be amazing, Stephanie, thank you. Your sister is one of the brightest kids that's ever sat in my class," Mrs. Rowley confessed. "She's got this potential inside of her... You know, I think she could do great things in this world if she wanted to. If she would just get out of her own way."

Stephanie tried to process the inspiring words. "No, thank you, miss. I'm glad you told me what was going on. She probably just... doesn't want to disappoint you."

"I worried as much. If you could let her know that would never be the case, yeah? I don't mean to play messenger, I just really want her to consider the idea." Stephanie nodded, and Mrs. Rowley nodded back. "Alright, well, I'll let you get to lunch. Have a good break, okay?"

Stephanie grinned as she began walking away. "You too!"

She turned on her heel and started back towards the cafeteria. She'd been so distracted by thoughts of her little sister that she'd totally forgotten another issue she should've been trying to solve.

Jo and Gina left school early.

Warren was the only one (besides Stephanie) who was still here.

And he was currently sitting with his band friends.

Which included Robin Buckley.

"Nope," Stephanie muttered, turning back around and trying to leave the cafeteria.

Behind her back, she heard a crashing noise and a small, "Steph, wait!" She knew it was Warren, so she continued trying to walk.

He clamped a hand around her back and twirled Stephanie around.

"You can do this!" Warren tried encouraging her.

Stephanie shook her head stubbornly. "Nope. No. I can't. I really can't."

"Come on, Steph, I sat at that table today for you!"

"Do you want me to be a social laughing stock to the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on?"

Warren shot her an unamused look. "Do I have to remind you that you two have been dancing around each other since like, the seventh grade? If I have to witness you sending her goo-goo eyes at one more band practice that you unnecessarily snuck into, I will lose my shit."

Stephanie honest to God whined like a kid. She was such a fucking gay disaster that it scared herself sometimes. Her eyes darted towards the table that the band kids sat at, only to find Robin's beautiful blue eyes meeting hers.

"Oh my God," Stephanie panicked. "She's looking at me. What do I do?"

Warren groaned like he was contemplating throttling her. "Go over there!"

"I can't go there alone!"

"I know!" he snapped, on his very last straw. "That's why I'll be going there with you! God!"

Stephanie clawed at her scalp in fear. She inhaled, then exhaled, then nodded to herself in preparation.

"Alright," she decided. "I got this."

"Yes, you do. That's my girl." Warren clapped her on the back, trying to guide her towards the table.

Stephanie dropped her hands to her side. "Let's go!"

"Let's go!"

But as Stephanie grew closer to the table, her anxiety grew. You would think, in the five years she'd had a crush on Robin, that she would get better at handling her emotions. You would be wrong.

It didn't matter how many more conversations Stephanie had with her, or how much older they got, or how terrifyingly close they grew to that last day of school where they'd be going their separate ways for college only to never see each other again. It didn't matter, because Stephanie would be just as hopeless every single time.

Stephanie sent all the band kids polite greetings as she sat down (she shot Warren a glare though, because he somehow managed to save her a seat alone next to Robin). They all knew her, because of how many band practices that she'd totally inconspicuously attended. She'd gotten to a point where she didn't even feel out of place; she was essentially an honorary band kid.

They were all talking, and Robin was right there, and her floral scent was much too overwhelming. Stephanie's eyes began darting all around, trying to externally hide her inner panic.

Then she caught sight of Sam.

Sam, who was holding a lunch tray, standing at the outskirts of the cafeteria. Sam, who was looking for a spot to sit. Sam, whose eyes darted to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler with the Hellfire kids. Sam, whose eyes moved onto Lucas Sinclair with the basketball team.

Sam, who had nowhere to sit, so she threw her entire lunch in the trash and walked out of the cafeteria.

"U-uh—are you okay?"

Stephanie snapped out of it, realizing she'd been physically restraining the urge to bolt out of her chair and run after Sam. Robin was speaking to her—Robin Buckley—and the blue eyes were even more mesmerizing up close.

Stephanie scooted her chair in, trying to act cool. "Yeah, sorry, just thought I saw my sister for a sec. You're, uh... I mean—are you okay too?"

Robin's blue eyes lit up.

"Yeah, I'm totally good," she said, and then she was rambling. "I mean, the pep rally was a drag, but it's the last day until spring break, so I guess that makes up for it, and you're sitting here which is nice—I mean! I-I mean it's nice that you feel comfortable around us band kids, 'cause I know most people say we're all ga—most people say we're garish, so I don't want you to—"

"Robin?" Stephanie worried. "You look like you're going to be sick."

Robin inhaled through her nostrils. "I feel like I'm going to be sick," she admitted.

And from a little way's down the table, you could hear the sound of Warren facepalming as hard as he could.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam had her head in her locker as she tried not to burst out into tears in the middle of the school day. She hadn't cried in so long, and she was not about to cry now. There wasn't even a reason to. Sure, yes, she was having a bad day, but she's had bad days before. This should be no different.

So why did it feel like the world was ending at fifteen?

The fluorescent light above started flickering, and Sam muttered a curse to herself as she forced her body to stop causing the intermittent electricity. She looked around to see if anyone noticed, and—

And there was Max, walking down the hall with headphones over her ears.

Sam's world really did end right there, when she made eye contact with Max. She shouldn't have been surprised when Max just looked away and walked from her as fast as she could. She shouldn't have let her entire body deflate with dread, because none of this was new. Max had been this way, and Sam had to just live with that.

What happened to Max back at Starcourt—what happened to Billy—that kind of thing stuck. Max lost her brother, and while he was a total jerk, a part of her cared for him. She lost her brother, then she lost her stepdad and a lot of money. She and her mom had to move into the trailer park just off of Roane County.

But Max didn't tell Sam any of that. Sam just knew that, because that was the kind of observant person she was.

