CHAPTER ONE
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SHE-DEVIL

HAWKINS, INDIANA
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
1983

MOIST AIR CLUNG TO THE
walls of the Fairchild home, bringing a rosy flush to Valerie Fairchild's round cheeks. The air conditioner had stopped working a few, long weeks ago, and Valerie's mother was yet to talk the repairman down to a reasonable enough price to fix it. So, Valerie was fighting off sweat stains before her first day as a high school junior had even began.

"Almost ready, kid?" Jolene, the matriarch of the small clan, called from the entryway of the house, her off-the-rack, red Antonio Moreno's tapping on the hardwood below her.

"Almost!" Valerie yelled from her bedroom, scrutinizing her appearance, wishing she had a better sense of style. She always envied her mother for being able to create a seemingly effortless ensemble out of any given items in her closet. It was a skill that Valerie had not inherited. Today, it was scuffed Docs and her lucky red, mock-neck sweater. Just the same as last year.

"I love you, my angel, but our window of breakfast opportunity is shrinking!" Valerie huffed and threw her bag onto shoulder. It was best not to get too hung up on the way you look, she reminded herself, it's not as if anyone else really cares. She blew passed her mother, out of the front door and towards the Chevy parked in their driveway, turning around with a toothy grin.

"C'mon," she called, "or we'll be late!"

Benny Hammond, the owner of Benny's Burgers, was a tall, gruff, ex-navy guy, with very little patience for shenanigans and even lesser people skills. But, he was kind when he wanted to be, and he'd known Jolene and Val for a long time, almost as far back as the teen could remember. His diner sat on the outskirts of town, letting the women avoid the kind of catty, small town gossip that floated around the regular haunts of PTA moms.

Jolene and Val skirted inside and rushed to claim two seats at the counter where Benny was squinting down at something that was very obviously distasteful.

"What?" His voice was angry when he laid eyes on the pair of Fairchild women, their wide grins only making the corners of his mouth tick down further.

"What do ya know, your face really can freeze that way," Jolene joked, plucking a menu from the counter.

"Jo," he warned with flared nostrils. Jolene only winked at him before she turned back down to her breakfast options. Without having to ask, Benny set two mugs before them, and filled them with hot coffee.

"What's got you down, Benny?" Val asked him, observant of his red face and deep scowl.

"Late inventory delivery, late garbage pick-up, late busboy, late waitress. The usual." The teen frowned while she added sugar to her coffee. Jolene drank hers black, and Val grimaced as she watched the woman take a greedy gulp of the bitter liquid. Benny's coffee was notoriously strong, and Jolene was lucky that she had a religious oral hygiene routine, or her teeth would've rotted out of her head years ago.

"Just take the day off." Jolene's suggestion made Benny scoff.

"I can't just take the day off, Jo."

"Sure you can," she assured with a wave, "I'm sure the boss wouldn't mind."

"I am the boss."

"Exactly! So...shoo."

"If I leave, then who will give you free refills all morning?" Jolene was silent as she considered this, and Val nodded solemnly.

"Fair point."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Val, but don't you have school today?" The question made the teen glance down at her watch with a wince. The last thing she wanted to do was attend yet another first day at Hawkins High School, where friendly faces were in the miniscule minority.

"Yeah," she said, sighing, "I guess I'll take my toast to-go."

"Hey, buck up, kiddo," he told her with a smile so small, if Val hadn't learned to looked for it, she would've never noticed it. "Only two more years and then you can ditch this town so fast, you're head'll spin."

"Oh, have you been reading my diary, old man?" Benny laughed, shaking his head.

"Get this girl to school before she fails out, or else I'll never get rid of her." Benny set down two take-away cups, and while the women filled them up with their coffees, he wrapped up two slices of buttered toast. "And remind Buddy he still owes me from poker last week."

"Stop letting Buddy in on your poker games," Jolene chided, "you know he can't play worth a damn." The older man only shrugged, the expression on his face reflecting amusement.

"He's a grown up now, Jo," he reminded her, handing Val's breakfast over with a nod of encouragement. It did little to negate the dread that settled in her chest, but she appreciated it nonetheless. "The man can do what he wants."

"Ugh, the fact that they let that kid carry a gun, of all things," she remarked, shaking her head.

