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CHAPTER THREE
a deep wound
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( the weirdo on maple street, pt. ii )

• °:.☆ . ₊°• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

BARB'S HEADLIGHTS PENETRATE the dark residential street as her car ambles down the road. The heat doesn't work, so Laura hugs her arms to her chest in an attempt to seek more warmth from her red patterned sweater. Maybe she should've let Nancy lend her a coat. It had been wool, which makes Laura's skin crawl, but she would be a lot warmer if she'd accepted it.

The trio of girls sits in silence for most of the car ride, allowing the radio to fill the empty spaces between them. Laura isn't sure if Barb is upset about being dragged to this party, too. She can only see the back of her head, so she can't even attempt to read her facial expressions.

"Barbara, pull over," Nancy says.

The abruptness of her instruction makes Barb blink. "What?"

"Pull over!"

Though she's clearly confused, she follows the order and puts the car in park. Laura looks around at their surroundings. They'd passed the glow of a street light, so it's much darker on this section of the road, where the large houses are surrounded by patches of forest instead of scrunched together like on their streets. For all she knows, Steve practically lives in another world.

"What are we doing here?" Barb questions. "His house is three blocks away."

"We can't park in the driveway," Nancy says.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, the neighbors might see."

"Like any of the neighbors would recognize Barb's car," Laura grumbles, "or much less be able to see anything in the driveway with this many trees."

Nancy scowls a bit at her reasoning, but Barb raises her eyebrows as if to say, 'See? She's got a point.'

"This is so stupid," the redhead says with a shake of her head. "I'm just gonna drop you guys off."

"Calm down, Barb, come on!" Nancy gives her a dazzling smile that would've won Laura over in a heartbeat, because she's pathetic. "You promised Laura that you'd go. You're coming. We're going to have a great time!"

"Don't drag me into this," Laura pipes up from the back seat in an attempt to have some dignity.

"She did promise you," Nancy reminds her.

Laura shoves her index fingers into her ears and pretends to plug them. "La, la, la, la! Can't hear you!"

"He just wants to get in your pants," Barb says when Laura puts her arms down, making her automatically wish she'd kept singing to avoid hearing those words.

Nancy chuckles disbelievingly. "No, he doesn't."

Barb fixates her with a look. "Nance. Seriously? He invited you to his house. His parents aren't home. Come on, you are not this stupid."

"Tommy H. and Carol are gonna be there."

"Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, the seventh grade," their friend reasons, making Nancy roll her eyes, knowing she can't argue with that. "It'll probably be just, like, a big orgy."

"Gross!" Nancy exclaims. Laura mimes sticking her finger down her throat.

"I'm serious!"

"All right," Nancy concedes, and it takes Laura a moment to realize that she's taking off her lavender sweater. "Well, you guys can be like my guardians. All right? Make sure I don't get drunk and do anything stupid."

Barb shakes her head with a mumble of, "Ugh," but Laura is too busy trying not to faint from the heat that has suddenly rushed to her face in half a second. She's grateful for the shadowy lighting of the car. It obscures the fact that her cheeks have turned as carmine as her sweater, flushing all the way to her ears and down her neck, and had she really just been shivering a few short minutes ago? Because now she's sweating.

"Is that a new bra?" Barb asks. The question is pointed.

Nancy looks down at her topless state. "No."

Barb rolls her eyes, turning back toward Laura to share a look with her. "Oh my God, it totally is. Right, Laur?"

Laura delivers the very eloquent response of, "Um. I don't really take stock of Nancy's bras."

It's true. It's not something she normally thinks about. But now, the thought of Nancy potentially wearing a new bra to Steve's house, probably with the intention of him seeing it, is making Laura feel a little sick to her stomach.

The soundtrack of their three-block trek to Steve's house is a symphony of cicada chirps, coming from everywhere all at once, accentuated by the forest around them. Streetlights are sparse in the neighborhood. It brings back the chill that sinks into Laura's bones, giving her permanent goosebumps.