After all of that happening to a person, Sam felt Max's change was fair. She did. But it was really hard, because Sam loved Max a lot, and she valued their friendship more than anything. Sam was prepared to be there for Max through it all, having never expected Max wouldn't want that from her.

Now they were just two girls who made eye contact in the hall.

She was too devastated, too distracted to see an approaching Mike.

"Sam, hey!"

Sam tensed, slamming her locker shut. "Go away, Mike."

She tried to escape him, but Mike only sped up to try and catch up with her. "Sam, wait!"

"I genuinely cannot handle another shitty conversation today with you," Sam said, because she couldn't, and she was still ahead of Mike while he trailed behind.

"Look, you were right about what you were saying this morning—"

Sam brightened a little, slowing her pace. "Was I?"

"—but because of Lucas, we need a fill-in for Hellfire tonight."

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam grumbled. She sped up and tried her best to get away from Mike.

"Sam, would you just—can you hear me out—how are you so fast, shit—"

They turned to a desolate, dim corner, and Mike was still trailing after Sam. He seemed to finally understand he couldn't talk about Hellfire right now.

"God," he groaned, "it's... it's like you're not even you anymore. It's like you're a corpse or something."

Sam finally stopped walking. She tried to swallow the raw pain and stabilize the shaking of her body.

"A corpse?" Sam asked, turning around. "Really?"

Mike winced at his words, but he didn't take them back. "Sam, I know something's wrong."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, something really must be wrong, because you guys have talked to me today. For once."

His expression crumbled, and Sam willed everything in her to not copy his actions. They were always that close—those type of best friends who learned habits from each other. Mike now bit his nails because of her, and Sam now furrowed her eyebrows because of him. They weren't really alike, not at all, but right now they felt more different than ever.

"Sam, please," Mike begged.

"Please what?"

"Please just—just..." He let out a throaty noise of frustration. "Fill in for the Hellfire campaign tonight. You can have fun! We can all have fun together, like we used to."

Sam pinned him with a look, and she was shorter, but it made Mike feel so small.

"Where was this energy last summer when Will asked you the same exact thing?" Sam asked. "Because I wasn't the one who decided to join a new party without Will or me agreeing to it. Why did you think I would ever say yes to this?"

"Sam, I—"

"No. Look." Sam tried to take a deep, calming breath before that enticing anger overcame her. "I get that people change. I get that I didn't understand that at first, and I failed to keep us all together, but I get it now. People just change, and it's just that simple, and apparently I can't do anything about it. So have fun at your campaign and—" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "and have fun in California."

Then she turned for the bathroom door a couple feet away before Mike could protest, but her closing statement reminded her.

She walked back over to Mike, pulling out a wrapped box from her bag. She handed it for Mike to take.

Mike examined it in his hands, face etched in confusion.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Will's birthday present," Sam answered. "Since I can't go to California."

She took a step back.

"Give that to him for me."

Then she started for the bathroom again, and this time she didn't stop. Sam threw open the old, wooden door, and if Mike would've tried to stop her again, she wouldn't have turned around.

Sam was going to have wished she had though.

Because Justin Zimmerman and Carrie Cunningham were making out in the bathroom, swallowing each other, and his hands were all over her ass.

The facade of her anger had disappeared, slipping between her fingers as water would. No matter how badly Sam wanted to stay angry, stay wrathful, stay careless, she couldn't. The sight before her brought down everything Sam had worked to build. It stripped her bare and revealed Sam's true colors. Her miserable, sensitive colors.

"Fucking ew," she choked, and Justin was snapping away from Carrie with a line of spit shared between them.

And she didn't have a right to be upset. She didn't. They'd been broken up for five months—Sam had broken up with him, actually. But it still sucked to have all of the fears she'd had during their relationship be confirmed right before her eyes.

"Hughes," Justin rasped, shocked.

Had he ever called her Sam? Had he ever called her by her first name? Had he ever seen Sam for who she actually was and not what he wanted her to be? There were too many things happening right now, and her mind was running too fast to find the answers for everything. She was supposed to have the answers. She was supposed to, she was supposed to, she was supposed to.

The breakup had been the most tame thing of all time, and Sam thought that was what shook her so much right now. Justin had given Sam no other choice to break up with him, Sam had muttered the few words, and that was it. Maybe it was the lack of closure making her spiral right now.

Sam was feeling so many things right now, and some of it was the lust that resided between Justin and Carrie that Sam had never felt toward him. She wanted to go home, but there wasn't one anymore. She couldn't handle all of this inside of her.

"Privacy much?" Carrie said.

"Fuck you, Cunningham!" Sam snapped, before slamming on the bathroom door and storming right out.

She heard Justin mutter, "Lemme just talk to her," to Carrie before he was shoving Carrie off him and running after Sam. "Hughes, wait up!"

No one seemed to notice. No one seemed to notice that Sam Hughes was the one who chased after others to make sure everyone else was fine. No one seemed to realize how things would fall apart when she stood still and let things fall. The first law of motion stated that an object would not change its motion unless a force acted on it. She always saw herself as that force, and without her push, nothing got better. It all got worse.

"It's fine, Justin," Sam's voice cracked. "Just wish you hadn't lied to me."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Sam thought she'd gone fast to get away from Mike, but she was reaching a record-worthy pace now. Mike had chased her, and Justin was chasing her, and Sam was so tired of chasing everyone, so now it was her turn to run. It was everyone else's turn to see how it felt. Usually Sam would care more about their feelings, but...

But she didn't right now.

"I think I do. You want a stupid bitch who can't cheer."

"Hughes!"

"WHAT?" Sam cried, rounding on Justin and stopping them in the middle of the hall. "What do you want from me?"

Sam didn't even know what she wanted from herself, didn't know why she was reacting like this. She'd had her doubts in their relationship. She always had, and it was why she broke up with him. But maybe it was because she'd given Justin her best self. She'd only showed the best parts of herself, and he hadn't even wanted that. He evidently wanted cruel and ugly, so Sam might have just been able to show her real self all along.

