The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 1)
Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra - 5:05
Is this a valid amount to have written of this story since I last posted? Probably not. But has dental school been kicking my ass for the past three months? Absolutely. I promise I’m trying my best to be more consistent with my uploads though - I just hope you haven’t forgotten about this story in the mean time! It’s too important to me to give up on now haha.
Also, if you feel as though this first chapter is vaguely reminiscent of the prologue...that’s intentional...trust me.
Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!
Monday - October 8th, 1984
Eyes, the colour of the caramel on those apples from the county fair, gingerly cracked open as early morning sunlight seeped through cheap, cotton curtains. The rustling of amber leaves skittering across the tarmac outside made him stir further. And as a chilly, autumn breeze whipped around the loose drainpipe, rattling the plastic against the wall behind his head, Royce resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be pulled back into dreamland with a heavy sigh and a long stretch.
Shuffling up his mattress, he grabbed his journal from its spot on his bedside table and blindly felt around for a pen. A yawn interrupted his train of thought before it had even left the station though, and he had to rub the sleep from his eyes before they would focus on the empty page he'd opened the notebook to. Pen uncapped, and mind still hazy from his reluctant rousing, Royce felt his attention begin to wander as the nib of his biro met paper. He scrawled out the date, and managed a couple of lines about what his dreams had entailed, but as soon as he started thinking back to the prior day, his mind ran away with him too quickly for his pen to keep up.
He and Bentley had spent most of it at Vivien's house, where she'd finally fulfilled her promise of teaching Royce (and, once he found out about it, Bentley too) morse code. She dug out some of her dad's old books from the garage that went along with his amateur radio set and pinned one of the charts to her bedroom wall. After a few quick lessons, the trio were tapping out phrases to each other through the door for hours on end, just about driving the poor girl's mother insane. In a bid to earn some peace and quiet, she took to the garage herself, and came back later with a set of old walkie talkies she handed over to the children before banishing them to the backyard. Codenames were created, make believe spy storylines were played out and laughter was shared until the sun sunk behind the fence that separated Vivien's yard from the dense forest beyond, signalling for Royce and Bentley to head back home.
Glancing down to his backpack, which had been slung at the foot of his bed, Royce couldn't take his eyes off the brick-like hand radio, sticking out from between the shabby library books and old candy bar wrappers. He still couldn't believe Vivien and her mom had let him and Bentley keep them. But after all the fun they'd had with them yesterday, he wasn't about to turn down the offer - especially after Vivien had suggested using them in place of the landline the Murphys had had to disconnect a few months back due to a faulty connection and the fact that they'd rather have running water than a working telephone. He didn't exactly know what they'd have to talk about, since they usually spent as much time together every day as they could manage, but there was no way he could have said "no" to her when she'd been smiling at him like she had. The second those dimples make an appearance his brain turns to mush, and his palms get so slick with sweat they practically need their own 'caution' sign. Even just thinking about her draws a smile of his own to his lips, and he can feel this sweet warmth unfurling in his chest that-
A snatched breath and rustling of duvet covers ripped Royce away from his thoughts as Bentley sat bolt upright in his bed. Chest heaving and choice locks of golden hair plastered to his forehead, the boy scanned the room with wide, blue eyes until recognition replaced the bewildered fear behind them. With his brain finally catching up to what his eyes were telling him to be true, Bentley let out a long, slow breath as he realised where he was - or, more importantly, where he wasn’t. Sluggishly pulling the floppy, balding stuffed dog he slept with every night to his chest, he eased himself back down against his pillow, inhaling the musty, yet comforting smell of old socks and sweet popcorn as he tried to will his heart to stop racing.
"...You okay, Ben?"
Jumping at the sound of another voice, Bentley's head whipped to face his brother, bearing another look of bewildered terror. But when his eyes met those of the older boy, brimming with familial concern, relief washed over him.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he quietly promised. "Just a bad dream, that's all."
Quickly averting his gaze and snuggling back underneath his moth-eaten comforter, Bentley prayed that the matter could be dropped - just wanting to push the nightmare to the back of his mind so that he could catch a few more zs. But it appeared as though the abrupt wakeup call had bothered Royce just as much as it had him.
"How bad?" he asked, setting his pen down and closing his journal.
"...I don't know. It was just a dream, it's not a big deal," Bentley mumbled into the grubby fur of his comfort toy.
"It looked like a pretty big deal to me, Ben."
"Well it wasn't, okay?" Bentley snapped with a sleepy sigh. "It was a stupid dream. Why are you even up this early anyway?"
Ignoring the pre-teen's grumpy comments, knowing he was only being defensive because there was more to the story than he was letting on, Royce swung his legs over the edge of his mattress and fully turned to face his younger brother. "It… It wasn't about Dad, was it?"
"What?" Bentley spluttered. "No!"
"-Because it's fine if it was; I still get them too. I just thought that since you hadn't had one for a while you were maybe in a better-"
"It wasn't about Dad, okay?" Bentley insisted with a frustrated sigh, still furiously avoiding his brother's gaze. "It wasn't about anything. I was just running down the street. I tripped over on the sidewalk and woke up before I could hit the ground. That's it."
Royce spent several seconds digesting the information, but his look of concern never shifted. "Running down the street? Away from what?" Clearly he didn't believe that the root of the problem could be something so innocent.
Bentley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't away from anything; I was just playing tag. I wasn't looking where I was going and I lost my footing - that's why I woke up like that; it felt like I'd been falling."
"...That's it?"
"Yeah, that's it. That's all it was, okay?"
Royce wanted to believe his younger brother, he really did - if not for Bentley's sake, then for his own; he knew otherwise he'd just be worrying about him for days on end - but something was holding him back. Whilst the boy's words were convincing, the fact that he couldn't lift his gaze from the greying fur of his stuffed dog told Royce that there was still more that he wasn't saying. And whilst he understood that it was hard to talk about traumatic events, it wasn't like Bentley to hide things from him - especially when it came to their family, which is what he still suspected the boy's dream had involved, despite his insistence otherwise. "...You know you can talk to me, right Benny?" Royce gently asked.
Swallowing and reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet those of his brother, Bentley nodded and croaked out a quick: "yeah" that had sounded a lot more confident in his head. Still, his look of earnest at least made Royce pause before continuing his spiel.