Nancy had changed into a long-sleeved top with red and white horizontal stripes, then shrugged on a gray zip-up hoodie over it. Laura tries not to frown at the difference in clothing. Nancy is clearly trying to look different — maybe more cool, rather than the flowery, innocent vibe that her lavender sweater had given off — but in Laura's opinion, if Steve doesn't like Nance the way she is, he doesn't deserve her at all.

They can hear the music before they even reach Steve's house. It's nondescript from the outside, though certainly bigger than any of their homes, colored a bland gray with a shockingly red front door.

As they step up to the porch, Laura accepts the fact that this is her life, and she may as well try to make the most of the night. Barb, however, looks like she wants to sink into the concrete steps.

"Barb, chill," Nancy coaxes, noticing how the redhead is rocking back and forth on her heels.

"I'm chill," Barb replies defensively.

She is not chill. Chilled by the cold November night, yes, but calm? No.

The double doors swing open. The music becomes three times louder, and a burst of warmth from inside the house makes Laura's hair fly back from her shoulders. Steve Harrington stands with a smile on his face and places a hand on his hip.

"Hello, ladies."

—°• ☆ . °—

As much as Laura dislikes Steve, she has to begrudgingly admit that his music taste is pretty good. "I Melt With You" by Modern English blares from unseen speakers in the massive backyard. It was Laura's favorite song last year, and she has fond memories of her father gasping every time it came on the radio, turning up the volume dial, and exclaiming, "It's your song, Laura Roara!"

But Laura should not be thinking of her parents tonight, especially when she's disobeying them. Her mother would call down every single one of their ancestors to collectively beat her ass if she knew she was at a party.

Carol's shrieks fill the air as Tommy grabs her around the middle, threatening to toss her into the in-ground pool the rest of them are sitting around. With the screaming and music combined, Laura wouldn't be surprised if the cops were called due to a noise complaint. Or maybe it doesn't matter because the houses are so far apart? This neighborhood is too rich for her mind to handle.

"You're such an asshole, Tommy," Carol jokingly seethes, slapping her boyfriend on the arm.

"For once in her life, Carol is right," Barb grumbles. Laura huffs a laugh through her nose.

A can of beer appears in front of her face. Laura blinks, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to its close proximity, then follows the arm extending it all the way up to Steve's face. He shakes it impatiently. "Beer?"

"Oh, no thanks," Laura says. Struck by the sudden urge to not be seen as a loser, she adds, "I'm... allergic."

"It's not like he shoved peanuts inside of it," Nancy says with a laugh.

Laura glares at her, her cover ruined, then returns her gaze to Steve. "Do you have Coke instead? The pop, not the drug."

Steve snorts. "I didn't figure you'd be asking me for cocaine, Fairer." He rummages through the cooler to Nancy's left and produces a sweating red can, popping it open before handing it to Laura. "Here."

"Thanks." Laura takes a greedy sip so she doesn't have to talk. She's always found herself particularly sensitive to textures, and she loves any carbonated beverage. She could take an hour to finish a single can of any soft drink, sitting with the liquid fizzing in her mouth, the bubbles popping against her tongue and sending delighted shivers down her spine.

Steve returns to his original spot next to the cooler and punches a hole into Laura's rejected can of beer with a knife. He easily shotguns it in five seconds, his throat working with every swallow.

Laura glances at Barb, who looks downright miserable, her hands shoved into the pockets of her blue puffer jacket as she slouches in a lawn chair. She swallows her mouthful of pop and pokes Barb's arm to get her attention. When the redhead looks up at her, Laura jerks her head toward Steve and then makes a face. It makes both of them laugh.

Steve flops onto the pool chair with a nonchalant exhale and grabs the cigarette he'd tucked behind his ear, preparing to light it. He's trying so hard in front of Nancy that Laura has to fight the urge to drag Barb inside just so they can burst out laughing together.

"Gag me with a spoon," she mumbles before taking another sip of her very non-alcoholic drink.

"That supposed to impress me?" Nancy asks him.

With the cigarette pursed between his lips, he rhetorically asks, "You're not?"

"You are a cliché, you do realize that?"

Laura decides that she very much does not want to hear this conversation and focuses on her bubbles. Pop, pop, pop against her tongue, almost like a game. Hence why Midwesterners refer to soft drinks that way.