Samantha Hughes, for the first time in her life, felt stupid.

She felt like she knew nothing.

She felt like she'd wasted six months of her life.

She felt like everything was all her fault.

She felt done.

"I want you to stop being so selfish!" he snapped, angry now.

Sam took a step back. 

"Selfish?" she cried.

"Yeah, Hughes, selfish! You broke up with me, or did you forget?"

"Don't—" Sam cut herself off, marching forward and pushing at his chest with her pointed finger. "Don't you say that. You made me break up with you, and you know it."

Justin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, yeah? And how did I make you?"

"God, you're making me feel insane!" Sam didn't know what to do with her hands—throw them up, curl them into fists, use them to strangle Justin. "You never wanted me, Justin, admit it! You just liked that I liked you. You liked to feel liked, and you knew I'm the type of person you could push around, so you could have both me and Carrie without me doing a damn thing about it. And that's—that's fine. I don't even like you anymore. I don't know if I ever fully did. But when I asked you about Carrie—because I fucking asked you, Justin—you shouldn't have lied to me! I don't... I hate that."

Justin's face twisted, and Sam wanted so desperately for the issues he gave her in the relationship to finally be addressed. Even if it was four months late.

"You didn't like me?" Justin asked, all broken and battered.

Was that seriously all he had to say?

"I didn't know you!" Sam cried, exasperated. "And you didn't know me either, you literally said it yourself!"

"When have I ever fucking said that?!"

"'Oh, you're so hard to read, Hughes,' 'I'll never understand you, Hughes,' 'I don't think I'll ever get how you work, Hughes,'" Sam mocked, her voice drastically lowering in octaves.

"Because who ever would?!" Justin cried incredulously.

Sam inhaled sharply. His capacity for cruelty shouldn't have astounded her as much as it did.

She looked at him fully now, arms crossed over her chest. "If this is what you're really like, Justin, I'm glad you're with Carrie. You two deserve each other."

"You say that all fucking high and fucking mighty," Justin snapped, combing a hand through his hair to try and calm himself down. "I'm sorry we all can't be perfect little princesses like you, Hughes! Like, we get it. You're a genius, and everything works out for you, and you live such a happy life."

"Oh, do I?" Sam laughed humorlessly, because the incredulousness of his statement pulled it from her.

"Do you ever get sick of the condescension? No, I bet you don't! You know what else everyone's gonna find out about you?"

"What?" she challenged.

"You're secretly nothing but a bitch—"

Then the AV room door opened, which Sam and Justin happened to be arguing in front of. Their heads whipped to see Auggie looking at the pair awkwardly.

He cleared his throat. "I hate to... break up this lovely conversation—"

"August," Sam growled.

"—but, Sam, I need you in here. Preferably today. So..." Auggie stood there, outside the room, but Sam was glaring daggers at him, and he jolted in place. "You know what, I'll just—okay."

Then he closed the door going back into the AV room.

But not before trying to give Justin a discreet glare.

Sam knew what he was doing.

"There we go," she said to Justin. "Now you can finish calling me a bitch."

Justin's face screwed up, both agitated and maybe a little disappointed that he'd said that. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I think you did. And I think that genuinely hurts me." Sam exhaled sharply, and the fluorescent lights were flickering above them. "I think you're mean, and... I'm sorry if I ever made you feel belittled, but I wish you knew that's the last thing I would ever want to make a person feel. The fact you don't know that..."

She didn't know how to finish. She already sounded enough like a child, she didn't want to give him even more reason to view her as lesser than.

Justin sighed—loud, performative, running a hand down his face.

"I can't do this. You twist everything I say, like you want to be the victim."

"Victim?" Sam repeated, half-wild. "You know what? I can't do this either. I'm glad we can agree."

He blinked, then he was laughing in disbelief.

"Are you fucking ser—"

"Bye, Justin." Sam nodded, grabbing the doorknob of the AV room. "I hope you have a wonderful rest of your life."

She headed into the room and slammed the door in his face.

And, oddly enough, all Sam could really think was Max would be so proud of me right now.

The air in the AV room was thick with wasted time and indecision the second Sam stepped into it. She surveyed the room of clutter and wasted technology that neither Sam or Auggie had the heart to part with. All of a sudden, she wanted to smash it all with her bare hands because it made her think of Justin. It made her think of her stupidity.

At one of the desk chairs, Auggie was sitting there, staring up at Sam like he had something to say.

"You know, I honestly think that went really well—"

"I hate you," she deadpanned.

Sam sat down in her own desk chair before her mind compelled her to take out an unfinished drawing from her bag. She worked on it with anger, the art supplies already scattered around.

Sam couldn't see it, but Auggie was dramatically offended. He put a hand to his heart, genuinely unironic.

"What did I do?!"

"You know what you did."

"I didn't do anything!" he cried.

Sam finished her drawing before she swiveled around in her chair to glare at him.

"Oh, okay, so what am I needed in here for?"

Auggie paused, officially caught. "To... to discuss plans for the game tonight."

"I hope the soundboard short circuits and electrocutes you," Sam said way too quickly. "There. Discussed."

Maybe she was a bitch.

Auggie sighed, dropping his clueless demeanor and getting serious.

"Okay, look, you clearly needed saving from that kid!" he defended himself. Then, "And—must I say—I applaud you for how you handled the situation, really. I've been waiting for you to say that shit since you dumped his ass."

Sam winced at dumped his ass.

"Shut up," she grumbled. "You're like, thirty. It's weird to meddle in a little girl's love life."

"Don't make it sound like that!" Auggie looked utterly repulsed "And I'm eighteen anyway! What happened to the nice sunshine freshman I met on the first day of school? I miss her. Did I mention that she was nice?"

"She caught your virus and lost her friends," Sam accused.

Auggie gasped. "Low blow, you freak!"

