Chapter Text
"Sleep.
Those little slices of death.
How I loathe them."
- Edgar Allen Poe
***
Monday, November 7th 1983
"No..."
The sheets twisted around the girl's legs like damp ropes.
"No, please. Keep away."
She needed to wake up. Before the shadows swallowed her whole.
"No... NO!"
Her eyes snapped open. She bolted upright.
Her lungs burned as she sucked in the cold air.
Slowly, the terror drained away. Pale November sunlight sliced through the lace curtains. The shadows on her rose-patterned wallpaper stopped moving.
Safe. She was in her room.
"Great." She rubbed her face. Her hands were shaking.
She threw off the covers. Her bare feet hit the plush carpet. The floor was solid. Real. She wasn't running anymore.
"Ally! Get a move on or you'll be late for school!"
Her mother's voice shot up through the floorboards.
"I'm up!" Ally yelled back.
She forced herself out of bed. In the bathroom, she twisted the cold water on full blast and splashed it onto her face. The freezing shock killed the rest of the nightmare.
She stared into the vanity mirror. Dark circles bruised the skin under her hazel eyes.
She grabbed a concealer stick. Smeared the darkness away. A swipe of neutral shimmer. A quick brush through her long honey-blonde hair.
The mask was on.
She grabbed a pale pink sweater and light-wash jeans. Time to face Hawkins.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like roasting coffee.
Her mom leaned against the island. Dee Anderson was already in her baby-blue velour tracksuit. Not a single blonde hair out of place. Flawless.
"Eat." Dee slid a box of Sunflakes across the counter.
Ally forced her perfect, practiced smile. She hopped onto a stool. Astro, their aging spaniel, nudged her knee. She scratched behind his ears, noticing the spread of white hair around his dark eyes.
Stacy had named him. After The Jetsons.
But Stacy wasn't around anymore to see him get old. Ally pushed the thought away before it could ruin her morning mask.
"No shift today?" She asked, pouring the cereal.
"Late shift at Hawkins Memorial," her mom sighed, taking a sip of coffee. The hospital was always short on nurses. "But I'll be home tomorrow night. Don't be late for dinner."
The kitchen doors flew open.
Her stepdad, Dr. Barry Michaels, stormed in. A blur of tweed and frantic energy. He yanked his tie straight.
"Morning, ladies. Lab emergency. Got to go."
He dropped a fast kiss on Dee's cheek. Ruffled Ally's hair on his way past.
Ally scowled. She smoothed her hair down instantly, but a tiny smile slipped out.
Dr. Michaels chugged the spare coffee on the counter. Steam clouded his wire-rimmed glasses. He slammed the mug down, shoved the foggy glasses into his dark curls, and bolted for the door.
"Home for dinner?" Dee called out.
"Not likely! Late one!"
The front door slammed shut.
Dee sighed. Ally took a loud crunch of cereal.
"You'll be okay alone tonight?" Her mom asked.
"I'm fine. Just me and my chemistry textbook."
Dee glanced at her watch. Her eyes went wide. "I'm late! Aerobics with Karen!" She grabbed her purse, suddenly a tornado of motion. "Bye, baby! Lock the doors tonight!"
"Mom. I'm sixteen. Remember?"
"And you'll always be my baby." Dee blew an air kiss, careful not to smudge her lipstick, and vanished out the door.
The house went dead silent.
Ally spun her keys around her finger—freedom.
Her cherry red BMW waited in the driveway.
She slid into the driver's seat. The cold leather sent a shiver straight up her spine.
She twisted the key. The engine roared. She shoved a mixtape into the deck and blasted the stereo.
Time to go.
Hawkins High. A brick-and-mortar trap.
It sat in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by whispering woods. A holding pen for kids dreaming of a way out.
Ally pushed through the front doors.
The lockers slammed. The green and yellow paint peeled. The eyes tracked her.
She didn't care. She glided through the halls. Effortless. Untouchable.
"Hey!"
Chrissy Cunningham practically tackled her. The strawberry-blonde cheerleader gave her a toothy grin, always bursting with energy.
"Hi!" Ally laughed, swinging her locker open.