"Oh, God," Barb groans.

Laura zones back into the present and follows her gaze to see Nancy accepting the knife from Steve. She stands and grabs a can of beer from the cooler, preparing to slice it open.

Still with that stupid cigarette in his mouth, muffling his words, Steve instructs, "You gotta make a hole right in the bo—"

"I got it," Nancy says, cutting him off with a smile.

"Yeah, she's smart, you douche!" Tommy hollers, his arm around Carol's shoulders. He then crushes an empty beer against his head and drops it onto the pool deck. It's a good thing that there's nothing but air beneath his skull, or Laura might be worried.

Nancy slices the can open and holds it up to her mouth, tilting her head back so the beer can slide more easily down her throat. Laura watches cautiously. She and Nancy have snuck alcohol together before, so she knows her friend can handle her liquor, but she wants to make sure things don't go overboard.

Steve raises a flask in solidarity and begins a chant of, "Chug, chug, chug, chug!" that Tommy and Carol join in on, their cheers turning into an amalgamation of drunken support that becomes faster the longer Nancy shotguns the beer. Soon she drops it, the empty can clattering against the concrete, before taking a bow.

"New record," Laura comments with a raised brow. Nancy gives her a grin that flutters her heart. Even if this isn't Laura's scene, what with Carol and Steve's cigarette smoke adding toxicity into the air and Tommy being stupid as usual, she's happy to see Nancy having fun.

But she does wish that Nancy would make more of an effort to talk to them, maybe even sit closer to them instead of the noticeable gap between her and her friends in comparison to her and Steve. It's almost like they're afterthoughts. The comment she'd made about Steve not lacing the beer with peanuts was the first thing she'd said to Laura since their arrival.

Nancy glances over at Barb for her reaction, only to see her averted gaze and bored expression. She reaches for another can. "Barb, you wanna try?"

"What? No." Barb's wide-eyed expression suggests that she'd rather continue ignoring everyone else rather than be dragged into their antics. As Nancy continues preparing the beer, she forces a polite smile onto her face. "No, I don't want to, thanks."

"Come on!" Nancy encourages her, trying her best to make Barb feel included after so long. She approaches with the drink in one hand and the knife in the other.

Even Steve is supportive of the idea, adding a, "Come on, yeah," in the background. Laura takes notice of the fact that, while Carol and Tommy have been acting as if she and Barb don't exist, Steve has made an effort to include them in their activities— foremost by offering Laura a beer and then by encouraging Barb to shotgun one with the rest of the group.

First his good music taste, and now he's being surprisingly considerate in his own Steve Harrington type of way? He's racking up more points tonight than Laura thought possible.

"Nance, I don't want to!" Barb protests in a whisper.

"It's fun! Just give it a—"

"Nance!"

"Just — just give it a shot."

Barb looks at Laura for support. She shrugs. One beer isn't catastrophic, and Barb will still be able to drive them home.

"I think you should knock 'em all out of the park," she says.

The redhead sighs. "Okay."

She takes the beer and knife from Nancy, pushing herself to her feet. Her brows furrow in concentration as she aligns the point of the knife with the bottom of the can. But just as she presses down to slice it open, the can slips, causing her to cut a deep dash into her thumb instead.

Laura shoots to her feet as Barb drops the can with a gasp. It rolls away unceremoniously.

"Gnarly!" Tommy comments when he sees the bleeding wound right at the base of Barb's thumb where it meets her palm. A drop of blood splatters onto the deck.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asks, all amusement gone from her expression.

"Yeah," Barb replies unconvincingly.

"Barb, you're bleeding!"

"I'm fine," she insists, then looks at Steve. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Oh, it's, uh, down past the kitchen, to the left." He rises to guide her in the right direction, pointing toward the back door.

"I'll come with you," Laura says.

Barb shakes her head. "Laur—"

But she hardens her voice, asserting, "I'm coming with you."

Her friend finally agrees with a nod, following Steve's directions into the house with Laura tagging along behind her. The few lights on in the house add a soft, warm glow that sharply contrasts with the dark, greenish lighting that the pool had provided. It's a lot warmer, too. Laura hadn't realized just how cold she was until she feels the heat of the house.