"You don't have to struggle with this on your own. We've had to deal with a lot over the last few years with Mom and Dad and Uncle Tommy and everything - it's been hard. And starting middle school on top of that doesn't make it any easier - believe me; I've done it. I've been in the same, exact position as you, Benny. I know exactly what you're going through right now, exactly how you're feeling, and it sucks, I know it does, but you don't have to go through it alone. We're both here for you, Ben - me and Miles - but we can't help you if we don't know what's going on. You've got to talk to us, okay?"
Bentley could feel his chest growing tight, and his throat felt scratchy when he swallowed, having been ravaged by the words he was fighting to keep down. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming at Royce that he had no idea what he was going through, and that he never would. But he funnelled that pent-up frustration into holding onto his older brother's concerned gaze, and willing his neck to deliver a strained nod.
Royce could see that there was a new glassiness to Bentley's eyes that made his stomach clench - there was definitely something the boy was keeping from him. But before he could press the matter further, heavy footsteps came thundering towards their bedroom door, followed by a mop of messy, chestnut hair bursting through it.
"Guys, guys, get up, we overslept!"
Toothpaste dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, the toothbrush in his fist dripped water onto the floor and his hair looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in days - but as soon as Miles set eyes on his little brothers, the panic behind them disappeared.
"Oh…sweet, you're already up," he said with a breathy smile. "Get dressed; we've gotta leave in ten minutes."
"What about breakfast?" Royce asked, but Miles was already racing down the hall towards the kitchen.
"I'm making PB&Js!" he hollered back, likely trailing more water behind him as he dove into the bathroom to make a quick pitstop to replace his toothbrush.
A soft smile tickled Royce's lips as he watched his older brother's frantic retreat, mind temporarily clouded by hectic amusement. But when he turned back to look at Bentley, his smile slipped into a puzzled frown when he found the young boy lazily grabbing a clean pair of socks as though nothing had happened at all.
Bentley felt Royce's eyes tracking him as he gathered together his clothes for the day, and eventually glanced across to ask: "You okay? Aren't you getting dressed?"
"I just- Are you sure you're alright, Benny?"
"It was a dream, Royce. I'm fine," he replied, slipping into a chuckle at the notion that he could be feeling any other way. "You won't be if you don't find some pants without cowboys on them though," he added with a cheeky smile, prompting Royce's eyes to flit down to his pyjamas and the rest of his body to spring to action. "Vivien's not gonna be impressed when she finds out you still dress like a six-year-old."
Maybe that nightmare hadn't been so bad afterall. Royce knew Bentley like the back of his hand, and if that dream had been as bad as Royce suspected it had, there was no way he'd feel up to laughing and joking like that - not this soon afterwards anyway. He must have just been overreacting. And besides, Bentley was growing up now - if he thought that the nightmare had been 'no big deal' then Royce owed it to him to believe him. Yeah, it was hard to take a step back and let go of the reins he'd looped around Bentley's shoulders to keep him safe, but the carefree smile the boy shot as he ran past him towards the bathroom made the blow sting a little less.
A morning without chaos in the Murphy household was practically unheard of, but there was something about the mayhem that Royce took great comfort in. Quietly making his way into the kitchen, where sunlight splashed over the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and Mr. Blue Sky crackled over the dusty radio on the windowsill, he couldn't help but smile as he watched Miles swipe jars across the cluttered countertop as though he was performing an elaborate magic trick. In reality, the seventeen-year-old was just trying to find a jar of either peanut butter or jelly that had any sort of viable contents for him to scrape out. One jar of peanut butter was so runny it was practically soup, the other was too solid to even stick a knife into. The only jar of grape jelly they had was so empty it looked like a minimalist stained glass window, and the only other jelly option was strawberry, which no one really wanted due to the hideous lumps suspended throughout it - but, thanks to a schedule tighter than the sweatband their neighbour, Mrs Martin, wore around her head every time she went speed-walking around the block, it would have to do. Royce had never seen someone break a sweat making a sandwich before, but Miles was giving it a damn good try.
"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, hurriedly cutting the sandwich and handing one of the halves to the boy beside him.
"Eww, of course," Bentley replied with a chuckle as he set his glass of orange juice down and accepted the droopy sandwich.
"Alright, good," Miles responded, absentmindedly running a nervous hand through his hair. It wasn't until after the fact that he realised he'd definitely smeared jelly all over his hand in his haste though. Knowing he had no time to do anything about the sticky hair situation, he just muttered out a quick curse and went back to his pedantic questioning. "Uh, did you pick out a clean shirt?"
"Yes."
"Did you make your bed?"
"Do I have time to go and make my bed?" Bentley asked through a mouthful of brown bread, eyebrows raised in quizzical amusement.
"...Good point," Miles nodded, a smile pulling at his lips as he picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a bite. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally noticed Royce searching for a glass, prompting him to slide a plate bearing a PB&J along the countertop and extend the grin to him. "Eat up, buddy."
"Thanks," Royce smiled back, steadying the plate with one hand and plucking a cup from the shelf above his head with the other. "Have I got time for juice? Or am I going to have to try to eat this thing whole?" he continued with a chuckle.
"Sure, we've got time," Miles said, eagerly setting his own sandwich down and brushing the crumbs from his hands as he stepped towards Royce and opened his palm. "Here, I'll get you some, you concentrate on eating."
"Yeah, 'cause I need my whole brain to eat a PB&J," Royce teased, earning him a snort of laughter from his older brother.
"So," Miles continued as he swung open the refrigerator door, empty glass in hand. "You guys got anything exciting going on at school today?"
"Nick said he was gonna be planning something for us over the weekend," Bentley mused whilst licking a blob of peanut butter from his thumb.
"Oh yeah, what?"
"I don't know, he wouldn't say. I think it's something to do with this game his cousin dropped off when he visited last week though," Bentley explained with an optimistic grin. "So that should be cool!"
"Sounds it," Miles chuckled, turning and handing Royce his glass back, now full of orange juice. "What about you, RJ?"
"Not really," he mumbled back, too preoccupied with finishing his breakfast to think about the day ahead.
"Don't you have your book report presentation today?" Miles asked.
"Oh yeah, but that's not exciting."
"Sure it is; you and Vivien worked super hard on it."
