4. Blue Monday

I can't even begin to tell you how much fun I'm having writing this.

I never knew how… stronger the second part of the 80s was, when it comes to music. Every time I find a perfect song, I check the year… yup, after 1983. Sigh. I did find a lot of good stuff so here's how we're gonna do it: I'll put the playlist here, in the order that it goes. Then, at the end of the chapter, I'll add it again and mention the specific scene, because I can't spoil it here, can I? :D

We'll see how it works, I hope you like this little idea! :)

1)Donna Summer – She works hard for the money

2)New Order – Blue Monday

3)Duran Duran – Rio

That's it for this chapter, but there will be more in the next one! :)

Okay, so back to the regularly scheduled AN. THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so happy with your responses, I'm glad you're liking the story and I hope to do my best with it! :)

Thank you for the reviews, really. Don't stop! But thank you! :D

Follow, favorite and tell me what you think! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

More than 20 rolls of duct tape are dropped on the counter before me. Normally, I wouldn't say a thing, but Will, Mike, Dustin and Lucas all have incredibly guilty looks on their faces. I pop my bubblegum bubble, raising my eyebrows at the four of them.

"Do you care to explain what the hell you're planning to do with this amount of duct tape?"

"Not really, no." Dustin responds in a heartbeat.

"Dustin," I warn the boy. "What the hell are you doing with this?"

"Uh, it's for a school project." Lucas jumps in, while Mike, Will and Dustin all nod their heads.

"See, a few years back I went to the same school you're going to and we never needed so much duct tape for a project." I point out.

"Well duh, school programs change!" Mike rolls his eyes at me.

"Sure they do," I nod my head. "And Will's mom has an employee's discount over at Melvald's. You could get all of this there for like… half the price. But you're here," I say, feeling a bit too proud when all three of them look down. "Spill the beans guys."

"You were supposed to be cool!" Lucas whines, actually slamming his foot in anger.

"Oh, I'm still cool," I reassure him at once. "I just want to know what's so super-secret that Will's mom can't know about it," I tell them and I wait, but none of them speak up. They have more resolve than I thought, more than your average 12-year-olds. "I'll give you my employee discount if you tell me."

"We need it for a Halloween costume." Dustin spills the beans.

"What, is one of you going as… I don't know, the Duct Tape Man?" I roll my eyes. "There's more than a month to go before Halloween, guys."

"We need to be thorough in our preparations," Mike sighs in annoyance. "And no, no one is going as a Duct Tape Man. Dustin's going as Chewbacca."

"Okay, where the hell does duct tape go on Chewbacca?"

"It doesn't," Will laughs. "We're just going to cut up some old, fuzzy blankets and tape them to Dustin."

I honestly don't know where to start with these guys. I need to remind myself that they are just kids and that I wasn't any better when I was their age. After all, I was their age just four years ago. Man, time flies! I'm already old and this might just be their last Halloween as proper, innocent kids. Maybe one year more, if they're lucky. Soon enough, puberty will get under their skin and… I can't have the most adorable kids on the planet go around in shitty costumes.

"Alright, I can't let you walk around like that," I sigh, already knowing that I'll end up regretting it. "Get those tapes back in their place and bring me those cut up blankets. I'll try to sew something out of it."

"Really?" Dustin asks in awe and I nod my head. "Why?"

"I have no fucking clue, kid," I admit with a sigh. "Go and get those things for me. My brother will be picking me up in… 15. I need it before I go." I order them and watch as they split up; Lucas and Will stay behind and the store, returning the duct tapes in their spot, while Mike and Dusting run out. I flinch when I see them hopping on their bicycles and driving right on the road. I might just be four years older than them but I know I have never driven my bicycle like that.

"Tina, what will you go as for Halloween?" Will asks as he and Lucas walk over to the counter.

"I have no idea," I admit. "I don't know, I'll probably go as… Alex from 'Flashdance' or Princess Leia or something like that. I haven't even had time to think about it, since I have a dance to prepare for."

"I thought you said you aren't going to the dance?" Lucas laughs.

"Jonathan's taking her." Will informs his friend. I actually laugh when I see Lucas bowing and pretending to be humbled by the imaginary claps.

"Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen!" Lucas bows again. "The award for the matchmaker of the year goes to Lucas Sinclair, who got Jonathan Byers and Tina Harrington to hook up!"

"Jesus Christ, we're not hooking up!" I snap, although I can't stop laughing at his theatricality. "You know, I really wish that everyone would stop acting as if whether or not Jonathan and I are together is of great importance. Because we're not!" I point out, just in case either one of them had missed the point.