Barb flips the bathroom light on, leaving a bloodstained smear behind on the switch. Crimson trails her every movement as she reaches for the faucet and turns it on. Laura peers over her shoulder as Barb presses her other hand over the wound to stop the bleeding, but it keeps streaming out in rivers, soaking into the lines of her skin.

"Barb, you might need stitches," she tells her.

"No, I don't," Barb replies shortly. "I've had stitches before. It's just bleeding a lot, but I don't think it's that deep."

Laura's mind swirls with a concoction of negative thoughts that say otherwise, but she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth to keep her from saying anything else. Then she decides that she should make herself useful. Bending down, she opens the cabinet doors under the sink and finds a first-aid kit shoved among a plethora of cleaning supplies.

The sounds of running water and Laura rifling through the kit as she sits on the covered toilet seat are all that penetrate the silence between them. Then Laura can't take the guilt rising inside of her anymore, and an apology bursts from her lips. "I'm sorry."

Barb shakes her head. "It's not your fault."

"I told you to shotgun that beer. I told you to come here. I wasn't being a good friend."

"I'm not mad at you," Barb reassures her, but there's definitely an emphasis on the word "you." As in, it's not Laura she's angry with.

It's not hard to guess who it is. Though Laura had encouraged her to shotgun that beer and come to this party, it had been Nancy's idea both times. Nancy who had brought them along to keep an eye on her. Nancy who had then proceeded to ignore them for the majority of this party.

Party? Is that what this is? A get-together? Hang-out? Laura doesn't know what to call it, but it sucks.

She sighs, spreading out some Band-Aids, gauze, and Neosporin on the counter. "I mean, I'm usually forgettable, so this night really isn't new."

"You are not forgettable." Barb seems satisfied that the bleeding has slowed enough to turn off the tap, though she continues to apply pressure to the wound as she leans against the counter.

Laura shrugs. "Mr. Fredericks thought my name was Lauren until today. It's okay, I'm used to it."

She meticulously lines the medical supplies into a straight, even row to avoid meeting Barb's gaze. She'd left her Coke outside. Without something to preoccupy her hands with, she doesn't know what to do with them in the lingering silence.

"You made me laugh, though," Barb points out softly. "Steve really thought he was hot shit after shotgunning that fourth beer."

The two of them share another chuckle. A smile plays on Laura's face as she agrees, "Yeah, he did. How long do you think it took him to perfect his hair in the mirror before we showed up?"

"Oh, at least two hours. You don't earn the nickname 'The Hair' for nothing."

The thought of Steve carefully arranging each individual strand to rest perfectly on his head is ridiculous, but also completely plausible. He cares about his hair more than anybody else she knows. But even as they poke fun at him, deep in her gut, Laura knows that he wasn't even the worst part about tonight. Aside from Nancy's lack of attention, it had been Carol and Tommy who had acted like they weren't there at all.

Growing up, Laura's mother had advised her not to hate anybody, saying that "hate" was a strong word and led to nothing but ugly thoughts and feelings inside. But she's pretty sure she hates Carol and Tommy. How can anyone stand to be around them? They're only popular due to money and bullying everyone else. Their personalities remind her of the Grinch song— three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwiches with arsenic sauce.

After the blood stops flowing enough for Barb to bandage her wound, the two girls exit the bathroom to see a figure walking up the creaking wooden stairs.

"Nance," Barb calls.

It takes a moment for Laura to realize it, but it is her on the steps, stopping halfway up the staircase. She hadn't placed her right away because of the towel pulled tightly to her body and her soaking-wet hair.

"Nancy," she says again, causing her to turn around, "where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Nancy replies vaguely. "Just ... upstairs. To change." She opens the towel cocooning her and reveals her clothes plastered to her skin like a second layer, her shirt turned dark from the water. "I... fell in the pool."

Her nonchalant smile and laughter suggest that it had been more than just a fall.

Barb shakes her head, half in disgust, half in disbelief. Laura's mouth is pinched firmly shut.