"Tell me about it, they wasted even more time than usual at the library working on that thing," Bentley teased. "I thought we were never going to get back to playing on her Atari."
"Oh yeah? Were you having to act as their chaperone, Benny?" Miles chuckled.
"'Chaperone'? What the hell would we need a chaperone for? It wasn't like it was a date or anything. We were just doing schoolwork," an appalled Royce insisted.
"Relax, I'm only teasing," Miles said with a reassuring grin and bump on the arm. "And I'm sure you'll both have done a great job. I want to hear all about how it went tonight, okay?"
"You really care about Emily Brontë?" Royce asked with a dubious smirk.
"No, but I care about my little brother," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair. "Especially when he's acing his English lit class, you little genius."
"I don't know about 'acing' it," Royce mumbled, but his blush and shy smile betrayed his efforts to downplay his gratitude.
"Hey Benny, have you got your English project back yet? You were working on that like it was gonna determine whether or not you got into college," Miles asked with playfully teasing chuckle as he revisited his half-eaten PB&J.
"Oh yeah, Miss Hardy gave us them on Friday. I meant to tell you at work but then I went over to Kona's instead and by Saturday morning I'd forgotten all about it," Bentley began, rambling away as he rummaged through his backpack. Stray pencils flew in all directions and random doodles on scraps of paper fluttered to the floor, until finally, Bentley plucked a (slightly crumpled) piece of lined paper out from the chaos. Turning back to Miles, eyes alight with pride, he pushed the essay out from his chest as though he was taking his heart along with it. "But look, I got a B+!"
"Seriously?!" Miles exclaimed, eyes glittering with amazement before melting into the same pride his brother displayed. "Oh my god, Bentley, that's incredible!"
"I know, isn't it great? Miss Hardy says the only thing holding me back from an A was my spelling, but that's like a given anyway, so it's still pretty good if you think about it."
"Nice job, Benny," Royce congratulated, wrapping the younger boy in a side-hug as a proud grin of his own tugged at his lips.
"It's not just good, Benny, it's amazing!" Miles gushed, setting his now-empty plate down and wiping his sticky fingers on the nearest dishcloth he could find. "This is like the best you've ever done on a project for English class. Hand it over, I've gotta read it; this is huge."
"You don't have to," Bentley bashfully chuckled with a roll of his eyes. "It's just a boring school report." But he handed the paper over anyway.
"I know I don't 'have to', I want to. And it's not just 'a boring school report', it's your boring school report," he grinned, setting his little brother off giggling.
But before he could get past the title, a familiar horn crept through the cracks in the windowpane behind them.
"Our chariot awaits" Royce sarcastically chucked, downing the last of his juice and slinging his backpack over his shoulder as Miles let out a frustrated sigh.
"It's alright, you really don't have to read it," Bentley tried.
"No, no, I will, I promise," Miles stammered, juggling all the events he had lined up for the day in his head and trying to judge when was the best point to throw a little light reading into the mix.
"Are you guys coming, or what?" Royce called to them from the front door.
Letting out another frustrated sigh, Miles gave up and grabbed a spare magnet from the refrigerator door: one shaped like a UFO that Bentley had been all too pleased to find at the bottom of an old Cookie Crisp box. He pinned the essay to the front of the fridge and turned back to Bentley, laying his hands on his shoulders. "I'll read it when I get back from work tonight, I promise."
Bentley already knew Miles would never lie to him, especially about something as trivial as this, but the way his blue eyes shone with sincerity, and his voice edged into slight desperation, drew a smile to his lips nonetheless. "Alright, alright, I believe you," Bentley reassured with a chuckle that satisfied Miles enough to let his shoulders slump as he returned the fond grin.
"Did you guys forget about hurrying or something?" Royce joked, poking his head back into the kitchen.
"Hey Royce, get over here," Miles said, quickly beckoning the boy over to join him. He set a hand on each of the boys' shoulders and bent down to eye level, taking a second to hold each of their gazes as his lips melted into another warm grin and his heart swelled with admiration. "I'm so proud of you both, you know that, right?"
"Yeah," Bentley chuckled.
"Well duh," Royce playfully drawled as Miles pulled them both into a tight hug. "Why the sudden urge to tell us now?" he went on, words becoming muffled by Miles' moth-eaten sweatshirt.
"I don't know, it's just… I know I don't always get the chance to sit you down and tell you but-"
Another longer, louder blast of a car horn blared through the chilly, morning air. It was unbelievable how much exasperation could be conveyed in one sound.
"Oh shit, come on, we'd better go," Miles muttered, sighing as he straightened up and lovingly ruffled their hair before propelling them towards the front door.
Whatever heartfelt sappiness Miles was about to share with the boys was lost to the school run rush as the three of them hurried to pull on their sneakers and attempt to appease their impatient driver. Seemingly, sentimentality had no business trying to worm its way into the Murphy brothers’ messy morning routine - at least not if their ride to school had anything to say about it anyway.
“You know, if I drove a school bus, your asses would be walking to class,” Butchy called out as the boys tore across their front lawn.
“Sorry Butchy, Miles slept through his alarm,” Bentley replied, shooting a cheeky grin back at his older brother.
“I didn’t sleep through my alarm,” Miles retorted with a defensive scoff. “…I forgot to set it.”
“Just get in,” Butchy chuckled with an amused smirk, opening the passenger door behind him.
“Where’s everyone else?” Royce asked.
“The hell if I know,” Butchy muttered. “I swear to God they’re gonna get me fired before I even see a pair of handcuffs.” A glance at his watch and an impatient scan of his surroundings later, he announced: “Okay, I've had it. If they’re not here in the next two minutes I’m leaving without ‘em.”
“You always say that,” Bentley giggled from his seat in the trunk.
“Yeah, well, this time I mean it,” he huffed, setting his face in a scowl that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of a certain brunette running down the street towards them. “And what time do you call this?” he asked with a teasing smirk that he at least somewhat conveyed his frustration.
“Sorry!” Mick cried, skidding to a halt, and struggling to catch her breath as she raced through her explanation. “My dad found some eggs that were gonna go bad in the pantry and he didn’t want to waste them, so he tried making pancakes, but we didn’t have enough milk so the batter was super clumpy, and then he couldn’t find his spatula to flip them, so he was trying to use these stupid salad tongs and then the smoke detector started beeping like crazy and suddenly there was melted plastic all over the stove-“
“Let me guess, he ended up burning them?”
