Halley's comet | Steve Harrington

xiii. get out of my house

"𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕..."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Halley skipped her shift at the arcade. It wasn't exactly a surprise to anyone, and she'd told Jonathan to stop by and tell Keith on his way to the gas station, but there was still something so odd about being home on one of her typical work days.

So there she stood, in front of her house starring the mildewing gutters, the clouds already swallowing the sun on the winter's evening, and listening to the creek of their old bench swing.

There had been days when she, Jonathan, and Will would sit on it and look out into the trees across the road—when they were younger, Halley had believed that they really touched the sky—the three would sit on the swing, eating discounted popsicles, their hands sticky with sugar and food dye, and watch the trees, or make shapes out of clouds.

She wanted that innocence back. God, she'd do anything for it back. She wanted to sit on the stupid little swing, eating some stupid cherry flavored ice stick, with her little brother and watch the stupid sky.

Stomaching somersaulting, Halley decided to go inside before she puked. The memories were piling up and making her head spin. She needed to get inside.

The door was already open ajar and she could hear Chester padding around, and mumbling.

"Mom?" Halley called out, dropping her back from her shoulder and next to the door. The house reeked of smoke, and for a short moment, she was worried the lamps for that morning had started a fire. But fear of a fire was drenched with a new fear for her mother. Strands of old, and maybe even new, christmas lights were strung up through the house; hanging like vines from the ceiling.

But that idea was scrapped from her mind as she heard her mother in the other room. Following her voice, Halley found Joyce kneeling in front of the cabinet next to their couch, talking to a bundle of christmas lights with a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

"...blink once for yes, and twice for no. Can you do that for me, Sweetie, can you-" she was cut off by the lights flickering once. Halley nearly collapsed next to her mother, who flinched next to the younger girl's sudden appearance.

"Will?" she asked, almost silently, her mouth suddenly dry. She held her breath, praying to every single god she had learned about in history class.

The lights flickered once.

She rocked forward, almost falling into the lights, her body wracked with relief, Will was there, Will was talking to them. She grabbed onto Joyce's arm to steady herself, her hands shaking with every breath.

Joyce's voice was the verbal equivalent of Halley's nerves, quaking like a monkey on drugs. "Good, good. Baby I need to know..." she paused, clasping her hand on Halley's and squeezing, her eyes watered, "are you alive?"