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❛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴄᴀʟɪғᴏʀɴɪᴀ ɢɪʀʟs ꒱


❝ I WISH THEY COULD ALL
BE CALIFORNIA GIRLS ❞

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The desks at Hawkins Middle School were in dire need of replacement. Over the countless years, students had stuck gum underneath them, scratched lead on the surface and gouged the wood with whatever sharp object they had to leave their mark. The plastic chairs creaked when students shifted in them and some of the wire bookshelves that sat between the legs had dented spires. Each classroom had exactly twenty-eight desks with a varying amount of students, most of whom let their attention wander rather than focus on their schoolwork.

Jessie was among them; school had never been her forte and she'd rather be anywhere but in Mr. Clarke's science room. Instead of paying attention to what the teacher was saying, her concentration drifted to the leaves falling outside. One of the windows was cracked open and it let in the late-October breeze. A less-prepared student would have shivered with the chill but she was never found without her father's Army coat. It was an outdated, olive-colored overcoat that was far too big on her. She had to roll the sleeves up for the arms to fit and the hem was more of a dress than a shirt with how far it reached to the floor, but she wore it day in and day out regardless.

Her mind wandered from nothing to more nothing, completely blank as she gazed out at the Autumn colors. She could feel the weight of her Walkman tucked safely in her pocket and the headphones that covered ears helped reduce Mr. Clarke's droning voice to a dull murmur, which made it easy to block out the noise. While most teachers would throw a fit if a student listened to music during class, there were two reasons why Jessie was left alone: one, because her headphones weren't actually playing anything; they just gave off the effect that she was listening to something. And two, most people preferred to pretend that she didn't exist.

Don't get her wrong— she wasn't complaining about this. In fact, she'd grown to prefer it for it was better than the latter, which was to be mocked and derided out of town. Because of her. . . unorthodox background, many of Hawkins' residents steered clear of her. This was made obvious by the three empty desks that surrounded her back-row seat. Up until last year, she could claim that she had no friends. Then, four other people (Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will) discovered her theory about the lab hidden in the woods and as they say, the rest was history.

While she still wouldn't call them friends, she would call them allies or better yet, acquaintances. Although they continued to avoid being seen with her in public, she hung out with them from time to time after school or on the weekends. It was hard now especially because it had been so long since they'd heard from their fifth member, a super-powered girl named Eleven. Jessie maintained that the girl wasn't dead— there was no way that she could be, when all of them (the normal, non-superpowered ones) were still alive.

Lost in her thoughts (or lack thereof), she had become so accustomed to ignoring the lesson that she had even missed the first part of the new girl's introduction. It was only when a voice spoke that wasn't Mr. Clarke's did her eyes flick away from the freedom of outside to rest on a girl with hair the color of flames. "It's Max. No one calls me Maxine."

A faint probe of curiosity made her shift in her seat, causing the chair to creak underneath her. They hardly ever got new students in a town as small as Hawkins, let alone ones that seemed to stand out like Max.

"Well, all aboard, Max!" Mr. Clarke exclaimed, clearly uncomfortable with her correction. "There's a, um, seat. . . oh," he trailed off as his eyes found the only available ones around Jessie. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to sit in the back."

"Whatever," the girl replied with a shrug. She made her way through the rows of carbon-copy seats to sit in front of the brunette.

Jessie had always believed that she was broken.

Not in any sort of dramatic way, but her emotions never seemed to be what they were supposed to be. She never felt particularly happy or sad, she never felt guilty or ashamed and she never, ever felt scared. There were very few things that made her feel anything and she could list them on one hand: spending time alone, trying to solve conspiracy theories and starting fires just because she could.

The girl in front of her— with her hair as orange as a flame— fit into the final category. Normally, she hardly paid attention to any of the girls at school as it wasn't like they'd ever want to be friends with her. She paid even less attention to the boys except the four she'd become familiar with. But now the girl with wildfire hair sat in front of her when no one else had dared to.

It took a great amount of self-control and an air of nonchalance to resume her normal behavior. While the whole of Hawkins knew what she. . . was, there was no need to ostracize someone who probably already had a hard time fitting in. It was best to do what she'd always done: keep to herself and only cause trouble when the time called for it. It was unnecessary to bring her bad reputation down on someone else just because they had piqued her interest.

Her logical argument didn't prevent her from repeating the girl's name in her head.

Max.

The redhead even had a boy's name, just like Jessie. She wondered briefly if that meant anything but forced herself to keep her theory-oriented mind from waking up. Her full name was Maxine, a girl's name, she reminded herself. No similarities there.