"Mom, it's not like anything dangerous actually happens around here." Benny agreed with a sigh, but Jolene only groaned, still plagued by the thought of her common law step son toting around a pistol.

"C'mon, kid, before you're late." They waved goodbye to Benny, and scurried out to Jolene's Chevy. When they turned down Randolph Lane in the direction of the High School, and the car had descended into silence—besides the occasional sip of coffee—Jolene started to feel the palpable anxiety roll off of Val in buckets.

"It's gonna be fine," Jolene declared out into the stuffy air. To Valerie, it felt an awful lot like how she imagined the inside of a vacuum would.

"Right," Val agreed, hoping to snuff out this conversation before it started.

"You're a junior now, Val. You're growing up. Who knows how much everyone else has changed over summer break." Despite her mother's attempt at being reassuring, Val wasn't dumb. She knew that nothing had changed. In fact, she was hard pressed to believe that any of the kids at school would ever change, even if one hundred summers went by.

"You're right, " Valerie mumbled from the passenger seat, taking a bite of her dark, crispy toast. Jolene sighed.

"Are you just agreeing with me so I shut up?"

"Maybe."

"Look, I know that the past few years have been hard for you—"

"Mom, I'm fine—"

"Let me say this, Val." The teen clamped her mouth shut at her mother's serious tone. "I'm not blind. You hardly have any friends, and you spend all your time with me and Buddy. I just—I worry about you, kid." As much as it annoyed Val to admit, Jolene was right. High school had not been kind to Val, thus far, and the tough shell she was forced to build around herself made it near impossible to let people in long enough to become anything other than stiff acquaintances.

"You don't need to worry, Mom, I'm fine," she lied. Jolene didn't seem convinced, but she decided not to push the topic any further. The pair were similar in a lot of ways, but perhaps most annoyingly, Val inherited her mother's knack for stubbornness. And sometimes, digging their heels in was more than just a metaphorical reaction. The car pulled up to the west entrance of the school, and Val's stomach twisted into taut knots.

"Buddy'll be here after school to pick you up, okay?"

"Not in the squad car," Val whined as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Yes, in the squad car." The teen huffed and wrenched the door open, the hinges creaking obnoxiously.

"You know that's why I don't have any friends, right?" Jolene barked a laugh at her daughter's pout.

"Sure, it is, hon." With one last sigh of finality, Val walked around the front of her mother's car and into the doors of the school. She heard the squeal of the Chevy's tires before the door even had time to snap shut. The walk to her locker was uneventful, everyone was too caught up in the flurry of comparing schedules and trading summer gossip to notice Valerie Fairchild.

"Another year in this shit hole," she heard someone say from behind her. When she looked, it was the dynamic Trio of Terror, leaning carelessly on a row of lockers, scoping out the new year. Tommy Hagan's eyes landed on Val, making her curse the heavens for such a sour start to the year.

"Hey, there," he called, leading the group as they ambled to surround her where she stood, depositing her books and trying to display her disinterest as plainly as possible. "If it isn't Val the She-Devil."

"It's funny, you'd think after hearing that nickname for the hundredth time it'd sound more clever, but it just...doesn't."

"Well, now, something's different here, hm?" Tommy chuckled, his belligerent grin making Val shuffle on her feet. "Lemme guess..." he trailed off, feigning thought, his finger tapping his chin mockingly. "Did the She-Devil finally get laid?"

"Grow up," Val hissed, her eyes set into venomous slits.

"Nope, nope, that can't be it." He laughed obnoxiously. "Oh! I know. You finally grew into your nose!" He snapped his fingers, as if he made some kind of profound discovery. Val rolled her eyes at the tired jibe.

"What did you do to your hair, Val? You actually look like...a girl." Carol Perkins'—who was never very far behind Tommy—voice was sickeningly sweet as she fingered one of Val's mousy tresses. She smacked the redhead's hand away with an angry growl.

"Watch it, Carol," Tommy warned seriously, "or she'll kick you in the nuts, too."

"I don't have nuts, moron."

"Ugh, just get a room already, the tension is killing me," Val mumbled sardonically, turning to glare at her groupies, for a lack of a better term. They sure seemed to get their rocks off by following her around, she could be certain of that.

