Through A Glass Darkly | Eddie Munson x Reader

Chapter Fifteen

During the last Study Hall of the semester, Sheryl had revealed the secret New Year's Eve party happening at this abandoned burger joint, Benny's, on the outskirts of town. Everyone was going to be there. She'd been invited by Chance Lang, #23 on the basketball team. His parents were away on some couples-only cruise.

If everyone was going to be there, you'd joked, it wasn't much of a secret. She, Heather, and Christy laughed. You'd smiled with a shrug. Heather had then teased Sheryl about her crush on Chance, saying the party was Sheryl's opportunity to ride her way to prom queen. Sheryl had fluttered her hands as she stated the whole senior class knew who was going to be prom queen - and it wouldn't be her.

You'd looked between the three of them and asked who they meant. Heather leaned in, Christy and Sheryl copying her. You leaned in as well. Sotto voce, Heather said Chrissy Cunningham was a sure bet for prom queen. After all, Chrissy Cunningham was the queen of Hawkins High.

Chrissy Cunningham sat diagonally from you in Western Lit. She was one of the least exasperating cheerleaders you'd ever encountered. At first, you'd avoided anyone who'd be featured in the athletics section of a yearbook. However, she was kind and humble. She'd even complimented your nail polish one time, which you thanked her for and told her the color.

She now sat on the second-hand sofa with her All-American boyfriend, Jason Carver. Chrissy sipped from a red cup that was most likely filled with Diet Coke. She didn't seem the beer-chugging type. In contrast, Jason held a Pabst can high as he pontificated. The jocks lounging around them cheered when he said something particularly rousing.

Jason was a preacher without a pulpit, desperate for each hosanna to feed his bloated ego.

Keeping your annoyance to yourself, you filled your cup from the bucket of jungle juice at the old pick-up counter. Nearby, a game of beer-pong went into overtime. Heather and Christy were in the group of spectators. You joined them, bumping your elbow with Christy's.

She brightened as she greeted you, her eyes glittering under the multiple strands of Christmas lights.

Heather curved around her to say, "Hey."

"Hey," you said, though the shouting spectators drowned you out.
Christy got your attention and moved closer to speak in your ear. You smelled the whiskey-and-Coke on her.

"Look who's talking to Chance Lang."

You followed her gaze across the main room. Sheryl and Chance were talking. Beside them, a few guys played Horse at the indoor basketball hoop. Sheryl nodded at something Chance said. He pantomimed some sportsball maneuver that had her laughing and touching his forearm. Chance grinned, pleased with himself, and cocked a hip.

You shared a look with Christy before giggling with her.

The crowd roared as the beer-pong game ended. A fellow spectator knocked into Heather, who knocked into Christy, who then knocked into you. The three of you staggered together and laughed.

"God, I need another drink," said Heather, with a nod towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, let's go," you said before leading the way around the crowd.

Christy latched onto your sleeve like a duckling.

In the kitchen, a couple made out by the defunct walk-in while a few people blew rails on the metal counters. Bottles of beer and wine coolers sprouted from the melting ripples of ice filling the industrial-sized sinks. Heather pulled a beer from the ice, placed the underside of the cap on the counter, and knocked the cap off. The beer foamed and dripped onto the already-sticky tiled floor.