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.*･｡. A DEAL WITH GOD! .*･｡.
————MADMAX
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005.
CURIOSITY KILLED THE
ALIENS... AND THE GOVERNMENT.
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"You think I wrote it?"

    "Well, no—"

    "You think I wrote your college essay?"

    "I—"

    "Your stupid, probably super shit, college essay?"

    "Okay, was that necessary?" Steve narrowed his eyes, then let a frustrated sigh through his nose. "I don't think you wrote it. More like fix— hey, are you laughing?!"

    "No shit, I'm laughing!" An amused snort escaped, but it didn't seem to dampen Cindy James' laughter. In fact, she might have laughed more after that. Steve couldn't really tell. She'd never laughed around him before and it made him uncomfortable. You know, to see her not scowling at him— not that this was any better, seeing as she was laughing at him and not with him, as in right in his face, and all Steve could do was stand there and listen.

He sulked, slumping his back against the brick wall with a cigarette to his lips. His eyes rolled after a few seconds, huffing out a plume of smoke while Cindy fell into another chorus of cackles. Around about now, Steve was starting to get bugged. This was why they usually smoked together in complete silence.

   It was a beautiful thing, wasn't it? Silence? Between Steve and Cindy it was, anyways. They could only ever stand each other in that silence.

   Why did he break it, again?

Oh, yeah— his essay.

   Steve hadn't originally had any intention of breaking the silence. Not in the slightest; he was actually quite content with the arrangement between himself and Cindy James. They didn't really get on, not unless it was with cigarettes in hand as they hid behind the school gymnasium instead of going to the algebra class Steve was supposed to be retaking.

In their defense, Mr Morris was totally boring and nearly sent them to sleep any time he opened his big ass mouth. It wasn't Steve's fault a smoke with Hawkins' British bad girl sounded more interesting, was it?

He wasn't really sure when their little arrangement had started, but Steve knew he liked it. Smoking in silence and skipping a shit-boring class with nobody to nag him for it?

What wasn't to like?

Their silence was golden, and he liked her a lot more when she shut her loud mouth and quit throwing rude gestures at him. He didn't doubt she liked him more too when his cocky persona and overbearing smirks went on break. Steve's entire being seemed to bug her and, while he never knew why that was exactly, he wasn't surprised.

King Steve had bugged a lot of people.

But Steve wasn't king anymore. He had humbled himself and it was just Steve now.

Steve who stood behind the gymnasium during their last period, and smoked with the crazy British girl whose hair was bleached pink and who'd launched an apple at his head in the cafeteria last year. Steve who spontaneously decided to break their silence in search of answers and now regretted it. Steve who had no choice but to stand and watch her laugh in his face. This humble Steve was an idiot.

"Okay— alright," he rubbed his face, "It's not that funny."

But Cindy continued to laugh.

Apparently it was funny to her, really funny. He wished he hadn't asked her about the stupid essay in the first place, because now their valuable silence was ruined, and he wasn't sure he could ever show his face around her again.

It wasn't something he could take back though, because Steve's curiosity had gotten the better of him. Then again, wouldn't it be the same for anyone who opened their locker and found their terrible college essay (the one they'd thrown in the trash) marked on and corrected with the creases smoothed out?

Wouldn't you want to know who did it, too?

They claim curiosity killed the cat, but Steve Harrington wasn't dead. At least, not yet. And if anything was going to strike him, he had a feeling it would be an inter-dimensional alien, or maybe the government, but not his own curiosity. Then again, he almost died the last time he was curious — showing up unannounced was a bad move when Jonathan and Nancy were trying to murder that alien and save Will, but in his defence, that was more the alien than his own curiosity; he only wanted to set the record straight and tell Jonathan he was sorry. The creepy alien definitely did the rest.

   Because of that, he decided he was safe to try and discover who the mystery essay writer was.

After all, he had a hard time believing that it was an alien or the US government — it sounded ridiculous when he put it that way, didn't it?

   Steve groaned, "You done?"

   Cindy released another snicker and nodded, "Sure. I can laugh about it again, later."

    "Sure you will," he actually didn't doubt it.

    "So, what? Some sucker wrote your college application essay?" Cindy tried to understand what he was on about, taking another long drag of the nicotine stick between her fingers. She breathed the smoke through her lips and crossed her ankles, "'Cause it was a shit read or something?"

   Steve squinted.

    "Or something," he muttered.

    "And you think it was me?" She arched a thick brow.

    "No," Steve shook his head, then thought. "Maybe? I dunno— Jeffries always says your poetry essays are good!"

    "That's not poetry, dingbat." Cindy deadpanned.

