THE FREAKS ~ Eddie Munson

Chapter One: Hawkins

Veronica POV

"VERONICA!!! GET YOUR ASS UP!!" My Aunt Denise called from downstairs. I woke up startled, jumping up from her sudden yelling. Once I had realized what was happening, I smiled and laughed it off, getting out of bed and looking through multiple boxes to find something decent to wear.

I lifted up a red Harley Davidson shirt. It was a now tight fit t-shirt that my dad had given me awhile back. I had made it my own by cutting the back and sowing it up so i'd fit me tightly, and cropping it just above my belly button.

"This'll do." I mumbled to myself, throwing the shirt onto my bed. I found some washed out black denim shorts and paired those with a leather belt. The shorts were high waisted, so they covered the crop of my shirt. Wearing those made the shirt look like it was just tucked instead of cropped...a lot more appropriate for school I suppose.

"VERONICA!! ARE YOU UP??" My Aunt called out again. "Yes!!" I yelled back, annoyed by her sudden yelling.

I threw on my clothes and brushed out my wavy, dark brown hair. I fixed my bangs to make them look evenly wispy, then looked in the mirror once again.

I was missing something.

I quickly looked through the boxes once more and found my black zip up jacket. I slid it over my shoulders and looked in the mirror again.

Perfect.

I slid on some red and black striped knee-high socks and scrunched them down to above the ankle. I then grabbed my black high top converse and jumped around, trying my hardest to get those fuckers on. I succeeded, but it took me a few stomps and a lot of strong pulls for them to finally get passed my heel.

Lastly, I grabbed my backpack and threw it over my shoulder, running downstairs to be greeted by Denise. She had just set down two plates which both consisted of one bacon and egg sandwich.

"Come on, babe. Sit down and eat." She said, sitting down across from my plate.

Aunt Denise was a charmer. I'm just gonna say it- she was hot for her age. She had dark brown hair like mine except hers was permed and her bangs were always straightened to perfection. She had always wanted me to get a perm with her, being we had "the same amazing facial structure for it" as she likes to say.

Aunt Denise had powerful broad shoulders, a sturdy, defined jawline, and a perfectly sloped but pointy nose. Her eyes were brown with long, dark eyelashes. Her eyebrows were the perfect bushy but skinny, defined arched kind. They were like the ones you see on the ladies in Hollywood. She had a small waist, but big hips, and it seemed like every day was leg day for Aunt Denise. She had legs like a model. I guess those constant days of Jazzercise were really paying off.

She was beautiful, and everyone told me we had looked alike. Well...alike except I was the smaller I-don't-do-Jazzercise-every-day-of-my-goddamned-life version. I should really start. Maybe then I would actually fit in somewhere that isn't the broken table next to the trash bins.

As I sat down to eat, Denise looked at me with a cocked eyebrow.

I gave her a look. "What?" I asked, picking up my sandwich.

She shrugged. "Is that really what you wanna wear on your first day of a new school?" She asked, taking a small bite of her sandwich. She didn't want to seem like she was judging, but she was definitely judging.

I looked down at my outfit then back up at her confused. "Yes?" I replied, giving a hint of attitude.

"Oh, well I dunno...don't you wanna wear something a little more...colorful? It's the 80s, V. It's the years of the neon! Don't you wanna fit into the trends here in Hawkins?" She asked excitedly.

I gave her a blank stare. The only neon here in Hawkins were the lights that read "open" in the dull store windows. That was the only pop of color here! If I didn't know any better I would think Hawkins was a fucking ghost town! It's just so empty and boring.

"I can assure you i'm fine. Thanks for breakfast, Aunt Denise." I said, setting down my half eaten breakfast and getting up from my seat.

"Alright, babe. Be careful on that bike, i'll kill you if it comes back looking like a raccoon got a hold of it." She warned, taking another bite of her sandwich.

I gave her a smile and a nod. "Noted." I replied, walking out of the house. The faint sound of her voice yelling "Don't be home any later than 8!" was the last thing I heard from her before I kicked off my bike and glided down the cracked, neighborhood roads of Hawkins, Indiana.