KAT

IT WASN'T WINDY, SO THE GENTLY SILENCE OF THE CAR matched the faint whooshing outside as the BMW breezed past stores and streets. Previously, they had fully translated the message, figured it out its source, and now they were heading home. Steve's car was in surprisingly good condition, Kat had found out a few weeks ago. Of course, it was disorganized and messy, but in terms of hygiene, there were no stains, insects, or dust pieces anywhere. An old red scarf slung over the back seat, something Kat had left in their back in February. She never took it back, though, because it often got cold in his car (she'd complain his heating wasn't strong enough). And true, it was summer now, but taking back her scarf just wasn't a priority. Steve's glove box had a broken hinge, and he'd installed some sort of functional compartment that held the two pieces together, curtesy of Dustin's creation. One of Dustin's spare baseball caps also were in the backseat, alongside a few bags of chips from his joyrides with Kat, Cameron, and Monique. He also had a cushion set for the two front seats, claiming that the originial seating was too uncomfortable. And underneath a compartment with a lid in between the two front seats, he had a box of tissues, a mini Farah Fawcett spray can, a few granola bars, and one of Kat's lip balm tins.

Kat's hair was half-up, her muscles sore with the past Jazzercise sessions and her mind tired with the translating. She had her seatbelt on, but with the anticipation she felt, it pressed on her more like a restraint than a protective force. She could feel a baseball or squash ball bumping against her foot every time they were in front of a red light. Her hair filtered through the open windows, the wave of the dark brown locks dancing to the wind. 

As a contrast, Steve's hair was like a brick. The thick layers of hairspray made it invincible in any windstorm. Like a steady summer sun, the straight golden-brown hairs retained their form, yet a few baby wisps fluttered up and down, matching her own hairs' pace. Steve's eyes, the exact same shade as his hair, were fixated on the road, a nevernending cement path with white dashes stretching out until his car lights lost their strength. Kat shifted a little, before leaning forwards and facing him.

"How's it going with your dad?" she asked, the question barely whisping past Steve's ears before vanishing into the mist. 

Steve glanced at her before refocusing on the streets. He frowned, scratching at the faintest stubble on his chin before placing both hands on the steering wheel once more. 

"It's still shit. He's dropped the college talk, but now he's dragging my job," he muttered.

"Don't you do that every hour?" Kat remarked, grinning slyly.

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes. "'Course, though, it sounds worse coming from him,"

"Have..." Kat said hesitantly. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"No," Steve scoffed. "You already know; he's just gonna somehow connect me complaining with how valuable and fragile my future is,"

"Well, maybe you could start talking to your mom first about it? When your dad's at work, maybe, or when she's prepping meals? You could find a time of day when she's not busy-"

"-she's always busy, Katie," Steve said, looking at her. His eyes swirled with sadness, anger, and longing. "She's always obsessing over Conrad,"

Kat sucked in her bottom lip, thinking. "But you said it yourself- what do you want to do about it?"

"I dunno," Steve flicked his fingers up from the steering wheel, tapping them back down. "Wait till I can move out, then get outta that house,"

"Oh yeah? Is Scoops gonna give you enough money to do that?" Kat asked bluntly, before redefining her tone to a gentler one. "Do you want to think of a Plan B?"

Steve sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, though he knew this conversation was inevitable, and, hopefully would result in a beneficial future. "I guess. I dunno if I've already fucked myself over, though,"

"How so?" Kat asked, pushing him to talk about his struggles, if not to his father, but to somebody.

"I dunno. Just- I've been really shitty before I met, actually met you and Dustin and everyone, so I didn't get into Tech. And since I didn't get into Tech, I gotta work at Scoops. And since I gotta work at Scoops, I'll never get enough dough to live anywhere else other than Hawkins," Steve sighed. "But ya know, I can dream,"

"What do you dream of?" Kat prompted. Steve kept dutifully driving, though he stole a couple looks at her every couple seconds as he pondered. He smiled, as if living in his ideal, and it made Kat smile as well.