"Aw, jealous, She-Devil?" Tommy laughed, snaking his arm around Carol's waist.

"Oh, yeah, the way you incessantly berate me really gets my motor running."

"According to my notes, it takes a lot more than that." Val was about to point out the fact that Tommy H has never taken a note in his life when the third person in their group finally spoke up.

"I don't think it takes that much, Tommy," Steve Harrington remarked with a cool laugh, careful to avoid Val's fiery stare. She hadn't seen him all summer, since she spent most of her time down at the quarry or cooped up in the diner with her mom and Buddy. He looked mostly the same, maybe a bit taller, his hair a bit longer.  "I think kicking your ass was kinda like foreplay or something."

"She didn't kick my ass, Harrington," he grumbled with narrow eyes.

"Oh, I think she did. But, hey, its alright if you don't remember, getting your ass kicked tends to affect your memory."

"Stop saying that!" Tommy's indignant response brought a snort up from Val's throat, and the sound attracted Steve's eyes. "She kicked me in the balls one time!"

"I distinctly remember breaking your nose, Hagan," Val argued with a wide grin.

"You gave him a bruise." Carol rolled her eyes, seemingly annoyed by the childish argument. "You didn't break his nose."

"No...I remember breaking it."

"You're such a psycho, Val," Tommy growled, the bruise on his ego still clearly not healed, despite the incident in question having taken place nearly two years ago. "That kinda stuff probably does turn you on, huh?"

"Not as much as seeing you cry did."

"Whatever, She-Devil." Tommy gave her a snarl to punctuate the insult, but Val just rolled her eyes. This game of cats and mouse they'd been playing since seventh grade was starting to feel stale. Tommy, with his arm draped around Carol's shoulders, turned and left, giving Steve a parting nod.

"There is something different about you, Val," Steve started, leaning against the row of lockers next to Val's.

"Valerie," she corrected coldly, her piercing cobalt eyes glaring at him narrowly.

"You let Tommy and Carol call you Val."

"They never stabbed me in the back," Val pointed out. The warning bell rang overhead, and she turned to rifle through her locker for the book she'd need for her first period.

"You have got to let that go," Steve groaned, "it was four years ago."

"I'll tell you what, I'll let it go when you drop this..." she gestured animatedly in his general direction, "schtick, okay?"

"What schtick? What are you talking about?"

"This King of The Assholes thing. It doesn't suit you anymore than it did last year, or the year before that." A firm stubbornness shined in Steve's eyes, his mouth settling into a deep frown.

"I'm not the one acting like something I'm not," he told her pointedly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Val."

The words cut her deeply. While it was rather annoying that the person to call out her façade was Steve Harrington of all people, the fact still remained. Val had very carefully constructed a cold, unwelcoming visage to accompany her shrew-like reputation. But, Steve was the one who broke her heart so severely that she was forced to warp herself to an almost unrecognizable degree, so who was he to judge the way she chose to cope with his indiscretion?

"Do not call me Val. You lost that privilege." Her locker slammed close, sending a gust of air up to ruffle Steve's hair.

"You are the most stubborn person I know."

"You haven't known me for a long time, Harrington." It looked like Steve wanted to argue, but instead he let her walk around him, leaving him behind for her first period.

Val settled into Chemistry, flipping open her book to busy her anxious hands. He's got some nerve, she thought to herself, acting like he knows me. He decided he didn't want to know her way back in seventh grade, and he did very little to amend that decision since. Besides the rare school work related conversation, or that time at Tommy H's party their freshman year when she earned the nickname She-Devil, Steve had made zero effort to be her friend. The fact that he even said anything remotely positive about her just made Val supremely paranoid.

A body plopped down in the open seat at her lab table, drawing her eyes up at the commotion. Damn it.

"Uh, move," she told him. Steve leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head, the look on his face easy and relaxed.

"I don't think I will."

"You are such a douchebag, Steve," Val growled, "go sit by Josh or Terry or something."

"They can't do Chemistry for shit," he argued.

"So not my problem."

"Oh c'mon, it can be like old times—" While Steve seemed to have been trying to be civil, if not a little patronizing, a raging fire burned in Val's chest at his flippant comment.

