[ 15 ]

"GEESH, ROGER that, mom."

Jodie couldn't fight her coy smile. Jim Hopper had crawled into her mind, worming his way into Jodie's heart like the sprouting fungus he was. Her thoughts trailed back to their last conversation.

     The leather and earth smell of the cruiser lingered on the starched collar of her uniform, and, with every inhale, it sparked the image of Jim. The way he teased, the way the corners of his gaze crinkled with every sarcastic tone —  the feeling of his head on her lap as they'd shared past experiences.

Jodie knew it. She was in deep.

It was only a matter of time before she said something stupid to Hopper and severed their... well, whatever they had — maybe friendship—, for good.

Jodie blushed, wiping down the sticky condiment counter. She'd already told him her feelings once. They were promptly ignored, brushed off like dust on an old record.

She wasn't sure if she could muster saying it a second time. The embarrassment of it all would be palpable.

     Sometimes, no matter how much you want someone, or some thing, things just don't work out. And, it's no one's fault.

Jodie had been taught to try and let things go rather than grasping on too tightly.

     Obsession oft hurts the object of it.

      Jodie only hurt herself when she obsessed about Jamey. That emotion leeched into everything she'd been doing these days.

Jodie forced the dismal thoughts from her mind and tossed the dirty rag into the used pile. She smiled as an elderly couple passed. She wished them a good morning, hoisting a box of chocolates on one hip as she restocked the snacks.

A David Bowie song played over the soft radio, cold and cool. It took her back to another time. Another season, another summer. The Memorial Weekend of 1980.

— MAY 1980 ;

Hundreds of people lined up, some dressed in make-shift hoods with their faces painted blue, or with steam-punk goggles over their eyes. Each a unique nerd, ready for the ticket rush.

Jodie sipped at her travel mug of coffee and looked down at the little Luke Skywalker beside her. She offered it to him.

Standing at a modest 4'1", Jameson Whittier was alight with joy, stars in his eyes. He was clad in a potato sack cloth, tethered around his small waist with fishing wire and bits of rope that Jodie and Jamey had found in the garage. There was a merciful gust of wind, cooling down the pair as they waited, backs turned against the setting sun.

The front tie to his 'Jedi' robe fell as he hopped around in excitement. Jodie knelt to the ground and picked it up, tying it carefully once more.

Jodie thought he looked silly. But, the almost-10-year-old disagreed.

"We're so close to the front, Jod!" Jamey said, elated.

Packed in the crowd like sardines, Jodie clutched his little hand with a grin and shook her head. "Yeah we are, little dude," Jodie said. "Just don't stray too far, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out. A moment passed before her little brother frowned and looked up with worry. "You think mom and dad are worried?"

Jodie smirked. Jameson was good. He was better than she was, even at his age. He cared about the other things — things outside of his control.

Jodie ruffled up Jamey's blond mop of a bowl cut, earning a scowl and chuckle from her brother as he batted her hands away and fixed his fly-aways.

"Of course they are," Jodie mused.

Jamey's eyes widened, but Jodie assured him with a wave of her hand. "But, they'll always worry about you, Jameson. That's what parents do." Jodie looked up at the Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back banner that was carefully strung over the awning line. "That doesn't mean that you can't have a little fun."

"Well, yeah," Jamey said, still frowning. "But, we never came home."

"I left them a note."

She hadn't. Jodie didn't particularly care, however, how her parents would react to Jodie snatching Jameson from school and driving the pair 3 hours to Indianapolis — in the stolen station wagon — to see the premiere of the next Star Wars film.

The 22-year-old hadn't seen her brother since Christmas, and she wanted to make the short time together count.

Besides, it wasn't like they could just go to The Hawk to see The Empire Strikes Back. The number of theatres playing the film was limited to 126 theatres. That made it pretty hard to even get a ticket, let alone at one close to home.

