four || the new kid

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The week between summer and the start of senior year sped by, most of Tatum's time taken up by pool days and city walking with Nancy and Steve. Both Elena and Jordan were fans of her new friends, offering them drinks poolside and life advice in the library. The heat had been intense, but Tatum had done her best to combat it with pool tricks and tank tops.

     As good as her glimpse of the American summer had been, school starting was an inevitable fact that she had to face.

     And on the first bright Monday morning of the new school year, Tatum donned a favored pair of jeans tackled down with a belt that kept a white wide strap tank down. Knowing fair well she would be riding to school, sandals were out of question and she instead wore well-loved Doc Marten boots. Without much more than the clothes on her back and wallet crammed in her pocket, she jetted off on her new bike to Hawkins High School.

     There were immediate differences upon arrival to her well to do British prep school that was at least fifty years older than the building that housed the high school.

     The main one that took her was the sheer number of cars parked outside.

     She had grown too comfortable to slim rows of mopeds and motorbikes and now found herself the sole owner of a motorcycle instead of a car.

     Without doubt, all eyes were on her as she slid into a spot much too wide for her bike and dropped the kickstand as she killed the engine.

     Tatum gave herself a quiet pep talk as she popped her helmet off, hair billowing out gracefully. She pocketed the keys, setting the helmet atop her seat and trusting that some asshole wouldn't snag it before her trek home.

     She was hoping to have spotted Steve's car in the parking lot as some sense of security for someone to talk to, but the BMW was nowhere to be seen.

     Instead, waving to familiar faces from the party she'd hosted, she made her way to the building with confident steps that were entirely fabricated.

     There was never a lack of comments and greetings floating her way, along with stares from those who hadn't managed to snag an invite to her house from Steve Harrington, which appeared to be a lot more than she had imagined. Significant cursory glances were being shot her way as she did her best to find the front office among the slews of teenagers greeting each other in new outfits with fresh notebooks and pencils.

     Tatum finally ducked into the stale front office, finding a smiling secretary inside. "Hiya," she greeted with a soft huff. "I'm Tatum Rivers, my father said to come in the office first thing to get my schedule."

     "Oh!" the ginger secretary exclaimed. "Tatum, yes. We're so excited to have you this year. It's so nice to have you and your father back in town." She rifled through a few folders set up to her right, scouring through unclaimed schedules. "Here we are!" She circled a set of numbers before handing the slip over, all smiles. "That's your locker number and combo. Yours is in the senior wing, straight and to the right. Don't be scared to come back in if you have any trouble."

     Tatum, notably, wasn't much of a morning person, and was already thrown off by the woman's chipper mood. Yes, she herself had made a cup of coffee before heading out the door, but that wouldn't hit her for at least another thirty minutes.

     "Sounds great," Tatum said, scanning the paper as she backed up to the door. "Cheers."

     Almost unwillingly going back out into the masses, Tatum did her best to make her way through the halls with the intent of finding her locker, managing to say hello back to all that greeted her.

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