The One || Steve Harrington

The Flea and the Acrobat

Georgia had gone to Will's funeral that morning; she felt drained. To see a coffin that size was a sight she wished never to see again.

More thoughts of Sara were present today than she'd let herself have in a long time. It was one thing to feel her absence like a weight on her shoulders; it was another to be freshly reminded of it.

She was meeting Nancy and Jonathan later to look for Barb, but not until she changed and checked on her father first. She assumed he was passed out on the couch since he didn't attend the funeral.

Georgia hadn't even undone the last lock when the door opened for her. Her dad stood in the doorway with a finger over his mouth, motioning her to stay quiet. He allowed her through the doorway before holding up a circular device in his hand. It looked like a wire you'd see on a crime television show. In his other hand, he held a gun close to his side.

The cabin was a mess, and everything was askew. He'd cut holes into the couches, tore out the fluff inside, flipped over the kitchen table, and overturned almost everything. Her room was pretty normal, but some items were askew. He was searching for more wires.

Knocking on the front door startled the both of them. He held his finger to his lips again and opened the door, gun first, only dropping his hand when he saw his two deputies. She couldn't fully hear their conversation, but what she could make out was the statement, "We found Barbara's car. Staties found it last night at a bus station."

That didn't make any sense. Barb wouldn't just ditch her car somewhere or leave on some spur-of-the-moment getaway. She wasn't even the running away type.

Hopper closed the door more so that it was only open a crack and lowered his voice, not wanting her to overhear more than she already had.

****

Georgia parked in the cul-de-sac that led to Nancy's driveway. She still had a switchblade in her jacket pocket and also had an axe, but it'd be a weird sight to walk to the Wheeler home carrying an axe. She'd look like Lizzie Borden, which wasn't ideal in a town full of nosy neighbors.

Nancy stood in the underpass where cars parked, practicing swings with a baseball bat.

"You could go pro with a swing like that," Georgia said as she walked up their long driveway.

Nancy grinned, looking up at the girl. "Aw, you really think so?" Nancy laughed.

"Totally," she nodded.

Nancy walked over to the stand of sports equipment against the wall and passed Georgia a bat.

"Okay, let's see your swings," Nancy said.

Georgia grabbed the bat from her hand and waited for Nancy to back up before she started swinging. Softball was never Georgia's cup of tea. She preferred soccer tenfold and did track and field in the Spring to maintain endurance.

"Not bad," said Nancy. "Not exactly pro-level like me, though. Maybe more minor league."

She swung again. "Maybe we should go to the batting cages one day. I think I'd be amazing."

Nancy bent down, grabbing a ball from the bucket next to the bats.

This time, someone grabbed her bat in mid-air, stopping her from making contact with whoever she was about to hit.

Steve stood behind her, one hand holding the bat. A stray strand of hair fell in front of his eyes.

"Steve?" Georgia stated, drawing Nancy's attention.

"What are you doing here?" Nancy asked in an accusatory tone.

"What are you two doing?" Steve asked, deflecting. "Since when do you play baseball?"