Chapter Text
"Ms. Kelley, I have to graduate."
Eddie stood just outside the open door to the guidance counselor's office, hands braced against the frame he'd banged on to announce his presence…only to blurt out the reason for his visit.
Mid-sip of coffee as she bent over her paper-strewn desk, Ms. Kelley snapped her head up, blinking. During his six years at Hawkins High, Eddie had spent nearly as much time in the office as he had in the classrooms, so she couldn't be surprised to see him, exactly--though now that he thought about it, this might just be the first time he'd ever come without a referral from a displeased teacher. Huh.
(That wasn't the only first for him today, he thought, the pounding of his heart slowing as the corners of his mouth relaxed upward, in spite of his urgency. He'd brought Chrissy to school, and she'd held his hand all the way across the parking lot and through the front doors, in front of God and everybody who, in a frankly breathtaking display of misplaced priorities, looked more astonished than they had been by the horrifying student deaths of the previous week.)
At that, Eddie's smile fell while a hand went up to twist his hair. More likely, Ms. Kelley wasn't thrilled to start the first Monday after spring break with a surprise visit from Hawkins' resident devil-worshiping cult leader. She probably still thought he might be a serial killer, too.
But, as though restored to animation by the lifting of a freezing spell, all at once Ms. Kelley swallowed her coffee and her eyes crinkled as her lips parted in a wide smile. The kind Eddie hadn't seen very often in his life--until, ironically, last week--of someone being genuinely happy to see him.
"Eddie! Please, come in and have a seat. Let me just pull your file…"
With another squeak of her chair ("That could use a little lube," Eddie commented, unable to help himself, but she either didn't hear or she ignored him) she turned toward the ubiquitous gray quartet of filing cabinets. She opened one labeled SENIORS, where his folder had languished for nearly three years, bulging with disciplinary referral forms (not for anything very bad; no one had ever found out about the weed he brought to school every day tucked beneath peanut butter sandwiches and potato chips) and a transcript that was only impressive for the number of Fs on it. He didn't particularly want to sit--he was thrumming with nervous energy--but he did as she asked, the metal desk thundering as he accidentally kicked it while he arranged his legs. Clacking his rings against the curved wooden arms of the chair, he darted his eyes around to the motivational posters of runners and cute kittens tacked to the coral-painted cinder block walls, the potted plants clustered by the single window.
Swiveling back to face him, Ms. Kelley smiled again. Softer, this time--just like the way she laid his file on the desk, as if it warranted careful treatment, and clasped her hands on top of it.
"Before we talk about graduation, I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm really sorry your spring break was so…" She paused, searching for a word, though her gaze didn't leave his. "...fraught."
Eddie snorted a laugh and scrubbed at the back of his head as he tilted it back. "Ms. Kelley, you have no fu--um, no idea."
"It was so unfair and unjust of people to accuse you of those terrible things," she said.
"Uh…thanks? That wasn't even the worst part of my spring break, believe it or not."
Ms. Kelley lifted her eyebrows, silently inviting him to elaborate, but he didn't. He couldn't.
Clearing his throat, Eddie sat up and said, "But there were some good parts, too. Like… really good."
He didn't elaborate on that, either, but a big dumb grin spread as the Chrissy parts strobed through his mind like a movie montage. As if it was contagious, Ms. Kelley smiled, too. Though she really did that a lot.
"I'm glad to hear it," she said, looking down and unclasping her hands to open his file. "Let's see now…"
She licked her index finger to turn a page and scanned it. Eddie slid forward in his chair and craned his neck to see, but the type on the grade sheet was too small, and upside down. He'd seen enough from that perspective, thanks.
"You're passing everything, Eddie…" She glanced at him as her voice lilted upward, only for her forehead to dimple, the corners of her mouth tugging downward again. "...except for English."
"But I can pull it up to a D, right? If I do well on the final?"
Ms. Kelley continued to stare at the grade sheet, mentally doing the math, before nodding slowly. " Really well," she said. "And on your remaining assignments. But I believe you're more than capable."
How many times had Eddie been told that over the years? If only you would apply yourself, you could pass and graduate. And then what? No one ever had an answer to that part. Because there wasn't a good one.
Eventually, people stopped calling him capable.
But now, Eddie nodded. He could do this.
He had to.
"You know what I always say, Ms. Kelley, flattery works on me." He rattled his rings on the chair arms one last time, the role of a snare, then pushed to stand.
"Eddie, wait."
