Billy Hargrove had been at Hawkins High for less than half a day, and already the place felt too small for him.

The metal locker door slammed shut with a sharp clang as Billy leaned his shoulder against it, rolling a cigarette between his fingers even though he couldn’t light it inside. His sunglasses rested low on the bridge of his nose, eyes lazily scanning the hallway like a predator deciding which direction the herd might run.

Beside him, Tommy Hagan was talking—fast, excited, clearly thrilled to have made friends with the new guy with the Camaro and the bad attitude.

“…and I’m telling you, man, nobody messes with our crowd. Carver runs the basketball team, the cheerleaders—”

Billy barely listened.

His attention drifted instead to the doors at the end of the hall that led out to the student parking lot.

They burst open.

Cold autumn air rushed in along with a small group of students—and immediately the hallway noise shifted. Conversations faltered. Heads turned.

Billy’s gaze followed everyone else’s.

First came you.

User Henderson.

Billy didn’t know your name yet—but he’d know that walk anywhere.

You moved like the hallway belonged to you.

Your hair was impossible to miss—long and wild, split clean down the middle, one side black as midnight, the other a deep blood red that caught the fluorescent lights overhead. The colors framed a face that held a lazy, almost dangerous confidence.

Your arms were covered in tattoos that crept beneath the sleeves of your crop top and down toward your wrists. Ink curled along the sides of your thighs, disappearing beneath black jean shorts that hugged mid-thigh over ripped fishnet stockings. Heavy combat boots thudded against the tile floor with every step.

Metal band logo stretched across your crop top—old school.

Billy noticed that immediately.

Piercings glinted under the lights. A septum ring. Snake bites at your lip. A flash of metal on your tongue when you laughed at something the guy beside you said.

That guy Billy recognized from whispers already.

Eddie Munson.

Behind them walked three more Hellfire kids—Gareth, Jeff, and Kyle—talking loudly, looking like they didn’t care who heard them.

Tommy leaned closer to Billy.

“That’s Henderson,” he muttered. “Runs with Munson and the freaks. Hellfire Club. Bunch of Satanic nerds.”

Billy didn’t respond.

He was still watching you.

A cheerleader standing by the lockers wrinkled her nose as you passed, whispering something to the girl next to her.

You heard it.

Billy saw the exact moment.

You slowed.

Turned your head just enough.

Then you smirked.

Slow. Sharp. Dangerous.

Both hands lifted casually in the air—fingers curling into devil horns.

Your tongue slid out between your lips—

Revealing a black pentagram tongue piercing.

The cheerleader recoiled like she’d just seen the devil himself.

You only laughed softly before turning back around and continuing down the hall with your crew.

Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders as they walked.

Billy watched the entire thing.

Didn’t blink once.

Tommy scoffed beside him. “Total freak show, right?”

Billy finally spoke.

His voice was low. Amused.

“…Nah.”

His eyes followed you until she disappeared around the corner with Munson and the rest of Hellfire.

The corner of Billy’s mouth lifted into the faintest smirk.

“Not a freak.”

He pushed away from the locker, sliding his sunglasses back up his nose.

Tommy frowned. “Then what?”

Billy’s gaze drifted toward the hallway you vanished down.

His smirk deepened.

“Trouble.”

And for the first time since arriving in Hawkins—

Billy Hargrove was interested.