Chapter Text
“Failing?” Barb echoed incredulously. “What do you mean I’m failing?”
“Your participation in Phys Ed class this year leaves a lot to be desired,” Principal Higgins said mildly. “According to Coach Brown, you stayed near the sidelines all winter for both volleyball and basketball. In fact, the only sport you’ve participated in all year was tennis back in September.” The middle-aged man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wide wooden desk between them. “Now, Coach Brown was more than generous in giving you a C-minus last quarter. But if you don’t start putting in an effort, you’ll flunk Phys Ed for the year.”
Physical Education. What a joke. There was nothing “educational” about it. All it was was twelve years of her being left out at best or singled out for torment at worst. Nobody wanted the fat girl with glasses on their team, whether it was for softball or soccer. Never mind dodgeball. She shuddered at the memories of an entire row of her elementary and middle school classmates pelting her with those red rubber balls, year after year, knocking her glasses askew with an illegal shot to the face while the kids jeered and the teacher did nothing. As far as she was concerned, gym class was nothing more than school-sanctioned bullying.
And those same bullies were now the jocks: the heroes of high school. There was no winning this fight. Barb sighed in defeat. “What can I do to pass?” she asked.
Principal Higgins steepled his fingers together. “The Presidential Fitness Exams are a month from now,” he said. “Earn an award, and you’ll pass. Fail, and you won’t graduate.”
“What?” she demanded. “That seems a little harsh for just gym class! Couldn’t I take summer classes or something?” Not that she wanted to spend the hottest months of the year doing gym class. Still - better than being held back a grade.
“I’m afraid not,” he said placidly.
“But…” She trailed off. How was she supposed to admit that she’d never, not once in her life, passed this test? It was humiliating. And it wasn’t like she was given a fair chance, either; while other classes gave lectures and homework to prepare her for tests, gym class didn’t do anything of the sort. The sports she was arbitrarily forced to do didn’t do a thing to suddenly make her able to do fifty sit-ups in a minute or one single pull-up.
Still. She didn’t have much choice. If she didn’t want to repeat twelfth grade, she needed to pass gym class.
“Fine,” she conceded. “So what do I do? Meet up with Coach Brown after school for training?”
“No, he’ll be far too busy with the baseball team to do any one on one training,” Principal Higgins replied. “No, you’ll be training with a student after school. There are two boys who volunteered for the job: Steve Harrington - “
“No, no. Not him,” Barb interrupted. The last person in the world she wanted helping her with this was Nancy’s ex-boyfriend. The memory of that night at Steve’s place when she’d humiliated herself cutting her hand trying to shotgun a beer still made her insides shrivel up. Nancy leaving her alone at a near-stranger’s house to have sex with him inside was just figurative salt in her literal open wound. But at least Nance had apologized. Steve hadn’t. “Anyone but him.”
The principal spread his hand concedingly. “Fair enough. Then you’ll be training with Billy Hargrove.”
Well… shit. As much as she didn’t want to work with Steve, being forced in the same room as a colossal jerk like Billy Hargrove wasn’t any better. “Isn’t there anyone else?” she asked plaintively.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Miss Holland,” the principal admonished her. “After school sessions with Mr. Hargrove start next Monday. If you don’t want to flunk for the year, I suggest you take this seriously.”
The weekend passed in a blur of dread. The principal had sent Barb home with a note for her parents. And while Dad had been ready to march to the principal’s office and argue with “that son of a bitch Higgins,” Mom took a more pragmatic approach.
“You know your father and I think you’re beautiful just how you are,” she’d said over a dinner of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. “But it wouldn’t hurt for you to get a little more exercise, honey. You never join me when I do my Jane Fonda tape anymore.”
Barb’s eyes had lowered to her plate. Of course she didn’t do the workouts. All the women on that tape were pretty, smiling, perfectly made up, and most importantly, thin. And so was her mom, for that matter. Barb… wasn’t any of those things. She had her dad’s broad frame and slow metabolism; by the time she and her mom got halfway through the tape, while Ruth Holland was merely glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, Barb was drenched and gasping for air.
On Saturday, her mom dragged her out to buy her some new workout clothes. Barb was now the proud owner of several leotards and pairs of leggings. All form-fitting, clinging to every last lump and roll. Looking at herself in the changing room mirror at the store made her want to be sick.