“Yep, every single one,” Mick sighed with a deadpan delivery that always drew a chuckle from her boyfriend’s lips. “And the rangehood. It was a total disaster.”
“Damn,” Butchy laughed. “I’m surprised your mom still lets him in the kitchen.”
“I’m surprised we still have a kitchen. So, see? At least I have a valid excuse for my lateness,” Mick said as she grabbed the car door handle and wrenched it open. “It’s not like I just forgot to set my alarm or something.”
Butchy had to bite back another laugh as Miles shot her a look of weary disbelief and Royce and Bentley started giggling from the backseat.
“Don’t tell me you actually forgot to set your alarm,” Mick chuckled once she clocked Miles’ expression.
“…No comment.”
“What are we going to do with him?” Mick jokingly asked as she turned to Butchy, fondly shaking her head at the boy. “He can’t even work a damn clock.”
“You’re one to talk, you can’t tune a car radio.”
“That was one time!”
But Butchy was quick to shut down the bickering when a head of black hair darted by in the corner of his vision. “Hey, hey, hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded as he turned to face his little sister, who was swanning down their driveway without a care in the world. “We’re five minutes late as it is – get in the car!”
“Huh?” she squeaked, stopping in her tracks as she adjusted her dangly, pink, heart-shaped earrings. But a look of recognition soon flashed across her face that allowed her lips to slip back into that same giddy grin she’d been sporting for the last month. “Oh wait, didn’t I tell you? I’m catching a ride with someone else today.”
Butchy’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at her announcement – partly because he couldn’t believe he’d waited for her all this time for nothing, but mostly because he couldn’t believe his baby sister was blowing him off so casually. “Oh yeah? Who?” he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant.
But even if Lela’s expression wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the yellow Volkswagen camper van, decked out in hand-painted, groovy doodles, and blasting Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & The Waves, that pulled into view certainly was. Rolling down the passenger window, Tanner called out over the chatter of his three, rowdy friends in the back: “Morning, Lela! You ready to go?”
With the engine still running, and her usual, fellow passengers still gawping at her in incredulity, Lela giggled and skipped over to the van. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she chirped back as she threw open the passenger door and hopped in, slipping straight into whatever highly animated conversation the four teens had been sharing as they sped off into the distance without a second thought.
Momentarily stunned into silence, Mick, Butchy and the Murphy brothers watched the retreating vehicle – all still processing the bizarre turn of events that had injected a rather unwelcome unpredictability into their structured chaos of a school-run.
It was Mick that finally took the plunge and broke the tension though, nudging Butchy on the arm and offering him a mischievous grin as she tried to dampen the shock with a little humour. “Oh well, guess I call shotgun!”
Despite the rocky start, Mick and the Murphys made it to school with plenty of time to spare, much to Butchy’s relief. The four of them piled out of the black station wagon and bid their driver farewell before he sped out of the parking lot, allowing a dopey fool in round, reflective sunglasses and a ridiculous, orange jacket that made him look like a traffic cone, to roll through the cloud of dust it left in its wake.
“Waddup my dudes and dudette,” Ethan chuckled as he kicked his skateboard out from underneath his feet and caught it in the hand that wasn’t outstretched in a lazy wave. “How are we doing on this fine Monday morning?”
“All the better for seeing you, buddy,” Miles laughed through a yawn as Mick rolled her eyes from beside him.
“Shakespeare, Picasso, what the hell are you doing here?” he continued with an excited grin, high fiving each of Miles’ little brothers in turn. “You guys on a field trip or something?”
“No, we just haven’t walked to class yet,” Bentley chuckled, as amused by the older boy’s antics as ever - especially the bewildered look he sported before remembering just how close the Hawkins Middle campus actually was.
"You guys totally sure you have everything you need?" Miles checked for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. "School books? Lunch money? Stuff for gym?"
"Neither of us have gym today," Royce clarified. "And yeah, we're totally sure. You already made us check like ten times yesterday, remember?"
"Okay, okay, just checking."
"Can we go now? I think I just saw Gus’ mom parking her car," Bentley asked, craning his neck around Royce to look for any evidence of blond hair amongst the crowds of pre-teens.
"If you're not going to spring any bogus reasons for me to give you more lunch money then sure, be my guest," Miles teasingly chuckled, crossing the arms he'd just held up in surrender.
"It was for a bake sale!" Royce insisted.
"Was that, by any chance, the same bake sale Vivien told me she was organising with her figure skating friends?" Mick asked with a smirk.
"That's the one," Miles confirmed as Royce's cheeks started to tinge pink.
"Are you kidding me, little man? You paid for that crap? You totally could have sweet talked her into giving you something for free," Ethan impishly grinned, causing the thirteen year old's entire face to flood scarlet.
"Okay, I'm leaving!" Royce announced, quickly spinning on his heels and marching away.
"It's okay, he's just mad because he knows it's true," Bentley explained to the older teens, prompting them to let out a hearty laugh.
"Have a good day, Benny," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair before sending him on his way. "Let me know how your science experiment goes, okay?"
"Okay! Bye guys!" Bentley exclaimed, excitedly waving at Mick, Miles and Ethan before racing across the stretch of grass towards the middle school parking lot and straight past a still disgruntled Royce, who was about to get a farewell of his own.
"Hey Royce!" The brunet turned to face his older brother, thankfully having managed to extinguish the fire prickling beneath the skin on his face in the few seconds he'd had his back turned. "Nail that English presentation, okay?" Miles called out with a beaming, proud smile that couldn't help but make a shy grin tug at Royce's lips.
"Okay," the boy nodded, already beginning to turn back around. But a further, mischievous shout caught his attention before he could escape.
"And say 'hi' to Vivien for me!" Miles simply couldn't help himself; Royce's clunky little middle school almost-romance, or rather his fierce denial about it, was just too entertaining to ignore. And the bird Royce flipped him as he scowled and retreated across the field did nothing to deter the chuckles slipping from his lips, in fact it only egged them on more.
Mick's next comment was quick to shut him up though.
"So, is it just a coincidence that you and Royce are both hopeless with girls or is it like a genetic thing?"
