dream boy • stranger things

𝐨𝐧𝐞

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.
ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ
-Blue Monday 88- - -New Order-
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Halloween night. The best night of the year. The spookiest night of the year. Where it seemed as though monsters came to life before our eyes, and ghouls appeared out of thin air, hungry for blood. Except it wasn't Halloween just yet, and the town was still prepping. Except for the fact that there was nothing that could fully prepare them for what was about to come.

"Son of a bitch!" Dustin spoke allowed, searching through the couch cushions and running around the house to look for more quarters. His highscores at the arcade weren't going to maintain themselves. He looked down at the quarters in his hand, counting to see that he finally found enough.

He went to his room and pulled out his worn walkie talkie. "Lucas, come in. I've got four quarters, what's your haul?" He asked

"Take your punie haul and multiply it by five."

"How?"

"Mowing old man Humfrey's lawn."

"Old man Humfrey's got that kind of cash?"

"Just call Mike already."

"You call Mike."

"I have to go take a shower from doing real work, like a man. Over and out." Lucas hung up.

Dustin supposed that he would have to be the one to call up Mike. Arcade gaming was a serious business, and they had to get their quarter haul together.

"Mike do you copy?"

"Yeah, I copy."

"Me and Mike has six dollars. What's your haul?"

"Shit, I don't know yet-"

"-what do you mean you don't know yet?"

"Call Will."

Once again, one of Dustin's friends had hung up on him.

The arcade was a rowdy scene. There's nothing to make teenage boys happier than videogames, pizza by the slice, and that generic new wave shit blasting from the speakers. The neon light up signs of the arcade were calling out to them as the group pulled up on their bikes, each determined to make a new highscore, set a new record, and have some fucking fun.

Only to realize that their highscores had all already been beat. By the mysterious user of the name Madmax. It was an unfortunate ordeal. For the entire group.

The next day at school, the halls were bustling with an energy that can only be created by a mass of people fueled only by soda pops and hormones. There were jokes nudging nerds into lockers, lovers passing notes, and a shy new kid, by the name of Noah, trying to figure out where his first class was. After being redirected a few times, he finally found the biology room.

Two new students walked in that day Noah and Max. The pair of them seemed to contrast. A shy, short boy, about 4'11 stood beside a fiesty, more punk looking girl, whose temper was more red hot than her hair.

"Today we have two new students here, so everyone, please welcome Maxine to the class!"

"It's Max."