"Honestly- not even just leaving Hawkins. Just not living with that zitwad anymore. Maybe even just moving out of Camden Hills, away from Loch Nora. Living north of town, near Danford. And just- never seeing the dipshit again,"

"Yeah?" Kat beamed, wanting him to continue.

"Yeah. With just a one-floor house this time, I hate stairs. But a bigger pool. With more deck chairs. Like...eight. Eight deck chairs," he said, nodding his head along. 

"Eight? Are you planning on throwing more parties?"

"No, no. Hell no," Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, I want eight deck chairs....Eight chairs, two adults, six kids,"

"Six kids?" Kat said incredulously, her eyes going wide.

"Yeah! It'll be an absolute blast! Expanding the Wheeler Family Friday Nights, three girls, three boys. And it'll be great. Full of that life, yaknow? The noise, the background noise. Not like the current shithole, it's always too quiet,"

"Okay," Kat laughed along. "Six kids, loud house. What else do you want?"

"Hmm," Steve tapped his chin like a philosopher. "On second thought, I do wanna leave Hawkins. Like, maybe come back ever so often. Or, no, I like the stuff here too much- wait, yeah. I'd wanna live here, but take looong vacations,"

"Long?"

"Yep. Super long. Like, four months at a time, two adults, six kids in one RV, driving 'round the country, full-on American Dream. And bonfires at night, with s'mores and hot chocolate. And most times the Party'd come along as well, just, like twenty people," he grinned broader.

"I think you'd need more than one RV, Steve," Kat chuckled, leaning back in her seat.

"May-be. We'd go see all the stuff on TV, the Grand Canyon, Vermont, California, everything. But it'd be relaxing. Even through six little nuggets," Steve trailed off at that, hesitantly stealing a glance from her as Kat noticed a small flash in his eyes, an emotion she couldn't pinpoint. "We'd have a good time,"

We'd have a good time. Kat gulped a little at that, wanting to believe what he could be implying but too insecure to speak up about it. Her breath took a pause as Steve finally took his eyes off the empty, straight road to meet hers. His eyes were only brown in the night, a contrast to the pure gold they were in daylight. Yet he shot through her, tingling through every cavern of her split armor. And as always, he wrapped around the chest she was trapped in, shaking it repeatedly like a child with a toy, and threatening to catch her cold, withered heart in his own sunny embrace.

"Um," Kat choked out, before rapidly throwing her heart-chest back deep inside her prison and retracting her gaze from his. "Uh, okay. That was a good dream, let's- work backwards from there? If you don't wanna leave Indiana, you can maybe apply for a boarding college next year south of Indianapolis?"

Steve pulled away as well, and Kat's eyes instinctively rounded in regret as she watched his face flicker from emotion to emotion. He cleared his throat a bit, nodding as he did so. 

"-Yeah. Yeah- that's a good idea. Carmel, maybe- that's no, that's also north. Yeah, uh, I'll- take you up on that idea, it's pretty good,"

"Oh. Thanks. Thanks," Kat said, a bit bewildered.

It was then she noticed that they were already on Maple Street. The familiar houses of the Nigam's, Tatu's, and Sundberg's flew past as they approached the end of the cul-de-sac. Steve pulled into the miniature loop at the end, coming to a halt in front of the Wheeler's front door. The engine quieted, the chirping of cicadas filling the night air. 

"Uh," Kat said, shifting in her seat. "I- should go,"

She looked up at Steve, who's eyes wavered before fixating on her once more. "Oh. Yeah, that's a good idea," he stammered.

"Okay," Kat smiled at him once more. "Um, bye then,"

"Bye. Nice dreams," he said cheesily, and Kat laughed a beat, before climbing out with a renowned ease. 

She opened the auburn front door, fiddling with the keys as the heavy wood swung open. A smile on her face, she hung up her shoes on the rack, shrugging off her gym bag.