    "I kno—" huffing, Steve cut himself short and shook his head. He waved his hand, "Look, it's not that I thought you wrote it. It's just weird to open my locker and find an essay I threw in the trash this morning, completely marked on with a super detailed, colour-coded key on the back telling me how to make it better. You were the only one I thought of."

   Steve spared a second to reflect on his words.

    "Actually—" his nose wrinkled, "On second thoughts, you don't strike me as the kinda girl who marks essays in purple pen."

   She blinked.

    "You don't say."

   Steve ruffled his hair, stressed.

    "I just don't know who else would do it?"

    "Well I, for one, would never mark someone else's essay unless they paid me," the girl shrugged, the honesty making Steve nod. That was true. Why would somebody fix his essay and put it back in his locker without any charge or recognition? Cindy hummed, "So, I think this saviour either has a crush on you, or just likes to fix bad college applications for the thrill of it."

    "It wasn't that bad," he lied through his teeth. When she shot a blank look at him, Steve sighed and dwelled on it.

    "Well, a lot of girls do have crushes on me..."

   Cindy scoffed.

    "But wouldn't they want me to know that?" Steve's lip curled. It still didn't add up to him.

   She shrugged, "Girls are weird."

    "Tell me about it."

    "I just did," Cindy rolled her eyes. "Alright— if it's not one of your many groupies," she teased, making him frown. "Then it's an application-obsessed loser."

    "I don't know any of those," his eyebrows furrowed.

   Cindy's eyes glinted, she might.

    "People actually like essay-writing?" Steve sounded unsure, her look of recognition going entirely over his head. He hardly noticed that she was barely listening until he spoke again, "Nance does her homework on time, but she doesn't like it." The inclusion of his girlfriend made Cindy bite the inside of her cheek. "Who'd fix my essay for fun?"

    "Be glad they did." Cindy shrugged, stubbing out her cigarette on the wall. "You'd never get to send it otherwise. Even worse: you do send it and they bar from at every college a cross the continental US."

    "They can do that?"

    "I don't know who fixed your stupid essay, Harrington." Cindy said, stepping away and turning on her dirty boots. She started to leave their smoking spot just shy of the final bell, "But I am gonna tell everyone you thought it was me."

    "Don't—"

    "Later!"

   He groaned, "You're such a—"

   Cindy stuck her middle finger up over her shoulder.

   Steve cursed and tossed his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with the sole of his Nikes. He ran a hand through his hair and watched her leave. Dammit.

   Steve had only wanted to thank her, on the chance she had been the one to fix his terrible application, but instead he'd fully embarrassed himself and given Cindy James another reason to pick fun at him for no real reason at all. Plus, he'd just broken their very comfortable, tolerable silence and it had all been for nothing. The whole conversation had been a waste all because he wanted to act grateful, for once in his life.

   Maybe the curiosity should've killed him.

————

   True to her word, Cindy James told everyone.

   Well, not everyone.

   She wasn't quite that mean. Contrary to belief, Cindy did have a heart— or at least, half of one. Besides, she didn't know the people of Hawkins well enough to stir the pot on Steve Harrington's truly tragic inability to write essays. And anyways, Steve looked to have done a good job of stirring the pot himself over the last year. What, with the death of Hawkins High's King and all the glory he held the year prior.

   Steve Harrington had changed and thus, he'd been the talk of the school. It wasn't like Cindy needed to tell everyone that he'd thought she fixed his essay to embarrass him. Actually, Cindy didn't have to tell anyone; nobody at all.

   But she did tell Ashley and Linda.

    "I miss Benny."

   The three girls were all sat in a booth at the crummy diner next to the arcade, watching Linda poke at her burger with a sad, dismayed pout on her lips. They watched the meat dent under light pressure of her fingertip but it didn't bounce back like meats were meant to; rather, the soggy patty stayed indented. Ashley made a disturbed face and Cindy stifled her snorts while Linda promptly slid the plate aside.

    "We all do," Ashley agreed with her prior statement, one hand gently patting her friend on the shoulder. It was true, after all.

   Since his mysterious death one year prior, everyone in Hawkins missed Benny Hammond. Even all the kids who hardly knew him as more than a chef. Benny's Burgers was a top hangout spot for teenagers after school and he always made them feel welcome, even when it was fully rammed at three o'clock. He never kicked a single kid out, unlike other places in their deadbeat town. He gave them a safe space to chill with great music and even better burgers, and he acted like the town's cool uncle. Everyone adored his diner and now that it was gone, they were forced to settle for other places.

   He'd probably roll in his grave if he knew the crappy diners they'd been left with. Benny's was the best by far and even though Ashley, Cindy and Linda tried to make it work, it just wasn't the same. They would never find a place that compared; nowhere was as perfect as Benny's and nobody was like Benny, either. The man really was one in a million.