By Sunday night, they’d all been shoved to the back of her closet. She managed to find some clothes of her dad’s that would do in a pinch: some old T-shirts and drawstring shorts. They were ugly, stained, and ludicrously big on her, but at least they covered up her imperfections.
And now it was Monday afternoon. The last bell had already rung, letting school out for the day. Barb was dithering by her locker, taking longer than usual to grab what books she needed for homework tonight.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Nancy asked, her eyes wide with concern. “Seriously, I can cancel with Jonathan if you want a work-out buddy.”
Barb eyed her best friend of ten years cautiously. She appreciated what Nance was trying to do. She was trying to be a good friend and put Barb before her boyfriend. And Barb appreciated it. Really. Their friendship had been on the rocks for a while after that night at Steve’s place, when Nancy had pressured her into drinking and then abandoned her to have sex with her boyfriend. All the while, Barb nursed a cut hand and eventually drove herself home, feeling hurt and betrayed.
But that was like two and a half years ago. And while she might still nurse a grudge against Steve - whom she barely knew - her friendship with Nance was stronger than that.
Besides - and Barb felt like a complete jerk for even thinking this - sometimes she just… needed to get away from Nance for a little while. Amazing Nancy with the perfect girl-next-door looks: clear blue eyes, unfreckled complexion, and a slim figure Barb would kill for. She saw how boys would look at Nancy with interest, before sliding right over Barb as if she were invisible.
Not that she blamed her friend for that. Not at all. Boys could be - and, in her experience, usually were - jerks. Still. She was already feeling emotionally fragile enough without having her biggest insecurity mashed in her face.
“I’m good,” she said, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Nancy opened her mouth to protest. Barb cut her off before she could. “I’ll be fine. Really. I bet Billy’s not even as bad as they say.”
“‘They’ being half the girls in our grade,” Nancy was quick to point out. “C’mon, Barb, you know what he’s like. He sticks around just long enough to get what he wants out of a girl, and then he moves on to the next one.”
Oh, she knew, alright. All the jocks worshipped Billy Hargrove for it, like he was some sort of god. And yet if a girl slept with half as many guys as he slept with girls, she’d be labeled a slut. The hypocrisy of it all infuriated her.
Still, she knew she was one hundred percent safe from Billy and his charm. Even if she were the type to turn into a simpering idiot at a flash of his blue-eyed grin, she had nothing to worry about.
Billy only went after pretty girls.
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Go on. Enjoy your date.”
Slamming her locker closed, she headed to the girl’s locker room and got changed into her dad’s borrowed clothes. When she got to the gym itself, Billy was already waiting for her, leaned against the doorway to the tiny room filled with workout equipment for the sports teams. Unlike during school hours, when he wore ripped jeans and t-shirts of bands she didn’t like, now he was wearing a plain white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and gray sweatpants.
“Barb Holland?” he asked, blue eyes flickering up and down. He looked thoroughly unimpressed at what he saw. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
Barb couldn’t agree more. The sooner they were out of here, the better.
She followed him into the workout room and looked around. She’d never been in here before. Ostensibly, the weights, treadmill, mats, and other equipment in here was for any student who wanted to use it, as long as they got approval from the gym teacher; in reality, Coach Brown only gave permission to the jocks on the boy’s sports teams. That certainly explained the lingering scent of sweat in the air, anyway.
It didn’t escape Barb’s notice that, while band and yearbook club were underfunded, all of the equipment here looked practically new.
Billy cleared his throat rudely. “Well?” he said, gesturing to the equipment.
“Well, what?” she retorted.
Billy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, letting his head loll back on his shoulders. “Well, get to it! Show me what we’re working with. Don’t got all day.”
Barb shot him a Look over the top of her glasses. “No duh. Where do you want me to start? You’re the expert here.”
“Fine. Pull-ups. Show me how many you can do,” he said, gesturing to a horizontal bar suspended overhead.
Pull-ups. Great. At least they were getting the worst part over with. Reaching overhead, she grasped the bar. Heaving, straining, pulling with all her might, she pulled herself off the ground. Her feet rose one inch… two inches… and then no more. Her legs kicked helplessly with no input at all from her, even though she knew that that just made it worse.
After what felt like five minutes, but was probably closer to thirty seconds, she let herself drop. Her face was hot from equal parts exertion and humiliation.