He did, but Ms. Kelley didn't continue until he'd dropped onto the mauve cushion again. There was always a catch…
"You need to keep in mind that your other grades are borderline. With the exception of wood shop. A-plus!" Another flash of a smile.
"Yeah, well…you get pretty good at it when you've taken it three times."
"I'd love to see some of your handiwork."
In spite of his frustration, Eddie noted that Ms. Kelley wasn't being condescending at all. She was sincere. (Like Chrissy.) He would show her one of his projects.
"You're going to have to turn in and pass all your remaining work as well as perform well on all your finals," Ms. Kelley went on. "You don't want to pass English only to--"
"Flunk chemistry."
And Kaminsky's finals were impossible. Eddie knew. He'd failed them before. Twice.
Fuck.
None of this was news to him, but he'd talked such a big game about his academic position that he'd forgotten just how precarious it was. It seemed absurd that last week he'd faced literal monsters, only to have his entire future now rest on something as mundane as grades. This was like scouring the Shire after destroying the One Ring.
"I don't say any of this to discourage you, Eddie," Ms. Kelley's voice drew him out of his own head. "I believe you can do it. I really do."
"Thanks, Ms. Kelley," he said. "It's nice to have my own personal cheerleader." He raised his hands and waved invisible pom-poms. "Well. Another one…"
He caught his hair again, tugging a lock toward his mouth to gnaw at along with a fingernail. God, why was he just bursting to tell Ms. Kelley about Chrissy? Was it some sort of superpower she had as a counselor, making people want to pour their hearts out to her? It had never worked on him before. He was turning into the kind of lovesick fool he never used to believe existed.
Ms. Kelley's chair creaked as she sat back. Eddie peeked up at her through his bangs and saw her studying him intently.
"Eddie, you seem…different."
He slid his finger out of his hair, a few strands catching in his ring. "I think…I hope…maybe I am?"
"Every other time you've come up against this scenario, you cut and run. What changed?"
Everything. But how could he even begin to tell her? And would she even believe him?
"I thought I was gonna die without passing the twelfth grade and that seemed…lame."
It was quippier than it really should have been, and not fully honest. He had been changed by facing death, but not just his own.
"I found someone I wanted to run toward," Eddie replied.
"Someone? Eddie…are you in love?"
It was the kind of question guys like him weren't supposed to answer; the discovery that the freak had a simple crush on a girl had brought ridicule and bullying as relentless as demobats.
But he looked Ms. Kelley straight in the eyes and said, for the first time out loud, not even to himself in front of a mirror, though he'd lain awake with the words I love Chrissy repeating in his head, "Yeah. And I know I can't ever be good enough for her, but I want to be better . The best I can be."
He braced himself against the inevitable response, from both within and without, that he was reaching too high, he didn't deserve love, it would never last.
"That's wonderful," said Ms. Kelley. With the morning light behind her, the houseplants, her dark curls and lace-edged blouse and vest, there was something about her that was almost more maternal than mental health professional. "But don't just be better for someone else. Be better for you. You owe it to yourself."
Did he? He wasn't so sure, but if Chrissy and Ms. Kelley thought so, then maybe…
"Why didn't I talk to you sooner?" he asked. "You're really good at your job, Ms. Kelley."
She laughed. "I appreciate the endorsement. Now, do you have a plan? For after you graduate, I mean?"
He probably shouldn't tell her he was planning to flip Principal Higgins the bird with the non-diploma hand. Beyond that, he really hadn't given it much thought. Jeff was graduating, too. Would they get wasted and party at The Hideout? Chrissy surely would've been planning to go to a party with Carver, though of course that wouldn't happen now that she'd dumped him. (Eddie couldn't help but smirk at the thought.) Maybe the Wheelers would throw a party for Nancy? Would she invite him? They were friends now, he thought.
It dawned on him, as Ms. Kelley waited patiently for his answer, that she probably meant a plan like college or a career. Was that even possible for someone who'd barely passed high school? Which he hadn't actually done yet.
Was Chrissy not enough of a plan?
"Probably shouldn't put the cart before the horse, should I?" he said.
Ms. Kelley smiled kindly. "Come back and see me after exams."
***
A shaft of afternoon sunshine fell across the scuffed and water-stained dinette from the trailer's grimy kitchen windows as, with dramatic flourish (was it even worth doing a thing if you didn't make a show of it?), Eddie unzipped the pockets of his backpack and held it upside down. He turned his head to watch Chrissy, who stood beside him, looking on with mouth agape and eyebrows vanishing behind her bangs, at the avalanche of textbooks, spirals, binders, loose papers, pens, broken bits of pencils, and other school-related paraphernalia.