    "Benny was rad," Cindy nodded. She had only been there for a year, meaning she hadn't known him well, but she knew he was cool. "And he could cook."

   They peered at the burger again.

   Ashley shuddered.

    "My mom would say not eating that's a waste of food," Linda said, pointing at the burger she had ordered, sporting the most despondent of frowns. She didn't often frown, but she really missed Benny's burgers. They were tasty and actually edible. "I'd say eating it is a waste of dignity."

    "Either way, it's a waste of money." Cindy shrugged.

   They both hummed in agreement, although they didn't totally understand it to Cindy's extent. While facing their own fair share of troubles, Linda and Ashley both lived quite comfortably. Even if Ashley worked most of her free time to put towards her college fund, she still didn't have to work to survive. Cindy however, didn't live in a nice house, comfortably. Instead, Cindy had spent all her time as an exchange student living in Forest Hills trailer park and working a shitty job cleaning the other vans to pay off the bills.

   It wasn't something she ever told anyone — who wanted to publicise the fact their parents shipped them across the pond to partake in an exchange programme without any money? — but it took no time for Linda and Ashley to find out. Cindy didn't let them make any difference to her situation, she didn't like feeling like a huge charity case, but they tried to pay for her food here and there, and let her stay at their places as often as possible.

    "We'll find somewhere better," Ashley assured, even though she had no idea how or where.

    "Isn't your dad a good cook?" Cindy knew he was.

    "My house is so off limits right now," she informed, rolling her eyes at the thought of going back home when she had to. The trio had made their way to the diner right after their extra-curriculars; Ashley had gone to cheer, Linda to a meet for their school journal, and Cindy had sat in the library for an hour pretending to finish a pile of homework she had yet to do.

    "Why?" Linda whined, "I love your house!"

    "My dad's driving me crazy."

    "Don't all dads so that?" Cindy asked.

    "It's their job," Linda nodded along with a sip of her shake. It only made her nose scrunch up in disgust since it tasted bad. The taste of strawberry shouldn't remind her of throw up. "They have to drive you crazy."

    "It's law," Cindy said.

    "Yeah, well..." puffing out her cheeks, Ashley stirred her plain vanilla milkshake in disinterest. She shook her head and pushed a tight smile onto her lips as she changed the subject. "So — are we picking costumes for Tina's Halloween bash, or not?" She relaxed, watching their attention divert. Ashley leant forward, "Any ideas?"

   Cindy smirked.

    "I was planning a list in my head during algebra—"

    "You don't go to algebra."

    "—during my smoke with Harrington, then." Rolling her eyes with a sour look, Cindy continued to speak; "But then he asked me the weirdest thing."

   Linda's eyes widened, "He asked you to—"

    "No," she cut her off, already knowing where Linda's mind had gone. "That'd be gross on so many levels."

    "Well, you said weird." Linda shrugged her shoulders.

    "Fair game," the girl nodded. "But still wrong," she poked her friend in the side. She went on; "Get a load of this! He asked me if I'd written his essay for his college applications!"

   She snorted when their eyes widened.

    "I know! Apparently he gave it the toss because it was total rubbish, bht someone must've found it, fixed it, and left it in his locker!"

    "Steve Harrington wants to go to college?"

    "Yeah!"

   Linda hummed in interest.

   Ashley, on the other hand, pursed her lips. So he found it. With as casual a demeanour as she could maintain, she tilted her head for extra confusion; "Did— did he find out who fixed it?"

    "Nope. Not a clue," Cindy's brows wiggled in her direction.

    "Weird," Linda said.

    "Super weird."

   Ashley cleared her throat, "Costumes."

    "Okay!" Linda clapped her hands. She was easily the most fashionable of all of them, so it was definitely her forte. Halloween was always her favourite time of year. "So, I was thinking—"

   As she plunged into the details, Ashley plastered the same smile onto her face and nodded every couple of seconds, but ultimately zoned out of the conversation. Her mind, for one of the first times ever, was filled with thoughts of Steve Harrington. If Cindy was a reliable source, which she was, then he had no idea that his college essay was Ashley's doing. And she hoped it stayed that way. Ashley had only fixed it to soothe her anxiety, and it had helped. Marking Steve's terrible work had been a great distraction from her general shit-show of a morning, especially alongside her first acquaintance with MadMax.

   She had done it selfishly if anything, but he didn't need to know that. Now he had a chance at applying to college, and Ashley had a marginally better day than expected. Steve Harrington's terrible essay had helped Ashley Miller out, and he had no idea; she didn't intend to change that.

   Even if she was curious as to what he thought.

   Curiosity did kill the cat, after all.

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

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