“That it?” he asked, completely unfazed. Bored, even. “Mmkay. Sit-ups next.”
Those, at least, she could do reasonably well. Years of self-consciously sucking her stomach in had given her some halfway decent muscles there. But even with Billy holding her feet down, she still fell six short of the number she needed in order to pass.
Push-ups weren’t any better; she needed to hit twenty-five in a minute, but could only get to ten before her trembling arms gave out under her.
Next was the V-sit to test her flexibility. Sitting on a gym mat with her legs stretched out in a V, she leaned forward as far as she could, reaching her hands along the floor as her hamstrings burned and strained with the stretch.
Billy gave a low whistle. “Well, you’re flexible, toots, I’ll give you that much,” he said.
Barb looked up from her stretch to glower at him. “Do not call me that.”
“Sure thing, sugar tits,” he shot back. He jerked his head to the treadmill. “C’mon. Let’s see how fast you can move your ass.”
Barb already knew the answer to that: not fast at all. She set out at a pace that was uncomfortably fast for her, but wouldn’t burn her out in two seconds flat. Still, by the time she hit the half mile mark, she was gasping, red in the face, and drenched in sweat.
She managed to finish the mile in fifteen minutes. She needed to do it in ten and a half in order to pass.
As soon as the display on the treadmill ticked the one mile mark, Billy switched it off. “Alright, we’re done. See you tomorrow.” And with that, he headed toward the door.
Barb stared after him, dumbstruck. Just as he reached the door, she found her voice. “That’s it?” she demanded, climbing off the treadmill and crossing her arms defensively over her chest. Internally, she knew she was being a complete idiot. Here she was, sweating and gasping for breath, muscles and lungs burning. Why the hell was she demanding that Billy do more? Still - it had to be said. “I could’ve done all of this by myself,” she added.
“So why didn’t you?” he shot back with a smug grin over his shoulder.
Asshole. And of course, she didn’t have an answer to that question. “You know, if you’re not going to take this seriously, I might as well not even waste my time,” she muttered.
That got his attention. Shoulders stiffening, he whirled around. “Waste your time? I’m not the one who needs this, and I’m sure as hell not doing it for kicks!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You’re right. I do need this. I just…”
She trailed off. There was no way she could admit to him just what her hangup was. But in her experience… she was just a punchline to boys. The one who got asked out as a joke. The “grenade” an unlucky guy fell on to clear the way for his buddy to flirt with her pretty friend.
And Billy wasn’t any different from them. Just another alpha male jock competing in a never-ending dick-measuring contest. He might be helping her, but that didn’t change who he was.
“Forget it,” she muttered, pushing past him out of the workout room.
She didn’t bother changing out of her gym clothes - just grabbed her duffel and backpack, and left. She drove home in stony silence, letting angry tears stream down her face unchecked so they wouldn’t blur her view of the road.
A month. She was supposed to put up with this indignity for a month. She couldn’t do it. She’d… she’d figure out something else.
On Tuesday afternoon, she went straight home after school. When she opened her locker on Wednesday morning, a folded up stack of notebook paper fell out. The edge of the pages still had the ragged ends of where they’d been roughly torn out of a spiral notebook.
She unfolded the packet. On the front, written in neat block letters were the words “30 day workout plan.” And below that, in a messier scrawl from the same hand: “Blow me off again and you can find somebody else to help.”
She flipped through the packet of pages. There, outlined in black pen, were daily breakdowns of exercises she was to do every day between now and the day of the fitness test. The main focuses seemed to be upper body strength and cardio endurance, but there were some others thrown in for good measure.
This whole thing seemed perfectly tailored to her needs. Had Billy come up with this himself? It must’ve taken a lot of time and thought - time she figured he’d spend getting the girl of the week in the backseat of his car, and thought she’d been sure he only spared for himself.
Guilt and irritation welled up inside her, feeding off of one another. She never would’ve imagined he’d go through all this trouble. Maybe she shouldn’t have assumed the worst of him.
Still - she’d be stupid not to be cautious. She’d been the butt of too many jokes to drop her guard.
She went through the whole school day with her stomach tying itself in knots. When the final bell rang, she quickly changed into her workout clothes and met Billy in the gym where he was lounging on some workout machine she didn’t know the name of. A boom box was plugged into the outlet at the far corner, blaring some metal music she didn’t recognize.