"Why don't you guys go ahead and go home?" Nancy tells them. "I'll just... I'll get a ride or something."

Barb's tone changes to one of concern. "Nance?"

The girl smiles at her and raises her eyebrows, saying her name back to her. "Baaarrrrbb. I'm fine."

She buries her face into the side of the towel and hides her grin. Now her happiness feels like a kick to the stomach— knowing that she's having such a good time while Barb and Laura are standing on the sidelines, not outright excluded but unable to participate in the fun, either.

"This isn't you," Barb insists.

Nancy's expression becomes serious. "I'm fine. Just ... go ahead and go home, okay?"

Barb scoffs and turns away, heading back toward the kitchen. Laura's mouth twists to the side. She can't fight the unease building in her chest, warning her that if Nancy goes upstairs with Steve, she's going to end up doing exactly what she said she wouldn't do tonight. She's intoxicated. She's not in her right mind.

Nancy turns to head up the stairs, but Laura puts her foot down. "Nancy."

She looks over her shoulder, her expression slightly surprised by the firm tone.

"I'll get you your hoodie. Come downstairs, okay?"

Maybe she's had a bit more to drink than Laura had realized, because Nancy doesn't seem to notice the irritation on her friend's face The frown on her face, the crease between her eyebrows, the clenching of her jaw.

"I'm sure I can find something warmer than that up here," she says, brushing Laura off.

Steve appears at the top of the staircase, probably wondering what's taking Nancy so long. He's soaked as well. His hair is a wet mess, slicked back from his face with water droplets clinging to the strands, some of the half-dried portions sticking up in wild directions. A towel identical to Nancy's is draped over his shoulders. Somehow, that makes it even worse. It feels like Nancy and Steve are aligned, united, a team, and Laura is on the opposing side. She isn't used to being at odds with her best friend.

"Nancy," Laura repeats. She doesn't care that she's about to say this in front of Steve. He's drunk, anyway. "You brought us here to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. Well, you're acting pretty stupid right now. You should come downstairs."

Her friend rolls her eyes. "You sound like your mom."

Laura's mouth twists into an outright scowl, anger igniting in her eyes. "You take that back!"

"Woah, ladies," Steve drawls, thumping down the few steps it takes to reach Nancy. He places both hands on her shoulders protectively and looks at Laura. "I'm her boyfriend. You're not her girlfriend or something, so back off."

All at once, Steve loses every single point he's gained tonight.

The words hit her like a slap in the face. Laura takes a step back, reeling from their impact. She blinks. Processes the fact that yes, Steve had just said that.

She pulls her mouth into a line and fires out, "Fine," then twists on her heel and storms away.

Barb lingers near the back door, but Laura isn't sure if she'd heard any of that conversation, because she's watching the pool water dance and shimmer from the lights within. One hand is pressed to the sliding glass door.

"This is bogus," Laura spits.

"I'm going to sit outside for a minute, cool down," Barb says.

"I'll be there in a second." She doesn't want her friend to see all of the expressions on her face that she can't seem to hide. Barb will ask what's wrong, and Laura doesn't know how to lie to her. How can she explain why Steve's words hurt so much without outing herself?

Barb nods and slips outside. Alone on the ground floor of the house, Laura puffs a heavy sigh through her lips. Her eyes dart around the dimly-lit kitchen and discover an unopened six-pack of beer sitting on the counter.

Moving before she realizes it, Laura wrenches a can from its plastic ring and cracks it open. She tilts her head as far back as it can go and pours it down her throat, not tasting the disgusting, warm-temperature liquid, not even allowing herself much room to breathe before she finishes it and reaches for another.

______

a/n:

man i just want to give laura and barb a super duper big hug :(

steve and laura's dynamic is slowly changing and i'm here for it. i know the first season didn't focus on steve that much, but i'm planning on delving a bit more into his psyche and personality than the show did.

also, i don't mean to be villainizing nancy, and i hope it doesn't seem that way. i love my girl to death <3 things between her and laura will just be kinda strained sometimes, but they're still really close.

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed the chapter!!

—kristyn

( word count: 4.1k )