Angelica "Freak Two" Munson

Chapter 10

Since Angie is resting on the couch, the rest of the group decides to tackle the shed. 

With tape, tarps, and cardboard in hand, they move quickly, layering everything to make the shed appear unrecognizable. 

The younger kids scurry between tasks, tossing pieces of cardboard to the taller teens, who attach them with quick, efficient motions.

Hopper paces once they finish, inspecting the room like a drill sergeant. "Good enough. That's going to hold until we can figure out a permanent solution." 

He dismisses the group back to the house, leaving only Joyce, Mike, and Jonathan to handle the finer details.

The rest of the kids trudge back inside, heads hung low with exhaustion. 

That is, all except Angie, who limps toward the back door, freshly rebraiding her hair as if nothing had happened. 

"So," she says lightly, voice tinged with curiosity, "what have you guys been up to?"

"Making the shed look unrecognizable," Dustin responds bluntly, moving past her without meeting her eyes.

"O...kay?" she tilts her head, confusion flickering over her face. 

Her leg aches as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

As the group files inside, Angie decides to reclaim her spot on the couch. 

She leans against the wall for support, wincing slightly, when Lucas steps forward. 

"Here," he murmurs, carefully guiding her to the couch and helping her settle back onto the cushions.

"Thanks," she says softly.

"You're welcome," he mumbles, retreating down the hallway, presumably to comfort Max while the younger kids adjust to the calmer atmosphere. 

Angie notices and smiles faintly at the thoughtfulness.

Steve finally returns, stepping into the room with a weary but relieved expression. 

"Hey... you're awake," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty," Angie replies with a small laugh, making space for him to sit at the other end of the couch.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve joins her, offering a smile, "makes sense."

"Not really sure why though," she says jokingly. "Haven't done anything to injure myself."

"No?" he tilts his head, pretending to be intrigued, resting it against his elbow on the back of the couch.

"Nope. Totally bizarre."

Steve shakes his head, grinning as Angie laughs at her own banter. 

It's strange—light, comforting, and out of place in the middle of all the chaos. 

He chuckles along with her, grateful for the momentary reprieve.

"Really, though," Angie murmurs as her laughter dies down. "My leg hurts like a bitch."

"I'd bet," Steve replies, adjusting a pillow beneath her knee. "You took quite a hit today."

"Honestly, I thought it was all a dream until I got up too fast," she admits quietly. "Really wished it was a dream."

"Yeah... this isn't exactly how most people spend a weekend," he adds lightly.

"You can say that again," she mutters.

"What's craziest to me," she continues, a wry smile tugging at her lips, "is I don't even remember how I ended up in this mess. It's like I helped a random kid escape a librarian," she gasps, laughing softly at the absurdity, "and then blinked and ended up here, joking on a couch with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington during a fight against monsters from a parallel Hawkins."