"Cleaned out my locker today," Eddie offered in explanation after the dust had, literally, settled.
"How did all of that even fit in your backpack?" Chrissy asked, still agog.
"It's a Bag of Holding."
"I'm sorry?"
Eddie shook his head, made a mental note to explain the D&D reference another time, then swept out a hand and boomed, "Behold Mount Homework, which I'll spend the next two months climbing until I reach the summit, Graduation Peak."
Chrissy's laugh rang through the trailer. The sound made his insides do a little cheerleading routine--she truly thought his dorky jokes were funny, and the realization surprised him every time, just as it had during their clandestine forest meeting. Nevertheless, Eddie didn't quite feel the humor in his situation. Seeing it all heaped in a pile like that made the task ahead even more daunting than it had sounded in Ms. Kelley's office. Maybe he should ask Max to lend him her Kate Bush tape.
He felt for Chrissy's hand and clasped it, her stonewashed jeans rasping against his knuckles as her fingers twined with his. "I'm glad you're with me, Sam. Here at the end of all things."
Chrissy looked up at him, adorably puzzled with a dimple between her brows. Impulsively, Eddie leaned in and kissed it.
"Lord of the Rings reference," he said, drawing back to look her in the eye.
He released her hand and slid his fingers between his hair and the denim collar of his vest to rub the warm back of his neck. As accepting of his nerdiness as Chrissy was, maybe he should consider dialing it back a notch.
"I should really read that sometime," she said.
Dialing back nerdiness had been considered, and was summarily rejected.
"Yes," Eddie agreed, nodding in case his tone wasn't emphatic enough on its own. "You definitely should."
At once, he was about to add and bound to his room for the well-worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, but Mount Homework loomed in his peripheral vision, reminding him of how much else he had to read first. Why wasn't Tolkien on the British Lit syllabus?
"Summer book club?" Chrissy suggested. "A little poolside reading?" She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head fetchingly.
"Excuse me for a sec, while I picture you in a bikini, basking in the sun, sipping a drink with a little umbrella in it, and holding a big, fat--" (Was it his imagination, or did she wince a little at the word fat ?) "--fantasy novel."
If he hadn't imagined the wince, there was no trace of upset now as Chrissy's eyes lit up and her lips parted over those slightly too-big front teeth that made her smile so uniquely wonderful.
"Oh, is that your thing?" she said. "You like girls with big books?"
"Nailed it, Cunningham!" he crowed in delight. "Total big fantasy book man. Sometimes a big sci-fi book man. Or little, or medium. Book size doesn't matter. I just like books."
Chrissy glanced away, gorgeous eyes resting on the mess on the table; her smile didn't quite fall, but it did soften, and so did her voice. "That sounds better for me than the things other guys want."
Eddie didn't know much about what Carver had wanted from Chrissy--a trophy girlfriend, presumably, pricks like that always did--but he did know Chrissy's mom thought the jock was God's gift to Hawkins High, so it didn't take a lot of imagination to infer that Carver had reinforced the body issues Mrs. Cunningham had instilled.
Reaching out to scuff his thumb across her cheekbone, Eddie said, "I just want you to be any way you want to be, and to be happy with yourself."
Chrissy pressed her cheek against his palm, catching the wrist of his other hand as it came up to cup her face.
"I want that, too," she said, blue eyes luminous as they reflected the light from the kitchen behind them.
He wanted very badly to kiss her, to express everything he felt about her through the touch of his mouth on her soft lips, but her mother's cruel words would continue to haunt her even though Vecna was no longer here to use them against her. Eddie sure as hell wasn't going to leave important things unsaid.
"Ms. Kelley told me this morning we owe it to ourselves to be the best we can be for us, not just for other people. Not that other people aren't great motivators."
Chrissy's smile bloomed, and his own stretched with the knowledge--though not fully the belief--that he was her other person who motivated her, even though he didn't think there was a goddamn thing she needed to do better.
He felt a squeeze on his wrist, gently insistent, and then her body brushed closer against his and she tilted her face tilted her upward to close the gap between their lips. Eddie was only too happy to back up his words with actions.