"I know," Will smiles at me. Ugh, I can't even be angry at them, when all four of them are cute as heck, especially Will. He just has… the look of the kid that could never do you wrong. His brother doesn't, on the other hand. Jonathan has the quiet bad boy look about him, even if he's as innocent as they get. "It's just, Jonathan has never had a girlfriend. You're the first girl he ever brought home."

"To keep him company while he babysits you and your merry group of friends," I remind him. "Seriously guys, it's getting a bit annoying. And it bothers Jonathan even more than it bothers me."

Jonathan is… shy. He's a shy guy. Once you break the shell, he's as interesting as a sixteen year old can be to another sixteen year old. He doesn't say much, not unless he's ridiculously comfortable in someone's company. It took me a couple of days to finally get coax him out his shell and make him relax enough to say things he really means, without choosing words carefully, three times over. It was clear as day that he had felt super uncomfortable when the kids where having their go at it; I was the one who was laughing it off, he was all red in the face. I don't want four kids to push him back into the shell, not when it took me quite a bit of effort to get him out of it.

And that's only when I'm around. Social situations are a whole different story.

"Fine, we'll stop it," Will promises me. "Come on Lucas, we can wait for them outside; Tina might get in trouble if we hang around for too long."

Will is right; Tina will get in trouble because Tina needs to clean up aisle four and check the expiration date on the 'Reese's pieces'; with Halloween around the corner, we need to be careful.

I hate this job with a passion. Screw the work ethic, screw responsibility; I'm putting myself through this torture just because I need the money. If I didn't need it, I wouldn't be caught dead doing this job.

It's a myth that small town people are nice and kind; they're dicks, just as everyone else is. It doesn't matter if they went to school with my parents; if they're cranky, they'll make sure to find a way to take it out of me, whether it's because the soda isn't cold enough or because we're out of Milky Way.

The moment I get the cash I need, I'm out of here. Or that's the plan. Plans do get ruined, whether we like it or not. I doubt Joyce wanted to stay in Hawkins, trying to make ends meet as a single mom, working at a hardware store. Her dreams might have been as big as mine are.

And I'm not even sure how big my dreams are, nor what they are. I don't know what I want to do and I think that at the age of 16, I'm still allowed to have no clue. Collage or not, being a doctor, artist or a housewife, it doesn't matter because one thing's certain: I'm not staying in Hawkins. I don't care what I'll have to do or what life has in store for me, I will not be staying in Hawkins. I'm not going to become one of those suburban moms whose only hobby is her weekend book club and meddling into her kids' life, ignoring the fact that her husband is making her miserable. In other words, I will not be my mom.

If scrubbing floors and dealing with dickhead shoppers four days a week is what makes it easier for me to not become my own mother, I'm fucking doing it.

The boys are right on the clock; as soon as they bring in the bags with them, each one of them carrying one, I see Steve parking his car in front of the store.

"Dustin, I'll have it done before Halloween, I promise," I tell the boy, not even sure if that's something I can manage to pull off. "And if for some reason I fail miserably, you won't be going without a costume."

"Promise?" Dustin asks with a serious look on his face.

"Oh, I swear," I laugh. "You'll go as Chewbacca, even if I have to steal the costume from George Lucas himself," I say; it probably won't get to that but if I screw up his costume, my car money will have to go to a decent Chewbacca costume. Leave it to me, to get into trouble on my own. "Run along now, I need to get changed." I usher them out, already running to the employee's changing room. The moment the clock strikes five, I'm out of here. I don't even care if Jeremy's in time to take over.

Jeremy's on time and I would have run out of the store, had it not been for the bags in my hands. I have no idea what the hell Dustin but into them, but it weighs more like four small bodies than blankets.

"What the hell are you carrying?" Steve asks, staring through the car window.

"Help me out, will ya? Or are you just gonna enjoy the show?"

With a sigh, he gets out of the car and walks over to me, grabbing the bags with ease; at times like these, I hate being a girl. Or I hate not having Steve's upper body strength.

I don't bother thanking him as I march around the car to get into the passenger seat. Steve also doesn't bother making small talk as he starts the car; it's been quiet with us in the last couple of days.

Both of us are sulking, that's what we're doing.

We don't talk when we go to school, we don't talk during meals, we don't talk… at all, really, except an occasional comment here and there, a comment that couldn't have been avoided. It goes so far that I don't even change the music in the car, not like I used to, no matter how dull his song choices get. At least today I had no problems, since he had decided to listen to 'New Order'.