So, yeah. August (Auggie) Santos was a loser, and his only friend was Sam. But Sam's only real friend right now was Auggie, and she was a loser too. She needed him, but they didn't have the type of friendship where she could admit that.

Sam covered her amused smile.

"Takes one to know one," she retorted childishly. But then, "Doesn't it?"

It was a cover of vulnerability. It was an unspoken question. It was Sam genuinely wanting to know if she had Auggie as a friend.

"Of course, Hughes." Auggie deflated out of fondness for the freshman he'd adopted. "Freaks stick together, don't we?"

Sam turned back around towards her desk to hide being pleased. She took in a deep breath, trying to settle her swarming emotions.

"Whatever you say," she said, a mask of annoyance.

She began packing up her things—or, the few things that she'd even had the time to pull out, that was.

"I have to go."

Auggie tilted his head in confusion. "Whu—you just got here! Sixth period doesn't start for another thirty minutes!"

Sam closed over the flap of her bag. She stood up as she threw it over her shoulder. Auggie watched her, wondering, as Sam made it towards the door

"No," she corrected, opening the handle, "I have to go cry."

And as Sam exited the room—apparently to go cry—she left her drawing behind. Auggie was quick to notice the colorful paper. He stood to walk over and pick it up.

"Wait, you forgot your—"

But then Auggie realized what the drawing was actually of.

"What the...?"

Staring up at him was a drawing of Eddie Munson's trailer, featuring Eddie and Chrissy Cunningham walking inside.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam's last class of the school day being PE brought many things for her: The first and most foremost was endless happiness that this godforsaken school day was almost done; however, it also meant that she basically had a free period. The basketball championships were after school, so their coach would just be focused on forcing all the guys to play basketball.

Obviously that didn't apply to Sam, so she was essentially let off the hook.

Lucas wasn't, on the other hand. He shared the class with Sam. Down on the court, he was playing basketball with the other guys in his class, getting all sweaty and stupid. Sam didn't know. She wasn't really paying attention.

She wasn't paying attention to see that Lucas was paying attention to her. He always would.

Sam wasn't sitting on the bleachers properly—she was sat on the floor of the seating, instead of the actual seating, with her legs looped through the underneath of the bleacher set in front of her. Even from a distance, Lucas could tell something was up.

So Lucas left the game to check up on her.

He brought his long legs off the court and onto the new bleachers they'd just been able to afford because of their school's obsession with men's athletics. Sam grew closer in his eyes as he did.

"That can't be sanitary," Lucas tried to joke, but it came out a million times too awkward. Sam's head snapped up to him in some sort of astounded daze.

Then, impulsively, he sat on the bleacher in front of the one where her legs were, so that they were even in height. His arms rested crossed on the bleacher that her legs were underneath.

Sam huffed sarcastically. "Sure, Lucas, sit right here. I don't mind."

Lucas finally realized it then—her eyes were a little red, her voice was a little hoarse, and he went into Worry Mode in about 0.03 seconds.

"Woah, hey, what's wrong? What happened?" Lucas interrogated, leaning closer and searching her face. "Did someone do something to you?"

Sam scrubbed her hands over her face, partially trying to hide it from him. "It's—it's nothing, Lucas, really. Go back to your basketball game."

"Absolutely not!" Lucas exclaimed, appalled by the idea.

"Lucas, I'm fine."

"Oh, yeah, clearly," he scrutinized, and the sarcasm was evident. "You can talk to me, Sam. You know I'm—here, right? You don't have to... keep hiding."

It's like you're not even you anymore. It's like you're a corpse or something.

Sam faltered, and then she was shamefully looking down at his arms over her legs.

"Do you think I'm a horrible person?"

Lucas stared, absolutely scandalized, and she was sure he didn't even blink until he had to. It took him that long to find his voice.

"Wh—you? What? What?" he cried, dumbfounded and almost personally offended. "Why would you ever think that, Sam? Oh my God, no! You're... No! You're the best person I know. I don't even think you have the capacity to be horrible."

"Really?" she rasped. Lucas's misery only grew.

"Yes, really! Jesus Christ. Who made you think anything different?"

Sam sighed. She couldn't stop feeling stupid today. She rubbing at her face again, trying to rub away the self-loathing too.

"I broke up with Justin in November," she confessed.

Lucas went silent, presumably processing in his mind.

"Oh."

"Oh," she echoed.

"You—" His voice came out cracking and high-pitched, and he had to clear his throat. "You never wanted to tell us?"

"Of course I did." Sam smiled sadly. "But I never had the opportunity to."

She shook her head, because that wasn't even the point of this.

"It's not like—I mean, it's not like it wasn't coming. That's not even... I'm fine about it. Genuinely," Sam said, because she really did think she was. "But when I broke up with him, I don't really think we said anything to each other. I mean, what was there to say? But I ran into him today while he was making out with Carrie—yeah, I know," she said when Lucas's expression turned outraged. "We ended up getting into it, bad, and... I don't know how to explain it, Lucas. I don't have feelings for him, and I wasn't hurt that I saw them kissing, but..."

"But he's an asshole, and you're an angel, so to realize he's an asshole hurt anyway?" Lucas guessed, brow raising.

Sam shrugged, because honestly, she didn't know. "I just feel stupid, I guess—"

"You're not stupid, Sam."

"I feel stupid," she argued, trying not to get choked up again. "I wasted all that time with him, and for what? Because it wasn't for happiness. Maybe it was just because it was easier than..." She tried to meet Lucas's burning gaze, but it was too difficult. "Whatever. I don't know. I just know it took him calling me a bitch for me to finally stop being pathetic."

The words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She didn't intend to tell him, really. Or anyone. She didn't want to bring attention to the very embarrassing fact she dated such a guy, a guy who never knew her, who called her a bitch in the end—irrefutable evidence that Sam was an idiot. She let it happen to herself in naive obliviousness. It was proof she wasn't the genius she was made out to be.

