"Hey, you remember what I said last year, right? We're Zombie Boy and Ghost Boy. I'm not ever gonna leave you."
"Promise?"
"One hundred percent."
***
In which Alistair fights the monster that possessed his friend alongside his friends, while trying...
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Chapter Forty-Three: Hallway Confrontation
(The Hellfire Club, Pt. 3)
***
*trigger warning: mention of a racial slur*
The bell ringing and the chatter of the Hawkins High student body was harsh background noise to the upbeat music of I'm Still Standing blaring in Alistair's ears as he made his way to his locker to grab what he needed for his next class, face set in a neutral expression as he pushed his way through the crowd.
It was a few hours after the rally, and lunch was nearing closer and closer—which meant that the time he, Mike and Dustin had to convince/beg Eddie to move Hellfire for another night was looming closer. Not that Alistair was expecting Eddie would actually do it, but they had to have some hope it could work—or at least, Dustin and Mike had to have hope.
Fortunately, the headache had faded thanks to Max, who'd noticed his grimace in their shared class a period ago and slipped him some Tylenol pills. They worked like a godsend, and Alistair had been able to marginally focus better in his last class. Hopefully, it wouldn't come back for the rest of the day, but with his luck, it probably would.
But aside from Max, Alistair hadn't really talked to his friends since the pep rally. He'd exchanged looks with Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Cami, felt the worry from his person and Mike and Dustin—either one of them had told her about the headache—but hadn't engaged in conversation and Alistair was secretly glad they hadn't. He wasn't in the mood with talking to them, especially with Cami, since it would just lead to unnecessary worry about his headache and whatever shit they were worried about with him—not like he didn't get that enough with the ghosts watching him, Ricky's persistent questions if he was okay and Allie's silent hovering—when he was fine. He was completely fine.
Like that was important anyway.
A shoulder shoved into Alistair and he sent a glare at the person who'd bumped into him. The older teen immediately scrambled away as Alistair faced forward, seeing his locker in sight. Stomping up to it, he opened it up and rifled through it, scowling when he couldn't see the textbook he needed.
"Come on, come on, where the hell is it..." he mumbled.
He wasn't looking for long before a transparent hand held the textbook up, joined by a boy's face, the side of his head charred and blackened, a tiny smile on his face as he offered it to Alistair.
Alistair grinned. "Thanks, man."
He was just about to grab it and shove it in his backpack when he heard a clang on the locker beside him and a voice say, "Well, well. If it isn't the mini-freak."
Alistair scowled. He didn't need to see who was next to him to tell it was the assholes on the basketball team.
"What do you douchebags want?" he muttered as he slammed his textbook into his bag, ignoring the ghost disappearing at the arrival of the jocks. "And make it brief. I'm not in the mood to deal with you assholes longer than I have to and I have class in five minutes."