Jodie had been tipped off, by an old friend in the city, that the film would be premiering in Indianapolis. And so, after hearing her brother prattle on and on about the next film, on the landline with his friends Dustin and Will, Jodie knew she had to take him.

It would be the ultimate bragging rights.

Plus, playing hooky from school was an added bonus.

"Hey, Jodie?" Jamey said as they pushed their way into the theatre, claiming two seats wherever they could.

Jodie arched a brow and glanced down at him, noticing his quiet tone. "Yeah, bud?"

"You're the best sister ever."

"You're the best, little runt," Jodie told him. She reached out to ruffle his hair again but stopped as Jamey pushed away with a knowing grin. Instead, she pat his shoulder and laughed as the lights in the theatre grew dim and cheers erupted.

— NOVEMBER 1983 ;

"Jodie," Carlos called from the back door, dark hair slicked back. The seventeen-year-old hovered in the door frame, with his nicely ironed white shirt and his red apron tied fashionably around his waist. His voice was sharp, wavering with worry.

Jodie ignored him for a moment, taking inventory of the chocolate-covered candies. "Mhm?" She hummed, dark eyes scanning her shelves while only half-listening.

"We've got a situation going down."

Jodie chuckled, turning towards Carlos. She found his tone funny. With her chin upturned, she smirked and set the box of chocolates on the condiment counter, propping her hands on her hips.

     "What? Are we outta popcorn or somethin' ?" Nothing at The Hawk was that much of a situation.

Carlos offered a withering glance under his caramel brow and replied: "No, not really." He looked over his shoulder, towards the front of the building then back at her, nervous. "We've been tagged."

      "Tagged?" Jodie asked, not understanding Carlos' term.

     The boy led his assistant manager outside and she followed, a bemused smirk lingering over her lips.

Jodie shivered in the crisp, fall air and gathered her arms over her torso as they turned about The Hawk theatre. Whatever it was, Carlos seemed pretty upset about it.

He pointed a deft hand up to the marquee and shrugged as she cursed. "Tagged. You know, graffiti — I guess?"

     "Mother fuckers," Jodie spat.

' STARRING NANCY

      Neon red splattered spray paint littered the outside of The Hawk, flashing expletives to elderly passerby's as they ventured towards the movie theatre.  The boldest, of course, was painted right over the marquee front, covering the title for the latest Tom Cruise feature.

      "Shit, what the hell?" Jodie groaned, looking at the blood-red tags splattered all over The Hawk marquee, across the windows, and throughout the brick back alley. "And who the hell's gonna clean this?"

     A couple stopped and stared at the scene of the theatre, muttering and risking about kids these days.

      Carlos shook his head and scratched at the bridge of his nose. "It's pretty bogus," he said with a frown, "Nancy Wheeler is actually a nice girl."

     Carlos sighed and crossed his arms.

     "Well, whoever that girl is," Jodie told him, "nice or not, no one deserves this."

     "Well — yeah, I didn't mean—"

     Carlos flushed red, trying to backtrack the words he'd sputtered out. However, laughter and hollers from the alleyway cut the pair off.

     Jodie could hear the teenagers loudly talking in the alley outback as she crept around the corner to investigate.

    Sure enough, there was a small group of them, spray cans in hand as they bitched about some girl. Jodie rolled her eyes, more annoyed than anything. They'd learn their lesson.

       Carlos's back tightened and he scrunched up his fists, anger flashing across his face. Jodie quickly grabbed the kid's arm and steered him away from the scene, to the front of the theatre once more.

      "Look, don't do anything stupid, kay?"

     Carlos's frown deepened but he offered her a simple nod.

      "We'll get them a different way." Jodie lowered her voice. "Call the cops. Tell Powell to get his ass down here."

"O-Okay," he said hesitantly.

Jodie chuckled, listening to cars whiz past on the street. There was always a certain thrill of getting cops involved. "You tell him I said ass," Jodie teased with a flash in her eye, knowing the high schooler wouldn't dare.

