Nancy
"When alpha particles go through gold foil, they become?" Barb reads of my flashcards as we walk through the school halls.

"Unoccupied space," I answer.

"A molecule that can—"

Steve comes by, grabbing the flashcards out of Barb's hands.

"Hey!" I complain.

"I don't know. I think you've studied enough, Nance," he says.

"Steve—"

"I'm telling you, you know, you got this. Don't worry. Now, on to more important matters. My dad has left town on a conference and my mom's gone with him, 'cause, you know, she doesn't trust him."

"Good call," Tommy says.

"So, are you in?"

"In for what?" I ask.

"No parents? Big house?" Carol says.

"A party?" I ask.

"Ding, ding, ding!" Carol says.

"It's Tuesday," I point out.

"'It's Tuesday,'" Tommy mocks. "Oh my God."

"Come on," Steve says. "It'll be low-key. It'll be just us. What do you say? Are you in or are you out?"

"Um . . ."

"Oh, God," Carol says. "Look."

"Oh, God, that's depressing," Steve says.

I glance over in the direction they're looking and see Jonathan Byers hanging up what appears to be a poster about his missing brother. "Should we say something?"

"I don't think he speaks," Carol says.

"How much you want to bet he killed him?" Tommy asks.

"Shut up," Steve says, shoving Tommy.

I make the decision to walk over to Jonathan, approaching him with a simple "Hey."

"Oh, hey," he says.

"I just . . . I wanted to say, you know, um . . . I'm sorry about everything." I look back at my friends. "Everyone's thinking about you. It sucks."

"Yeah."

This conversation is ridiculously awkward, but I couldn't just stand there while my so-called "friends" made fun of him. "I'm sure he's fine. He's a smart kid."

The bell rings.

"I have to go," I say. "Chemistry test."

"Yeah," he says, smiling.

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Jonathan
"Attention all students and faculty," they announce over the intercom. "At eight PM tonight, there will be an assembly on the football field in support of Will Byers and his family."

I don't know if she says anything else, because I walk out of the school too quickly.

(Y/N)
I was awakened by someone contacting me through my walkie-talkie.

"(Y/N), wake up!" they said, and I automatically recognized the voice to be Will's. "Wake up! (Y/N)!"

I picked up the walkie-talkie, groaning. "What time is it?" I ask, too lazy to look at the clock.

"I don't know; about seven?"

That woke me up. "Shit. I forgot to set my alarm."

"Just hurry up! I'm already waiting for you outside."

"Okay. I'll be there in under five."

I rushed to gather my things, put my hair up in their usual pigtails—of course, they're high up on my head, and I wouldn't take it any other way—and made my way outside to meet Will.

"Am I going to have to start reminding you to set your alarm now?" he asks as we begin walking.

I yawned. "Possibly."

He chuckled. "God, what would you do without me?"

I grinned. "My life would be a mess; that's for sure."

I roll over in my bed groggily. I could've sworn I saw the lights blinking on and off. . . . But, then again, I am pretty tired in the morning.

I blink a few times and check the clock, which reads seven thirty. Oh, crap. I forgot to set my alarm again. {Hawkins Middle School actually starts at seven thirty so I'm just kind of rolling with that.}

My life is more than a mess without Will in it.

.^.^.^.^.

I rush into the classroom, setting my things down in my usual seat. Lucas and Dustin look at me as if they were just wondering why I was late and I also notice that Mike's not here.

"What's happening?" I ask.

"Mike's really late today," Dustin says.

"I'm telling you his stupid planned failed," Lucas says.

"I thought you liked his planned," Dustin says.

"Yeah, but obviously it was stupid, or he'd be here."

"If his mom found out a girl spent the night—"

"He's in deep shit right about now."

"Oh, if Mrs. Wheeler tells my parents . . ."

"Mike wouldn't say anything about us," I say. "He wouldn't sell us out."

"I don't know," he says.

"All that matters is, after school, the freak will be back in the loony bin, and we can focus on what really matters—finding Will," Lucas says.

Mike
"You want anything to drink?" I ask El. I snuck home after Mom left so I could take care of her and so she wouldn't be seen by anyone if they come home early. "We have OJ, skim milk . . . What else? Um, we have . . ."

El wanders into the living room, looking curious about everything.

"Oh, this is my living room," I explain. "It's mostly just for watching TV. Nice, right? It's a twenty-two-inch. That's, like, ten times bigger than Dustin's."

She looks at all the pictures on the mantel. She focuses specifically on Nancy's photo, running her hand along the frame. "Pretty."

"I guess. That's my sister Nancy," I say. She moves onto Holly. "And that's baby Holly." And then a family picture. "And those are my parents. What are your parents like? Do they live close?"

She ignores me and feels around the recliner.

"That's our La-Z-Boy," I say. "It's where my dad sleeps." {Yooo mine too.} "You can try it if you want. Yeah. It's fun."

She maneuvers around to sit in the chair.

"Just trust me, okay?" She nods and I pull back the lever, bringing up the ottoman. She nervously chuckles. "See? Fun, right?" I sit her back up. "Now you try."