"You don't get to talk about old times," she cut him off with a sharp tongue, "you are the one who—you know what? Fine. Just—just forget it. See if I care." Steve grinned triumphantly at her frazzled attempt to appear apathetic.

"So, how was your summer?" Steve asked after a few moments of awkward silence, listening to Val seethe.

"Shut up."

—

"I swear, Buddy," Val warned, her face alight with a challenging grin, "if you cheat one more God damned time."

"I'm not cheating!" Buddy bellowed a laugh from behind his hand of cards, his glasses reflecting the light that shined harshly above them. "Girls just suck at poker."

"Excuse me?" Val's jaw slacked in disbelief. "I happen to be a great poker player."

"The fact that you've already lost three games is telling me a different story."

"Because you cheat!" The pair laughed carelessly under the fluorescent lights of the Hawkins' police station. It was a particularly boring day, so Buddy let Val tag along to the precinct after school. She'd usually help with filing or sweeping up or any other menial task that the officers never got around to.

"Any thing exciting happen today?" Val inquired, eyeing her brother curiously over her hand of sadly disappointing cards. Buddy shrugged.

"A group of ninth graders stole Mrs. Wexler's garden gnomes out of her yard." The girl snorted, but deflated nonetheless. She knew that nothing exciting ever happened in Hawkins, but it was still disappointing to hear such lame tales out loud.

"Oh."

"But," Buddy smirked, his oak eyes flicking to where Flo sat at her desk, busy with paperwork. "I heard some kids were planning on spray painting a penis on Dean Meyer's car." Val's eyes perked up instantly, the lights above sparkling in them like a cartoon.

"No shit," she laughed, falling back into her chair jovially.

"Yeah, the Dean's wife was pretty upset about it. Demanded that we haul the usual suspects in for questioning."

"Did the Chief approve it?" Val's giggles echoed about the small office, earning a scolding glance from Flo.

"What do you think?"

"What did I tell you about bringing your sister around, Callahan?" A guttural sigh came from the entrance of the precinct. When Val looked up, it was the Chief standing omnisciently over them, his sturdy arms folded over his chest.

"Um, to hide the donuts?"

"Exactly," he confirmed patronizingly. The Chief eyed Val with narrowed eyes as he crossed the room to peer inside the pink cardboard box that, at one point, held 24 fresh cake donuts from the bakery around the corner. The Chief growled when he opened the box to find only three of the orange sprinkle ones left. Everyone's least favorite. "Damn it, Val."

"Hey, you snooze you loose, Chief." He rolled his eyes at the teen, shoving the reject donut into his mouth anyways.

"Keep her out of my stuff, Callahan," the Chief warned, brandishing his pastry at the young officer. Buddy saluted diligently.

"Yes, Chief."

"Where's Powell?" Chief Hopper's question was answered by Flo, who told him that Powell's wife had made the second shift officers a pan of lasagna, and he was enroute to the Powell household as they spoke. Val's stomach growled at the thought of Mrs. Powell's cooking, and she quickly stood to shove one of the rejected donuts into her mouth in an attempt to quell the hunger.

"Callahan," Hop said with a hushed tone once Val was standing away from Buddy's desk.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I overheard some kids talking down at Melvald's about some big high school party happening tonight," he mumbled, clearly trying not to draw Val's attention. The teen leaned over ever so slightly to eavesdrop.

"You thinking about busting it?"

"I was," he confirmed with a nod. "Those kinda parties usually mean alcohol, especially the rich kids passed Cornwallis."

"Which kid?"

"Lockwood."

"Don't go messing around with the Lockwoods, Chief," Buddy groaned. "Marty Lockwood will make your life a living hell if you arrest his kid."

"I won't...so long as he doesn't give me a reason to."

"I'll drive by tonight on my way to Jolene's, okay? If it's too rowdy then I'll call it in." Although the Chief seemed unhappy with this solution, he sighed and agreed anyways.  Val, who had been standing by the donuts, chewing silently, jerked away from the table and quickly moved back to sit at Buddy's desk. Once she swallowed, her face was split into a shit-eating grin as she picked up her lousy hand to hide behind.

"Were you listening to that, Val?"

"Not a word."