Predictably, her words sent Lucas in a whirlwind.

"Are you fucking serious?"

Sam laughed humorlessly. "I really wish I wasn't."

"No seriously, are you for real? What the fuck?" he questioned, scandalized. "Seriously, what the fuck? What a piece of shit!"

"Jesus, Sinclair, language," Sam tried dissuading his anger with light-hearted banter. But Lucas wasn't having it.

"No, fuck him!" Lucas exclaimed. He had to stop and let out a huff devoid of all amusement. "I can't believe thi—He really had the audacity? That idiot?"

She'd never seen him this angry, not in her seven years of knowing him. Not when he and Mike fought that one time over El. Not when he was around Billy, or Will's dad, or Sam's uncle. Not ever.

"Lucas, it's fine," she tried saying, because this wrathful side of him was a little disconcerting to be witnessing.

"No, it's not!" Lucas snapped, and Sam flinched back a little just out of pure shock. "You should be with someone who's crazy about you, Sam. You shouldn't have had to put up with him. Ever."

"Jesus." Sam couldn't help from feeling a little flustered for some reason. "Thanks for the support, I guess."

"I'm serious. If he's not into Samantha Hughes, then there's something wrong with him."

Sam rolled her eyes with a huff of laughter. "You're funny," she accused. "That's so not true."

Lucas scoffed. "Seriously, Sam? It's so true! I'm sick of you being the only person who doesn't see how incredible you are!" He was clearly passionate about the subject, so overcome that he forgot himself. "And—and Zimmerman never appreciated that, but he never even deserved to know! He never deserved to have someone so amazing like you in his life."

"You don't mean that," Sam said, a sad smile painted on her face.

"Yes, I do," he argued, as if daring her to protest. "You're my best friend."

Sam couldn't help herself from smiling, moving a hand to cover up the shy thing before it was noticed. Lucas had just said that—said that Sam was his best friend—and he had meant it. Even through the months of distance and silence. Even through Sam's rougher edges. Even through it all. Lucas still thought Sam was his best friend.

The possible words died in her throat. As the beat of silence grew, Sam visibly struggled to say something more. She wasn't used to being at a loss for words.

But it was fine, because Lucas seemed content enough to continue anyway. "Whatever the fuck is wrong with him has nothing to do with you. It's not your fault. You're the kind of girl a guy should fight just to keep around."

Sam found herself tearing up again, although she didn't know why this time.

She had noticed Lucas, always noticed Lucas—his loyalty, his pride, his heart, his mind, his bravery, his consideration. There was a mutual understanding that had always flowed between them; they were best friends, and they understood one another like no one else. She noticed when he was happy, or when he was sad, or when he was angry, and she could confidently argue that none of it was attributed to her empathic powers.

But something was so different now.

It felt so easy truly seeing him when she wasn't letting herself get in her head about.

Sam realized that while she'd been looking at Lucas, Lucas had been looking at Sam the entire time.

She sniffled through the new, glistening tears. "It did feel really good to yell at him," she admitted, laughing nervously at the confession. "Is that terrible to say?"

But Lucas was cackling at her admission, and nothing felt terrible in this moment. Sam couldn't help but laugh more confidently with Lucas as she wiped away the tears before they could fall.

This felt like a good thing.

There was nothing bad about it.

"Honestly I think you could kill him, and I still wouldn't find it horrible," Lucas said, and Sam genuinely couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

A beam snuck its way onto Sam's face, causing her to tilt her head down and hide it from view. She sobered her smile, before craning her head back up to Lucas.

"Right. Thanks for this, Luke. Seriously. I was having a really bad day before you—"

From the court, they heard a loud whistle CHIIIIIIRP for a duration of multiple seconds. Sam flinched in fear, whipping her head over to see Coach Garroway glaring fiercely at the pair.

"SINCLAIR, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? QUIT FLIRTING, AND GET OVER HERE!"

Sam and Lucas made startled eye contact with one another.

Then they were laughing with wide eyes before either could help themselves.

Lucas faced his coach again. "Uh, yes, Coach!"

He got up hastily from the bleachers, but he looked at Sam again. She didn't know why his gaze made her feel giddy—the second they met each other's gaze again, they started snickering.

Lucas mouthed, Wish me luck.

Luck, Sam mouthed in return, oddly fond.

There was a complex feeling swarming in her chest. But it wasn't unfamiliar, and it wasn't weird.

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Sam had something to admit: she had to be at Lucas's game tonight. It was kind of a requirement that came with being in AV. Apparently Principal Higgins trusted her and Auggie enough to be the ones who commentated the game to those listening on the radio. Auggie hated the spotlight more than anything, so Sam was the one who commentated whilst he live-broadcasted the feedback of her voice. Because of this, because of AV, she'd been to all of Lucas's games.

But Sam had something else to admit: she would go no matter what.

And so Sam's wretched school day had ended, although it didn't end as wretchedly as she thought. A few hours had passed, and now it was time for the championship basketball game.

The bleachers were full, the crowd was roaring, and the cheerleaders were, well, cheering. Sam was wearing an announcer headpiece next to Corey, Nancy, and some random lanky dude—they were all there for the school newspaper. Auggie was in the AV room like he always was.

Corey snapped a picture of the crowd before he leaned into Sam. "Any reason as to why August Santos wants to throw a party with me over you 'handing Zimmerman his ass'?"

Sam covered her face mic, even if they weren't broadcasting yet, just to be safe. "Probably because I handed Zimmerman his ass?"

The random lanky kid peered from behind Nancy, interjecting himself into the conversation. "So it's true? You're single?"

Sam and Corey's heads whipped over to him, the former confused.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He stepped forward, flirtingly offering his hand. "Well, m'lady," he charmed, "I'm Fred—"

"You and Zimmerman broke up?!" Nancy interrupted, finally processing.