It wasn't their first kiss, but recent as that had been, Eddie still couldn't believe that whenever their lips met, he wasn't dreaming. That it wasn't just because they'd been trauma-bonded, or that they were so goddamn relieved to be alive, their campaign ended, Vecna vanquished. That a girl like her truly liked a guy like him, and wanted to kiss him like this.
And this was unlike how anyone had kissed Eddie before. Chrissy was so sweet , not only because she wore cherry-flavored lip gloss, but in the way her lips pressed and parted against his with soft little sighs. Delicate. No one handled Eddie Munson with care, except to avoid interacting with the mean and scary freak. The fact that Chrissy did made him go weak in the knees, and he loved that feeling, even though he was pretty sure that was what he was supposed to be doing to her. He did his best to make her feel it, too, letting the callused tips of his thumbs dance lighty over cheeks as he cupped them. The hair at her nape tickled his fingers, and he wove them into it, loosening the silky strands from the scrunchie that swept them back from her face.
The hand encircling his wrist tightened, while the other trailed down his neck and over his chest, where his heart hammered beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Eddie couldn't stifle a low groan at that, deepening the kiss with a sweep of his tongue into her welcoming mouth as his hands left her face to settle on her waist instead. Their movements pushed the back of her hips into the edge of the table, and a little grunt escaped her lips, though her tongue gliding along his told him she didn't mind. Still, he didn't want her to be uncomfortable, so he tightened his arms around her and, without breaking the kiss, hoisted her onto the edge of the table, which sent a few pens and pencils skittering to the linoleum floor.
"In case you start to feel weak in the knees," he mumbled against her lips.
Kissing him harder, Chrissy locked her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down toward her, and…
…Eddie's stomach let out a loud, long rumble.
He would've pretended it hadn't happened and kept going, but Chrissy's laughter parted their lips.
"Time for a snack?"
"Other than you?" Eddie nipped at her lips, eliciting another giggle, but now that his stomach had made its needs known, the gnawing was impossible to ignore. He pulled back and shook his hair out of his face. "Yeah, actually. It's been way too long since my PB&J at lunch."
And he did usually have an after-school snack while he smoked a joint. He slid his fingers lightly over Chrissy's thighs, then pivoted to the kitchen.
"You want anything?" he asked over his shoulder. "I think Uncle Wayne went grocery shopping."
Eddie had caught him this morning getting home from his shift and asked Wayne to pick up some healthier food than was on their usual shopping list when he went to the store.
"What kind of healthy food?" Wayne asked, tired eyes regarding Eddie as if this was the weirdest request he'd ever made. To be fair, it probably was.
"I dunno, like fruit and vegetables and shit?"
When Wayne had continued to stare at him like he thought the rumors might be true, that his nephew was, indeed, a man possessed, Eddie had sighed and tried to explain.
"Chrissy's kind of… careful about what she eats," was the simplest way he could summarize having observed her eat like a bird the past week. Granted, they'd all seen a whooooole lot of shit, both terrifying and disgusting, that would steal the appetite of a person with an iron stomach. But putting two and two together--Eddie wasn't a complete imbecile at math--he suspected her picky eating habits predated Vecna's assaults on her already tormented mind. He was way out of his depth, but maybe if there were more nutritious options than Hungry-Man frozen dinners and Chef Boyardee, Chrissy might be tempted to eat more.
"It wouldn't hurt us to eat a little better, either," Eddie had snapped. Wayne had just snorted at that and cracked open a beer.
Eddie opened the pantry, relieved to see stacked cans of green beans, peas and carrots, corn, peaches, pears, and fruit cocktail; there were packages of spaghetti, jars of Ragu, a loaf of wheat bread instead of white (Eddie stuck out his tongue), boxes of Honey Nut Cheerios and Raisin Bran. In the fridge he found a carton of eggs, a tube of ground turkey (what the hell for?), cups of yogurt with fruit and, in the door along with the usual six packs of beer and Mello Yello, skim milk, orange juice, and Diet Coke. Uncle Wayne, you never let me down.
"Yogurt?" Eddie waved a cup in the general direction of the table, while still scrounging through the fridge, opening the crisper drawer with the other hand. "Or an apple?"
"I'd love an apple," Chrissy said, and Eddie felt like he'd won a side quest.
"Keeps the doctor away and all that."
Eddie hadn't been to the doctor in years--and he probably hadn't eaten a single apple in that time, either. Coincidence? He thought not. But he took two from the drawer anyway.
