Daisies || Max Mayfield

Part 3, Chapter 51: Metal

I'm back. Wow. Yay. So cool. Anyways, I've got kind of a big thing soon, so I'm posting these new chapters within the week. I'm currently working on chapter 65, but I should be done by the end of the week. I also don't like to move stuff around once it's already posted, one, because it's a pain, and two, because I hate when my notifications are flooded with updates from the same chapter multiple different times. So sorry if the pacing's a bit off, I'm trying my best and am working under extremely stressful situations. : )

**Also new hair yay**

I went to sleep on March 20th, 1986 hoping I would finally have a good last day before spring break. But no. I did not. And I'm fucking pissed.

I stuck my head out the window and shouted at the trailer next door.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

With no acknowledgment or lowering of the volume, I got up. I grabbed my shoes, pulled my blanket over my shoulders, and went to the door.

I stomped over to the door, banging on it with the side of my fist.

I saw his hair first.

"What do you want, Harrington?" Eddie asked.

"You know exactly what I want." I crossed my arms. "Shut your fucking music up."

He laughed. "Close your damn window if it bothers you that much."

"You're fucking window, is right next to mine!" I exclaimed, still barely audible over the music. "It's fucking loud, and I swear to god if you don't shut the fuck up I'll come back with my fucking crowbar."

"Every single night." He scoffed. "Look, I'm just trying to enjoy my music."

"What the hell are you doing?" Steve asked, poking his head out of our door.

"What do you think I'm doing?!" I shouted, waving my arms at Eddie.

"Dude, just shut up. We're trying to sleep. Please." Steve groaned.

"No can do." He smirked, shutting the door in our faces.

"Ugh!" I kicked the door, leaving a scuff. "I swear to god I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

"Come on, just go back to sleep," Steve muttered.

"I can't fucking sleep with him blasting that."

"I dunno what to tell you. His uncle's gonna be back in two days." He shrugged, opening the door.

"It's fucking stupid." I climbed back inside, kicking off my shoes and going to my room. "Don't try and wake me up, I'll be hiding under a pile of blankets to drown out the fucking noise."

"Alright." He went back to his room, something the same size as mine. 

Our "trailer" is one of the tiny home things, but it's got a bedroom on each end. Sure, they're small, but we have bedrooms now, with actual beds, and not Mike Wheeler's couch, or the car. And with my luck, I got the one directly next to Edward Munson's room, so whenever he blasts metal, I hear it. Every. Single. Time.

I bunched up all my blankets over my ear and my pillow. I could still hear the music, but I was so exhausted I fell back asleep.

I woke up a little bit earlier than my alarm clock, so I shut off my alarm and started getting ready. I put on a pair of dark blue jeans and a small black tank top, with a flannel shirt, and my leather jacket, plus my pair of combat boots. I pushed my hair back, now cut just below my jaw. It's fluffy too, so random hairs stick out everywhere.