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CHAPTER TEN Nightmare on Maple Street
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ON FRIDAY NIGHTS, people in Hawkins sought out whatever thrill they could find. High school sweethearts went skinny dipping in Lovers Lake or drove out to Skull Rock to make out under the moonlight. Some threw parties they wouldn't even remember the next day. Others visited the local diner for freshly grilled burgers and brain-numbing milkshakes.
And it just so happened that this particular Friday night was Rhiannon's "date" with Steve.
Admittedly, the fake relationship had become easier with each passing day. She had been a good actress. Mostly because years of faking her emotions had prepared her for this; she could act like she was in love with him the same way she acted like there was absolutely nothing wrong with her on a daily basis.
Because nothing was!
And, okay, the scar across her neck was a reminder of how strange she secretly was, but she was the perfect girl on the outside. She was great at that — her best tactics were throwing on a smile until her cheeks were sore and letting any unsavory thoughts burn in the back of her mind. Thoughts about Dustin Henderson's creature pet thing and the rotting halfway place she referred to as limbo (because what else could that cold wasteland be, if not somewhere you go to rot?) were forgotten in favor of normal stuff. Stuff like baking cupcakes with Steve. And this date. This made her feel normal, and it was nice to feel normal.
It wasn't like there was a bloodthirsty demon inside her that wasn't just high school evil, but evil evil. She was fine. Everything was fine.
But that wasn't the point. The point was this: tonight was her fake date. And she was running late.
She threw on a turtleneck and shimmied into a plaid skirt, then slipped into her tights and finished with a pair of Mary Janes. Half of her hair was held back by a clip, revealing the shimmery eyeshadow glittering across her eyelids. Steve had been waiting outside for several minutes by then. As she finished getting ready, he knocked on her door again.