Everything from the girl's careless reaction to the world around her to the way she slouched in her seat, her waterfall blaze of hair tumbling over the edge made her think of a glowing ember. An ember was the last remnants of a fire long after the flame had burned out, holding steadfastly onto its warmth as the environment around it grew cold. Max was much the same way in Jessie's opinion. The girl seemed indifferent about everything but there was a defiance in her voice that suggested the spark hadn't quite yet died and was only waiting to be ignited.

No, Jessie told herself firmly. It's best to stay away. Fire can still hurt.

.・。.・゜✫・.・✫・゜・。.

After school that day, Jessie went out to the back lot and sat down on the ledge of the stairs, allowing her feet to hang over the side. Her headphones still covered her ears (but remained silent) and she rested her arms against the peeling metal bars of the stair's railing. Across the way, she could see 'the party' holding on to the chain-link fence as their eyes (very) obviously followed every move Max made.

The girl herself was skateboarding on the pavement in circles, occasionally using the curb stop to gain some air. That was yet another thing that made Max stand out: almost everyone in Hawkins rode bikes or drove cars. Hardly anyone took another mode of transportation except for Jessie, who couldn't afford a bike. Instead, her chosen wheels were a pair of hand-me-down 1940s-era roller skates that could attach to her shoes.

While they couldn't go across grass like a bike, they were very nearly the same. Besides, they could fit in her coat pocket so they were even better than a bicycle. It was one of the reasons why she wore the coat so much: it had a plethora of pockets that she could use to be prepared for any situation.

"Hey."

Jessie ignored the greeting, assuming that whoever said it had been speaking to someone behind her. That was, until a sneakered foot gently nudged her arm. She pulled off her headphones and prepared herself for the worst only to find the red-haired girl standing above her with her skateboard tucked under her arm.

"Hey," she said again. "You're the one I sit in front of in Clarke's, right?"

It took a moment for her words to work properly due to their lack of use. "Um, yeah."

"You're Jessie, right?"

How did she know? she wondered for a moment before it dawned on her. A sinking feeling formed in her stomach as she replied, "um, yeah."

Instead of taking the route she expected, though, Max just nodded at the confirmation. "What're you listening to?"

"Oh," was all Jessie could come up with. "Uh, nothing."

A faint frown of disappointment (though she'd probably just imagined that) flickered over the other girl's face. "Right. See you around, then?"

"Um, yeah." She wondered why Max hadn't liked her answer. (It was the truth, after all.)

"Cool," the redhead agreed. She dropped a piece of paper in the trash before she picked up her skateboard and entered the school.

Still puzzling over the odd interaction, Jessie was hardly surprised when the four boys ran up to her seconds after Max left. As Dustin dove into the trashcan, Lucas turned wide eyes on her. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Um, nothing."

He rolled his eyes. "She spent five minutes with you! You can't have talked about nothing in five minutes!"

"She asked what I was listening to. I said nothing," the brunette explained. "That's all."

"Did she say if she was Madmax or not?" he demanded. 

As he successfully located the piece of paper in the trashcan, Dustin exclaimed, "oh, oh, I got it! I got it!" Jessie shook her head as the curly-haired boy unfolded the paper and read the note aloud: "'stop spying on me, creeps.'" He sighed. "Well. . . shit."

"Dammit," Lucas complained.

Then, both boys' eyes fell on her. "Wait a minute!" Dustin exclaimed. "Jessie, you're a girl!"

"Well spotted," she commented drily.

"You should become her friend!" he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "It's perfect. I mean, you could talk about girly things and. . . and whatever girls talk about!"

"And find out if she's Madmax," Lucas added.

"No thanks," the brunette retorted as she stood. "I have too many friends already. I'm good with five."

Mike scoffed. "Seriously, Jessie? What else do you have to do with your time?"

She glowered at him. "Lots of things, actually. Schoolwork, for one—" she broke off as the boys chuckled. "What?"

"You do the bare minimum, Jess," Will said apologetically. "That's not really an excuse."

"Fine. How about the fact that I'm a North-pole magnet and she's the South? Do your science brains understand that?"

"But she's Madmax!" Lucas protested. "She beat Dustin's score so she's probably cool. Don't you want a cool friend, Jessie?"

"No." 

A/n: It's been a whole year since I've written anything new which is probably why I was able to write this chapter in an hour lol. I've only just gotten into the ST fandom (I think it was earlier this year) but I already have this fanfiction and a Mike Wheeler one that's in the works (but won't be published for awhile.)

I'm super excited to start this book! I hope to be done with seasons 2 and 3 before season 4 comes out so I can stay on top of things, but we'll see how it goes. I haven't decided on a publishing schedule yet but I'll let you guys know as soon as I have enough prewritten chapters to get them out on a daily basis. 

[edited jul. 2022]