Mean Boy | Billy Hargrove

1 - A Fresh Start

May 1985

A black Lincoln Continental pulled up into the parking lot of a small convenience store just a little outside of the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. The engine stopped and the passenger's side door opened slowly. A long-haired girl stepped out of the car, inhaling a lot of the cold night air and stretched her sore body. A middle-aged man went out of the driver's side, looking around the empty road.

"We're almost there," the man said and put his hands into his coat's pockets, shivering a little. "I've heard that Hawkins is a rather quiet place, but I didn't expect it to be this quiet."

"The quieter the better," the girl smiled, trying to calm the man down. "I still don't understand why you have to drive me all the way here, though."

The man scratched his head even though it wasn't itchy. "Your parents wanted you to be safe. I'm sure that's the true reason, Miss."

A small sigh escaped the girl's lips. "For like the hundredth time, don't call me that. Just call me Amber. Please, Byron?"

Not managing to handle the girl's sharp gaze, Byron nodded slowly. Before he could say anything, the girl started walking towards the bright lights of the store. "Wait here. I'll get you your beloved 7-Up, too."

"But Mi—I mean, Amber—you don't have to," Byron was shy, and he didn't want to bother his employers' daughter. He was a mere driver who was told to drive Amber to her new home in Hawkins, after all.

"It's fine," the girl waved her hand lightly and soon she reached the store's glass doors. It wasn't even that late at night, but there wasn't a single soul in the store except for a sleepy woman behind the register. She'd heard the bell ding when Amber opened the door and made the effort to stand straighter and replied the girl's smile half-heartedly.

Amber took a can of 7-Up for Byron and two cans of Coke for herself from the refrigerator. She paid for them at the register and flashed a smile to the frizzy-haired woman behind the register and walked out of the store. Byron was standing nervously near the car, taking a drag from his cigarette. As soon as he saw Amber, he quickly dumped the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it.

"Ready to go?" The girl asked, handing the can of 7-Up to her driver. Byron nodded and they got back into the car and started driving away.

Less than an hour later, they were already driving on the vacant streets of Hawkins. Amber could see that the town was rather uneventful, just like how her parents described it. She saw a few people wandering around—there weren't as many big buildings and interesting places compared to where she came from—it was suburbs, mostly. The streets weren't as well-lit as she was accustomed to, but she kept trying to think positively throughout the drive. After all, her parents wanted to send her away—for a change of pace, they said—and she didn't have any say in it. She couldn't refuse, since deep down she knew that she did this to herself. It was originally her fault.

"This is your aunt's place, I believe," Byron said softly, as if he was trying to match the silent atmosphere around them. He stopped the car in front of the house he spoke of. The house was rather small, compared to her house back in Miami—it even looked small compared to the other houses in that particular street. Amber could see the warm lights through the gaps of the curtains, yet she still hesitated.

"Should we...?" Byron asked, hesitating almost as much as her. The girl nodded and they both stepped out of the car. Byron became busy with her belongings in the trunk as Amber walked across the front yard towards the door. She gulped before ringing the bell, and the sound was so loud it made her jump in surprise.

"Coming!" A woman's voice boomed, and soon Amber could hear rushed steps approaching the door. It swung open and the first thing she saw was her aunt—who she hadn't met in years. The woman looked so similar to her mother that she was stunned at first, since she had honestly forgotten how her aunt looked. They both have the same bright green eyes, and her aunt's gleamed with excitement when she realized that it was Amber who was standing in front of her door.

"Amber dear, finally! I've been waiting for you the whole day! I haven't seen you in so long—you're a big girl now!" The aunt pulled Amber into a tight hug as she grinned awkwardly. "How old are you now? 18?"

"Almost 18," she corrected. "Nice to see you again, Aunt Lisa."

"Well, welcome to Hawkins," the woman smiled widely and told her to come inside. Byron followed them into the house with two big suitcases containing Amber's clothes and belongings.

"Mom made you these cookies," Amber pulled a medium-sized tin can out of her blue backpack.

Aunt Lisa gasped dramatically. "I haven't had your mom's cookies in so long! I'll call her to say thank you and that you have arrived safely. You must be tired, right? Let me show you to your room," she walked in a fast pace, and Amber tried to remember if her aunt was always this talkative. She looked around the house on the way to her room—it wasn't that spacey, but it was quite nice. Her room was tiny compared to her old room in Miami, but it wasn't a problem for her. She assured herself that this was what she needed. Byron put her things into her room and they both smiled to each other.

"Thank you, Byron. Safe trip back to Miami."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss—I mean, Amber."

She waved the middle-aged man goodbye and soon she could hear the front door closing, followed by the sound of the Lincoln's engine going slower each second.

"The bathroom's down the hall and to the left. If you need anything, I'll be right there," Lisa pointed towards another room not far from hers.

"Thanks a lot. Good night, Aunt Lisa," Amber quickly said before her aunt could say anything else. Frankly, her body was aching from having to sit in the car for almost a whole day and she just wanted to rest her back on the comfortable-looking bed. She smiled one last time at her aunt and threw herself onto the bed, sighing with a great relief.

"This is what I needed," she assured herself once again. "A new pace—a fresh start."

Soon she was thinking about Miami—and before the train of thoughts was finished, she had already fallen asleep with her shoes still on.