“Good of you to actually show up this time,” he snarked. He stood up and walked over to her, stretching his neck as far as it would go in an attempt to loom over her. They were the same height, Barb realized. Which wasn’t really surprising. She had a large frame, just like her dad. She tended to loom over other girls, and some guys, too. “Let’s get one thing straight, sweet-cheeks: I don’t like being left waiting. There’s only one person I put up with that for, and it sure as shit ain’t you. Got it?”
Well, that answered that question. Billy was just as big a jerk as she thought. Still, he was helping her. That at least deserved an ounce of respect.
“Got it,” she said. She pulled out the workout packet he’d made and flipped to the first page. “I was looking over this during study hall. Why do you have me doing weightlifting so often? That’s not in the test.”
“No, but we’ve gotta build your strength up gradually. Can’t expect you to lift your body weight when you can’t even bench half of it.” He snapped his fingers. “Speaking of - how much you weigh?”
Barb’s face heated. “None of your business.”
“Uh-huh.” His blue eyes flickered up and down her figure, and his tongue licked over the straight white line of his teeth. “I’d put you at… maybe 210?”
God, she was blushing so hard she was probably turning a deeply unattractive shade of purple. She actually weighed 212. Not that she was gonna tell him that. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s rude to ask a woman how much she weighs?”
“Course they have. But sadly for you, I don’t give a shit.” He jerked his head toward a workout machine with a bar connected by wire and pulley to some rectangular weights. Pulling the pin out of the weights, he set it to fifteen pounds. “Here. Give that a try, let me know how it feels. We’re going for comfortable, but challenging.”
Sitting on the leather-padded seat, Barb grasped the bar over her head and pulled it down to her chest. There was some resistance there, but the weight felt manageable enough. “Feels good.”
“Cool. Do two sets, ten reps per set. Slowly - this isn’t a race. You want your muscles to work for it.”
Barb did as she was told, taking a minute-long break between the two sets. Before now, she wouldn’t have known what a rep or a set was. But she had to admit - as much of a dick as he was, Billy knew his stuff, and knew how to explain things without seeming like he was talking down to her.
By the end of the second set, her muscles were burning and her arms were shaking uncontrollably. But that was okay - now that the arm exercises were over, they’d move on to something else.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. He had her do bicep curls next, and then as many push-ups as she could manage before her arms gave out under her (five. She managed a grand total of five. God, this was the worst).
And once her arms felt like they might pop off her shoulders and flee to parts unknown, Billy gave her a break… by having her hit the treadmill. What an absolute sadist. He had her go at a brisk walk for fifteen minutes, then called it a day.
Barb braced herself for some biting remark - how out of shape she was, or how she was hopeless, or was she even trying?
But it never came. All he said was, “good hustle, Holland.” Then he glanced at the clock, swore, and hurried to the boy’s locker room to change.
Barb watched him go, tamping down her annoyance at his hasty exit. He probably had a hot date. Which was fine. Nothing worth getting upset over.
The rest of the week went similarly. On Thursday they focused on her core muscles - what would be her abs, under the softness of her belly - and on Friday, her whole body.
“Tuesdays are leg day. Y’know, if you decide to show up,” he said sarcastically.
He guided her through stretches, planks, squats, and ab curls. By the end of it, Barb was absolutely drenched in sweat, feeling the burn in muscles she didn’t even know she had.
She’d never felt so good in her life.
She didn’t get it. All her life, she’d hated exercising. She hated being sweaty, hated how her redhead’s complexion went purple with exertion. Most of all, she hated how boring it was. She’d never seen the point of picking up heavy things and putting them down, or running for the sake of running; she’d much rather be curled up with a good book. The merciless teasing of her classmates just made it worse.
But with the metal music blasting… well, it wasn’t exactly her favorite music, but the aggressive beat of it thrummed in her bones, making her want to push herself further.
And, she had to admit, Billy’s presence helped. Any time her form was off, he’d correct her with a muffled curse and his calloused hands adjusting her body until it did what he wanted it to. And when she got things right, he looked so smug, as if he was the one doing all the work.
But it was when her strength flagged that he seemed to know just what to say. She was doing squats, her legs trembling violently and threatening to give out underneath her.
“I’ve gotta stop,” she said through gritted teeth.
