[COMPLETED UNTIL SEASON 5]
Ana Thompson always seems to wind up in the strangest predicaments...
A perpetual victim of Murphy's Law, Ana finds herself arriving in Hawkins, Indiana just prior to the events of November 6th, 1983.
And, just prior to f...
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"OK, let's start by making a few things abundantly clear. First, I am not a cool teacher. The sooner you accept that the easier things will be for all of us. Second, boys, and I do mean all of you boys, no touching each other. I don't know why y'all want to hit, slap, and pinch each other every chance you get, but I'm not here for it. Stop it. Is that understood?" There was deft nodding in response.
"Alright," Ana said, clapping her hands and rubbing them together in anticipation. "Then my name is Ms. Thompson, and it's gonna be a good year."
That's how each new class period began. Ana established her irrefutable authority inside the classroom, and the students seemed to fall in line behind it. Well, most of the kids seemed to grasp the message. Ana had been doing the job long enough to spot troublemakers right off the bat. Troy and James appeared to fit the bill perfectly with their scowls and eye rolls following her well-practiced speech.
She'd have her work cut out for her breaking those two punks in. They always broke, though, like mustangs captured from the wild and domesticated. All they needed was proper house-training.
It wasn't until 4th period that the infamous AV crew graced her with their presence. The foursome reminded Ana of the boys from Stephen King's novella The Body. A ragtag group of kids attached at the hip, who, more often than not, found themselves wrapped up in some monkey business. They'd glanced at each other in an exceptionally bashful manner when she'd mentioned male students' affinities for whacking one another.
And so, Ana Thompson's banal existence in Hawkins, Indiana commenced. She'd wake up every weekday and head to her job teaching middle school students how to improve their reading and writing. A task the students loathed but, at least, it was a subject matter she thoroughly enjoyed-she didn't major in English literature for nothing, after all. Then, in the evenings, she'd head home to an empty house and kill time till the next day came around and the cycle repeated.
Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday night she'd end at Benny's Burgers and, after, the local bar down the block.
It was a simple, consistent, and predictable existence, which was fine by her. Nothing of particular interest happened those few months, except the occasional run-in with Jim Hopper over drinks.
She should have known that that level of peace never lasted in her life. Nothing stayed uncomplicated forever.