I wish I could say that he's the immature one but I know I'm on the exact same level. He threw sand in my face and instead of being an adult and walking away, I threw a whole bucket of sand over his head. We both sabotaged one another in front of our parents and it didn't do us any good. Steve had to go through another 'why is protection important' conversation and I was being interrogated whenever I leave or enter the house without my brother's company.

At least I got him good. If I'm not going to be the mature one out of the two of us, at least I can push him into the same trouble he had pushed me in.

"I just don't understand why I have to go dress shopping with you."

I wasn't expecting Steve to break the silence between us and I actually jumped up in surprise.

"Because I don't have a car," I remind him. I wish I could forget that as easily as he can, apparently. "I was more than happy to borrow the car from you for the afternoon, but you love it even more than you love your hair, so it's not like either one of us had a choice. Besides, no one's asking you to stick around and wait for me to pick it out. You can go and do your own thing and we'll meet up at the shopping mall in an hour or two."

"I have to pick out a new shirt anyways." he tells me, sounding as if he'd rather dig his own grave than to go shopping with me. I can relate to that; I'd rather dig my own grave too.

"Great, then maybe you should stop complaining?" I roll my eyes. I'm not doing myself any favors but I can't control it. I comment, despite knowing he'll probably make a mental note for every backhanded comment I offer during this "war" time.

We're more alike than I'd like to admit. Unfortunately.

I was never a tomboy but I was never a girly girl either. I have been in the middle ever since I was old enough to make my own fashion choices and not wear whatever my mom deems appropriate.

I could live in jeans and most of the time, that's what I do. I only bother with dresses in the summer and on special occasions, and unfortunately for me, this dance that I was more than ready to ignore is considered to be a special occasion.

"You look like a marshmallow."

Despite the tension between us, Steve ended up being the main judge of all the possible dresses I had to try on. Neither one of us is finding it to be particularly enjoyable but he has to wait for me and I need an opinion. Whether I like to admit it or not, Steve probably has a better fashion sense than I do.

"I know!" I whine, sounding like a bratty child. I don't even need to look at my reflection to know that this dress is not what I'm looking for. When you look average, at best, average face, average built, dull brown hair and dull brown eyes, you don't have much to work with. And a gigantic, puffy dress is going to make me look like a poufy marshmallow, like my brother pointed out.

"You need to find something that fits you better; you could roll down a hill in that one."

Now I know he's speaking for my best interest because Steve would never suggest that I should wear tighter clothes, not if he's in his right mind. It's kind of nice to see that he really just wants to see me happy with my choice, even if it's not something he'd like to see his sister in.

"Look for something then while I get out of this mess," I sigh. "Please." I add, not wanting to sound like a complete bitch. He nods and disappears amongst the racks as I bobbled my way back to the dressing room. I don't even know why I got into this atrocious thing; it was bound to be a disaster. And I would never wear it! Why did I even try to get into this damned, overly expensive cotton wool?!

With much struggle, I manage to get out of it and I try out another one of the dresses I have selected earlier; a knee length pink one. I don't think I've worn anything in the color pink since I was 10.

I look like… I don't even know what I look like. A marshmallow, but a pink marshmallow. With a growing feeling of annoyance, I make my way out of the dressing room.

"Oh no, absolutely not," Steve shakes his head even before I have a chance to open the door fully. "Tina, what the hell are you picking out?"

"I don't know, okay?" I whine; I sound like a five year old who just got told by her parents that candy is officially forbidden. "I'm not good at this crap. I live in jeans and T-shirts."

"I've noticed. Try this one," he offers me another hanger with a dark blue dress on it; I don't even look at it as I close the door of the dressing room. At this point, I might as well just trust his judgment. "Now, this is why you need to have friends, Tina. I'm not the ideal shopping buddy, you know."

"Believe me, I've picked up on that," I say as I finally escape the pink, fluffy prison of a dress. "The problem is, my friend happens to be working. And he's going with me to this shitty dance, so it would be pretty stupid to take him shopping too." I add. If I had another friend, preferably a girl, Steve would be free from this task, but it just so happens that I only have Jonathan. I would rather gauge my eye out with a fork than to go shopping with Carol, the closest thing to a female friend that I actually have.

"You really are just friends with him, aren't you?" Steve asks, his voice kind of… kinder than it was before. Well, it looks like he got the stick out of his ass, finally.

"Steve, why would I lie to you?" I ask, doing my best not to sound as if I'm picking a fight. "I might not like you all the time, but you're my brother. If I'm going to lie to someone, it's not gonna be you."

"Yeah, but you would lie about this because you know I don't like Byers."