Sam made an indignant face, eyes darting to the floor.

"Four months ago." And then, when Nancy was only more bewildered, "I really don't want to talk about this right now. It's not that big of a deal."

Nancy and Fred cried, "Not that big of a—?!"

"Hello, Indiana!" Sam hastily said into her mic. "Welcome to your annual High School Basketball Championship. I'm Sam Hughes, here to a void a painfully awkward conversation about my ex!"

The thing was that Sam knew next to nothing about basketball, but also that Auggie refused to take her position. She figured if she would be tortured by having to hold this job, then she was going to torture everyone else as well.

"This year we have the Hawkins Tigers going up against another team I... don't actually know the name of—hold on, give me a second... oh. The Falcons. Yeah, them. I can't remember what school they belong to though, so we'll just assume it's somewhere!"

Nancy shoved Sam in the side with a pointed glare, causing Sam to sigh.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!"

The band quieted at the sight of Sam walking up to the middle of the court. She fixed a standing mic to her height so that she could speak to the members of the gym rather than only the radio-listeners. Sam couldn't deny her anxiety at standing, alone, in front of everyone. She looked to Lucas, who sent her a small smile and a reassuring nod. She felt the ability to breathe return to her lungs again.

"If everyone will now please rise for our national anthem," she said, and the crowd rose after. "Singing for us tonight—all the way from Nashville—Hawkins High alumnae Tammy Thompson. Woo!"

The crowd began to cheer for Tammy as she replaced Sam's spot behind the standing mic. Sam gratefully returned back to her spot next to Corey, Nancy, and Fred.

"You suck at this!" Corey whisper-shouted at her.

Sam covered her face mic. "I do it on purpose!"

Then the real nightmare began.

Tammy opened her mouth and began singing the national anthem.

"Oh God," Sam cringed into her face mic. "I don't know if you guys at home can hear this. You're lucky if you can't. It really isn't good—"

"Seriously, Sam?" Nancy hissed, hand on her heart as Sam was supposed to be doing, giving her stupid country stupid respect.

"I had to talk to my ex today, cut me some slack! Shit. I forget this mic never turns off—if anyone's curious, I'm currently speaking to one of my ex-best friends' sister. But it's alright, I like her way more than I like him. Not romantically, of course. She's much older, I wouldn't want her catching a case—"

"Sam!" Nancy whispered, seething.

"Actually, you know." Sam looked Nancy up and down, contemplating her jokingly. "I'm on the market now, Nancy. I'm sure we'd make a great couple. How are you and Jonathan doing—?"

"Sam," Corey interrupted, his tone dangerous.

"Okay, I'm done!" Sam cried defensively, widening her eyes in judgment. She turned her attention back towards the court to be respectful. "Oh. So is Tammy. Thank God... And so the first quarter begins!"

"The ball is thrown in the tossup, and... senior captain Jason Carver tips it off! That's ball to Hawkins, thankfully! Unfortunately though, Jason is the one with the ball. If we're all being honest here: I can't stand him. You people should have heard him at the pep rally this morning. Brought up dead people to raise morale and everything—it was rough... I should start a podcast, you know... Why are we cheering? Oh! Carver shoots and scores! That's 2-0 Hawkins—damn it! Falcons score as well. Congratulations, I guess. 2-2. Look, Jason's yelling at someone! Who's surprised?"

"And Carver passes to—oh, damn! Number 10 from Hawkins just got his shit rocked by Number 11 from the Falcons. That's a total foul, you assholes! Someone slap the ref for me! Carver's definitely not happy either! A moment of silence for his impossibly huge ego... and Number 10."

"Number 10 isn't looking too good, I fear—I really don't know your name, sorry dude. He's being benched for the time being though. Get well soon, Unnamed Hawkins Player. I think you're a junior!"

"Wait... wait, what's going on? No way. No way! They're putting Lucas in! Corey, look, they're putting Lucas in! Oh my God, Lucas! Go Lucas! FUCK YEAH, LUCAS! What, Nancy? Oh, yeah. Hawkins substitutes Number 10 for freshman Lucas Sinclair, Number 8. Can you guys believe that? That's my best friend! Oh, you guys don't know how exciting this is! I hope Mike and Dustin shit their pants tonight for missing this!"

"Lucas has the ball! Some Falcon dude's right behind him. Literally. Fuck shit up out there, Lucas, but don't die! Lucas passes to Carver. Carver shoots. Carver scores! 36-33 Falcons. We're getting there! I hope Coach Garroway is realizing we started scoring again after he put Lucas in! Doesn't seem like much of a coincidence to me—actually, I should shut up. He already yelled at me today for distracting Lucas."

"Hell yeah, Patrick! Hawkins' senior Patrick McKinney brings the score to 47-45 in Hawkins' favor! Keep it up, McKinney!"

"Who let the Falcons have the ball? Are you kidding me?! Drop it! Drop it! Drop it! Drop—oh, screw you, man! 52-50. Falcons. Shit's fucked."

"Andy Fairchild from Hawkins shoots the ball, and—in your fucking face, Falcons, I hope you're eating shit! He scores! 58-56 Hawkins!"

"Haha, 69! What?! It's funny, Nancy! Well, just because you have no sense of humor..."

"Oh God. Carver just called time-out. This can't be good. He's wearing his constipated face... I can't tell you guys what they're talking about, because I can't hear, but Jason's definitely not happy. I'll try to fill in the silence for you all. 'Guys, I'm Jason Carver, and I'm gonna bring up people's dead siblings to get the school excited for a basketball game! That seems like a good idea! Blah, blah, blah. You guys suck. I'm awesome, I'm Jason Carver. Me, me, me. I have a girlfriend, and I'm the team captain, and I'm...' Okay. Wait. Is this just me, or is he kind of hot? Shit. Sorry. Momentary lapse of judgment. I take it back, guys! He's not hot! In my defense, my eye prescription is -4.00/-6.00. I don't really know what it means, but my optometrist said 'yeesh' every time I called out another letter! Are they allowed to do that? I don't know. I hope she's doing well. Women in STEM, you know? Oh, thank God—timeout is over. I can stop talking about this now."

