𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿ ¹

003

003. 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆.

"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘! Any clubs, dances, events yet," Maureen was ecstatic when her daughter entered Claudia Henderson's home that afternoon. "Look at my little girl, all grown up in her senior year!" She beamed.

    The first thing that Lori saw when pulling up to her aunt's house was tombstone decorations, skeleton hands, and fake cobwebs on the front lawn. Her little one-story home was on an inclining hill, and it looked welcoming from the street, with its large carport and pots of plants out front. Certainly, it looked like a Claudia Henderson home— except for the decorations, which would soon be gone anyways, she'd already pictured what the inside would look like before she even made it up the driveway.

It wasn't all that hard to find her aunt's house, since the address was also written on Lori's wrist that morning— this time by her mother— so she could head straight there after school. What she was supposed to do, was wait for her cousin, Dustin, to lead the way, but Lori couldn't find a head of hair in the lot that matched his description and neither did she care to search. So she pedalled away from Hawkins High, as fast as she could, for she didnt want to linger in the second-hand smoke by the bike racks any longer than she needed.

    On the other side of Hawkins, said-cousin was hiding behind a large truck, across the street from The Palace— the local arcade. Dustin Henderson was with Lucas Sinclair, who held binoculars up to his eyes in order to see clearly across the road at their point of interest. A speeding blue Camaro— the speeding blue Camaro— skirted up to the front of the arcade with smoke clouding behind it, and the short redhead got out and slammed the door, flipping off the driver. So, yeah, Lori's cousin had other plans than to play tour-guide like his mom.

    So, she biked home from her first day of school, by herself. Not that she cared none— being alone never bothered her, never did, and probably never would.

    Lori had dropped the bike in the driveway of Claudia's home and left it there, marching her way up to the front door. The was cute. It was one-storied and cozy, with a rocking chair in the living room, wall-papered hallways, and an oak panelled kitchen. From the moment she stepped in, Lori could tell that she'd be spending a lot of time there— since it was going to get quite lonely in their big old home on the rich side. But also, immediately when she passed over threshold of the front entrance, Maureen, who was sitting on one of the barstools in front of the kitchen peninsula, beamed brightly.

    "Claudia, she's home," Maureen called to her sister, who was somewhere else in the house. "Come on, Lor, tell us all about it!"

    At this point in her life, Maureen knew far too well what her daughter was like. Most of the time, Maureen would never ask such questions in such enthusiastic tones, because she'd learned that Lori reacted the same no matter how she was spoken to. But the woman just could not help herself— she was stressed, yes, she was tired, and she was heavy-hearted, but none of that was showing. Maybe it was because Maureen herself had also been a senior student at Hawkins High, and seeing her one and only daughter in the same position sent admirable flashbacks.

    Lori wiped her hair out of her face, and let her bag fall onto the chair next to the front door.

"Yeah, can I go get sheet-faced on Friday night?" The girl said, monotone, and began to approach where her mom was sitting.

Maureen scoffed.

Lori climbed onto one of the barstools. "Don't look so appalled. This is high school, baby."