He shook his head. “Nah. You don’t.” His blue eyes locked with hers in a challenging stare. “Three more reps, Holland. You’ve got this. You don’t need to prove it to me. Prove it to yourself. Prove it to every asshole in this shitty buttfuck nowhere town.”
Somehow, she found the fortitude to push through, getting through the last squats with a groan. When she returned to standing, the room tilted on its axis, and she stumbled.
Billy gestured to a chair. “Take a breather.”
“No, I’m - I’m good,” she panted. Sure, her heart was pounding in her chest, her borrowed shirt was sticking to her from sweat, and her face felt unbelievably hot. Hell, she’d probably be hobbling like an old woman tomorrow morning. But she refused to quit now. Not when she was just now finding out what her body was capable of.
“Don’t overdo it,” Billy insisted. “If you can do more, great. If not, we’ll call it quits for the day.”
Call it quits. She hated that phrase. It felt too much like giving up. Or failing.
“I can do it,” she said, jaw set resolutely.
Billy shrugged. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me on Monday if you’re too sore to move all weekend.” He glanced at the clock. “I gotta run out to my car real quick. Take it easy, yeah? Don’t go running any marathons without me.”
Asshole. He knew that cardio was her weakest area in all of this. Stubbornly, she climbed onto the treadmill and set the speed faster than she usually did the moment he was out of the room. Her legs still felt like jelly after all those squats, and she’d kill to jump in a cool shower to get rid of some of the unbearable heat in her face.
She pushed through the burning in her legs and lungs for eight minutes before she finally had to give in and stop. Just as she stumbled off the machine, Billy came back, looking harried.
“Alright, Max knows we’re running a little long today, so - whoa. You okay?” he asked.
No. She wasn’t. The second she stopped moving, it felt like all the blood in her body rushed straight to her head, then right back out again, leaving her feeling lightheaded. Her stomach roiled with nausea, and her pulse roared in her ears.
“Think ‘m gonna be sick,” she mumbled.
“Aw, hell,” Billy muttered. Moving quickly, he grabbed a fold-up chair and dragged it behind her. Big, rough hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her down into it.
Barb tried to protest. “I’m fine, you don’t need to - “
“You’re not fine, you’re overheated,” he snapped, “because you didn’t take it easy like I said. Now you’re gonna sit your ass down until you cool down.”
“But - “
“You wanna get heatstroke? No? Then shut the fuck up and do as I say!” he yelled.
Barb didn’t argue. After all, she’d never seen him so upset before - not even when she skipped their session on Tuesday. Besides, she was too busy catching her breath and actively trying not to throw up to defend herself.
A paper cup filled with water appeared in front of her. Billy must’ve filled it at the water cooler. She accepted it with both hands.
“Drink,” he said. “Slowly. I’m gonna go get a damp towel to put around your neck.”
Feeling like an idiot, Barb sipped at the cool water, swishing it around her mouth before swallowing. Tears of defeat pricked her eyelids. God, how could she be so pathetic? Her classmates could do all of this stuff no problem. But here she was, reduced to trying not to puke all over her shoes.
Billy returned, and she hastily blinked her tears away.
“Assholes on the baseball team used up all the towels,” he muttered angrily, draping a cool, white cloth around the back of her neck. Glancing down, he noticed her empty cup. “Need a refill?”
Barb nodded wordlessly. It was only when he was on the other side of the room, filling up the cup at the water cooler, that she noticed that he was shirtless. She touched the damp cloth around her neck, feeling the hem of a sleeve in her fingers.
As her body cooled and the nausea slowly passed, Barb couldn’t help the way her eyes lingered on all of Billy’s bare, tawny skin. Even after more than two years living in Hawkins, he was still tanned from the hot California sun. She couldn’t see an ounce of fat on his firmly-muscled body. God, even his shirt smelled good: a mixture of hairspray, deodorant, and sweat so appealing that not even the lingering scent of stale cigarette smoke could ruin it.
It just made her feel like more of a slob by comparison.
After about fifteen minutes, she was starting to feel like herself again. When she tried to stand up, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her back down into the chair.
“Hey!”
“You can go when I say you can go,” he said smoothly.
“I don’t need you to treat me like some dumb kid!”
“Obviously I do,” he shot back. “Christ, I thought geeks like you were supposed to be smart. Why’d you push yourself so hard?”
“I need this grade. You know that,” she replied.
“I don’t buy that. So why?”