"Carver has the ball. Again. No one's surprised. With thirty seconds on the clock he shoots, and—jumps eerily high, good lord, Jason. Oh, you good-for-nothing douchebag! Carver misses! I swear, Jason, I'll fucking—hold up, hold on! Lucas just got the ball! Lucas has the ball, guys! Five seconds on the clock! He shoots! Come on, Lucas! Come on... HOLY SHIT! HE MAKES IT IN! LUCAS SINCLAIR, YOU BUZZER-BEATER GOD! HAWKINS WINS 70 TO 68! FUCKING HELL, I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, I'M—"

Sam was too excited to care about commentating, as her face mic was accidentally thrown off and she ran towards Lucas.

The basketball team ran up to Lucas, but he didn't even seem to care. He just ran to Sam first. When she excitedly launched herself at him, Lucas picked her up in a hug, lifting her off the floor and spinning her around in a hug.

"I—We did it! Sam, we did it!"

"You did it, Luke!" Sam exclaimed. She looked at him, green eyes glistening, and she couldn't have looked more proud. "Congrats! You're fucking amazing!"

"Sinclair, you're insane!" she heard the obnoxious voice of Jason yell. Then, the basketball team was all crowding around them, and Lucas set Sam down as the team began picking him up.

Sam didn't even care. She ran from the sweaty boys and towards where she was previously standing with a beaming smile. Her grin may have faltered for a moment though, when she grabbed her face mic off the ground and put it back on her head.

"I do think I broke the mic, but if you guys can still hear me, I'm shaming you for not seeing this in person! That was—I mean, he looked Heaven-sent on that court, are you kidding me?! Sam's Game Recap: Jason Carver is a dick who's occasionally attractive from angles, the Falcons ate shit today, and Lucas Sinclair is beautiful—wait. I didn't mean—I meant—I don't know, I don't even care, I'm just so proud of him. He deserves this, you know? His first time off the bench, and—fuck! You know? Anyways. Professional Game Recap: The Hawkins Tigers bring home the conference title for the first time in 22 years, all thanks to a buzzer-beater from bench-warmer Lucas Sinclair. I think—oh. Well. I think I have to go. Auggie's gonna cut the feed at... oh shit, right now! Have a great night, everyone! Happy spring break! Feel free to relish in Lucas's victory, Tiger Fans!"

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

"This is August Santos, officially coming on the stereo for the millionth time to formally apologize for everything offensive and obnoxious said during today's commentating. Forgive Sam, she knows not what she does. I do wish everyone a great night though, and an even better spring break. Go Tigers!"

With that, Auggie cut the stereo feed. He exhaled heavily and rubbed his face with his hands.

"That girl..." he muttered tiredly.

Just then, there was a figure shooting into the AV room at concerning speeds. For a moment, Auggie thought it was Sam hyperactively coming in to freak out about the game in private—he was quick to discover though that it wasn't tiny Samantha Hughes.

It was a breathless and panicked Steve Harrington leaning against the door.

Auggie jumped in terror, face warming up at the sight. Steve's eyes were shut as he tried breathing in and out, and he hadn't seemed to realize that he wasn't alone yet.

"Excuse me?"

Steve's eyes shot open, flinching out of his skin. He made a face of horror upon realizing the room wasn't abandoned.

"Shit, dude, you scared me!"

"I scared you?!" Auggie cried incredulously.

Steve looked around the room, realizing how the current situation looked in reality. He cringed to himself slightly.

"Alright, well, okay." He sighed in defeat. "Yeah. That's fair. Sorry about all this, it's just..."

Auggie raised an eyebrow. "Just...?"

Steve suddenly tried to change the subject. He forced on a charming smile and offered out a hand.

"I'm Steve!" he greeted.

Auggie stared at his hand, unamused.

"Yeah, I know."

Steve threw back his head miserably at the three simple words. "That was a bad 'yeah, I know,' wasn't it?"

"Um—"

"Look," Steve started, outstretched hand falling to his side, "I'm sorry for barging in here like this. It's just... you know. I was on this date, and, well—I mean, the game was good! Go Tigers, and all! But I just couldn't stand my date, and now that I'm saying this all out loud, I hear how douchey it sounds, but if you were there, you just... you know?"

"No."

Steve winced, communing with Auggie in all of his deadpan expressions.

"Right, yeah. My brain gets like, blocked sometimes. Or loose, maybe? Or it runs faster than I do. Do I not run fast enough? Because my date just rubbed it in my face that the team won right after I graduated." He frowned, and Auggie was pretty sure he forgot Auggie was in the room with him again. "I try to run fast enough. I try to run fast enough every day, but it always feels like—like I'm behind everyone, and I can't catch up because I started too late. But it was because I was helping everyone else tie their shoes, and now I'm not enough."

Auggie leaned back in wild confusion. "Are we... still talking about... running?"

Steve realized he'd been rambling and snapped to meet Auggie's gaze with mortified eyes.

"Shit! I didn't mean all that," he hissed. "Forget anything I said. Right now I'm..."

"Your brain's loose?" Auggie finished, hiding his amusement.

"Yes! See, you get it," Steve exclaimed, smiling. Upon further inspection, Auggie could have sworn Steve Harrington was looking him up and down. "Wait, you're really familiar. I know you. I should know you."

The should made Auggie a little more offended than he needed to be. He shrugged unhelpfully. "I don't know."

Steve read his reaction well and grimaced. "I should, shouldn't I?" he asked rhetorically. "You clearly know me, and now I look like a dick for not knowing you. Which—yeah, I used to be a dick. A huge one. But... but now I'm a reformed dick. You believe me, right?"