"Yeah, I do. And I don't give a shit," I remind him. "I'm the one that's friends with him, not you, so it kind of doesn't matter how you feel about it. He's a good guy, Steve. If you'd actually bother to talk to him, instead of taking down to him, you'd see that."

"He's weird, Tina," he sighs. "Like… super weird."

"Yeah?" I ask, peaking over the door of the dressing room to look at him. "So am I."

"No, not to that extent," Steve persists and not having the energy to continue the discussion, I return to the struggle of getting into the dress he had picked out for me. "And I still think he has a thing for you."

"He doesn't." I tell him for what has to be the hundredth time.

"Yeah, he does."

"Okay, let's say that he does," I grunt as I struggle to reach the zipper. "Would that be the end of the fucking world? Someone actually liking me? Is it so difficult for you to imagine that someone, even if they are "like… super weird" as Jonathan, would actually like me?"

"Come on Tina, you know it's not like that. I just… I just think you can do better. You deserve better."

"Better than a nice guy, who has a job, is responsible and likes listening to good music? Wow."

"Oh my god, you like him, don't you?"

"Of course I like him, Steve; I'm friends with him. Carrying a friendship with someone you don't like is kind of difficult. You should know, you've stopped liking Tommy at least a year ago."

"I didn't stop liking Tommy, he's my best friend. And I meant liking him in a different way."

"Hold on, isn't that how things start?" I ask, now genuinely confused. "Think about dating. And not dating, your style, but dating, normal teenage style. You are friends with someone, you like them, you spend time with them. And then… you either stay friends or you evolve into something else. Depending whether or not there's a… spark, I guess. Call me crazy, but that's how I see relationships starting. It will either evolve or it will stay the same and be pretty awesome."

"It was never like that in my case." Steve disagrees.

"Well, you're a serial dater, I wouldn't use you as a good example," I laugh. "Dude, I mean it, it's about time for you to relax about the whole thing. I know it's heartbreaking for you to sit and watch it unfold but at one point, your baby sister has grown up," I say, purposely sounding theatrical; I can just imagine his eye rolls on the other side of the door. "And your baby sister will keep on growing up. I'm nearly an adult now, and I'll have to face all the adult shit that comes with it. I'm no longer that baby that kept hitting you on the head with a plastic hammer. Your baby sister will have a boyfriend one day. And let's face it, you probably won't like him. So… the only thing you can do is to trust my judgment. Would I pick out an idiot? Would I really Steve?"

"You might," I laugh at his comment. He is definitely starting to become overprotective; I need to stop that from evolving because I don't need a father number two. "If the situation was reversed, you'd be acting the same way and you know it. I have to look out for you Tina. It's literally the only thing I have to do in life, at least at this point. That's my role, by definition. You'd be the same."

"I know," I laugh, finally managing to zip up the dress. "That's why I'm not hitting you on the head with a plastic hammer anymore. It's one thing to be a big brother and another one to be a guard dog. I don't need a guard dog," I tell him as I walk out of the dressing room. "What's the call on this one?" I ask, twirling around with zero enthusiasm.

"Yeah, you actually look like a girl in that one," he laughs at me. "You're buying that one."

I don't know if he's saying it because I look good in it or because he wants to go home as soon as possible. I grab the tag and sigh when I see the actual price.

"I'm giving up my car money so that I can go to a dance I don't even want to go to."

"You wouldn't be going if you didn't want to go and you definitely wouldn't be paying for it if you didn't want to pay for it. You would just stop breathing if you didn't feel like breathing. No one can make you do anything, Tina."

"Fine, I'll change and we're out of here."

"Aren't you going to check in the mirror, how it fits you?" Steve laughs, probably thinking I'm stupid.

"No, I'm gonna trust the judgment of my sibling. You should try it sometimes," I hold back a smile when he starts laughing and shaking his head in annoyance. "You might grow and you know," I wave my hands about. "Develop as a brother and as a human being."

"Cut the crap and let's get out of here." He laughs.

I think we've called truce for now. I think. For now.

Being a girl is hard. Like, really hard. You have to think of so many things you just wouldn't think of if you were a guy. Even my brother, who is worried more about his appearance than about anything else, worries less about it than an average girl.

Do the hair, do the make-up, shave, look all nice and pretty, take care of your clothes and all that shit. And shopping. Good god, shopping. How can one activity go from one end to another? It can either be super fan or the purest form of torture one could imagine. Today, it was torture. Even when Steve and I had called temporary truce, it was still torture. And I am actually, physically tired.

The little strength I had in me was gone with me jumping on the bed, picking up the phone and dialing a number. I am dead and I could fall asleep at any given moment. Not even looking at 'The Police' poster is helping me; I'm sorry, Sting. You're just not enough anymore.

