Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

Grapevines

By the time Sal and I got home, everyone was asleep, including and especially, Dad and Steve, so it wasn't until the next morning, when I saw him eating Frosted Flakes in the kitchen, that we finally got to talk. 

"Uh... the stitches are gone," I said like an idiot.

"Yeah," he said. "Which means you don't have to drive me to school anymore."

"I didn't mind doing it."

"Oh lay off the bullshit, Deb," he said, tossing his bowl in the sink aggressively. He was lucky it didn't break. "You hate me now because I was an asshole to you at the party."

"I don't hate you-"

"I bet you're glad that Dad hits me, that I'm the bad child instead of you." His face was so full of rage, and, underneath it, undeniable self-loathing, the kind of hatred you wouldn't expect in someone who'd been king of his school. And, worst of all, I could tell he believed it. He thought that I wanted him to suffer.

Without hesitation, I reached out for his hand, but he recoiled. "Please Steve, let me help you."

But he only shook his head. "Let's go; we're gonna be late."

It was hard to concentrate in class today, and I found myself fumbling over my words when I tried to assist students. I didn't feel useful in the slightest until photography.

"Students, if I could have your attention for just a few moments, I have an announcement." Everyone turned to face Mrs. Mueller. "My assistant teacher, Miss Harrington, has informed me that some of you want to take photos outside. It is pretty cold, forewarning, but if that's what you want, I'm happy to oblige."

Everyone cheered excitedly as they put on their coats and grabbed their cameras.

While we were making our way outside, Jonathan sidled up next to me, smiling brighter than he had the entire time I'd known him. "You did it," he said happily. "I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it."

I waited around while the class took their photos, pulling my coat as tight around me as I could manage, the wind pushing my hair this way and that.

"Would you mind if I took your photo?" Jonathan asked, holding up his camera.

Shrugging, I walked over to him. "Where would you like me to go?" I asked.

"Uh, maybe on the picnic bench, that way you're facing the sun," he said nervously. He didn't appear to be at his most comfortable talking to other people. "I really like your jeans; they'll turn up well in this light."

Smiling, I sat on the table, my feet on the seats, legs crossed. My jeans had grapevines embroidered on them. They were the edgiest thing I felt comfortable wearing to work. I'd cultivated a more punk-leaning bohemian style at college, thanks to the people I'd hung out with, which meant lots of ripped jeans. Even as an art teacher, I doubted I'd be able to get away with massive holes in my denim. Under my coat was a black sweater. More black was another thing I'd picked up when I left Hawkins. Around here, people wore tons of gaudy yellows and pinks, which I was partial to as well (all my leggings were Madonna inspired), but dark, subdued colors had made my way into my wardrobe over the years I spent in Minnesota.

The wind picked up, pushing my hair every which way, and I used my hand to try and adjust it.

"No, don't, it looks really cool like that," Jonathan said, snapping more photos. "You have pretty hair."

I giggled at that, covering my mouth in embarrassment at my childish reaction, causing Jonathan to laugh along with me.

"Hey, look over there Harrington!" Passing by was a senior gym class going on a jog for this day's activity. My brother was passing by with Tommy (he was the one who'd spoken) and Billy. "First the freak steals your girlfriend, and now he's going after your sister!" 

Steve ducked his head and jogged faster, but Billy lingered, eyebrow raised in confusion, or maybe disbelief, clearly not sure if he should be angry or amused.

"Sorry about that," Johanthan mumbled. "They don't like me very much."

"Don't worry about it; those guys are assholes." I adjusted how I was sitting and gestured for him to continue taking pictures, but inside I was brimming with questions. This was the guy who'd 'stolen' Nancy from my brother. He was just so... normal-looking. Not bad, maybe even attractive in that Glen Lantz kind of way, but certainly not the same type as Steve. What girl could want them both?