"Hey, baby," Karen said from the kitchen, looking up her magazine. 

"Hi, mom," Kat said, a little hesitantly. "Do you need anything?"

"Nothing much, sweetie," Karen smiled back. "Come here,"

Kat walked over to the kitchen table, where Karen sat at the head seat.

"I feel like we've barely had time to catch up the past few weeks; how are you? How's packing and everything?"

"It's good," Kat replied. "I've almost cleared out my closet and desk,"

"Wonderful. In a month, you'll be off to Lafayette," Karen murmured, stroking the tip of Kat's hair fondly.

"Yeah," Kat smiled and looked down. It was true- she had her mother had barely interacted outside of them doing chores concurrently. Part of the reason was that they were both extremely busy, but Kat knew there was more. Now, as she sat next to the woman that she'd both been raised by and had raised others alongside, she felt a gnaw at her stomach, as if her only response to that uncomfortableness was to go away.

"We'll all miss you, very much," Karen continued. "Me especially, of course, but I won't deny Mike and Nancy,"

"I guess," Kat whispered. 

She briefly wondered how Karen would miss her. As a daughter, or a fellow mother?

"The house will be so empty," Karen frowned sadly. "We won't hear you playing with Holly, or see your car from picking up Mike, or anything,"

"Mom," Kat laughed a little. "I'll still visit every month,"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it'll be different. And you know it, too," Karen placed her hand over Kat's own, and Kat felt the sudden urge to flinch. Except the urge passed, a mere stop light to her road trip. "Yeah. Seeing you all grown up- it's quite a tear-jerker,"

"Mom," Kat whined like a child.

"Kat," Karen said in the same, tone, before the two of them started laughing.

She couldn't keep the small smile off her face as she readied a blanket and pajamas. She quickly plumped up her pillows, and Max's pillows just in case, as she took off her socks, ready to go to sleep nearing midnight. A violet-colored phone hung on the wall she and Nancy shared, a few stickers around it. She'd showered at the Jazzercise, so all was left was for her to sleep. Dabbing some lip balm on from her small, round tin, she shook out her hair before heading to brush her teeth.

The bathroom her and Nancy shared was, thankfully, the biggest bathroom in the house other than their parents'. With seperate sinks, too. Kat dipped the tip of her blue toothbrush in tap water before running it over her teeth, the shooga shooga noises rather annoying to listen to for two minutes straight daily. As one hand brushed, the other brushed out her hair, stiff from its one style kept for the entire day. Her glove brushed against her scalp repeatedly as it did so, which made it uncomfortable. 

Sighing, she held her toothbrush in her mouth as she wrenched the glove off, doing it with such force that all the finger holes got inverted. Over the past months, she'd changed gloves a total of four times. Maybe because of the amount of manual labor or cooking she did occaisonally or her shitty memory, but she had to keep a spare glove in her tote bag now. One time, when she'd nearly torn the house apart looking for it, Mike had exasperately asked her why she just didn't wear one, which, in response, she'd shot him a glare that could burn villages. For somebody who was a wild child, she had a small amount of scars, only some scratches on her feet or knees. The demogorgon wound was easily her main feature of horror. It vaguely resembeled a lizard or a tree branch, smaller cuts stemming from a longer one. It went from near her elbow to the back of her hand like lightning streaking through a city. If she was a statue, that would be the crack running through her marble. The glove covered it well, and most people just assumed she was taking on a punk aesthetic, but sometimes, like when Spinnet asked her to take it off because it didn't match her colorful outfit, the leather turned on her, sneaking up from behind and snaking around her pink flesh, the small indents on the fabric like scales tightening around her heart.

A buzz of the phone shattered her moment, causing her to briefly lose her grip on the edges of the sink. Fuck. She quickly spat out her toothpaste, wiping her mouth against her good hands as she speedwalked to the holster. 

"Wheeler House," Kat hissed into the reciever, and was met with only crackling on the other end. "Hello?"

