002 The Magnet for Trouble
'Kid, you say you want a part-time cook job here. I don't trust what's on your résumé or what you say—show me right now.' A huge, bearded, bald cook slapped Richard's résumé face-down on the table, pointed at the burger grill and the utensils beside it, and waited with folded arms.
Richard nodded and showed off his skill, flipping a patty so juicy that a perfect Maillard crust formed across its surface.
Before tasting it, the big man was already sold on looks alone.
He snagged a fork, stabbed the patty a few times—it held together firmly, dangling from the tines—grunted approval, and took a big bite, setting the half-eaten burger back on the plate.
Chewing thoughtfully, arms crossed, he fixed his eyes on Richard's calm face.
At last his brows relaxed into a grin, and he thrust out his right hand. 'Kid, you're hired.'
'Pleasure to meet you, boss!' Richard grinned and clasped the offered hand.
[Relationship formed with Benny's Burgers' Benny. Plot Points +3]
Actually Richard didn't have to get hired just to farm points; being a customer would have worked. But he desperately needed a part-time job to keep cash coming in.
After failing to add any stat points today, he'd planned to hit the local shops, grab groceries, and cook himself a 'welcome-to-another-world' dinner. A hunt for spare change turned up nothing, so he headed for the bank—only to discover his balance was a measly thousand dollars.
Damn this orphan-start! Couldn't fate at least give me wealthy parents?
Forced to find work, he noticed Benny's Burgers nearby was hiring cooks and servers. Confident his Culinary Arts could handle burgers and fries, he applied—and snagged the plot points while he was at it.
Benny's a softie behind the scowl. Bald, bearded, towering, and always grease-smudged, he looks intimidating but loves to help.
Living close by, Richard was already neighborhood gossip; Benny knew the kid's situation and never planned to turn him away or make it hard.
If Richard's cooking had stunk, Benny would simply have offered him a server apron—but the boy's skill impressed him.
'Four straight hours a day, one meal on the house, cash at closing—sound good?' Benny asked with a smile.
Richard flashed an OK sign. 'Absolutely. I'll sprint here after class. And if I mess up, feel free to come pound on my door—you know where I live.'
Benny laughed and clapped Richard's shoulder, liking the kid's humor.
The slap stung, but Richard thought, Enjoy it, Benny—I'm about to rewrite your death.
In the original story, the runaway psychic Eleven from Hawkins Lab would land Benny a bullet from government agents covering up Hawkins' secrets.
Now that Richard had stepped into Benny's fate, he intended to change the ending.
Happy, Benny showed kindness in his own way: closing time was near, unsold food wouldn't keep, so he loaded Richard up with leftover salad, fries, nuggets, and burgers.
Most of it was junk food, but Richard felt the goodwill and accepted with a smile, warming to the rough but kind man.
Tonight was a solo feast; with money in his pocket, every night could be.
Savor it—Hawkins won't stay quiet much longer.
The next morning, after the opening assembly, Richard hugged his books and froze in the doorway, feeling every eye on him—social death incoming.
He had no memory of his assigned seat; everyone thought he looked like an idiot. How to fix this—fast?
A graceful middle-aged woman with old-fashioned gold-chain glasses slipped past. 'Mr. Richard, why aren't you in your seat?'
'Bet the foreign sissy's on the rag again!' A freckly classmate leapt up, voice and gestures over the top.
Half the class cracked up.
Again?
Richard thought to himself, Looks like my counterpart in this world has been bullied by that guy more than once.
Ms. Mary frowned at the boy's remark, but only slightly; she was long used to the class's lack of discipline. She spread her arms to quiet the students, raised her voice while keeping her poise, and said, "Tommy, watch your language. Hey—rest of you rowdy boys and girls, settle down…"
Tommy H. is the school bully at Hawkins High. In the show he was Steve's early sidekick among the teen crew. Where Steve was just a rebellious kid with a conscience, Tommy was rotten to the core—crude, shameless, and without a single redeeming quality.
Tommy loved grinding salt into wounds. In the original story he repeatedly mocked a classmate worried about her missing brother, and—without proof—scrawled a girl's name next to the word "slut" across the cinema marquee, leaving her to bear the abuse and the shame.
Back to the present: Ms. Mary hadn't even finished speaking when a blur of motion brushed past her with an "Excuse me," gently moving her aside from the podium.
A thunderous bang followed—Richard had slammed a book onto the desk.
Richard's face was grave, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. Students with weaker nerves flinched away. Tommy's grin faded a notch; he stared back with a sneer, waiting to see what stunt Richard would pull.
"Class," Richard began calmly, "do you think what that boy just said was funny?" When every eye was on him, his voice turned furious. "No. It wasn't funny at all."
"I'm appalled, shocked, trembling, chilled to the bone," he declared. "In this free, enlightened land I hear someone hold a woman's normal bodily function up to ridicule? I will not stand for it."
Tommy, who'd been shooting his mouth off, was stunned, feeling a giant label slapped on him. He blustered, "I didn't—I was only talking about you—"
"Oh my God, did you hear that, everyone? He admits to picking on a motherless orphan. Every woman deserves respect. Who here doesn't have a mother? And how can someone with a mother spew such filth? Have you thought of your mom, your sisters, your girlfriend, your classmates—" Richard turned to Ms. Mary "—and our second mother, Ms. Mary, who works so hard for our character and studies?"
Ms. Mary clutched her chest, moved by Richard's earnest gaze, then glared at Tommy. "Tommy, your public remarks insult women. I'm reporting this to Principal Coleman and your parents. I'm deeply disappointed in you."
"Y-yeah, that was way out of line," piped up a small boy in glasses, hand shaking as he pointed at the now-pale Tommy. "And it's not the first time—you insulted my mom before. He's a repeat offender."
"Tommy, I'm ashamed of you," added a boy who'd been snickering moments earlier, now righteous.
"Tommy, we're ashamed of you!" More voices joined; they jabbed fingers in the air toward his nose in unison.
"We're done, Tommy." His girlfriend Carol, who'd been clinging to him, shoved him away in sudden fury and flounced to a seat across the room.
Tommy stared in disbelief, so shaken that the light push toppled him. Surrounded by scorn, he stammered, "What are you doing... what are you all doing..."
"Tommy, I seriously suspect you're a communist sympathizer. You scum—I'll write to have your family investigated for un-American activities!" Richard slammed the desk again and jabbed a finger. "If not for class rules I'd beat you senseless, commie!"
"Commie! Commie!" The chant rolled like waves.
Tommy H. had never faced such universal condemnation—he was usually the ringleader. Now the target, he cracked, wailing as he bolted from the classroom.
It was the first crushing blow of his life, and the giant accusation left his mind blank.
He's trash, but if he hadn't come after me I'd have ignored him. Guess that's my Misfortune talent pulling trouble toward me, Richard mused.
[Relationship established with Hawkins High character Tommy. Plot Points +3]