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Lydia Elrod is freezing but she doesn't like to seem weak, so she doesn't slow down her pace on her bike.
Chrissy is someways behind her. Lydia can hear her hums even with the distance between them. Chrissy Cunningham's birthday is in a matter of days, and it feels like she's invited everyone in Hawkins. The ones that do matter, that did matter, and that don't—that haven't ever. Chrissy's that kind of girl. Very nice.
Lydia isn't too sure how her friend feels about birthdays, considering her older sister went and died on her birthday a few years back. Cassandra Cunningham's death still doesn't make sense to a lot of people in town, Lydia included.
Cassandra is not the type of girl to go off and kill herself. They found her alone in the woods, days after she apparently had been there. Gashes in her arms and eyes so sunken in she looked animated. She wasn't a girl that was sad, not outright anyways.
Lydia thinks about Wesley Roman a lot. How Cassandra quietly destroyed his life by killing herself. People don't think he's really cool anymore. Apparently he hooks up with one of the younger mothers in the trailer park from time to time. He drinks too much. Does the occasional drug. He's a smart boy but never used it towards school. It's safe to say, he seemed to have a lot going for him before Cass died.
And when she did, she took all his good with her.
A chill swipes up Lydia's spine as she leans her bike against the outside wall of Bradley's, and in a few seconds Chrissy does the same thing. "I swear it's getting colder despite them saying it won't," Chrissy mumbles with redden cheeks. The news weather report is bogus. Chrissy rubs her hands together and smiles at Lydia.
Lydia smiles back but her eyes drink in Chrissy's face. How is your sister dead? How are you okay with it all?
Lydia would never be Lydia again if June fucking died.
Chrissy pulls open the door and the two walk inside the convenience store. Chrissy makes her way towards the freezer section and before Lydia can follow after her—she spots Dallas Mayfield at the counter. He's slouched on a wooden stool, his eyes are trained on the TV up before him. It's playing a Tom & Jerry episode. He has dark patches under his eyes. His chin rest on his knuckles. There's a stubble growing on his face. He's got a think silver chain around his neck. "Lyds?"
Lydia's eyes go snapping to Chrissy. She needs to move towards her.
Dallas Mayfield's head is pounding. He's wondering if he should've called in sick, but he doesn't have the strength to do such a thing. He can't stop thinking about last night, about his sister, and how she never slept. At least he doesn't think she did.
