Love Grows: Steve Harrington's Girl Next Door

1983: The Weirdo Next Door

Steve Harrington never really gave Rosemary much of a thought.

Why should he? She's just the weird girl next door.

She's just the weird girl next door who's lived there since they were both 7, and she'd rollerskate outside his house, with her skinned knees poking out the bottom of her denim shorts.

She's just the weird girl next door who'd amuse herself by his pool when their parents would get together for cookouts, and he'd tease her for preferring to make daisy-chains over playing with him and the other kids on the street.

He can still remember the one time in middle-school, when he whined to his mom after she suggested he go to the Snow Ball with Rosemary... as her date.

"But, mom!" He groaned. "She's so weird!"

"Steven Harrington," his mother sharply chided the young boy. "Rosie is a sweet girl and you'd do well to treat her nicely."

He lost the battle, of course he did. Since when did a 12 year old kid ever win an argument with a stupid adult anyway? So, after a heated back and forth, Steve's mom forced him out the house, till he found himself marching up the steps of Rosemary's porch with his shoulders up around his burning ears and he rasped his knuckles against the door.

"Hey, Steve," she said in her usual, sing-song voice.

"Hey, Rosemary," he mumbled.

What Steve wasn't prepared for though, was the overwhelming sense of absolute humiliation, when Rosemary gave him her response to being asked.

She said no. She wasn't disgusted or upset or anything. She just smiled, and shook her head, and genuinely thanked him, but no was her answer because she apparently didn't even want to go to the ball. After, she shut the door. And Steve just stood there with two clammy hands rigid by his sides, not quite able to comprehend that she was the one to reject him.

He can also remember that same night, returning home from the dance, and finding Rosemary sat hunched on her porch in nothing but her Snoopy pyjamas.

"Hey, Steve," she greeted him.

"Hey, Rosemary," he grudgingly answered, still a little sore. Then, he frowned, when he noticed how rigorously she was digging round her mouth with her fingers. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Workin' on my last baby tooth," she simply responded.

"Why?" He pressed, curious and a little agitated. "You mean this is why you didn't wanna go to the dance?!"

She didn't reply, only carried on digging round her mouth with her fist. And this annoyed Steve all the more.

How could she reject him? She's just the weird girl next door.

She was just the weird girl next door, until they grew up and she aged like a fine wine.

Fortunately, time has a way of mending even the deepest wounds. And Steve's once bruised and battered ego, stemming from the Snow Ball incident, gradually faded to nothing. Something about being crowned the King of Hawkins High must've helped with that. Whereas Rosemary stayed the nobody neighbour. But, despite this, the more they grew up with their houses side-by-side, the more the pair managed to form an unlikely bond, and childish prejudices matured into fondness. Away from the prying eyes of Hawkins' elite, of course.

Steve decided it's because it's kinda hard to dislike the girl, and maybe his mom was right after all. Sure, he thinks she's probably one tin-foil hat away from trying to communicate with aliens on the roof of her house. But regardless, she's sweet, strange Rosemary.

Rosemary... yeah, she's definitely a Rosemary. With her petal-soft skin and her big, blue eyes. Her parents were hippies in the 60s, before her dad served in 'Nam and her mom ditched the flower-crowns for power-suits, and it certainly shows in their daughter... with her long, wild hair the colour of copper, and her unapologetic, carefree spirit.

Mental.

Mad as a box of frogs.

Art freak. Theatre kid. Wallflower.

That's what she is.

Still, beyond that, Steve Harrington never really gave Rosemary much of a thought. He swears. Cross his heart.

It's a regular Tuesday night, pretty standard as far as Steve's concerned, when he busies himself in front of a mirror upstairs. It's warm. Unnaturally so, considering it's November. So he cracks a window then continues to smooth the collar of his shirt.

"Hey, Steve," he hears a familiar voice chiming, followed by the distant hum of Dusty Springfield on vinyl.

"Hey, Rosemary," he replies, leaning his head out the window to the girl opposite. "What'cha doin'?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow at the way she brandishes a pair of dull kitchen scissors.

"Fancied myself some bangs, didn't I?" Rosemary says, not quite meeting his gaze from across both their houses, but instead concentrating on the chunks of hair she snips precariously away. "Does it look bad?"

"I'll be honest; it doesn't look good." Steve smirks. That's the thing he's learned about Rosemary - nothing ever phases her. "But I'm sure you can pull it off."

"Cut 'em a little messy didn't I?" She agrees with a sigh. "Oh well, hair's hair. It'll grow." She smiles and places the scissors down on the sill with a measured motion. Then, she rests her chin in her hand to watch Steve from across the trellis that conjoins their houses. "Lookin' sharp. What's the occasion?"

"I'm having a little get-together tonight."

"Isn't it a Tuesday?"

"So?" He grins. "Thought you were the one who's always saying to live a little, man?"

"I'm not that much of a cliché." She grins right back.

"Yeah? Guarantee you've got some pot stashed under your bed."

"And I guarantee you'll be begging me to share on the roof this weekend."

"You got me there," Steve muses. "Hey, everyone'll be here soon. Wanna join?"

She considers it for a moment.

But then, just like five years ago, a smile creeps into her cheeks before she gives him her answer.

"No, thank you."

Steve rolls his eyes playfully before asking, "Don't tell me you've got more baby teeth still knocking around in that mouth of yours?"

She laughs.

"No." Her mouth stretches wide, revealing straight white teeth that are slightly too big, but only just. "Had a full set for a while now."

"I can see that." He nods, thinking to himself how pretty her smile actually is. "So, why not? My girlfriend Nancy's coming; she's kinda shy and you two might get along."

"Are Tommy and Carol coming?"

"Uh, yeah."

"No, thank you," she repeats breezily with that same disarming smile.

A voice calls from within her house, deep and masculine but most importantly, protective - Rosemary's dad, calling her by the usual, cutesy pet-names.

Rosemary?

Rosebud?

Sprig?

"Coming, daddy!" She replies, sickly sweet, before grasping the ledge of the window. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she offers Steve her goodbye. "Gotta go. Enjoy your party."

And with that, she slides the glass shut.

Steve just chuckles to himself, awarding her an open palm in a starfish wave, before she disappears into the house.