Eddie's blank stare flipped to an amused grin when he recognized the voice on the other side of the line. "Ah, come on Mike. If someone decided to call the cops because of how I answered the phone, that would already make my night a little more entertaining. Unfortunately, the movers and shakers are few and far between this evening. Although I did see Jason Carver's pop and man oh man did that take me back. You know that man ordered a red beer? That's beer with tomato juice, Mike. That's psychotic behavior, right there. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, I'll tell ya..." he trailed off, realizing Mike probably didn't call to hear the drink orders of their former classmates' parents. Still, the theatrical side of him couldn't help but divulge. Without warning, Eddie noticed a non-paying customer stepping behind the bar to grab a beer. "Hey, no one goes behind the counter but me or my bar backs, got it? You want something, you ask, okay sticky fingers? Mike, hey hold on a sec..." The cord to the phone could only stretch so far, so he clumsily placed the headset down on the wooden bar as he moved to grab cash from the beer thief. After placing the bottle down in front of them, Eddie returned to the phone with a huff.
"Wait...you're asking me for advice? The same person who took three tries to graduate?" He kept his mouth clenched then, giving Mike the opportunity to get through the specifics of what he was asking. Thankfully, most of the information he sought was fairly easy to answer.
If you’re picking electives this year, let me save you some trouble. The easiest class you’ll ever take is Ms. Kelley’s Child Development. Yeah, you have to carry around an egg for a whole week, pretending it’s a baby, but honestly? That’s way less stressful than Speech and Debate. In that class, they’ll bury you in essays, making you write and present arguments for and against everything. Ms. Kelley only asks for one essay a quarter, and she’s way more understanding than most of the other senior teachers. Now, Algebra II? Stay far away from Mr. Jones. If you get the chance, take it with Mr. Himbry instead. He’s zones out half the class and probably has Irish coffee hidden in that thermos he always carries. The rest of your classes are pretty standard. Just do your work and keep your head down. By senior year, most students have completely checked out, so if you actually show any interest in what they’re teaching, they might just cream their pants and beg you to take their extra credit.
Locker section, locker section... truth be told I only used one my last year because I didn't study before then. No books to carry, no locker. But if I can remember right, stick to the area in the academic wing. That's where the majority of your Senior classes are going to be, so you won't be scurrying around like a rat on butter half the time. And I'll have you know, smartass, the best place to study is the library. I wouldn't know, but that's what I've been told. I think your brainiac sister should be able to help you with other spots though. How is she, by the way?" he asked nonchalantly.
The purpose of Mike calling him for school advice was made clearer when he mentioned being nervous. Ah. Now this made more sense to Eddie. This he could help with.
"Mike... senior year? Besides the pressure to pass and figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life, it’s smooth sailing. You’ve clawed your way from the bottom all the way up to the top of the totem pole. You’re already one foot out the door while the freshmen are still struggling just to find their footing. It’s only natural to be nervous. Hell, you’ve got a lot more going for you after graduation than I ever did.”
A sharp pang of bittersweet nostalgia tightened in Eddie’s chest, quick and fierce, before fading away like a wisp of cigarette smoke. How he wished he could be a senior again, full of that raw hope, that burning belief he could finally kick the dust of Hawkins off his boots and never look back. But reality had other plans, and in the end, it was reality that made Eddie’s choice for him.
"Talk to me. What are you nervous about?" he urged, shifting the phone to his other ear as he made a Tequila Sunrise for the Hawkins librarian.