Miles' easygoing grin dropped from his face like a fly from a rolled up newspaper, replaced by a frown that felt all too familiar given the setting and chilly, October breeze.
"Hah! Dude, it's gotta be genetic. You both have that same blotchy cheek thing going on and you both get all prickly and weird every time your chick's around," Ethan said with an amused snort of laughter as he scratched some dirt from the edge of his skateboard deck.
"I do not," Miles insisted. "What the hell are you even talking about? I don't have a chick; I've been single since like-"
"Oh hey, Carrie."
Miles' heart leapt into his throat and his eyes bugged so far out of his head they almost fell out all together upon hearing Ethan's laidback greeting. But when he scrambled to straighten his posture and turned to follow the stoner's line of sight, only to find an empty stretch of parking lot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Really, man?" he asked, face set in a scowl.
"You were saying?" Ethan smirked.
"You're so fucking annoying," Miles grumbled, play-punching him on the forearm despite his best, yet lethargic, efforts to dodge it.
"Why? Because I'm right?"
"No, for bringing her up again. I told you I was done thinking about her like that," Miles replied with a huff as he leant back against a wooden, parking marker sticking out of the unkempt lawn.
"Hold up, you're not actually listening to my advice, are you?" Mick asked with a smug quirk of her eyebrow.
"Not if that little performance was anything to go by," Ethan scoffed.
"Well you caught me off guard," Miles tried.
"I don't know why you're both so against it, I say just let it happen," Ethan said with a blatant nonchalance that riled Mick's usually mellow temper up to no end.
"'Just let it happen', gimme a break," she muttered with another roll of her eyes.
"Why? What's wrong with that?" Ethan defended. "Best case scenario: he gets the girl. Worst case scenario: he doesn't - which, in case you hadn't noticed, is no different to where he is now. What's he got to lose?!"
"His dignity, his social life, all my respect for him-"
"Okay, okay, I think we get the point," Miles jumped in.
"You guys are blowing this way out of proportion," Ethan said before giving Miles an affectionate thump on the arm. "It's just feelings, man. Feel what you've gotta feel. Let nature take its course."
"Sounds like the kind of advice that gets baby birds eaten by stray cats," Mick snarkily retorted.
"Oh yeah? You got a better suggestion Little Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass?" Ethan fired back.
"Woah, woah, woah, let's walk it back a few steps," Miles cut in with the weariness of a father after a nine-to-five shift at the bank. "No one's giving bad advice, and no one's got a stick up their ass. It's just…time to call it quits. I don't have the energy for that crap anymore."
"You're really done?" Mick asked.
Miles simply nodded.
After holding his gaze for a beat, and realising that he was actually telling the truth, Mick felt her shoulders relax. And all her scepticism melted into a warm, sympathetic smile. "I do think it's for the best," she gently prompted, to which Miles snorted out a self-pitying laugh. "I mean you have a crazy amount of stuff on your plate right now - piling unrequited love on there wasn't really your smartest move."
"'Unrequited'?" Ethan scoffed.
"It means 'one-sided', dumbass," Mick huffed. "I forgot you have the vocabulary of a four-year-old."
"Uh, I know what it means," Ethan retorted. "I just don't think that it applies here."
"Oh come on, man, don't start this again," Miles sighed.
"I'm just saying, there's something there!"
"Yeah, with the boyfriend she's had for the last year and a half."
"Deny it all you want, pal, but these peepers don't lie. My ability to see the world in its truest form should not be underestimated; it's a gift."
"Yeah, and it was given to you in a plastic baggy by a seedy college drop-out," Mick quipped.
"Well, if that 'something' was a big enough deal to her then she'd have ditched Eric and made her move by now," Miles said with a blunt nonchalance that even took himself by surprise. "I'm telling you, she's happy as she is, and so am I. I've got great friends, two awesome neighbours, and the best little brothers anyone could ask for. What more could I want?"
"...A hot cheerleader to bone?" Ethan suggested, earning a look of disgust from Mick.
"Not this time, pal," Miles responded with an amused chuckle.
"Not even on the side?" Ethan pressed. But he just got another chuckle from Miles and a smug shake of his head. "Damn… You really are getting over her, aren't you?" he grinned proudly.
"I told you!" Miles exclaimed.
"I'm proud of you, man!" Ethan said, grabbing Miles' hand and pulling him in for a 'bro hug'. "You passed that test like it was nothing," he finished with a loving clap on the back.
"It was nothing. I told you, I'm over it - she's just another girl to me now."
"You sure about that?"
"Positive."
"Good…because she's handing out flyers over there so we're definitely gonna have to walk past her if we want to get to home room," Ethan said, smacking his hands down on Miles' shoulders and giving them an affectionate pat as he gestured towards the high school's entrance.
Miles groaned as he yet again turned, only this time it was because he found that the lanky brunet was right. Apparently his newfound certainty over his feelings would have to be put to the test a lot earlier than he'd been planning. He at least thought he'd have until their shift started tonight anyway. But no, there she was, with her unruly golden curls and gravitational pull that made the Earth spin at half its usual speed every time he set eyes on her. How she wasn't freezing in her cheerleading uniform, he would never know - but he had a sneaking suspicion that Eric's letterman jacket hanging around her shoulders was playing a rather important role. Beaming and waving at every peer that crossed her path, she was the picture of high school popularity - greeting and laughing with them all as though they had been friends for years. Suddenly their interactions at All Skate didn't feel so special anymore.
His chest ached as he watched her, strutting along with a spring in her step to match the bouncy beat of Walking on Sunshine, which was still blaring from her twin brother's camper van, parked a few feet away. A carefree smile stretched across her face that only broadened as a girl with a big, white bow holding her blonde ponytail in place, and an identical cheerleading uniform, ran up behind her and threw her arms around her neck. Her eyes sparkled with a delight that even Eric's presence couldn't ignite as she turned to face Juliet with a look of adoration that could have been plucked straight out of a John Hughes movie. Even though Miles knew that the girls had been best friends for well over a decade, he couldn't help the stab of envy that struck through him upon comparing their greeting to the one he typically received: the same cookie-cutter smile and wave she seemed to dole out to everyone else - and he only got that when she remembered he was there. He could see his resolve crumbling before his very eyes as Carrie and Juliet entwined fingers and babbled away to one another with giddy grins, so enamoured by one another's presence that Miles almost felt as though he was intruding by just standing there watching them. His eyebrows furrowed, and bile licked at the base of his throat as the truth of his reality finally dawned on him: not only was he back to square one - he was back at square one, and willing to hand over the keys to his house to swap lives with Juliet Harmon, of all people. Anything was worth Carrie looking at him the way she looked at that damn, blonde trust fund baby.