He started to toss one to Chrissy, but as he turned he saw she was no longer sitting on the table, but hunched over it creating order out of the chaos, stacking books and papers together by subject. She was like Snow White, leaving each part of the trailer she entered a little neater and tidier than she'd found it. The dopey smile that had spread across Eddie's cheeks slackened. Hopefully it wasn't because she felt obligated to him and Wayne, but just a little grossed out by the slobs she'd moved in with. At least there weren't seven of them.
Which reminded him, he should probably wash the apples.
"I convinced most of my teachers to let me do extra credit work," he told Chrissy as he rinsed them under the tap. "I don't think I convinced them I'd actually do it, so the joke's on them when they have extra grading."
Chrissy grinned. "Eddie Munson Strikes Back."
"Exactly." He decided to keep to himself that despite his unabashed nerdiness, he wasn't the hugest Star Wars fan. Not when she looked so proud of herself for making a relatable reference.
He tore off a paper towel and patted the apples dry, then opened a drawer and found a knife. Sliced apples were easier to eat than whole, and you could dip them in peanut butter. Who wanted to eat plain apples? Yuck--not him. Anyway, protein was an essential part of a balanced diet.
"We can make a list." Chrissy punctuated this statement by tapping a stack of papers on the table to straighten them. "Of all your remaining assignments, plus the extra credit work. Then we'll break it down into a schedule of what you need to do each day to get it all done on time. It won't seem as overwhelming that way."
That sounded genius. Why hadn't he ever thought of it? "What did I do without you, Cunningham?"
Get held back twice in twelfth grade, that's what.
"We'll figure out how many pages per day you have to read for English, too," Chrissy went on.
"I have to get through the whole year's syllabus in two months if I'm gonna pass that final."
She wheeled toward him, face gaping in nearly as much horror as it had in the Upside Down. "You haven't read any of it?"
"I read Beowulf," Eddie hastened to reassure her. "It was pretty metal, actually. Got a B minus on my paper."
She watched him go to the living room, balancing the plate of apples (arranged in an artful ring around a generous blob of peanut butter) on top of a Diet Coke can while carrying a Mello Yello and a yogurt cup and spoon in the other hand just in case Chrissy decided she wanted one. He set them on the coffee table, and as he plopped on the couch, she did a little cheerleader hop over to join him, face radiant. Her cuteness was going to kill him…and he'd happily march toward that death.
"You liked Beowulf because it's sword and sorcery stuff!"
"Yeah. I mean, like, Tolkien translated Beowulf from Old English. It's never been published, but maybe someday…"
There he went again, full fanboy, but Chrissy just beamed as she dabbed an apple slice in peanut butter.
"You'll like Macbeth ," she said.
"Shakespeare?" Eddie cracked open his soda, wishing it were a beer if they were going to talk about this. "Gross."
Chrissy rolled her eyes. She covered her mouth daintily as she chewed. "You can't hate Shakespeare just because you were forced to read Romeo and Juliet as a freshman."
It was seriously scary how well she knew him already. He took a swig of soda and said, "Nice try, but I didn't actually read it."
"Macbeth is all kings and castles and coups."
Now she was speaking his language. He plonked his Mello Yello on the coffee table and slid closer to her. "I'm intrigued, tell me more."
Chrissy tucked her legs beneath her, shifting the lumpy couch cushion toward him, so he could feel her voice as a warm breath against his cheek. "And witches."
"Witches!" Eddie gasped, springing back from her and clutching an imaginary string of pearls against his sternum. "Dear heavens! They allow this Satanic drivel in school?"
Laughing, Chrissy took another slice of apple.
Eddie ripped the foil top off the yogurt cup and scooped a spoonful, eying it with suspicion en route to his mouth. "Hey, there's no fruit in this. I should sue for false advertising."
"It's on the bottom." Chrissy took the spoon and cup from him. "You have to stir it."
She swirled the spoon around, then pulled it out. Sure enough, there was a glob of strawberry mixed into the pink cream. Eddie thought she was going to hand it back to him, but instead she brought the spoon to her own lips, closing them around it and pulling the yogurt inside almost sensuously. Two side quests complete!
For a few minutes they snacked in silence, then Chrissy placed the empty yogurt cup on the coffee table and slid back into the corner of the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. Soda in hand, Eddie leaned back against the opposite arm, where he could take her in, and propped one sock foot on the coffee table, the other stretched out just shy of her bare ones.
Her Barbie pink toenail polish was chipped. Maybe she'd let him repaint them for her sometime? That was a thing boyfriends did, wasn't it? He was pretty sure he was Chrissy Cunningham's boyfriend, anyway. He was in love with her.
