G O O D G I R L S [BILLY]

C H A P T E R F O U R

Hawkins, Indiana
1984

How Penelope Christensen didn't know that the Hargrove family moved in three doors down from her she wasn't sure. The street was small and quiet, adorned in oak trees and mailboxes, and typically any amount of noise was enough to alert all of the neighbors, Penelope included.

Even if it hadn't, the loud, obnoxious roar of Billy Hargrove's blue Camaro surely would have caught the entire town's attention. Apparently the Hargrove family had already been in Hawkins for a full week, information Penelope obtained as per Dana's sleuthing about. But even with his loud racer of a car, Billy's presence hadn't become prominent to her until his arrival at school that brisk October day.

When she did become aware of his existence, though, she became very aware.

She was sitting on the steps of her front porch, perching about like a bluejay in the spring, and scanning the pages of the book she had received earlier that day in English class when the sound of an ever-inviting engine ripped through the street. Her head shot up at the immediate discretion that the star of the day himself, Billy Hargrove, was home, cigarette smoke curling in the air, the smell of nicotine so strong it wafted all the way down to Penelope's house - three doors down and around the corner.

Her lips were pursed in disdain as she tried to ignore the view of him sliding out of his car, shirt lifting over his chiseled torso as he stretched out. She could see him out of her peripheral, inhaling his cigarette and clenching his jaw, blond curls shaking about as he stomped up the front steps, and buried her head deeper into the book in her grasp. But even when she tried to ignore him, he somehow flooded her mind. Words and literature and imagery of all kinds couldn't distract her the way Billy Hargrove did, and she hated the fact that he had infiltrated her mind the way he did. Her day at school was consumed by his presence, and every corner she turned she heard snippets of conversation about the hot new guy. There were greater things to worry about! She wasn't interested in him at all! She tried to force herself to remember this. He was rude, exceptionally rude. He completely disregarded every level of manners and politeness this morning when they'd met. He walked about like he owned the place when he quite literally just got there. He exhibited every characteristic that she resented. Reminders of why he was the last person she should be thinking about continued to pierce her brain, bouncing like balls and boomerangs through her scattered head, but they didn't work. She could only sit there, silent, frustrated, and overcome by the thought of him. Even when he disappeared into the house, cigarette butt sizzling as it crumbled on the pavement, she found her thoughts drifting away from the book in her hands to think about the all-consuming presence that he was.

The October air was tainted with his scent, and Penelope needed to rid herself of him. She turned away and headed inside, where the smell of something cooking quickly covered her thoughts of the blue eyed boy.

"Hi, honey," Mrs. Christensen's soft song-like voice rang through the house. The honey in her voice drizzled over the wood and reverberated against the walls, and Penelope smiled, happy to hear the sound of her mother.