𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 • Steve Harrington

Chapter 7

SEVEN WEEKS LATER
( Tuesday, January 8th 1985 )

JULIE was in a white tee today, tucked into some wasted jeans and slimly peeking out underneath her grey zip-up hoodie sizes too big and rolled up at the sleeves. Her brown hair was held out of her face with a green bandana she had triangle-tied around her head. It was simple, just like any day was after the holidays.

Christmas had passed. Which meant no more string decorations in the hallway and no more glittering tree towering in the corner of the cafeteria.

Just the same old loose conversation with Tonya Grubb, captain of the soccer team and her closest friend, as they got their tray of food in line and sat at their usual table with the rest of their group—just a mix of other seniors from the team and a few secondhand friends from other classes. Their everyday crowd.

"Once I'm gone, who's captain is not my problem. I'll have varsity and guys that don't think with what dangles between their legs." Tonya took a fruit-bag.

"I know, but I really have a good feeling about Robin." Julie took a packet of crackers.

"Then take it up with coach," Tonya smirked snidely as they left the lunch queue.

"That's impossible."

"Exactly. I don't get what you see in her anyway." Then suddenly, it was like Julie was hearing Tonya's voice from the end of a tunnel. "Sure, she can kick a ball all right, but the motormouth doesn't strike me as a strong leadership quality. Sue me."

Steve was sitting alone with no more black eye and his focus centred on his ex-girlfriend sitting and laughing closely with Jonathan Byers.

There was such a vulnerability in the way his eyes glistened, and echoes of that day in the flower shop flickered in Julie's mind—his anxious desperation, his drivel uttered every other sentence. It didn't take seeing him look entirely hopeless to tell her how much he cared about Nancy, but it helped her realise how awful he must have been feeling.

Most people get to hide from their heartbreaks. He was constantly reminded of his.

"Wait. I'll join you in a minute."

Tonya stopped, too, befuddlement puzzling her face. "Okay..." But she didn't question anything, just continued on her way and filled her empty seat, easily falling into conversation.

All the while, Julie wandered to a plastic chair across from Steve who'd now been jadedly staring at the green apple he twisted back and forth by its stem.

"This seat taken?"

He looked up, a wideness to his eyes. He only shook his head.

She smiled genially and sat down.

"What's happening?"

"I'm sitting."

"I noticed." He trained his eye on her, sceptical. "Why?"

"So I can ask you if you know Mark Lewinsky," she leaned forward with her arms crossed on the table.

His nose wrinkled. "Course I do, he's a total meathead. What about him?"

"I've had the nastiest crush on him since third grade."

"If you're asking me to hook you up, I don't want to burst your bubble, but trust me when I say I'm doing you a favour—"

"No, no. It's old news. Kinda. Just let me finish."

"I would but I don't get what's happening."

"If you'd stop talking already you might find out, Jesus," she straightened her shoulders.