"Yes, ma'am." Carlos agreed and rushed back inside, wasting little time.

While Carlos raced back inside, Jodie tied up her cropped hair with a spare scrunchie around her slim wrist. Having her hair tied back made Jodie feel more in charge, of her feelings and her situations. Right now, she was about to scold the shit out of some troublemakers.

However, as she turned the corner to the back alley, the voices of the teens had turned from humourous to sharp belts of arguments. Jodie drew closer, head held high, red apron on display as she represented her place of employment.

She could make out four teens she didn't know, a girl and three gangly boys — roughly Carlos's age, ganged up together with the discarded cans of paint at their feet.

     Across from them, there was a girl, skinny for her age with a fair complexion and wide, blue eyes framed with hurt. Beside her, Jonathan Byers was fuming.

It didn't look like a great scene to be getting involved with. But, Jodie couldn't help but get in the middle of it, especially with her soft spot for Joyce.

A tall boy with mouse brown hair, seemingly the ring leader of the gang of unruly teenagers, was Jonathan's opposing force, his neck bent downwards in dismay, but his lips still spewing ridiculous rhetoric. "You know what, Byers?" The teen spat. "I always took you for a queer, but I guess you're just another screw-up like your father."

Jodie rushed closer. She could see Jonathan's balled fists, and she's been in enough scraps to know the brewing of one when she saw it.

Jonathan refused to respond, turning his back to the boy. The girl with him offered him a worried watery smile and urged him to leave with her.

However, that only sparked more wicked words from the opposing gang, and the boy spoke up once more while his friends egged him on with jests and gestures. "Oh, yeah yeah yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. A bunch of screw-ups, I mean — your mom? —"

Jodie's ears rang; she even wanted to deck him. Jonathan stopped in his tracks. The Autumn wind kicked up through the alley and scattered debris wafted through the air, setting the disgruntled scene.

" —And, I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother, I mean, I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but, the Byers?"

"Jonathan, just leave it," the thin girl with Jonathan begged, "Shut up, Steve!"

Steve did not. "Oh, go on and defend him, Nancy. Byers, your family is a disgrace to the entire town —"

THAWP

Jonathan's fist cold-cocked Steve, and the boy reeled back. There was a moment of pause before Steve returned the favour, swinging and hitting Jonathan across his face. Jonathan tackled Steve and forced him to the ground, rolling around for a moment as Jodie finally approached the scene.

Jonathan hit Steve square across the face one, two, three, four times.

THAWP — THAWP — THAWP —THAWP

The girl, Nancy, was alight with fear. Jodie could see it as it wracked her tiny frame. She hovered behind the pair as they tussled on the ground. "Jonathan, Jonathan STOP! Stop, you're going to hurt him!"

Jonathan kept going, unleashing every deep dark desire he had within him, as he hammered fist after fist into Steve's face. Nancy started to panic, shoving at Jonathan's shoulders.

"Stop it, stop it, please!" Steve's friends tried to step in, and sirens could be heard approaching.

Jodie also stepped in, keeping a wide birth but urging Jonathan to stop. "Jonathan, stop!"

Callahan was the first to arrive on the scene. He adjusted his glasses and rushed to the boys, where Jonathan had Steve pinned down, continuing to strike him though Steve didn't do much to fight back.

"Alright, break it up!" Callahan yelled, reaching out to yank Jonathan off the boy. Jonathan elbowed Callahan in the face, and the officer staggered back, clutching at his nose. It was enough time for an escape. Steve's gang of friends took off, running from the scene with the discarded spray cans left behind.

Powell was quick behind and fed up. Authoritatively, he pulled Jonathan from Steve and shoved Jonathan against the police cruiser's hood. Callahan, still a little wobbly from the elbow-to-the-face, chased after the other group, but Jodie knew that they were probably going to get away scot-free.

