INGRID TYCHO IS NOT A QUITTER. She intended to make her time slinging ice cream at some measly minimum wage job count. Even if it meant driving Hawkins former golden boy, Steve Harrington, off the walls insane.
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╰┈➤ ❝ I'll fake it e...
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STEVE HARRINGTON ALWAYS WAS THE LAST TO KNOW OF ANY IRRATIONAL PLAN THAT HAPPENED QUICKLY. He didn't know about his class' senior prank until the day of. Someone came up with the idea of wrapping their principal's car with cling wrap and gift paper. The mischievous group consisted of daft teenage boys graduating in the spring of '85.
Unfortunately for them, it was raining the day they set to do the deed, and he remembered vividly cursing out whoever brainstormed the idiotic concept. He warned them, but his comments were shaken off as minor jabs in spoiling some good old-fashioned fun. There were not enough parties involved to cause them to get caught and assigned detention for the next week leading up to graduation.
He's concluded that he knows just enough to get him out of high school, to say the least, with a transcript that lacked potential according to any higher education.
Some things came so naturally to Steve. For example, he could get lost doing laps at his swim team's usually dreaded early morning practices. His tired body hitting the frigid pool water (people questioned Hawkins High even having) gave him a kick of adrenaline that made him feel like he could do anything.
Some guys would be embarrassed to say they have a well-thought-out routine for achieving such a pristine hairdo. After all, that was all he had left of his glory days of being Hawkin's past chick magnet, but now he was sulking in his life failure, slinging ice cream with a band geek and the girl who made it clear she hated his guts.
He was the patron saint of the nice guy (in the most inexplicable way possible). How the hell did he end up on the top of her shit list? Scratch that he was a grade-A asshole.
Ingrid Tycho was the epitome of everything the Harrington name called for in a woman. His mother would rave about her achievements in academic environments and the fact that she gave a speech about feeding the children of America in Miss Roane County's beauty pageant during her sophomore year of high school.
Steve remembers her winning too vividly. A smile bright enough to be on the cover of some magazine he sees by the checkout in Bradley's. The color of her dress complemented her skin with the aquamarine shimmering material, highlighting her less prominent features as she glowed under the harsh lights of the city auditorium.
The blush adorning her cheeks was like the fuchsia flowers she held so tightly against herself like it was her most prized possession. A brilliant comparison to her dainty persona Steve had grown up with, as she navigated their childhood with a wonder that brought out the flawed undertones within her that his peers couldn't see.
She was in pain and didn't think anyone would hear her cries from her open bedroom window. Ingrid was unaware that Steve had stayed up to the ungodly hours of the night for days on end after Camden died. It had Steve wondering if she knew he could hear her affliction. She left her house without a puffy face and bloodshot eyes every morning, her concealer being heavier to contain the lack of sleep she brought forth night after night.