"You still feeling confident, big guy?" Ethan teased.
"...Yep."
Ethan and Mick took one look at Miles - stone-faced and misty-eyed - and knew that he was a lost cause. Mick was more disappointed than anything, but took a sympathetic approach to her consoling by laying a hand on his slumped shoulder. Ethan, on the other hand, took to imitating a trombone with a "Wah, wah, wah," that had Mick shooting daggers at him across Miles' blank stare. "Well that was fun while it lasted," he went on to joke.
"Ethan, you're not helping," Mick hissed.
Ignoring her comments, Ethan rambled on, steering Miles away from the cheerleaders and brushing Mick's hand from his shoulder in one swift shove. "Hey, I've gotta give you credit though, man; you kept that up for way longer than I expected - it was like a solid fifteen hours this time."
"Yeah, well, I was asleep for half of it," Miles mumbled.
"But did you dream about her?"
"No -"
"Then I'm calling it a win, my friend!" Ethan exclaimed, grabbing Miles' wrist and teeing himself up for a high-five that, surprisingly, managed to draw a smile from Miles' lips.
"Hmm, now you've just got to figure out how to turn fifteen hours into a lifetime," Mick dryly snorted from beside the pair.
"Don't listen to her, buddy. Negative Nancy doesn't know what she's talking about," Ethan said, waving a dismissive hand in Mick's face and locking Miles' gaze onto his with a protective hand on his upper arm. "You're making good progress! And we're gonna keep making good progress because I, personally, am gonna navigate us… so that we can get you to help…you through this…together."
"...I get what you're trying to say, and I appreciate the sentiment, but that made almost no sense whatsoever," Miles chuckled.
"How the hell are you passing English?" Mick muttered.
"I am hanging by a thread, Mickey Mouse."
"You're seriously gonna accept help from someone who can't even string a sentence together?" Mick demanded, jabbing an accusatory thumb in Ethan's direction as she stared Miles down.
But a head of dirty blonde sticking out amongst a crowd of middle schoolers in the distance, and a curly mop of brown hair trailing behind, watching a brunette with a messy ponytail and a pair of round glasses like she was a prime time TV special, caught his attention before he could respond. An immediate, and unexpected wave of pride washed over him, filling him with a confidence he couldn't quite explain, and suddenly crushes on co-workers and bickering best friends felt like trivial, distant memories - tiny obstacles in the grand scheme of his whole life that were no more consequential than a paper cut or a stubbed toe. Sure, they could hurt, and they could be a major inconvenience, but nothing could hold a candle to how important those two boys were to him. And things were really looking up for them right now - they were both doing well in school, they both had solid friends, and most of all: they were happy. And if those two were happy, then that was all he needed to be happy too - blonde cheerleaders be damned.
"You know what?" Miles chuckled as a smile slipped into place of his weary frown.
"What?" Mick sceptically asked.
"No; I don't need any help," he simply replied as he puffed out his chest and glanced over his shoulder at Carrie. Whereas once this act alone would have sent his senses into overdrive, all he felt this time was the crackling flame that her presence always ignited in his chest fizzling out into a pile of glowing embers. "I've got it under control."
"...Seriously?" For Mick, it felt too good to be true.
"Yeah, I've got a good feeling about this week," Miles said, scanning his surroundings with an optimistic grin. The October breeze nibbled away at his rosy cheeks, and ruffled his hair, but nothing could shake his determination this time. "Things feel like they're actually looking up for us for once," he went on to explain. "And I'm not gonna let myself ruin it by getting worked up over some stupid crush that's never going to go anywhere."
Mick and Ethan shared a momentary look of astonishment before relieved smiles broke across their faces.
"That's more like it, buddy!"
"Wow, look at you, Mr Positive. I'm impressed," Mick chuckled. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
With another glance across to Hawkins Middle School, where Bentley, Royce and Vivien were disappearing inside, Miles settled on his fond response: "I guess I just remembered what's actually important."
"Good," Mick said with a fond smile of her own that soon turned sour thanks to her next statement: "Because it's definitely not that narcissistic asshole."
"Damn, who shit in your cornflakes?" Ethan snorted.
"I had pancakes," Mick deadpanned, just as game for Ethan's dopey shenanigans as ever.
"Look, do you actually still not like her? Or are you just saying that for kicks?" Ethan asked. "I mean, I got it at first because it was super weird that she was even talking to us, but we've been working with her for months now and she has definitely proved herself to be more than an asshole." But when Mick showed no signs of acknowledging that he was right, he pressed on. "Haven't you at least grown to like her a little bit?"
"No, because unlike some people, I'm not swayed by hollow compliments and scraps of petty gossip," Mick replied with a pointed look at her two sheepish co-workers.
"Hey, no, come on, you've gotta admit that her telling us about Hayley Baskin tying her boyfriend to his bed frame was fucking insane - it was like an episode of Dynasty," Ethan tried to defend, but there was no changing Mick's mind - not even when Miles gave a reluctant nod of agreement.
"Yeah, because humiliating her classmates is the way to get me to see her as a nice person," Mick sarcastically fired back with another roll of her eyes. "She may have fooled you two with her stupid 'girl next door' act, but I'm not buying it," she continued, barely even sparing the two cheerleaders a glance over her shoulder as her lips settled into a bitter frown. "Look at them: smiling and laughing like they don't spend half their time ruining everyone's lives - like butter wouldn't fucking melt."
"Uh, it wouldn't anyway, it's freezing out here," Ethan said, earning himself a death glare from Mick as Miles stifled a laugh. "It's gotta be like, what? 40 degrees out today?"
"It is when you get caught in Mick's eyeline," Miles quipped with an exaggerated shiver.
"You're such idiots," Mick huffed, once again sending her eyes to the heavens as she turned and started heading to class. "I don't know why I waste my breath on you."