Auggie didn't peg Steve as the type of guy to ramble like this when he was nervous.

It was cute.

"Of course, Harrington." Auggie nodded, smirking.

Steve groaned. "Oh, would you please tell me your name? I'm begging."

Auggie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you?"

Steve choked on thin air, doubling over to try and catch his breath. He was totally taken aback, and Auggie contemplated helping him for a second, but he was totally soaking up Steve's dramatic reaction.

"W-wait, huh?!"

Auggie couldn't hold it in anymore. He genuinely full out laughed, not realizing how Steve straightened up and was dazed by the sight.

He recuperated himself with, "God, Harrington, I'm just messing. You're really going through it tonight, aren't you?"

"Truly," Steve agreed. "I never freak out about dates until I'm home, but tonight there was too many people, and everything got so... I can't describe it?"

"Overwhelming?" Auggie suggested, brow raised. "You were overwhelmed?"

"Yes!" Steve cried, like Auggie was the holy grail. "God, Smiths, you're really smart, you know?"

Auggie's nose scrunched up in confusion, catching Steve off guard again. Almost disgusted, he questioned, "Smiths?"

"Your shirt." Steve gestured to the band tee Auggie was wearing. "The Smiths. You won't tell me your name, so I'm calling you Smiths."

Auggie's mouth twitched up, but he tampered the amusement quick enough.

"Right, of course. My bad."

"Well, it is, isn't it? You won't tell me your name. Or how I know you."

Auggie shrugged unapologetically. "I guess I'm an enigma."

And Steve... clearly had no clue what enigma meant.

"Uh. Yeah... Enigma. Sure. And clearly that means you were..." Steve pointed to the soundboard like an idiot, "working... on..."

Auggie's amusement increased, and this was better than any basketball game he could ever listen to Sam commentate. He nodded at Steve, said, "Take your time, Harrington. You'll get there, I'm sure."

Steve stopped trying, scowling half-heartedly.

"You think this is funny, huh?"

"Hilarious, actually." Auggie grinned, and it was a genuine thing.

Steve's glare faltered. "Uh—well, I'm glad my emotional stress and mental turmoil brings you amusement, Smiths. But I'm personally very embarrassed and want to go home."

Auggie rolled his eyes fondly with a smile. "You have had quite the night," he agreed. "Bad date, basketball team breaks the losing streak..."

"Don't forget stumbling into a random room with a random stranger who knows more about my well-being than anyone besides my co-worker," Steve added, and Auggie couldn't help but throw back a head and laugh.

"I'm sure your co-worker is very lucky," Auggie said, walking towards the random bookshelf in the room without Steve really thinking much of it.

Steve shrugged, and Auggie was content to listen while he talked. "Well, it's more like I'm the lucky one, you know? I had to be de-assholized somehow. And, I mean, without her I'd be dead."

Auggie found the book he was looking for and picked it up.

"Yeah, Robin's great like that," he replied casually.

"Right?!" Steve agreed eagerly—then he realized he'd never mentioned Robin by name. "Wait, what?"

Auggie picked up his bag with his free hand, laughing.

"How'd you know that?" Steve asked, just standing and staring as Auggie walked towards the door. "Smiths? Hey? How'd you know? Smiths?"

Then Auggie fucking threw a book at Steve before he left the AV room finally.

Luckily, Steve had reflexes good enough to catch the thick book. His face went deadpan as he read the title.

"The Dictionary. Haha, very funny! ...And I'm talking to no one."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

Published: January 17, 2024
Re-published: October 30, 2025

BAILEY YAPS...

Real ones know in the original version of this chapter was titled "...you're my best friend" while there was also a chapter in season 1 titled "pauses, then says..." when Lucas realized he liked Sam oh hell yeah

Okay this is such a packed fucking chapter and I told myself I wouldn't let get them get longer than 10,000 words but sorry I just wanted the first scene to be the Steph POV (STEPH GOT A POV!!!) so I couldn't split this episode any differently... anyway.

I love to see 1) Robanie from Steph's perspective, but also 2) Sam from Steph's perspective. Because the fracture between them hurts, and Steph has no clue why, and now her sister's getting mentally worse, and she has to find out from a random teacher Sam's academic situation... like I'm not an older sister but I feel so hard for Stephanie because imagine how this all would make you feel from the perspective of an older sister. Especially considering she has no clue why. Fuck

Sam and Mike fight :( they've never done that before so writing this really hurt. Mike Wheeler you have let me down. You were supposed to be the one person she could always depend on

(Side note, the California plot is lowkey really boring to me lmao so I'm not writing it. This is the last of Corey and Mike y'all will see for a bit. We'll miss the gay idiots dearly.)

Also when I catch Justin Zimmerman I will kill him and I stand with Lucas in saying that Sam could kill him and I would never blame her for it. Fucking idiot

(If you remember in the original version Jaysam wasn't broken up by this point, but I refuse to believe that Sam dated that idiot for ten fucking months. So she dumped his ass. But I believe that Justin makes her quiet and timid, so when she did, they barely exchanged any words, and this interaction for her was her finally letting out everything she really thought about the relationship. Seeing him and Carrie making out just confirmed that for her.)

This is what I imagine Sam's mind looked like when it heard "everything works out for you, and you live such a happy life:"

Meet Auggie!! Love that little freak!! Someone said Sam and Auggie were so cowboy like me and I cried!! How are we feeling about him??

More on this, an introduction to Auggie and Steve! We're saying goodbye to one gay idiot couple (Colorwheel) and saying hello to another gay idiot couple (Stauggie)

Also the elephant in the room: Hughclair

I told y'all I had a plan

Did u guys notice Lucas's basketball number is 8 and Sam's birthday is December 8th

Anyway

The MVP of this chapter does have to be Sam's commentating. "I'm so different now" my ass. Sam, you are still the same unserious little shit and I love you