JESUS FUCK, INDIANA. WHO LISTENS TO THEIR RECORDS THAT LOUD?
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☆︎ JULY, 1995 ☆︎
Indiana's first month in Woodsboro flew by as quick as she did when on her skateboard and running late for a shift at Cricket's. The girl was settling in better than she thought she would in a town so small — especially now that her parents weren't around to take care of her and Virginia anymore. But Indiana was thriving, as far as she was concerned. She had friends, a job, and was in the best band in Woodsboro.
Okay, they were the only band in Woodsboro, and no one aside from Virginia had actually heard them play. But Indiana wasn't bothered by that, as they'd only been fully formed and rehearsing for three weeks out of the garage in the Winger house. They sounded amazing, and it was fun to see what kinds of twists they could put on already amazing songs that they covered.
So, all in all, Indiana wasn't hating the small-town life like she thought she would. Though she was counting down the days until summer ended and August arrived, bringing the start of school with it. Indiana wanted to meet more people, she wanted those people to know her name and ask her about music and get to know the others girls that she'd be playing basketball with once the season started. She wanted faces to pair with the names she heard in stories from Sophia, Jackson, and Isaiah.
Until then, she at least had her routine. She'd wake up to have breakfast with Virginia before the older girl would rush off to the hospital. Then she'd either wait for the others to arrive for rehearsal in the garage or she'd go to Cricket's. And if she wasn't doing any of that, Jackson was showing her around town — admittedly, it only took about two full days to show her everything Woodsboro had to offer.
Given that less-than-complex routine, you'd think that'd mean she wasn't running late for work every other day. She almost always made it, of course, but not without breaking a sweat. And the first Tuesday in July was no exception as she quite literally rolled in through the door, one foot still on her sticker-covered skateboard as she came to a hasty stop before she could run right into the counter.
"Made it!" Indiana said, looking at Sophia behind the register.
Her friend had an unimpressed look on her face as she counted out her tips for the shift. "But late."
"By six minutes!"
"Yeah, six minutes my ass will never get back," Sophia told her flatly.
"I'll make it up to you," Indiana promised with a grin. "I'll let you put that gross pineapple on the pizza tomorrow night."
Sophia's fake annoyance faced. "Deal. I'll catch you when you're off work. I already clocked you in," she told her while pocketing her tip money. "Zay should be by soon. Called in a pickup order."
