Fallout || Stranger Things [2]

three || hillbillies and hysteria

"You two look like hell."

     The doors of Jonathan Byers' car slammed shut in sync, cold air pulsating through not only the vehicle, but those inside of it.

     Eleven plopped her face into her backpack, her groans muffled by the fabric. "We have to do that every week?" she whined, her shoulder length hair falling forward into her eyes as she lifted her head.

     "Every week from now until May," Jonathan said as he kicked the small green car to life, eyes flickering from one freshman to the other. "Did you guys have a bad day?"

     "A bad day?" Will asked dully, staring blankly out the windshield as herds of high schoolers filtered through the parking lot. "Try a bad week."

     Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he pulled out of his parking spot, joining the slow-moving line of cars headed for freedom. "You too, El?"

     El shrugged, her face dripping with misery as she absently hugged her backpack. "There's too many people."

     "Are your teachers at least nice?"

     "Not really." Will rested his forehead against the cold glass, wondering if the guys were still having the annual first weekend of the school year bonfire at the Wheeler house. "My English teacher looks like he's ready to die at any minute."

     Jonathan glanced to Will with a quirked brow. "How old are they?"

     "Like thirty," he shrugged.

     "We only have two classes together and our lunch periods don't line up." Eleven let out a long, drawn out groan before dropping her face back into her backpack.

     "They all think we're hillbillies." Will sighed. "We have a nice house and better clothes but it's just like Hawkins. There they looked down on us because of our house, here they look down on us because we're from Indiana."

     Eleven's brows pulled in slightly. "Are we hillbillies?"

     Jonathan tried to stifle a laugh, but it failed miserably. "No, El, we're not hillbillies. Indiana barely counts as a hillbilly state."

     "If you wore flannel like you used to, we'd be boxed into a corner," Will told El, glancing to the backseat. "But they're just elitist here. I don't think it matters what we do. They'll see us however they want to see us."

     "Do you like it here?" Eleven asked, sliding to the middle seat so she could lean in. "Is it the Westbury Whales that you have school spirit for now?"

     "First off, I don't know why anyone would be gung-ho about cheering for whales, and second, I'm not saying that I love it here, but it's alright so far. Since the school is twice the size of Hawkins, there's a lot more to photograph."

     Will groaned. "Jesus, it's been a week and you're already in a club?"

     "It's not just a club, it's also a class," Jonathan defended with a soft laugh, thankful to finally break from the high school parking lot and barrel towards the house they had yet to call a home. "And do you really think I could survive being here without joining Yearbook? Not to mention, they pay their sports photographers."

     "You don't like sports."

     "And it's going to snow in a month. You'll be getting a dollar and hour to take pictures in the snow."

     Jonathan's nose scrunched. "It's supposed to snow that early?"

     "Look at us!" El whined, wiggling around the sleeves of her denim jacket. "It's the second week of September and we're wearing jackets. There's something so wrong about that. Hawkins wouldn't treat us like this."