Stranger Things 4 (Billy Hargrove) | ON HOLD

CHAPTER ONE. THE ARCADE.

CHAPTER ONE. THE ARCADE.

September 10, 1986
"I will be picking you up at nine, so you better be waiting out here for me. Make sure you stay safe, don't talk to any strangers," my dad said, not bothering to look at me. When I said nothing, he turned to look at me with a fire in his eyes, "Understood?"

"Yes," I said, rolling my eyes slightly, "I'll be fine here, dad. You said so yourself, Hawkins is safe now."

"Still, I mean it, Camille, I don't want you to be talking to anyone you don't know. You're only eighteen, and you're a girl. Creeps love making people like you an easy target." my dad said, reaching over me to open the glove compartment to pull out his pack of cigarettes.

"We've only been in Hawkins for a week. Everyone is a stranger here," I rolled my eyes at him again, reaching to open my door.

"Just be careful. This town was fucked up not even a year ago," he said with a dark chuckle.

"I will, swear it," I told him, getting out of the car.

I stepped out of my dad's dusty, old pickup truck, bidding him goodbye without so much as a second glance as I slammed the car door shut. From behind me, I could hear my dad roll up the window as he revved up his engine, and speed away, his music blaring loudly - echoing out in the evening air.

I looked up at the arcade: a small brick building with a large, flashing neon sign reading "Palace Arcade". Other kids and teens were all making their way into the building; some of them laughing and smiling, some of them were leaning up against the side of the arcade, puffs of thick white smoke being exhaled from their lips as they took another drag of their cigarettes, and some of them were busy looking down as they entered the place, their noses stuck in their coin purses or sacks.

Not wanting to make eye contact with any of them, I looked back down at the concrete, and readjusting my grey jacket, I started heading into the building. I headed straight to the front desk to get a handful of tickets.

"Well, well, well, welcome to Palace Arcade!" a boy - around my age - said cheerfully. "I haven't seen a pretty face like yours around here before."

"Harrington, stop flirting with the girl, she's probably not interested," a girl with short, red hair called out from a door behind the desk. She scoffed at the boy's behavior before looking back down at her comic book. The boy's face grew red, and he looked down at the cash register, pushing his medium-length, dark brown hair back off of his face.

"Right, how many tickets?" he mumbled. I found myself also beginning to blush, embarrassed for him.

"How about just ten to start with," I said, but it came out sounding more like a question. Then I muttered to myself, "I can always come back to the desk if I need to."

"Okay, miss," he said it a small chuckle, his face still flushed lightly. He got the tickets for me and I handed him my quarters. "There you go, have a fun time!"

"Thanks," I trailed off, then looked down at his black shirt, his name-tag reading Robin on it. I looked back up in his bright, hazel eyes, "Robin."

He stared at me for a moment, tilting his head slightly in confusion. The boy then looked down at his name-tag, making him let out a loud laugh. He took off his plastic name-tag and threw it at the girl.

"Hey Steve, I would like my name-tag back," he said to the girl, making her gasp as the piece hit her right smack in the middle of her forehead. I felt myself grinning slightly at them messing around with each other.

"Sorry, Robin," the girl joked back, unpinning the name-tag attached to her shirt, and tossing it to the boy. He turned back around to me, a sheepish grin evidently on his face.