Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

The Absinthe Drinker

Sorry about this chapter being a bit short, I was writing what I intended to be one chapter, but by the time I'd passed 3,000 words, I realized I'd need to break it up simply for the purposes of readability and this was the most natural place to do it. Also, it's my birthday and I'm going to attempt to update all or most of my stories today. Enjoy!

I took the scenic route to Hawkins High, chainsmoking with the window cracked, the cold air seeping in like the toxic gas that killed that Holland girl. Even up in South Dakota, I'd heard about her death. Strangely, it was part of the reason I decided to come back; if the people around here had secretly harbored a rogue government facility, they could deal with the Harrington's failure of an art major daughter returning to their speck of a town.

At the end of my drive, I'd smoke almost an entire pack of Parliaments minus two, which I saved for a dire emergency, should one occur before I had a chance to pick up a carton from Melvald's. By the time I arrived at the art classroom, it was already second period.

Daisy waved me over, lips pursed tightly. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I had car problems."

"This is a job, Ms. Harrington, I expect you to treat it as such." 

I nodded, walking away before I could say something snarky. This was all Billy's fault; if he hadn't gone and failed, I'd still be in Mrs. Mueller's good books.

My anger only grew as the hours ticked by, exacerbated by my recent sobriety and my encounter with Billy and his friends at the diner. He'd infected every facet of my life, showing up all over this town, making him impossible to ignore, let alone forget. 

"Are you okay?" 

I blinked twice, before realizing Sarah, the girl who'd first warned me about Bily's sexual appetite, was talking to me. She'd signed up for Landscape in Oil Pastel, not to fill any credit requirements (Advanced Art had already satisfied that), she just loved art, loved to create.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry, did you have a question?"

"I'm trying to get the grass right, but it looks so... flat."

I sat down next to her, this class barely at the minimum student capacity, so there were plenty of seats. "There's this thing called scumbling; it's when you use multiple colors in a scribbling or flicking motion, to mick the effect of depth and texture."

She rotated her paper, anchoring her elbow on the table, making a few careful marks with a lime pastel, then going over with a yellow one. "It still doesn' t look right."

"Keep it up; this takes time."

Sarah set her landscape aside, turning to face me. "I heard you're partnering with him in sixth block again." She didn't need to specify who she was talking about.

"Yeah."

"How's that going?"

"It is what it is," I said, standing up. "I just want him to pass this time."

My rage continued to brew up until the last period of the day, where it came to a head as I tapped my feet waiting for Billy to arrive. But, by the time the second bell rang, he hadn't shown up yet. Still, the anger didn't subside, if anything, it only increased. I had nothing to fling my emotions at, no point to direct my hatred, and my hands trembled as I turned on the projector, Daisy giving a small lesson on Picasso, showing images from his expressionist period. 

When we got to the 'Absinthe Drinker' I rushed to the front of the class, interrupting Mrs. Mueller. "I'm so sorry," I said quickly. "But, since Billy isn't here, is it okay if I take off? I'm feeling sick."

"Of course, feel better."

The kindness on her face, despite our recent rift, was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I didn't deserve such sympathy from anyone.

After escaping the classroom, I wandered through the halls, unsure where to go. I didn't want to go home or to see Sal at Leila's; I didn't even want to leave the building and bare the cold, but I felt like a creep peeking through the windows of high school classrooms. After wrapping my scarf around the lower half of my face and pulling up the hood of my winter coat, I braced the brittle cold. I'd been a fool to wear a skirt so early in the year.

Before I reached my car, I spotted a familiar blue Camaro parked two dozen feet away, the glass too foggy for me to see inside. Against my better judgment, I abruptly changed course, head bowed with furious determination.

It didn't matter that I could clearly see him entwined with someone else, mouths locked, a tangle of limbs, I rapped on his window all the same.

His head whipped around, eyes wide until he realized it was only me. Smirking, he lazily rolled down his window, not flinching as a gust of icy wind hit him in the face. "What do you want, Deb, I'm a little busy."

"Why weren't you in class?"

"Isn't it obvious." He reclined back in his seat, giving me a good view of the body next to him.

Logan grinned, waving. "Nice to see you again, Deborah, you are absolutely stunning in pewter grey, it makes your eyes look positively metallic."

"Don't mind him, he sniffed glue at lunch and hasn't come down yet."

The slender boy didn't correct him, merely giggling, pulling his knees to his chest to try and contain the sound. 

"Sniffing clue is batshit," I said flatly. "Don't you have anything normal.?"

Billy's forehead crinkled, brows pinched together. "Normal drugs? Like what?"

"Like pot?" I murmured with an innocent shrug.

"Yeah, yeah of course I do. Why don't you get in your car and we'll drive to my place? I don't have anything on me."

"Wait, no, daddy," Logan moaned, clutching at Billy's bare chest. "You promised to drive me to the Hawk; I have a date." 

"Fine, I'll drive you there now." He started the engine, leaning his head out the window to look me in the eye, getting so close I thought he was planning on kissing me, but he stopped just short of pecking me on the lips. "And you- meet me at my house."