Cherry Bomb | Steddie ✐

08 | Tutor From Hell

Sobriety was a bitch. And so was Mr. Mundy and his stupid fucking pop quizzes. Mitch had all but banged their head on their desk when they saw the words 'Pop Quiz' written on the chalkboard. Maybe they'd have to take Eddie up on his offer for tutoring.

"Can you please stop that?" Emmaline–again.

Mitch glanced back at her, she was the closest person besides Eddie who looked like she could be friends with Mitch. Dyed black hair and smudged eyeliner were Emmaline's usual makeup look. And she dressed in primarily dark colors. But Emmaline was 'too good' to be an outcast. She was like... the middle ground between popular and outcast. Nancy Wheeler was the same in that way.

"I'm not doing anything–" Mitch argued and Emmaline pointed her pencil at Mitch's shaking leg. They felt heat rise in their face, "Not all of us are scholars, White."

She rolled her eyes, "Don't pretend you're stupid. I've seen your grades before."

That caught Mitch's attention. "No, you haven't." Emmaline's face looked like she wasn't lying. That worried Mitch more than irritating the girl. "Stop being rude and mind your own business."

"Good luck, Addams." Emmaline spat which made Mitch blink a few times in confusion as they looked at the quiz paper in front of them.

They'd need a miracle kind of good luck to pass this.

—

"I swear if he makes us take that test I will genuinely fail. Like no jokes, I will fail so fucking hard." Mitch dragged their hands down their face, groaning theatrically loud.

Gareth leaned away from them, "And you'll kill me with that garlic breath."

"Oh my god, it's still there?!" Mitch exclaimed, "Someone kill me now." They dropped their head on the table with a thump.

Eddie finally escaped the lunch line, he saw Mitch drop before he even walked over, "What's wrong with Wednesday?" They lifted their hand just to flip him off as he sat beside Mitch.

A few different answers arose and those who got it right (Gareth and Jeff) were pointed at by Mitch.

"Math isn't that hard, Mitch. You don't seem like you'd be bad at math."

They propped their head up on their folded arms, "Dustin, aren't you like... a genius or something?" He blushed at Mitch's question, "No this is an actual question."

"I wouldn't say I'm a genius–I'm just academic."

"Exactly. I am the opposite of an academic. I am like two failed credits away from joining Eddie in his sixth year of high school." Mitch flinched when they felt him pinch their bare arm. "Jackass." They rubbed the reddened skin and turned back to the table, "Anyways–it is like... so important I pass this stupid fucking math class."

Eddie shook his head to himself, "I wasn't lying, Mitch. I haven't had a math class since my second junior year."

"Who all believes that Munson is good at math?" A few hands were lifted–Dustin, Gareth, and Lucas. Shit. "How is that even remotely believable! What classes are holding you back, man!?"

"Science and English, you asshole. If you wanna graduate so badly just accept my help."

Mitch scoffed loudly, "I love you, Eddie–I really do but I need some proof of your apparent stellar math skills before I accept your help."

"Alright, ask Mundy and see how sour he gets because I passed his class with an A-."

Mitch's jaw falls slack in awe, "You're fucking lying. There is no way–"

"I was in that class with Eddie, you'd be surprised." Mitch glared at Gareth. "I didn't believe it either, he helped me pass. I'm good at everything!"

They flipped Gareth off and turned to Eddie's, "My house tonight, 9:30." And they were off to find Robin. Mitch wandered through the halls, making sure to be quick as they snuck into the band room. Robin was dedicated to being a decent trumpet player–you didn't find many these days. Especially not in Hawkins.

Band used to be Mitch's thing too–they played percussion but dropped out after a semester. That's how they met Rob in the first place. It was almost like fate that they stayed friends after Mitch dropped band.

Robin convinced Mitch not to completely stop with music though–she also convinced them to ask for a drum set that year for Christmas. Their parents agreed and now Mitch has this instrument they never touch anymore.

Luckily it was more of muscle memory for Mitch than actually learned skill. They just knew drums.

"Hey, Buckley, what's up!?"

Robin sputtered into her mouthpiece as she jumped out of her seat. "Oh my god, Mitch, what the actual hell!" She was all red in the face and Mitch couldn't help but laugh. "Why does everyone like scaring me!?"

"Because your face is hilarious–how's the trumpeting going?" They sat beside Robin's chair with a smile.

"Fine until you made my heart fall through my ass."

Mitch held a hand to their chest, "You wound me, Rob."

She glared at Mitch, "What're you doing out of lunch, Mitch...?" They raised their eyebrows, not giving Robin an answer. "Mitch, don't you dare?"

"Please, you didn't even hear what I have to say yet!" Mitch grabbed onto Robin's arm.

"I already know what you're gonna ask and the answer is no I will not help you do illegal sh–stuff. Hi, Mr. Jones." Robin's smile was nervous and so wide. It took everything within Mitch not to start cackling at the sight.

"Ms. Addams, what a pleasure."

Mitch waved, "I'm just saying hi to your best trumpet player." Mr. Jones laughed but didn't deny it and Mitch elbowed Robin.

"Get out of here, Mitch, go!" Robin pushed at Mitch's arm aggressively.

They gasped and rubbed their arm, "Ow! Fine, I'm leaving. Love ya!" If Robin wasn't going to tutor Mitch, they definitely needed Eddie's help. Fuck. Well, it's a good thing Mitch invited their tutor from Hell(fire) over before being rejected by Robin.