𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 ➤ 𝑹. 𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒚

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

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"𝘼𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙥 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩"

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(𝟑𝟓 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞)

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 pinpointing Steve as the least organised of the pair, Valerie, hypocritically, wasn't any better, in contrast, she was far from it. She was on the lazier side, sure, but she also thrived in chaos, on her own terms of course. Like ignoring her morning alarm for that extra twenty minutes of dreamland, and watching the day unfold just that little bit behind schedule, or purposely sitting in the universally disliked Paige Levinsky's self-assigned seat, just to catch a glimpse of the nasty glare she would send her way, Valerie reading her anger like an open book. 

Ultimately, it all amounted to nothing at the time, but she always kept in mind how the smallest actions could impact her days, weeks, months later, and perhaps a little masochistically, she'd plot exactly how she could throw her life off course next. So, for the sake of accuracy, Valerie liked controlled chaos.

Right now, she was running perfectly behind time, that small trip to Scoops Ahoy might've been unforeseen mistake, but one she took in stride. However, the teen made a mental note to leave her father's house earlier next week as she rounded the corner, there was no way she was sacrificing her newly habitual daily trip to the ice-cream parlour.  

Valerie came to a halt in the hallway of Hawkins High School, spotting a door with a piece of paper labelled 'Summer Film Course' scrawled in permanent marker. In a last-minute attempt to look somewhat put together she readjusted the bag on her shoulder and swiped the foreboding grimace from her features before pushing the door open and stepping into the classroom.

"Ah, Miss Hopper, nice of you to grace us with your presence," a deep voice drawled, the dread in the pit of Valerie's stomach accompanied it and she sighed, wishing she could drop dead right then and there. 

Mr. Sullivan glanced over at her from the board, his hand, which gripped a thin piece of chalk, lowered to his side as he raised a singular eyebrow. He was tall — tall enough that Valerie wore her tallest boots on the days she had his class just so he wouldn't have to look down on her so drastically, but he was also handsome — late thirties with a full head of dark hair that was always nicely slicked back, and a sharp jaw lined with stubble. Maybe that was what threw Valerie off to begin with, weren't the horrible teachers always the pathetic, miserable looking ones? Apparently not, but perhaps a large part of what fuelled his nasty attitude was narcissism. 

And of course, he was the one teaching this class. Mr. Sullivan would never pass up an opportunity to make extra money on the holidays  — seemingly for an unmarried man with less responsibilities than most his age, he didn't plan on enjoying them. Hell, he might've even checked the class list just to see if she was on it. Valerie could easily imagine the twisted grin that had spread across his face at the sight of her name. This turn of events was definitely the work of karma.

"There was traffic," Valerie excused, not even bothering to force an apologetic smile as she searched for a spare seat. She saw a free desk up the back and made a beeline for it, with her short stature she'd easily be able to avoid Mr. Sullivan's cold glare. She didn't need to remind herself of the event that caused their contention, most of the school was well aware anyway.