the interrogation

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"Sit down," one of the police officers instructed. There were two of them, sitting on chairs provided by the principal, who was currently at his desk, pretending not to eavesdrop on their interrogation. Alina sat on the bench across from them, nervous, pulling at threads on her shirt.

"My name is Chief Hopper," said the policeman on the right of her. She vaguely recalled seeing him on the news a couple of times, and it was surreal seeing him right in front of her now. "We're just going to ask you a couple of questions about this missing boy."

"Will," Alina corrected. Her legs were trembling a little, and she pressed them together, trying to keep them still. She didn't want Hopper to know she was afraid. "His name's Will. Will Byers."

"So you do know him," said Chief Hopper. He was holding his beige hat in his hand, occasionally spinning it around his fingers, and Alina's eyes followed it, not knowing where to look. Mr. Coleman, the principal, looked up from his papers and gestured at her to speak.

"Only a little," said Alina, tugging another thread. "We used to hang out when we were really young. In the sandbox, on the swings, whatever. He sometimes says hi to me in the halls now, but other than that we don't really talk. We're not friends, or anything." She perked up, wanting to be helpful. "He does hang out with these three boys, though. Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, we've talked to them already," said Hopper. "They were the first we spoke to, as they're the closest to Will, but one of them mentioned you and said you'd spoken to him on Saturday. Is that true?"

Alina nodded. "I was on the front steps of this school, and he and Lucas were biking by, and Will stopped to say hi. I'm not sure why. As I said, we don't really talk."

Hopper nodded, the other policeman scribbling something down. "And he only stopped to say hi? He didn't say anything else?"

"Not really. He asked me why I'm alone all the time, but that was really it. He didn't say anything about being worried or anything, if that's what you mean."

"Do you know of anyone in or outside this school that might want to hurt Will?"

Alina thought for a second, then remembered Troy and James. "Yeah," she said. "But I mean, they're just bullies. Kids are... they're mean at this age. I don't think... they don't seem like the sort of people who'd do that. Trust me, it wasn't them."

Principal Coleman looked up again, interested, as Hopper asked for their names. "Uh, well, their names are..." she squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing if Principal Coleman would believe her. "Their names are Troy Walsh and James Dante."

Hopper asked Alina a couple more questions about Troy and James, as well as if Will had been acting in any way strangely in class, before letting her go. Alina stood up gratefully, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, but Principal Coleman, surprisingly, stopped her.

"Is what you said true?" he asked her. "About Troy and James? Have they really been tormenting Will?"

Alina nodded. "Yeah. Will's friends, too. And... and me."

"Why didn't you bring this to my attention? We could've done something about it if we had proof."

"Because," said Alina, "I didn't think you'd believed me. Those two try and act like perfect angels in class... and I'm the... I don't have a lot of friends. And I'm reserved, and I don't get the best marks, and—"

Principal Coleman raised a hand. "It's alright, Alina. I understand now. But you can always come to me, alright? You don't need to hide things from me. I promise to do everything in my power to try and help you and the others being picked on by those two boys, but I need you to help me, okay? If you see anything like that, I need you to come right to me or a teacher. Okay?"

Alina nodded again, shocked at the seriousness that Principal Coleman was taking this. But... "I don't think we should focus on Troy and James right now," she said. "Finding Will is much more important." She shivered a little, wondering where the poor boy had gone. It's Hawkins, she reminded herself again. Nothing happens here.

Principal Coleman sighed. "The police will find him," he said. "You've been exceptionally helpful, Alina. Now, go ahead, go home. It's already twenty after."

Alina thanked her principal before finally heading out into the afternoon. Climbing onto her bike, words and names scrambled in her mind, repeating themselves over and over until they made almost no sense. Magnet. No. Missing. Will Byers. Bullies. Troy and James. Magnet. Like. Not hurt you. Girl from the Lab. Dangerous. Will. In trouble. Don't go. Missing. No. Will Byers. Not hurt you.

Magnet.

Alina's eyes widened. Magnet. What was a magnet, exactly? Well, it was something that attracted things. And when Alina had found the girl both times, there had been this tugging sensation in her stomach, an invisible hook pulling her towards the girl with her torn hospital gown.

The girl hadn't known to speak properly. Alina could tell during her conversation, as the girl strained for words she didn't know when trying to explain things to Alina. So, perhaps, she had one of the words she did know to describe the feeling inside her when she came close to Alina. The very same one Alina had felt.

Alina knew now that she needed to get that file. As soon as possible.

As soon as she got home, she set down her bag, gave Skywalker a few pats, and sprinted upstairs to her father's room, one of two places at home she figured the file must be. She tried the door, and it swung open with barely a whisper, allowing access to one of two rooms she usually wasn't allowed in.

Brandon's room was a little larger than Alina's. He had his extra lab coat hung on a hook on the door, a pair of gloves thrown on his dresser, which was already cluttered with spare change, kitty litter, and birthday cards Alina had made throughout the years. His bed was neatly made, his closet door thrown open, clothes draped on the floor or half-hanging off hooks. It was a combination of neat and organized and disarray, precisely the way Brandon liked things run.

Alina had to be careful. Her father knew exactly where everything was and moving even one sock from its proper place could alert him that she was in his room. So Alina cracked her knuckles, took a deep breath, and began to get to work.

