/ "and i have to speculate that god himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay" /
Michelle "Mickey" Hopper has a lot of problems. An alcoholic father ignoring the loss of his youngest daughter, her sister, Sarah...
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...Tuesday, July 2, 1985... every rose has its thorn - poison
Steve pried the metal netting off of the wall vent, looking down the narrow opening with a flashlight. Dustin stood at the bottom of the vent, preparing himself to squeeze into the small space while Robin and Mickey skeptically leaned up against the ledge by the frosted window. "Yeah, I don't know, man. I don't know if you can fit in here. It's like... super tight."
"I can fit. Trust me," Dustin assured.
"No collarbones, remember?" Mickey chimed in.
"Um, excuse me?" Robin said, looking over at her blonde friend.
Steve decided this was as good a place as any to take over. "Oh, he's got some disease, uh... cry, uh... it's chrydo, um..." He looked at Mickey, waiting for her to step in and help him.
"No, I think you've got this one, babe," she joked without thinking. She called many of her close friends babe, but used to use that pet name with Steve more than anyone. It was mostly in a teasing manner as they joked that they'd never be "that couple" to go around calling each other elaborate pet names.
Nevertheless, Steve's cheeks pinked, if only for a second. "Yeah, he's missing bones and stuff," he muttered, refocusing on the kid in front of him to avoid the effect that simple word had on him.
"Cleidocranial dysplasia," Mickey remembered, confused by his sudden change in behavior. She turned to Robin, lowering her voice so only she could hear. "Did I say something?"
Robin snorted to keep from laughing and leaned in to tell Mickey, "You called him babe."
Her own cheeks pinked at that as she bit her lip and looked away from Robin. "Shit. Muscle memory, I guess."
"Steve, just shut up and push me!" Dustin yelled from slightly within the ducts.
"Okay, okay, I'll push you," he said, stepping back up the ladder. Steve first grabbed Dustin's ankles only for the pressure to do nothing.
"Not my feet, dumbass, push my ass," Dustin said.
"What?" Steve asked, if only to make sure he wasn't hearing things.
"Touch my butt! I don't care!" Dustin shrieked.
Mickey pushed herself up to a sitting position on the counter, prepared to get comfortable as she watched this unfold and wondering how long they would try and keep this up.
"What is happening?" Robin said quietly.
The bell at the front counter dinged repeatedly as the boys dissolved into bickering. The two girls turned around to see none other than Erica Sinclair waiting for her daily helping of ice cream samples. Robin smirked, meeting Mickey's eyes knowingly.
...
"Yeah, I don't know," Erica concluded as she looked between the four older kids.
