Heatwaves

Freaks Have To Stick Together

"Two are better than one...for if they fall, one will lift up the other."

-Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

 The next day proved to be nothing short of eventful. Hopper had told me yesterday that we'd discuss the events that had transpired, but after returning home, he had retreated to his room without a word. I had hoped he'd bring it up today, but his silence was unnerving. I didn't want to push him, fearing he might lash out if I probed too soon.

I dressed and made my way to the kitchen, where I quietly ate breakfast. Hopper walked through the kitchen, his expression guarded. He headed for the truck without acknowledging me. Before I could even rinse my bowl, the blaring of the truck horn startled me. I grabbed my things in a rush, locking the door behind me as I dashed outside.

The ride to school was thick with unspoken words. We both felt the tension, a palpable barrier that neither of us knew how to breach.

"Try not to kill anyone today. Please," Hopper said, his voice carrying an edge of humor but underlined with genuine concern.

"No promises," I replied, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

"I'm serious!" he pressed.

"Me too," I retorted with a smirk, hoping my smile conveyed the jest in my words.

Hopper's stern gaze softened momentarily, though he remained serious. "I'm serious too. Have a good day, kiddo. Remember to walk away from trouble. And if you need a ride, have Jonathan take you home or to the station if things get out of hand. Anything's better than me locking you up for assault."

"Good thing I know the Chief well," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "He's like a father to me."

Hopper's expression warmed at the comment, a flicker of affection passing through his eyes. He was acting like a father figure, whether it was out of pity or genuine care, and I appreciated it deeply.

"Alright, get outta here. We're holding up the line."

There were no cars behind us, but Hopper's urgency was clear. I nodded and stepped out of the truck. Before I closed the door, I gave Hopper a playful salute.

"Goodbye, Hopper. I'll see you later. Oh, and before you leave, can I have some lunch money?"

"Oh yeah, sure, give me a second," he said, reaching into his wallet.

"Thanks."

He handed me a five-dollar bill, his smile tinged with a mixture of exasperation and affection. I closed the door, watching as he drove off, leaving me to face the remnants of yesterday's drama.

Entering the school, I made my way to my locker, only to find Jonathan standing in front of it, his back pressed against the metal door.

"Howdy! What's up?" I greeted.

"Oh, nothing much. Just checking in on you."

I tried to open my locker, but Jonathan blocked my path. "About that, do you really need anything in there? Maybe you could go without, you know?"

His voice trembled slightly, and I could sense his nervousness. "As much as I'd like to skip notes, I need my notebooks, Jonathan. Can you please move?"

Jonathan hesitated, his lip quivering as he tried to maintain his composure. "I'll let you borrow my notes. Don't worry about it."

"Jonathan, first of all, we only have two classes together. Second, what are you hiding?"