She wanted to put up more of an argument. She did. But she was tired, and queasy, and feeling utterly defeated.
“Because this,” she said, gesturing at all the weights and workout machines around them, “comes so easily to people like you. And it never has for me. I guess I thought maybe now it finally would.”
She wasn’t sure how he’d react. Honestly, she figured he wouldn’t really give a crap. They never spoke two words to one another before all of this, and once she passed her test, they’d probably never speak again. If he said nothing, pretended she hadn’t even spoken, she’d probably consider it a kindness.
So when he burst into loud, raucous laughter, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“You don’t need to make fun,” she muttered resentfully.
“Yeah I do,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “You think this shit came easy? Any of it?” Just as quickly as it appeared, his smirk vanished without a trace. His blue eyes burned with intensity in his handsome face. She could see the bare muscles in his arms and chest tense up like an animal readying itself to strike - or maybe to flee. “Trust me, Holland - I had to fight for every last damn thing I’ve got. Just cuz I make it look easy doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”
Reaching up, he tucked a stray blond curl behind his ear. As he did, he accidentally - or maybe seemingly accidentally - revealed a scar on the tender flesh of his inner bicep. A perfectly circular burn scar, like… like a cigarette burn.
Barb’s nausea returned. But this time, it had nothing to do with the heat. “Who - “
Billy cut her off with a jerk of his head. “You got anybody waiting for you at home?”
She frowned. “Yeah, my mom. Why?”
“Cuz you need to be watched for the next…” He glanced at the clock “…thirty-five minutes to make sure you don’t have a heat stroke, and I’ve got someone in the car waiting for a ride. So c’mon. I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can drive myself,” she argued.
“Maybe, but you’re not gonna,” he retorted.
“You can’t make me,” she insisted.
“Wanna bet?” Without another word, he got up and left the room.
Curious, Barb rose to her feet. Her legs were shaky underneath her, and they’d probably be in agony tomorrow, but that sick feeling was gone. She chased after him as best she could, calling when he reached for a certain door.
“You can’t go in there - that’s the girl’s locker room!”
He smirked at her over his shoulder. “You really think this is my first time?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed his way inside, to a chorus of shrieks from the girl’s volleyball team. His voice could be heard over their squeals: “Afternoon, ladies. Can one of you point me to Barb Holland’s shit?”
“Oh my god. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening,” Barb muttered to herself, following him inside.
The locker room was full of girls in various states of undress. While some of the girls did their best to hide themselves from the man in their midst, others eyed him with interest, fingers fidgeting with the edges of their towels as if they couldn’t decide whether or not to drop them and give Billy an eyeful.
A few girls looked at Barb with expressions of envy, confusion, or disgust. Taking a look in the mirror, she didn’t have to wonder why. In her dad’s baggy clothes, with her collarbone-length hair sticky with sweat, she looked a complete mess. Her face was as red as a tomato - all except the strip of skin between her nose and upper lip, which formed a pasty white sort of mustache in her otherwise scarlet face. Deeply attractive.
“Um, over there, in the corner,” a quiet voice spoke up. Barb was surprised to note that it was Chrissy Cunningham, the most popular girl in school. She wouldn’t have thought she’d even register on the radar of Hawkins High’s queen bee.
Then again, Chrissy had dumped her boyfriend Jason and started going out with that weirdo super-senior Nancy’s little brother seemed to idolize. So maybe the whole world was turning upside down. It sure felt like it right now.
Billy nodded respectfully to Chrissy. Sparing time to offer a slimy leer to one or two of the more interested girls, Billy grabbed Barb’s backpack and duffel bag and slung them over his shoulder. Face burning, Barb followed him out of the locker room.
As soon as they were back in the hallway, she held out her hand. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Gimme my stuff.”
“Oh, you’ll get your stuff, Barbie. Once I drop you off at your place.”
Barb snagged the strap of her backpack and gave it an experimental tug. Unsurprisingly, he had it in an iron grip. She couldn’t leave without her stuff, either; her keys and driver’s license were both in the pockets of her jeans, which were folded neatly at the bottom of her duffel bag.
“Damn it. Fine,” she acquiesced. “You win. Take me to your damn car.”
He snorted, but obliged. “Y’know, you’ve gotta be the first girl who didn’t want a ride in my car,” he observed.