"I still can't believe Friday's game!" Chrissy slammed her books into her locker. "I have never cheered so hard!"
"I know. It felt like the Twilight Zone." Ally tossed her bag inside. "But don't jinx it. We haven't won a championship in twenty years."
Chrissy beamed. "This year is different!"
They had been best friends since '79. Cheerleading and roller skating. But for Ally, the uniform was just a social shield. For Chrissy, it was a family legacy. A heavy one.
Chrissy leaned close. Her blue eyes narrowed. "You look dead on your feet. No sleep?"
Ally checked her reflection in her compact mirror. The concealer was holding.
"Do I look like a rejected extra from The Evil Dead? Be honest."
"You were up late talking to Chet," Chrissy teased.
Ally smirked. Shut the compact. "Maybe."
Two weeks dating the mayor's son. Not bad for a girl from San Dimas.
"I knew it," Chrissy giggled.
"Hey, First Lady of Hawkins has a nice ring to it." Ally shut her locker. "Someone needs to drag this town out of the disco era. It's 1983, and half this school is still wearing polyester."
"You two definitely have serious chemistry!"
"Who's got chemistry?"
Jason Carver stepped between them. Million-watt smile. Perfect blonde hair.
"Ally and Chet," Chrissy said. She kissed Jason's cheek.
Jason threw an arm around Chrissy. "Chet's a good guy. Glad he survived the cut."
Ally shot him a glare.
Jason held up a hand. "I'm just saying. Little Miss Perfect has high standards."
"Nothing wrong with standards," she shot back.
Jason's smile faded. He looked at Ally closely. "You look wiped. The nightmares back?"
The warning bell shrieked above them. Like a scream.
Ally flashed a bright, plastic smile. "No."
*
Math class dragged.
The teacher wrote endless, pointless equations on the board. Ally ignored him. She slicked on a layer of rose lipstick.
In the seat ahead, Lisa Wallace spun around.
"What about Jake?" Ally whispered. "He drools when you walk by."
"Gross. No." Lisa rolled her dark eyes. "He dresses like a total wino."
Lisa was stunning. Like a porcelain doll. But she had the mouth of a sailor and knew everyone's secrets.
"I'm sixteen. I have flawless hair," she complained. "Why am I doomed to die dateless?"
A red-haired boy leaned across the aisle. "Excuse me? Lisa? Could I—"
"Get lost, creep!" Lisa snapped. She turned back to Ally. "So, why don't guys ever ask me out?"
Ally raised a highly amused eyebrow.
The bell rang.
The classroom exploded.
Kids flooded the halls. A wave of loud voices and stale cafeteria fries.
Lisa shoved her locker shut with a harsh metallic bang. She elbowed Ally hard. "Look. Another notch on Steve's bedpost."
Ally looked. Down the hall, Steve Harrington was leaning against the lockers. Totally focused on the girl trapped against the metal.
"Steve and Nancy Wheeler?" Ally scoffed. "No way."
"Yes way." Lisa hooked her arm through Ally's. "Kelly caught them making out in the bathroom."
Ally adjusted her bag. "I thought his type was strictly party girls."
"King Steve traded his crown for a cardigan," Lisa sneered as they pushed out the double doors. "Nancy is plain oatmeal. Good luck keeping his attention."
They crunched across the gravel lot.
"Vanilla is a classic," Ally shrugged. "Maybe she's good for him."
Lisa stopped walking. She stared at Ally. "You are practically impossible to cut up."
"What?" she asked, her keys dangling.
"You can't be this sweet and wholesome all the time. It's unnatural."
"I could be a total trainwreck if I wanted to." Ally laughed. "I just choose not to."
"Please. You're the Queen of Nice. I'm waiting for the tiara."
Ally stopped at her shiny red BMW. She leaned her arms on the warm roof. She stared at Lisa. Deadpan.
"Fine. You want terrible?" Her voice dropped. "Nancy Wheeler is going to ruin his life. I give them two weeks before he realizes she irons her socks."
Lisa's jaw dropped. A slow, wicked smirk spread across her face. "There she is."
Ally unlocked the driver's side door.
"Get in," she ordered. "Before I make you walk."
***