"I talked to Ms. Kelley today, too," Chrissy said. "My mom called her all in a panic to say I'd run away from home."
"Um, you didn't run away, you moved out."
After Hawkins had been restored to its usual state, Eddie drove Chrissy to her house so she could grab clothes and money and other necessities and tell her parents she was going to stay with friends for a while. Then, with her mother hot on her heels, shrieking, Chrissy leapt into the passenger seat and they sped off. Eddie didn't think the Cunninghams knew who the getaway van belonged to, or they'd have beaten down the trailer door already.
"I explained that to Ms. Kelley," Chrissy said, "but I really didn't have to? She said as soon as I walked into her office she could tell that I was doing much better than before spring break."
Eddie nodded; that was how Ms. Kelley had reacted to him, too. Had the counselor noticed anything else about Chrissy?
"What did you tell her?" he probed, taking a sip of soda to hopefully make it seem casual and like he wasn't probing. But the intent way Chrissy's blue eyes held his made his pulse quicken, winding him like he'd just had to do the mile run for the President's Physical Fitness Test.
"That you're keeping me safe."
Mello Yello went down the wrong pipe. Now Eddie absolutely could not breathe, even as his pounding heart thudded to a sudden stop. Was that good for a person? Chrissy had told the school counselor she was staying with him, like that wasn't an embarrassing thing to admit, even though he hadn't actually named Chrissy as the object of his newfound affection. Ms. Kelley was no slouch…She'd certainly put it together. Should he tell Chrissy the depth of the feelings the counselor had guided him to identify? That he loved her?
Thankfully, his cardiovascular system resumed functioning, restoring the flow of oxygen to his brain before he said something colossally stupid. Cool your jets. This conversation was about what Chrissy was thinking and feeling, and he didn't want to hijack it.
Licking his dry lips, he said, "Vecna's gone, Chrissy."
"He wasn't the only one hurting me."
Eddie thought of the haunted house visions she'd described, her own family weaponized for Vecna's attempt to murder her.
"I never want to hurt you," he said, hoarsely.
"I know, Eddie."
Maybe he was a bigger Star Wars fan than he thought, because when she said I know, it was almost like she meant I love you. He played it over again in his mind, like rewinding a tape over and over when he was trying to learn a new song by ear, to make sure he'd really heard what he thought he had. I know, Eddie. What had he done to earn such complete trust?
"And Ms. Kelley really thinks this is good for you?" He gestured from himself toward her with his soda can. That he was good for anyone, let alone Chrissy Cunningham?
Chrissy's smile emerged, so sweet, a little shy. "Yeah. She does."
World's best guidance counselor. Eddie would have to give her a parting gift when he finally left Hawkins High.
"We both agreed it's not a long-term solution," Chrissy went on. (Why not? Eddie wondered. Well, aside from the fact that they were sharing a single-wide trailer with his uncle. And that other thing called graduation, after which she no doubt had major life plans.) "I'll have to face my parents eventually…"
Eddie couldn't disagree. "Sooner or later they're going to find out where you are." People had seen Chrissy arriving at school and leaving with him. "Think they'll come wielding pitchforks?"
"Luckily, we've fended off worse."
They shared a shaky laugh at the shared memory of beating off tentacles and demobats, not to mention Vecna himself.
"I'm eighteen," Chrissy said. "They can't make me do anything."
"Damn right they can't!"
Eddie noticed that Chrissy was hugging her knees a little tighter. He put his Mello Yello on the coffee table, then shifted on the couch to curl a hand over her knee, his thumb stroking it through the denim. She relaxed beneath his touch, one of her hands coming to curl over his.
"I don't want anyone giving you and Wayne any more trouble because of me."
We're trailer trash, we're used to it. Eddie shrugged. "Eh, we'll be fine. I'll just blare Metallica till they go away. Or call the cops and get a cease and desist."
He grinned evilly and rubbed his hands together, loving the idea. Wouldn't that be turning the tables?
"So." He slapped his thighs and hopped up from the couch. "Should we begin our ascent of Mount Homework?"
He held out his hands, and Chrissy readily accepted them, letting him pull her to her feet, body close to his.
"And then, because we'll need to renew our strength after that arduous trek, we'll feast on spaghetti."
Her eyebrows went up. "Eddie Munson cooks?"
That remained to be seen. But how hard could it be?
"Anything for you, Chrissy."