Angelica "Freak Two" Munson

Chapter 2

The Munson siblings make their way up the sloping lawn of Tina's house. 

Music rattles the windows, and laughter spills into the October night. 

Before they even reach the porch, a jock in a cape shoves red Solo cups into their hands—liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim.

Eddie immediately hands his back. "No thanks, man. One of us has to be sober enough to get home, and I'm guessing it's not gonna be her."

Angie smirks, already taking a cautious sip of her mystery drink.

"You know, you're super hot," the guy slurs, words stumbling together. "We—"

"I know," Angie interrupts, brushing past him, "but I'm also super not interested."

Eddie bursts out laughing, obnoxious and proud.

Inside, the air smells like cheap beer and perfume. 

Someone yells from the living room, "Bil-ly! Bil-ly! Bil-ly!"

Angie glances at her brother. "What's that about?"

"They've come to announce a new Keg King," Nancy Wheeler mutters, brushing by them with a half-empty cup. "Like anybody gives a shit."

"Oh nooo, Mr. Harrington lost his crown," Angie fake-pouts, grinning as Eddie disappears into the crowd.

Tommy H smirks from across the room, raising his drink. "Well, would you look at that? Ms. Freak Two has arrived."

"Indeed, she has." Angie bows dramatically, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Who knew the freak could dress up?" he sneers, stepping closer.

"I did, actually. Oh—and my condolences, by the way."

"Condolences for what?"

"Your good looks." She brushes past him toward the kitchen.

"You're a freak, Munson!" he shouts after her. Angie just flips him off without looking back.

At the drink table, she reaches for a refill, but Nancy cuts in front of her.

"Sorry," Nancy mutters.

"It's fine... I guess."

Nancy downs what's left of her cup, slams it on the counter, and pushes through the crowd of dancers. 

Steve Harrington follows her, frustration written across his face.

Angie leans against the counter. "That looks rough, Harrington."

"Shut up, Munson."

"Whatever," she says, waving him off and heading for some air.

Outside, the chill hits her instantly. 

The smell of alcohol and sweat fades, replaced by the damp scent of fallen leaves. 

She's halfway across the lawn when she spots someone in the doorway who looks painfully out of place.

Jonathan Byers.

He's not even in costume—just a plaid shirt and quiet disinterest.

"I'm going as the guy who hates parties," he says to a girl dressed as a member of KISS.

"Hey," Angie says, walking up with a small smile. "Didn't imagine you at a party."

Jonathan glances over. "Yeah, parties aren't really my thing."

"Same here. Being 'Freak Two' kinda ruins the social life."

He laughs softly, genuine and a little surprised. "Jonathan Byers."