She pulls the lever and the chair tilts backwards and we laugh. {When two twelve-year-olds from the eighties are entertaining theirselves by playing with a recliner and even with the technology today you can relate.}

Jonathan
Despite what Hopper said, I'm on my way to Dad's now. Should I Stay or Should I Go? starts playing on the radio, bringing back memories of Will and me.

Will and I sat on my bed, listening to Should I Stay or Should I Go? We both bobbed our heads to the beat.

"You like it?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's cool," he said.

"All right, you can keep the mix if you want," I said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. All the best stuff's on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smiths, Billy Joel . . ." {Yes I added Billy Joel sue me.} "It'll totally change your life."

"Yeah, totally."

From the kitchen, I could hear Mom yell, "Where the hell are you, Lonnie? I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it."

I got up and shut the door, doing the best I can to shut out Mom and Dad's arguing. I lowered the volume on the radio.

"He's not coming, is he?" Will asked.

"Do you even like baseball?" I asked him.

"No, but . . . I don't know. It's fun to go with him sometimes."

"Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"No, all right? He hasn't. He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay? Especially not him. But you like The Clash? For real?"

He smiles. "For real. Definitely."

I turned the speakers back up.

I pass the townline. God, I miss that kid. I hope what Mom and Nancy Wheeler are saying is true. . . .

Joyce
"Joyce, I wasn't expecting you today," Donald says as I walk in the store. "I brought Jefferey in to cover."

"I'm not here to work," I say, searching through the aisles. "I . . . The storm last night, I . . . I need a new phone."

He rings up the phone. "Okay, that looks like twenty-two dollars and fifty-six cents."

"Uh, yeah, you know, uh . . . I gave Jonathan all my money for . . . the copies for the posters. Uh . . . I need an advance."

"Yes, well, of course," he says smilingly. "Of course."

I softly thank him. He starts writing and I tell him, "Yeah, uh, I was thinking two weeks?"

"Yes, I understand, but, you know, I have to pay Jefferey for covering—"

"Donald. I have been here for ten years, right? Have I ever called in sick or missed a shift once? I've worked, uh, Christmas Eve and Thanksgiving. I don't know where my boy is. He's gone. I don't know if I'm . . . ever gonna see him again, if he's hurt. . . . I, uh . . . I need this phone and two weeks' advance."

He smiles and nods, continuing to write.

"And a pack of Camels," I add. {Okay but the first time I watched this I didn't have the subtitles on and legit thought she was asking for camels.}

Dr. Brenner
"We're all clear," he says.

"Copy that," I say.

We search around the yard for any traces of it. I walk into the shed and the beeping on my detector grows more rapid. On the wall is some goop, oozing out of the boards. It was definitely here.

Mike
I slam the figurine on the table. "Ready are you?" I say, mimicking Yoda's voice. "What knows you of ready?"

"His name's Yoda," I explain to El. "He can use the Force to move this with his mind." {Lol so can she.} "Like this." I push all the other figures down on the table, pretending like Yoda did it with his mind. "Oh, and this is my dinosaur, Rory. Look, he has a speaker in his mouth so he can roar." I press the button to make the staticky roar sound and notice she's wandered away from the table and to my shelf of trophies.

"Oh, these are all my science fair trophies," I say. "We got first every year. Except for last year when we got third. Mr. Clarke said it was totally political."

El is focused on a picture of me, the guys, and (Y/N). She points to Will with a shaky finger.

"You know Will?" I ask. "Did you see him? Last night? On the road?"

We hear a vehicle pull up and I look out the window to see Mom's car turning into the driveway.

"We have to go," I tell El, grabbing her wrist and leading her downstairs. Mom is just coming in the door, Holly in her arms, so I bring El back upstairs.

"Ted? Is that you?" Mom calls out.

"Just me, Mom!" I shout down to her.

"Mike? What are you doing home?"

"One second!"

I open the closet door of my bedroom. "In here," I say to El. "I'll be right back, okay? Please, you have to get in, or my mom will find you. Do you understand? I won't tell her about you. I promise."

"Promise?"

"It means something that you can't break. Ever." {So . . . my obsession with Stranger Things is a promise . . . ?}

"Michael?" Mom calls again.

"Please?" I ask Eleven.

She looks reluctant to get in but does anyway. I shut the door quickly and rush back to Mom.

Eleven
He shut me in the small room.

They shut me in the small room.

They took me away from Papa.

I can't get out.

I couldn't get out.

Mike
"I just . . . I don't feel good," I lie to Mom. "I woke up and my head—it really hurt bad, and my throat was all scratchy, and I wanted to tell you, but the last time I told you I was sick, you made me go to school anyway, and—"

"Michael," she interrupts my rambling.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not mad at you."

"No?"

"No, of course not." She sighs. "All this that's going on with Will, I can't imagine what it's been like for you. I just . . . I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. I'm here for you, okay?"

I nod and hear a thud from upstairs.

"Is there someone else here?" she asks.

"No," I say, shrugging innocently.

.^.^.^.^.

"Eleven?" I ask, opening, closing, and locking the door to my room swiftly. "Is everything okay? El?" I open the closet door and she's sitting on the floor, her face streaked with tears.

"Mike," she says softly.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

She looks at me for a moment before nodding.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

She nods with a smile. "Promise."