Drabbles and Containment by A Forum User

Drabble Fifty-One - Stranger Things

#51

~Sang~

I rubbed at the sore spot on my arm. The guys and I had gone for the mandatory injections that came with being in the Academy. Apparently, they came once every year, usually for a new disease vaccination that we were obligated to have.

I had, though, learnt a new thing: Meanie had a fear of needles. He tried to avoid the subject, but in the end I was holding his hand as the nurse gave him the shot.

It was really kinda cute, that one of my brave Academy guys was afraid of needles.

We'd just gotten home, and I was lounging on the new sofa they had bought. Some renovations were done to the house, mostly to make it more homely and comfortable. Now, I had a large horse-shoe shaped sofa and a new TV in the center. Victor insisted on getting me a gaming console because, 'to be honest, Peanut, your house is boring as sh*t sometimes'.

I probably should have been offended, but it was; all the decorations were minimal, the computer was a dated one that took ages to turn on, and everything was uncomfortable and second hand.

That, of course, didn't stop me from feeling bad. I knew he had money, but I still felt like I was leeching off him.

"Peanut?" Nathan said. I turned to him. "I'm hungry."

"What do you want?"

"Chocolate chip pancakes!" Luke called. I grinned at him.

"We had those this morning."

"Yeah, but pancakes never get old."

"You're not eating those unhealthy f*cking pancakes again in one day," North ordered. Luke rolled his eyes.

"You're no fun."

"You're going to end up fat."

Luke paused for a moment. "Touché."

I giggled slightly.

"So, what are we having?" Kota glanced up from his book, It by Stephen King. He had most of the collection, but had never read that one so I let him borrow it.

"Do you have the stuff for Cowboy Stew?"

Silas licked his lips, "Yeah, Aggele, Cowboy Stew." Dr. Green frowned.

"How come I have never partaken in this Cowboy Stew you speak of?"

"Oh, I made it at the sleepover."

"Miss Sorenson, you don't mind making us it?" Mr. Blackbourne looked at me over his glasses, silently asking me whether I was okay with it. I gave him a smile.

"Yeah. I enjoy it."

"Come on then, Trouble, Cowboy Stew it is!" Victor, who'd been quiet the whole time grinned at me.

"Make enough for seconds."

I rolled my eyes. "As if I wouldn't."

An hour or so later, we were sat back on our chairs, stuffed.

Dr. Green, who had forced me to eat a second bowl, licked his fingers. Mr. Blackbourne gave me his signature millimeter smile.

"Delicious."

I grinned. Silas was on his third bowl, using a piece of bread to mop up the juices at the bottom. North had eaten two bowls and a half, giving the rest over to Gabriel who hadn't been fast enough to get seconds.

It was content, being here with all my guys like a real family, sat together after dinner.

"Ah, Pookie," Dr. Green sighed, "I have to go. My shifts coming." I stood up to give him a hug.

He wrapped me up in his arms.

"Make sure to take lots of naps," I told him. He didn't sleep enough.

"Shh, you're going to give away my secret." I giggled and we broke apart. Mr. Blackbourne stood too.

"I have business to deal with Miss Sorenson. I'm afraid I must leave too."

We stood awkwardly away from each other. Our touching hadn't gone very far, nothing like the hugs I'd get from the boys.

He stuck out his hand and I went to take it, but decided to pluck up my courage.

I jumped forward and hugged him. He froze, surprised, before returning it warmly. His chin when on the top of my head.

"Goodbye, Mr. Blackbourne."

"Goodbye, Miss Sorenson."

Soon enough, most of the guys had left. North was the last to leave.

"Tell me if you have any nightmares, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Double promise?"

"I triple fantastic wonderful amazing promise on my heart. That good enough?"

North rolled his eyes. "It will suffice."

I waved him goodbye as he got on his motorbike, speeding off into the night.

Sitting on the side of my bed, I reached toward my journal that I'd started writing in more frequently.

When my hand went to touch it though, something remarkable happened.

I could feel the way the air linked together, each part touching until it reached the journal. Out of what felt like pure instinct, I pushed the links without touching them, just with my mind.

The journal hovered in the air, the invisible links holding it up.

My head raced, staring at the airborne diary. I started to panic and lose my focus, and the book dropped to the floor.

I backed away from it.

What was going on?!