Hell on Earth

Chapter Thirteen - A Beginning

Cynthia was laying on her bed with her feet in the air, "You can't be serious."

"I am," Nancy said as she held up the bags. "I want to see how you would look if you let me do your hair and makeup."

"No chance in hell," Cynthia told her.

Nancy sat down on the bed, "Cynthia, I'm not asking you to parade around in clown makeup. I'm just saying that I have known you for years and I have never once seen you put on makeup or do your hair."

"And that's such a bad thing," Cynthia rolled her eyes.

"I'm not saying that," Nancy said. "You have your style and you make it work, but I'm curious what you look like. Please let me experiment on you."

"Nancy, how do you expect me to be a well-adjusted individual if you keep putting me in life or death situations?" Cynthia asked. "Last week it was the demagorgan, this week, makeup. What's on next week's agenda? Skydiving?"

"I'm willing to offer a trade."

"I'm listening."

"You try on my style, I try on yours," Nancy held out her hand. "Do we have a deal."

Cynthia smiled at her, "We have a deal, Nancy Drew."

"I've missed hearing that."

"I've missed saying it."

Nancy grabbed Cynthia's hand and dragged her off the bed and into the bathroom. Cynthia was glad it was only the hair and makeup Nancy was doing. It was horrible, but it was a little less horrible in her own cloths. Nancy pulled out things Cynthia didn't know the name to and products she was pretty sure had more chemicals than poison. Nevertheless, a deal is a deal.

Nancy grabbed out so many brushes and put so much makeup on Cynthia's face, she didn't know what was happening. The worst part was the eye makeup. Cynthia assumed it was big and horrible. She was avoiding looking in the mirror. After a while, there was no more poking and prodding. She felt Nancy softly pulling at her hair.

Cynthia kept her eyes down, "Is this our attempt at a new normal?"

"Yeah," Nancy said. "So much has changed that it seems silly to do this."

"We did just discover that there's an alternate dimension with monsters out there," Cynthia said. "Maybe we need a little bit of silly." She was quiet for a moment. "How are you holding up?"

"Some days I'm okay," Nancy said as she curled Cynthia's hair. "Other days, not so much. I just miss her. I wish that everyone knew what happened to her."

"Maybe someday they will," Cynthia tried to offer some hope.

"Maybe," Nancy's voice was soft.

Cynthia sat in the chair for a few more minutes. Then, Nancy turned her towards the mirror.

"What do you think?" Nancy asked.

"I surprisingly don't hate it," Cynthia said as she looked at herself in the mirror. "But, I'll never do it again."

Nancy laughed a little, "I expected that much."

"Come on," Cynthia grabbed Nancy's hand and ran towards her room. "It's your turn."

Cynthia went through her closet and picked out the things that were most outrageously her style. In the end, Cynthia put Nancy in her red Dr. Martens with overalls, a long sleeved yellow shirt, and her jean jacket. Cynthia looked at her for a moment before she snatched her red sunglasses and put them on Nancy's head.

She pulled Nancy in front of the mirror in her room, "What do you think?"

"I surprisingly don't hate it," she echoed Cynthia's words from earlier.

The pair just laughed. Cynthia grabbed her Polaroid camera and held it out in front of them. She had gotten quite good at taking this self photographs.

"Smile at the camera," Cynthia said.

Her and Nancy smiled big at the camera. The blank square popped out and Nancy started to shake the photograph. There was a knock on the door.

"I'll go see who it is," Cynthia said. "Keep shaking the photograph."

Cynthia went to the front door. Someone knocked again. She got to the door and opened it. Steve Harrington was standing on her doorstep.

"Cynthia," Steve straightened up. "You look different."

"Blame your girlfriend," Cynthia said. "If you want to hang out with her, sorry. I need to spend time with someone other than my brother." She started to close the door.

"I'm actually here to talk to you," Steve put his foot in the door.

Cynthia opened the door, "You have my attention."

"I meant what I said at Jonathan's house last week," Steve said. "I want to make things right. It just took me a bit longer than expected since the whole monster thing."

"Understandable, Harrington."

"Look, I shouldn't have done the things I've done to you. And I mean all of it. The bullying, name calling, stealing the notebook. All of it. Especially the stealing of the notebook. Nancy told me how important it is to you, and that was crossing a line. The pictures Jonathan took had nothing to do with you."

"What did Nancy tell you about your notebook?" Cynthia felt some fear bubbling in her throat.

"She said you take the time to tell the stories of people who don't always have a voice. That's why there are some stories about queer people in there. We both know how people are around here, and I shouldn't have encouraged any of those names people called you. Even if I didn't say it to a crowd, my silence was enough for people to know they weren't going to get in trouble," Steve scratched the back of the neck. "She also told me that there's some stuff about your relationship with your dad in there, and I know how dads can be." Steve sighed and looked down. "I'm pretty shit at this apology stuff, but I'm sorry. I really am. I hope that you can forgive me." He looked at her. "You don't have to say anything right now. I'm just going to leave."

"Harrington," Cynthia stopped him before he could turn away. "I appreciate the apology. It doesn't fix everything between us, but it's a start. I can't forgive you right away. Some of the things you said and did really hurt, but you are on the right path. I can tell you are actually becoming a halfway decent person. You tried to apologize to Jonathan, you apologized to me, and you save our asses from the demagorgan. No douchebag would do that."

"Thank you," Steve said. Though, Cynthia could tell he wasn't quiet sure if it was a compliment.

"You are on your way to becoming a good person, Steve," Cynthia smiled at him. "I hope one day we can become friends."

"I'm Steve now," he smiled at her. "Not, Harrington."

"Keep this in mind, Steve," Cynthia smiled at him. "If I call you by your last name, I hate your guts entirely. You have moved up in my personal world."

"That means a lot, Cynthia," he started to walk away. "I'll see you around."

"See you around," Cynthia said.

Cynthia closed the door and went back to her room. She couldn't believe that Steve Harrington just apologized to her. Nancy was sitting on her bed looking at the photo.

"Your boyfriend just came by to apologize to me," Cynthia sat down next to her. "He's a half-way decent person."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Nancy handed her the photo. "I think we look good."

Cynthia smiled as she looked at the photo. They both looked so happy and young and free. It's like they just didn't have the worst weeks of their lives.

"We look really good."