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. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧
As usual, Starcourt Mall glowed. Lit up by the pink and blue neon sign and the lights spanning the mass of the building, a mall that screamed of purpose and entertainment. It bathed everyone who came up to it in blue light, and as Alina hopped off of her bike, she spread her fingers out, marvelling at the aura the light formed.
And as usual, it was packed. Cars and people alike swarmed the parking lot, some leaving, some just arriving, their hands laden with shopping bags or their pockets jingling with money. As Alina walked her bike up to the entrance to the mall, she had to weave her way through the crowd, squeezing between pedestrians and apologizing to the drivers of cars. It was funny. Two years ago, if you'd asked her what she would be doing in the summer of 1985, she probably would've said she'd be lying in bed with Skywalker curled up beside her for most of the hot months, occasionally taking a splash in the community pool (near closing hour, so it was mostly empty) or playing soccer in her backyard. She definitely wouldn't have said this, wouldn't have even dreamed about it.
And yet, she was here. Things had actually turned around for her. Sure, it had taken a lot for that to happen, including the subtle limp in her step and the cracks that sometimes occurred when she smiled, but they had turned around nonetheless. She wasn't merely alive. She was living.
At the entrance to the mall were four familiar figures, leaning against the poles, tinged blue as Smurfs from the light. Max, cool as always, had her beachy red hair long and loose, waves framing her tanned face as she waited, picking at her nails. Gabe was sweating slightly under his white button-down, his eyes trained on the parking lot, watching the happy citizens of Hawkins, Indiana, make their way to their cars. Will had his backpack straps high on his shoulders, and was sketching, his pencil gliding over the pad like it was an extension of his arm. And Lucas was twirling his flowery hat around on his finger, waiting for the other two to arrive.
All four of them looked up as Alina wheeled her bike up to them. She grinned sheepishly, her curly hair—confined into pigtails today—bobbing as she spoke. "I'm not late, am I?" she asked.