She checked his nightstand first. Other than a couple of water rings marring the wood, it was in pretty good shape, some of his old yearbooks from his high school and college days and other papers stacked neatly in the drawer. Alina grabbed the first yearbook, looking through it, but there was no file hidden inside. There was a geeky picture of Brandon as a freshman in high school, though, with a mouthful of braces and thick glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

Alina put the yearbook on the bed beside her, going through the rest of the high school ones. Brandon hadn't gone to Hawkins High, as he'd lived in Indianapolis before meeting Linda, who was the Hawkins native.

One of the college yearbooks had a picture of Linda in it. Alina had to admit, she looked quite a lot like her mother. They had the same eyes, the same nose, the same smile, and Alina knew she would end up looking more like her when she grew up. In this picture, Linda had her hair straightened, and was smiling at the camera, her eyes half-closed. She must've been in the middle of blinking when it was taken.

The picture made Alina nauseous, and she closed that yearbook quickly. She didn't want to end up looking like Linda, the woman who'd hated her, who'd called her a disappointment and a disgrace. But it turned out that Alina most likely would be.

After finding no trace of the file in Brandon's nightstand, Alina moved on to the closet, making sure she put each item of clothing exactly as it was before, even if it took her several minutes to fold it that certain way. Her heart was pounding, and she was straining her ears to hear the menacing sound of the door being unlocked, even though her father didn't usually come home for another three hours.

There was nothing in the closet except clothes, and Alina sighed, wiping sweat off her brow. This was proving to be harder than she'd originally thought. But then she thought of the girl again, and gritted her teeth, continuing to look.

Her side was still sore, aching every time she bent down, but Alina pushed on, searching under the bed (nothing but dust bunnies and an old sock), the dresser (just more clothes and some magazines) and even under the mattress (nothing). She was in her father's room for over an hour before conceding defeat. The sun had begun to lower, wind rattling at the windows, and her stomach began to growl.

Alina made herself a quick snack and watched TV, thinking about Will. It was yet another piece in this puzzle of trouble, all of them somehow intertwining. Alina knew, somehow, that Will's disappearance wasn't normal. She knew, in her gut, that he wouldn't be found in a couple of days. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, a small part inside of her was telling her that if they did find Will, he wouldn't be alive when they did.

Brandon arrived home a few hours later and prepared spaghetti for dinner, Alina twirling her noodles around her fork and pushing around her meatballs. She could barely eat, her mind wandering beyond the mundane world.

"Everything alright?" Brandon asked. His plate was already clean, while Alina's had barely even been touched. She startled. She didn't think it had been that long since they started eating.

Alina took a sip of milk before responding. "The police questioned me today. Will... Will Byers is missing."

As Alina watched carefully, her father's face fell into a convincingly sorrowful expression. "Oh, that's right," he said. "I heard about that today. I'm sure it's nothing, Ally. They'll find him soon enough."

"Yeah," said Alina dully, chewing on a strand of spaghetti. "Yeah, hopefully. It was just weird, you know? Considering I knew him and all that?"

"You two were practically inseparable on the sandbox," Brandon chuckled. "I remember that." He reached over, squeezing Alina's hand. "Please, Ally. Don't worry. We're in Hawkins, remember? Nothing happens here."

Perhaps if it had been a month ago, Alina would've looked into her father's warm eyes and believed him without question. But now the story was more complicated. Now things had changed, and Alina's dad was hiding something from her. Something big. Now, she looked into his eyes and saw her own afraid face reflected back at her. Now, she looked into his eyes and saw concealment and lies. Now, she looked into his eyes and saw a father she didn't know anymore.

"Right," she still said, though her voice was dull. "Right, dad. Nothing happens here."

Alina had managed to sneak out again that night, even though Skywalker had almost ruined it by meowing loudly as soon as she'd open the door. She wore her raincoat, knowing that rain was on tonight's schedule, her binoculars dangling around her neck and her flashlight tucked in her pocket. She biked into the woods, knowing that it would be the perfect place to hide, the perfect place for someone who was young and scared to go if they didn't know what to do.

As soon as she got into the woods, she turned on her flashlight, the beam shining sickly through the eerie trees. The woods were tolerable by day, but at night the branches morphed into rotted fingers, the gnarled trunks becoming contorted faces screaming for help. Every snap of a branch terrified Alina, and she wasted around ten minutes by whirling around every time an owl hooted.

Finally, she mustered up the courage to plunge into the woods. "Hello?" she called. Sure, her main priority was to find the girl, but if she happened along Will on the way, she wouldn't complain, even though search parties had already traipsed this area many times.

"Hello?" she called again, trying in vain to keep herself from trembling. "A-anyone there?"

It began to rain, as promised, thick, fat drops already soaking Alina to the bone before she'd even had a chance to pull up her hood. She shivered, treading on, calling for Will and the girl, feet splashing into puddles, crashing into trees and aggravating her side. It was raining so hard now that all of the other sounds had drained away, and Alina realized that she wouldn't hear anything in this weather.

She was just about to concede defeat, the batteries in her flashlight beginning to drain, when she heard it. The conversation carried over the harsh winds, right to her ears. And Alina recognized those voices.

Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, and Lucas Sinclair. 

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a/n: i don't have much to say but thank you for all the support on this book! i seriously appreciate every vote and every comment on this book, it really makes me happy. like, seriously. :)

'till next time!