But Miles was quick to grab her hand, dropping the act and turning on the sincerity. "Hey, come on, we're just joking around. Don't let him get to you - or her for that matter; you said it yourself: she's not worth it."
"...And I am always right," Mick begrudgingly quipped back, softening as Miles chuckled and pulled her in for a side hug, affectionately rubbing her arm. "You're both still idiots though."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know you love me really," Ethan grinned.
"Hmm, something like that," she hummed with a chuckle of her own as she turned to Miles and patted the arm that he had just wrapped around her. "Alright, I've gotta head off to class; I've got an algebra test first period and I'm not risking losing any more brain cells by standing around out here and talking to you bozos. I'll see you at lunch - keep that good attitude going," she instructed Miles with an encouraging smile, before turning to Ethan and flicking his forehead, "And keep him on the right track - don't be a fucking moron."
"Aye, aye, captain," Ethan replied with a lazy salute once he recovered from the thump.
"Don't lose focus," she continued, calling out to Miles over her shoulder as she headed towards the school's entrance. "You've got thi-"
But her sentence was cut off when she collided with a lacy push-up bra and found herself enveloped in a cloud of heady perfume.
"Woah, watch-" As the two girls whipped to face each other, Carrie's wide-eyed, furious glare softened into an amused smoulder the second she realised who had almost mowed her down. "Oh, hey, Makana," she said, exaggerating the name as though she was playing a game with a child - one she found rather amusing if her smirk was anything to go by.
"Carrie," Mick huffed back, not prepared to greet her with anything more than her name as she averted her eyes and tried to hurry past her.
But Carrie was too quick, and side-stepped in front of the girl before she could escape - blocking her path with glittering eyes and a toss of her hair. "You're coming to the pep rally this Wednesday, right?"
It was more of a statement than a question.
A brightly coloured flyer for the event was confidently waved under Mick's nose, as if could convince her to ditch her plans from just the choice of font alone. "No; I've got work. And so do you, remember?" she deadpanned back, not even bothering to pluck the piece of paper from the blonde's manicured fingertips.
"Oh please, it's a Wednesday - we never get anyone in on a Wednesday. Big Ralph isn't gonna miss us for like an hour. And even if he did, if everyone comes to the pep rally, then we won't be losing out on any revenue, will we? It's a no-brainer."
But Carrie's blasé attitude did nothing to sway Mick, and it showed in her face.
Undeterred, the blonde ploughed on with her sales pitch - although it did take a rather catty turn. "Oh come on, Mick. When else are you going to get the chance to show off your school spirit? You could practically be the face of the pep rally with that smile of yours - you know, when you actually show it."
Mick's scowl flared in retaliation before warping into a strained, sickly sweet version of that aforementioned smile. "Well, I hate to disappoint but you and your pep rally will have to manage without me, because, unlike you, I actually care about keeping my job. Not that I have much 'pep' to offer anyway," Mick said, trailing off with a dejected grumble as she once again tried to push past the senior.
Once again, Carrie blocked her path. "Hey, I care about keeping my job," she said, but the laughter that kept edging into her voice told Mick otherwise.
"Could have fooled me," Mick muttered, praying that she hadn't cared enough to hear.
As usual with Carrie, Mick was proved wrong.
"Oh yeah? …Care to elaborate?" Folding her arms and raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, the golden-haired diva stood back to watch the show with a challenging smirk.
"I'm just going by your clock-in times from last week, that's all," Mick replied with a smirk of her own, emboldened when she caught Carrie's eye twitching - likely in shock that she'd actually dared to stand up to her.
"Stickler for the rules, huh?" she scoffed before her lip gloss laden smirk twisted into a wicked grin. "I bet Biagio likes that."
Now it was Mick's turn to see red. She should have known better than to stoop to such sugar-coated spiteful bickering, but with Carrie it was all too tempting. If only the senior wasn't so well-trained, Mick might have had a chance at coming out on top - but if there was anything she'd come to learn over the years, after seeing countless other students fall victim to her razor-sharp wit, no one was a match for Caroline Cole when it came to bitchy back-talk.
Mick bit her tongue so hard she nearly severed it as she set her jaw and tried to keep her cool. "Is there a point to this conversation, Carrie? Or can I just go?" she finally asked with a heavy sigh.
"Well are you going to come to the rally?"
"No."
"Then no, we're not done yet."
Letting out an exasperated huff, Mick crossed her arms and glared straight into the pair of unbothered, blue eyes in front of her. "Look, nothing you're going to tell me is going to get me to go to your stupid pep rally. I'm not missing work, and I'm certainly not covering you whilst you do either. I'm done working my ass off to make up for your laziness. So either get out of my way, or give me a flyer and do the right thing for once in your goddamn life."
"...What? Like ditch the rally?"
Mick could have screamed. Carrie's ditzy flippance was infuriating at the best of times, but right now it was just unbearable.
"I can't do that, I'm already missing the party afterwards - actually, I might have to dip from my shift a little early so that I can at least go for like an hour because, you know, I don't want people thinking I'm a total lame ass-"
"Carrie!" Mick snapped, cutting the blonde's self-centred rambling off before she reached her boiling point.
Startled by the girl's outburst, Carrie pushed her trivial social quandaries to the back of her mind and actually took stock of the sight before her: wide, resentful brown eyes and a pair of shoulders so tense she'd have offered to massage them herself had she not suspected she was the cause of their strain. A fleeting moment of sympathy resonated through her chest as she abandoned her own problems in favour of solving Mick's, although her soft smile and flippant laughter might not have been the most sincere way of attempting to smooth things over. "Alright, alright, I'll stay the whole shift, don't get your panties in a twist," she chuckled as that wicked smirk of hers started to reappear. "Or, you know, do; I don't know what Officer Buzzkill likes."
Even her attempts at being nice were laced with malice. Mick couldn't even bring herself to crack a smile as the girl's carefree giggles filled the air around her.
It took a few seconds, but Carrie did eventually notice that Mick wasn't laughing along with her, and promptly deflated like a beachball on the first day of autumn. "Oh come on, Makana, you know I'm just joking around."
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm not in much of a joking mood," Mick retaliated with another heavy sigh.
