Record Store Blues // Steve Harrington

Chapter 1

The school bus smelled of sweat and Aqua net hairspray. Spotting Robin near the bike racks, I opened the window and called out to her. She waved and began to run for the bus.

A Blue Camaro sped past, before rapidly reversing to my window. "Nice ride, gook!" Billy hurled at me from the inside of his car. I glared at him, watching as Robin gave him the finger as she narrowly missed his moving car.

A girl sat in the empty seat next to me. "Sorry, I'm saving this spot for my friend," I told her, causing her to leave and mumble something I didn't quite hear.

The bus doors nearly closed on Robin. She apologised to the bus driver, who simply responded by launching quickly onto the road, causing her to stumble through the aisle.

"I hate not having a car," She said once she reached me, hastily plopping down on the adjacent seat.

"At least you have your license," I responded. "I must be the only senior without one."

"Probably," Robin quipped. She nodded towards a bunch of freshmen boys sticking pencils up their noses. "Is your college essay ready?"

"I've done a draft. I'm meeting with the guidance counselor on Friday." I held up a Blow Pop from the front of my backpack. "Want one?"

"Thanks," Robin said, and began unwrapping the lollipop. "You figured out where you're going?"

"I'll go anywhere as long as it's not here." As though timed perfectly, a paper airplane hit me right on the forehead. The freshman seated a few rows in front began apologising profoundly, stating that the intended recipient was the boy behind me. Robin scrunched up the plane and threw it back.

"Totally."

We got off at the Town Center, parting ways as Robin headed to the convenience store while I headed off to work. The Record Store was definitely the coolest landmark in Hawkins...to me, at least. When it opened last summer, I came there pretty much everyday to check out their new releases. So when Blitz, the owner whose real name I still didn't know, offered me a job, there was no way I would decline.

'What the hell?' I wondered when I saw Blitz holding a massive camcorder. I scrunched up my face as I watched the lens zoom in.

"Oh sorry, Marla," Blitz replied, lowering the camcorder from his eye. "I'm testing this bad boy out." I waved awkwardly to the camera, before moving behind the counter. He explained that it was a gift from his girlfriend.

"Looks pretty expensive," I commented while taking out my biology textbook. Blitz was kind enough to let me study during my shift. In fact, he actually encouraged it. 'Studying is done best when Bowie is blaring through the speakers,' he'd say.

Blitz clocked off, announcing his usual 'laters' and headed towards the door. "And Marla," I glanced up from a chapter on Mendelian ratios, "Can you please stop making 30-minute phone calls every time you work?"

I pretended to ponder for a moment. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, I checked the bills and the calls were always made during your shift, and to the same phone number too." Oops, busted. "Just get Robin to visit you at work instead. And you can sell her a few CDs as well, you know. Helps boost sales."

"Yes, sir," I saluted.

Business was surprisingly busier than usual. I sold a few Bowies, Springsteens, and even a Footloose soundtrack. Just five minutes shy of closing time, three kids hurriedly entered the store. I watched with caution in case they tried to shoplift. They rummaged around the store, before finally deciding on the London Calling album. The kids slid the cassette tape onto the counter and emptied out their pockets.