"Kat?" Max's voice said from the other end. "Oh, thank god,"

"Max?" Kat said in confusion. "Do...do you need to come over?"

"No- no. You need to come over to my place. Now," she said, her voice blurry.

"Why?" Kat scrunched her forehead, leaning against the wall, a bit annoyed.

"Uh-" the was some shuffling, before a different voice took over the call. Stronger, more passionate, and certain. "Katie, you have to go to Max's house right now, we have a code red,"

"El?" Kat asked, more confused than ever. "Um, okay, I guess I can-"

"-We aren't there right now," Max said, taking the phone one more. "But it's urgent, and about...strange...stranger things...happening,"

"Oh," Kat frowned, before it clicked. Shit. "Are you okay, girls?"

"Yes, yeah! Just- we're going home right now as well! Get there, stat!" Max said impatiently, as outside, a steady crackle continued, probably the rain. 

"Okay, okay," Kat said, overwhelmed as Max hung up, the line going black. "I'm coming,"

Max lived on Cherry Lane, which was a short drive from Maple Street. You had to cross over the creek and behind Winston's fields of corn. Which, compared to other destinations, was decently simple. The only downside to Kat's drive was the potholes in the road past the last row of corn and the rain pouring from outside. It was really hard to tell which house belong to the Hargrove's, as all of them were the small, one-story house with front doors laid with broken cement in front. Kat almost had to stick her head out her window to see the 4819 painted in chipped white on the mailbox.

She huffed as she put on her rain jacket, fully prepared to be soaked, rain boots included. She hurriedly parked, ready to make a run for it. And she did, splashing up puddles as she ran up to the Hargrove's front door. She tapped the door knocker four times, wondering whether Max's parents were home.

"Hello?" Kat yelled through the rain, the droplets sliding past her eyelashes and onto her hands, curled into the fabric of her jacket. "Max!" But there was no answer. Kat made a half-growl noise, knocking again, and absentmindedly fiddled with the doorknob. 

And to her shock, the door opened. Oh. Maybe their lock was broken, Kat thought, as she stepped inside. She kicked off her rain boots. None of the lights were on, and she beginned to wonder whether Max and El were playing a prank. No. Code reds were serious. And most definitely real. A crack of lighting came outside, followed by a thundering crash. A four-person dining table sat at the side, though it only had three chairs next to it. The fourth chair was supporting a weight set as well as dirty laundry. Besides that, and a lumpy leather couch, there was no other furniture in the living room besides a kitchen setup. She couldn't see a light switch, so she was just walking around Max's house in darkness. 

"El?" she called again, taking off her hood. Her hands touched the smooth wooden surface of the dining table as she moved further in, the eerie silence swimming around the place. Her heart pounded with worry for the two girls. Maybe they weren't home yet. She found an opening to a hallway, hesitantly making her way past a bathroom. She turned to her left, and she saw what was probably Max's room. It had a springy bed, a few paintings and papers scattered across the entire surface area. Her skateboard was missing, Kat noticed.

A creak of the floorboards startled Kat from the previous quiet, making her whip her head around in the direction of what was supposed to be the empty living room. Except it wasn't empty now. A silhouette, taller than her, and blinkingly familiar stood still in front of her.

"Billy?"

And before she could say another word, he moved closer to her, like a shadow, and his black eyes (didn't they use to be green?) gleamed with a catlike hunger. Kat's heart spiked with fear, a gasp leaving her mouth. Billy was only wearing a white tank top, yet as Kat looked at his face, the veins in his skin, only dark against the night, bulged purple as if Kat was viewing a brain and not a face. Yet it seemed Billy had a withering former, as he tilted his head to the side like a person being remotely controlled from the Terminator. 

Kat took a step back, yet before her foot could hit the ground, faster than he'd hit Steve last year, faster than any human could probably rear a fist to the head, he'd held his hand back, and Kat tried to duck, but she was too slow, as his punch connected with the side of her skull. 

And for a second, the world stood froze. Before it fell apart.