Jodie took this moment to turn to the girl, Nancy, and arched a brow. She was clearly shaken, and very upset. "You okay?"

Nancy rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes, not wanting to look at Jonathan as he was handcuffed against the police cruiser, but not wanting to look away either. Nancy sniffled and finally peered at Jodie with a wavering smile. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay," she said, tucking some frizzy dark hair behind her ear meekly.

"You're coming to the Station," Powell sighed, pushing Jonathan into the backseat of the cruiser.

Callahan returned, exasperated arms in the air in a gesture that clearly red 'they got away'.

'Big shocker,' Jodie muttered under her breath.

IT WASN'T THAT Jodie was overly eager to hear all the fresh goss about Hawkins High Schoolers, but it sure made things interesting as the rest of her shift passed. Plus, Brenda and Carlos were more than happy to fill in the blanks for their assistant manager with hushed, eager voices in between orders of pretzels and popcorn.

Carlos told Jodie about Nancy Wheeler, and all the drama between her and her boyfriend Steve Harrington, local punk and golden boy of Hawkins High. Carlos seemed to gloss over Steve, which egged Brenda on to add to his gaps for Jodie, mentioning that Nancy had cheated on Steve with Jonathan and 'wasn't even that pretty at all, actually.'

Jodie was tentative to the whole thing if she was being perfectly honest. She'd had her fair share of lovers, and of compromising situations. Some rumours were just rumours. "And, Steve has proof of this affair?"

"Duh! —"

"—Not at all," Carlos and Brenda said in unison.

Brenda tugged on a strand of her blond hair and eyed Carlos with an arched, heavily lucked, brow. "I don't get why you're defending her, you don't even know Nancy."

Carlos shrugged and addressed a customer as they came to the counter. He decided not to dignify Brenda's quip with a response. Jodie found it to be a bold move and mature of him.

Smirking, Jodie filled a wash bucket with hot, soapy water. She grabbed a squeegee and a few rags, along with a bristle brush and a few other tools. Honestly, she wasn't sure what it would take to get the paint off The Hawk, but she had to try... it was her job after all. It had been on display for a few hours now and was only earning more complaints.

Jodie had the sneaking suspicion that Carlos was holding a candle for Nancy, and, though Brenda wouldn't admit it, she had a thing for Carlos.

'Oh, teenagers,' she thought in wicked dismay, chuckling quietly to herself. 'Everything's life or death at that age.'

Despite this distraction, the truth of the matter was that Jodie Whitter couldn't stand the thought of spending one more god damned minute staring at the peeling eggshell creme walls of the Hawkin Theater for another moment. The truth was that, inside of her tawny bones, deep within her marrow, every fibre of Jodie was screaming.

Let me out. Let me free.

Jodie couldn't help thinking that there was a little more life somewhere else, somewhere far from Hawkins. After all, it was a great big world with lots of places to run to.

That familiar fleeting feeling of freedom gnawed at her in the pit of her stomach. It was an amicable sensation, like a silky second skin. It was the compulsion she'd complied with numerous times before, before and after Jamey.

He crept back into her memory. Something that was so close and still so far out of reach. She'd accepted that Jameson was gone a long time ago. Will Byers' disappearance had sparked a new hope within her marrow, but that hope was slowly revealing its true face: delusion.

And, by the light of the sun-streaked Pinto that raced past the spacious windows of the theatre, Jodie saw the fact of it all. Permanence is a figment of the imagination. Jobs, money, family: all of it, puffs of cigarette smoke a-breeze in the wind.

Jodie shook the melancholy thoughts from her mind and strode out into the cold, bucket in hand. Waiting under the marquee with a ladder, an absolutely pummeled Steve Harrington stood, hands in jean pockets. He was sporting a frown and a cut lip, his head hung in shame.

"Come to break some windows while you're at it?" Jodie asked, setting down her supplies and crossing her arms over her chest. He was taller than her, but she had no problem looking down at him with her chin upturned.