Softening yet again, Carrie chipped off another layer of her 'stone-cold bitch' casing and let what was left of the warm, earnestness bubbling away beneath spread to Mick as she set the pep rally flyer back with the others in the pile and placed her free hand on Mick's upper arm. "Hey, look, if this whole work schedule thing is really getting to you then I'll start taking it more seriously, okay? No more late clock-ins, no more 'off-the-record' breaks and no more ditching at the last minute to go to the movies - I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise."
"I didn't think you had a 'best behaviour'," Mick retorted before she could stop herself - but surprisingly, Carrie was the first out of the pair to laugh at the comment, which did far more than any of her other efforts to settle Mick's nerves.
"I'll figure something out," she joked back.
"Seriously?" Mick asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high. After all her joking around, and her general lack of trust for the girl, it was hard to know if this time was actually genuine - although her affectionate smile did a lot to help her cause.
"Totally, I'll do whatever you want if it stops you looking like you want to murder me," Carrie chuckled. "Within reason of course," she added with a wink that took Mick so much by surprise that any words that could have formed any sort of response totally fell out of her head. And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Mick felt a real smile begin tugging at the corners of her lips as she stared back at Carrie. Maybe Miles and Ethan were on to something after all. There was something intoxicating about that grin of hers - the way it made her eyes sparkle like her work outfits when they caught the light from the disco ball. And when she had you locked in her tractor beam, it was hard not to succumb to the warm, tingly sensation her genuine kindness sent flooding through your core - perhaps because it could be such a rarity.
Before Mick could linger on the shift in dynamic though, and the curiously flirtatious undertones she felt sure that wink had carried (if her experience with Butchy's winks was anything to go by), a bright blonde ponytail popped up over Carrie's shoulder that immediately snatched her attention away.
"Guess whose boyfriend just dumped her after she dyed her hair green?" Juliet said with a hushed exclamation that just about worked its way through Carrie's mane of unruly curls.
Unlike Juliet though, Carrie made no attempt to hide her delight at the comment as her eyes lit up like the 4th of July and a downright villainous laugh burst from her mouth. "Holy shit, she actually did it?!"
"Yep!" Juliet gleefully giggled as she once again looped her arms around Carrie from behind and pulled her in for a hug.
"Damn, that is such a shame - I could have sworn Brad said that he liked when girls went unnatural with their hair," Carrie started with what appeared to be a genuine look of concern. "Oh no, wait. Or was it that he didn't like it?"
Any of the hope for Carrie turning over a new leaf Mick had been harbouring wilted as Juliet began to giggle and another wicked grin tugged at the curly-haired perpetrator's lips.
"...Oops," Carrie said, flashing Juliet a momentary look of mock-regret before bursting into cacophonous, callous laughter and collapsing back into her embrace.
Mick felt sick to her stomach watching the two girls cackle at the expense of their classmate - both too self-absorbed to care about the consequences of their 'jokes' for those on the receiving end. Carrie could douse herself in all the glitter and perfume in the world, but that would never change the ugliness of the person underneath. She did a fantastic job at turning on her charm to convince people otherwise - after all, it had certainly convinced Miles and Ethan - but Mick saw through the charade; she saw her for who she truly was. And fleeting moments of superficial kindness were not enough to get her to forget about the years of cruelty she'd subjected her peers to.
As expected though, Carrie spared no thoughts on the rest of the world around her as she steadied her white sneakers on the tarmac and rested her head back on Juliet's shoulder once their laughter subsided. "Oh, I love being me," she finished with a blissful sigh.
"Come on, she's over by the bike shed," Juliet said, entwining her fingers with Carrie's. "She's bound to have turned on the waterworks by now."
And with that, the giggling girls scurried off in search of further amusement without even sparing Mick a glance, let alone a farewell.
"Bye?" Mick called after the pair (moreso Carrie though, since she was the one she'd been speaking to), but they still didn't turn around - too wrapped up in their own conversation to think about the one they'd left behind.
Letting out a huff of frustration - both at being left in the dust, and at her hopes of Carrie changing for the better being dashed - Mick pulled her Walkman out of her backpack and started plugging her headset into the right port. A pair of hands slamming down on her shoulders startled her so much they were sent to the ground with a clatter though.
"Oh shit, sorry," Miles chuckled.
"This whole 'I'm over her' thing had better be real, Miles, because I swear to God she's getting worse," Mick grumbled as she bent down and retrieved the beat-up cassette player. She spent a few agitated seconds brushing it off before turning to him with a warning, fiercely protective look in her deep brown eyes. "Stay away from her."
"Hey, you're the one who nearly tackled her to the ground," Miles grinned, holding his hands up in surrender as Mick conceded in her own way with a begrudging smile. "I'll be glad when this algebra test of yours is over; I don't like you being this tense," he added, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.
"I'm more worried about you than this test," Mick replied with a snort of incredulity.
"Well don't be; I can handle myself - especially against a cheerleader who's more hair than human," Miles laughed. "And besides, Kona's been practising her karate moves on me - I'm basically ready to take on anything at this point."
"Yeah, well, for my sake, don't put that to the test," Mick replied with a fond grumpiness that soon lost out to the smile Miles' laughter drew from her lips.
"Speaking of tests, try not to fail yours," Miles chuckled, wrapping an arm around her as she set about plugging her headphones into her Walkman again.
"I'll do my best," Mick replied, bidding Miles a nod of farewell as he continued on his way into school after a dazed Ethan who hadn't even realised he’d left his side yet.
Smiling as she watched Miles leave, Mick pressed play on her cassete-player. But before she could lift her headphones up onto her ears, she spotted a flash of white and blonde in the corner of her vision. Sure enough, there were Carrie and Juliet: animatedly chattering to a group of school basketball players and, from the looks of their coy, fluttering eyelashes and flirty tosses of their hair, doing their best to convince the jocks to show up to a pep rally they already knew damn well were going to attend. Still, if they wanted to drive their relationships into the dirt, then Mick certainly wasn't going to stop them. Girls like that would never know a love like she and Butchy had anyway.
So, as her smile became tinged with a rare smugness, beyond the initial disgust, she took a deep breath and let her head be filled with sweet music, rather than poisonous thoughts about a certain bitchy blonde. And as she trudged her way through Hawkins High's dingy halls, she couldn't help but feel as though Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' was an apt choice of song to accompany the morning's events. Fate worked in funny ways like that.
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