“Spare me the list of your conquests, please. My stomach is still settling,” she grumped. Annoyingly, he seemed to take her words as a joke, chuckling as though she’d said something funny.
When they got to his car, there was a girl with long hair every bit as red as Barb’s waiting by the passenger door. Barb recognized her as Billy’s stepsister, Max. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a date with you,” she said.
Billy sighed with annoyance and gestured between himself and Barb. “This look like a date to you?” he asked.
Max shrugged. “Well, you’re walking around without a shirt on,” she pointed out, “and she’s got it hanging around her neck. And you’re both all sweaty. So, yyyeah, I really don’t wanna know.”
Hastily, Barb ripped the shirt off from around her neck and tossed it to Billy, who caught it effortlessly. “It’s not like that,” she said quickly as Billy circled around to unlock the driver’s side door. “He’s helping me with gym class. That’s all.”
“That’s me. I’m a giver,” he confirmed, climbing inside and reaching across to unlock the passenger door. As soon as it was unlocked, he rummaged through the glove box, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up.
Max opened the passenger door, folded the seat forward, and climbed into the back.
“You don’t have to do that. I can take the back,” Barb offered.
Max rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Twerp sits in the back,” Billy announced. His eyes flickered up and down Barb’s form. She found herself hunching her shoulders defensively. “Besides, you need the leg room more,” he added.
Barb sighed and, in the interest of getting this over with, climbed in. But not before speaking one last piece. “You know, you should be nicer to your sister.”
Billy’s response was immediate, almost as if it were habit. “She’s not my… shit.” He glanced into the rear view mirror, looking almost… apologetic? “Sorry. Habit.”
“S’fine,” Max replied. She held a hand out. “Five bucks.”
Grumbling, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a five. “Swear to god, shitbird, you cost more than gas.” Starting up the car, he pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive.
“Hey, you’re getting better; that was only your second time this week,” Max said cheerily. “If this keeps up, pretty soon Lucas is gonna have to start paying for dates again.”
“He should be doing that anyway.”
“It’s 1986, Billy. I’m a working woman, I can pay for my own dates,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“‘Working woman,’ my ass. That’s my hard-earned money you’re spending,” Billy shot back.
“What can I say? Being your sister’s a full-time job.”
Barb watched the two of them in silence, listening to them trade insults back and forth. She’d never really made a point of watching Billy or Max in the past; both were completely out of her social sphere - which was, admittedly, tiny. But she distinctly remembered how the two of them used to get into screaming arguments in the parking lot after school - arguments where Billy seemed to get his way while Max subsided into sullen silence. Now… sure, they bickered, but it seemed a lot closer to how Nance and her brother sniped at each other. Barb wondered what changed.
It wasn’t any of her business, of course. In three weeks, all this would be over. She and Billy would go their separate ways, and probably forget the other existed.
On Monday, that thought would have filled her with relief. Now… after he took the time to take care of her, make sure she was okay, and get her home safely… she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
Once they were out of the school zone, Barb gave Billy her home address. She passed the five minute drive in silence, listening to the stepsiblings’ voices over the heavy metal blaring over the car speakers. The wind coming through the open windows was a relief on her overheated skin, and felt good flowing through her hair. It was almost enough to get rid of the stink of his cigarette. She thought she caught Billy glancing her way once or twice, but every time she turned to look, his eyes were glued to the road.
Soon, they pulled up in front of Barb’s house. Only when he put the car in park did Billy finally slide her bags off his shoulder.
“Try and keep cool for the next hour or so,” he advised. “A cool shower’s not a bad idea. If you start feeling like shit again, get your ass to the hospital. Heat stroke’s no joke.”
Max glanced curiously between the two of them.
“Got it,” Barb confirmed, shouldering her bags and opening the door. With one foot in the car and one on the asphalt outside, she hesitated. “Oh, and uh… thanks. For today.”
“S’nothing,” he said, staring resolutely at the road in front of him.
Barb climbed out of the car, holding the door open so Max could climb to the front. Walking toward her front door, she made a point of not looking back at the shiny black car behind her, or e insufferable boy who drove it.
At least, until he called out to her again. “Hey, Barbie!” When she turned, it was to see him leaning across Max to look out at her through the passenger window. “See you Monday.” And with an obnoxiously loud rev of the engine, he took off, leaving a trail of dust and smoke behind him.
“Show-off,” she muttered, and turned back to her house.