❝ in the seventeen years i've been on this earth, i've never met anyone as f#@!%^g stupid as you. ❞
in which two kids on the opposite sides of the social spectrum find solace in one another during a strange period of time.
ESTELLA COLLINS STAND ALON...
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ; THE PERFECT GIRL also known as; ( the spy; part two)
★☆
"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE NO ONE LOOKED AT YOU FUNNY," STELLA SCOFFED AS SHE WATCHED STEVE PLACE TWO LARGE PAILS OF CHOPPED UP MEAT ON THE GROUND. They had gone to the closest supermarket in Hawkins that morning to get as much of the food as they could, with the intent on drawing Dustin's pet demon slug out of hiding. Stella was worn out after not being able to sleep the previous night, instead serving as a pillow he ended up knocked out sitting beside her on the couch. Instead, she picked up one of Mrs Henderson's spy novels and read under the dim lamplight until the sun rose. Then, when Dustin got up around eight in the morning, he made her some toast and attempted some coffee, though it tasted like bitter water. "Not many seniors go to the market to buy several pounds of meat on a Sunday morning."
"Seriously? We're about to go and hunt a baby Demogorgon and you're thinking about my experience at the market?" Steve glanced back at her over his shoulder, and she shrugged, though a soft smile was on her face. The teenage boy shook his head amusedly as he handed her the bottle of gasoline, both of them ignoring Dustin, who had parted for them momentarily to talk into his earpiece. After waking up, Stella realised she didn't have a change of clothing, but luckily Steve still had one of her sweatshirts in his car from when she had a cold over winter break. She had gratefully taken the dark, warm material, swapping it with her dirty shirt and embracing the strange cartoon robot on the front.
Pursing her lips, she kicked the car door shut with her foot, before stepping towards Steve. Her walkman hung from her jeans and her headphones sat around her neck, a mix ready to listen to for the long walk ahead. But now, as she stared down at Steve, she felt her stomach churning and her head spinning, struggling to figure out what to say to him and how to say it. She leaned against the car and exhaled nervously, her right foot twisting into the ground. "I, uh, never properly thanked you for being there for me last night."
Steve stopped what he was doing for a moment to look up at her again, seeing her hesitant but grateful expression shining down on him. He cleared his throat and nodded once, before standing up straight and placing his hands at his sides. "Don't mention it. That's what, um, friends do. Cause we're friends...b-but thanks for telling me everything, I know it was hard for you."
Stella bobbed her head as she placed the gasoline pot in her sling, before reaching into the trunk for her croquet mallet. It felt just right in her hand, the bright yellow a little overwhelming in her droopy, tired eyes. She had decided that she was going to try the sport one day, but in the meantime, it could serve as a weapon to defend herself. Besides, she wasn't much help otherwise. She sighed softly as Steve slammed the trunk shut, before reaching down and picking up one of the buckets.