"Hello, Joyce speaking."

"Hey Joyce, it's Tina."

"Oh, hi honey," I can practically imagine her smile. Seriously, what have I done to deserve to be liked by this woman? I helped out a few times, sure, but she liked me even before that. Some might say I have the ability of being well liked super-fast, but I know better than that. "How are you? Why didn't you come over today, Jonathan was done with work hours ago?"

"I had work, I had to go shopping for a stupid dress and now, I think I might be dead."

"Should I call for an ambulance?" she laughs.

"No, I'm afraid I'll live," I mumble, making her laugh again. "Can Jonathan talk?"

"Sure. Jonathan!" she yells and thank god, I had a feeling that would come and I moved the phone away from my ear just in time. "I'll see you tomorrow honey."

"Hey!" Jonathan answers the phone before I have a chance to respond to Joyce. "Did you buy it?"

"Yes," I sigh as I roll around so that I can reach my cigarette pack. "And I'm never going shopping again, ever in my life."

"And what are you planning to wear if you don't go shopping?" he laughs.

"I don't know," I shrug. "I'll pay someone to go and buy me clothes. I'll work extra or I'll… wash someone's dishes. I don't care; I just don't want to go through that ever again. I don't know what was worst, trying out truly horrible dresses or going through all of that with Steve."

"You do know you could have just… worn jeans?"

It was an option I thought off, I'll admit to that. For one, it would be far more comfortable and I would avoid the whole shopping trip. But it would just be wrong. And I don't mean it like 'I don't fit in' type of wrong but just… unfair to the whole moment. Sure, I'm going there with a friend and my sole purpose is to have a good laugh, but a dance is a dance. A dress is necessary. "Byers, I'm not even sure if they'd let me in if would wear jeans." I tell him; for all I know, I could literally be banned from entering.

"Sure they would. And if they wouldn't, we would sneak in. And if we couldn't sneak in, we would have our own little dance at the parking lot."

"Don't give me ideas, I don't want to ditch the dance when I've already bought a dress," I grunt, rolling my eyes when he starts laughing. "What's done is done; I have it, I'm wearing it."

"Do you at least like it?" he laughs.

"I mean, I guess so," I shrug, looking over at the bathroom door, which it was hanging on. Not too long, not to short, with not a lot of details; just the way I wanted it to be. It's not poufy and it's not shinny. That was good enough for me. "It's blue, so that works."

'Ah, your favorite color."

"How the hell do you know what my favorite color is?" I ask in suspicion. Is he a mind reader now?

"You asked me what was my favorite color in like… the first 10 sentences of our first proper conversation." he chuckles; ah, I remember that. We were drinking beer in my room while Steve and his posy were apparently having 'the best party EVER hell yeah!', as Tommy said himself.

"Which has absolutely nothing to do with my favorite color."

"It does when you're reaction was 'Ah, my favorite color is blue too'," he mimics a bad, girly voice.

"Byers, I do not sound like that and you know it."

"Yeah, you kind of do."

"Don't be a dick, Byers." I warn him, despite laughing.

"Hey look, no one can be perfect," he laughs at me; alright, if I tease him, I can at least take the same from him. "And the biggest flaw that you have is that you can't sing for the life of you."

"Ah yes, I will never have a chance to live up to my rock star aspirations," I sigh, pretending to be saddened by it. "Thanks for reminding me about that, by the way. Just what I needed to hear today."

"Come on, you know very well that when you sing, you sound like… ten dying cats. OUCH!"

"Are you okay?" I jump up, as if I could do something to help.

"Yeah," he grunts. "Mom smacked me on the head for saying that. You know, I think she likes you more than she likes me."

"Yeah, I think I like her and Will more than I like you," I laugh. "I don't think we need you after all."

"Your words wound me." he mocks.

"Well, why don't you get those wounds sorted out, while I finally get some much needed rest, alright?"

"Dark room during lunch break?"

"You got it. Over and out. Ah hell, I've been hanging out with Will far too much." I mumble, realizing that I have just tried to end a conversation the same way he does it when he uses his walkie-talkie to talk to his friends. Over and out, it's always 'over' after every single reply and it's 'over and out' when they're ending the conversation; I have heard Mike's pissed off voice over the talkie reminding them all of that so many times, it's even carved in my brain.

"Yeah, you definitely need rest," Jonathan laughs. "Over and out."

1)Donna Summer – She works hard for the money (playing in the store, scene with Tina and the boys)

2)New Order – Blue Monday (Steve's car)

3)Duran Duran – Rio (trying out dresses)