[ iii. detention in mirkwood ]

november 7th, 1983. monday.

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"REMEMBER, FINISH CHAPTER TWELVE and answer twelve-point-three on the difference between an experiment and other forms of scientific investigation. This will be on the test, which will cover chapters ten through twelve. It will be multiple choice with an essay section . . ."

Mr. Clarke's instruction dwindled as he noticed the growing disinterest in his classroom. The school bell had rung, signaling the end of class, and it was as though the students' attentiveness had evaporated with the sound. Once dismissal began, any attempt to distribute homework was a futile exercise; it would only fall on deaf ears. The reality was starkly clear.

Yet, Melanie remained politely in her seat, her attention unwavering as she diligently scribbled down every last detail from the chalkboard. As the classroom emptied, she was left with only Mr. Clarke, her brother, and their two friends.

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas had already gathered around Mr. Clarke's desk at the front of the classroom, their eyes alight with anticipation. They had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of new equipment for the AV club, a group they all were part of. Melanie had never meant to join AV, but it had sparked her interest when she realized she would be given a chance to connect with other nearby towns and dive into the technological aspects of the club.

"So," Mike addressed, "did it come?"

Melanie kept her eyes fixed on her notes, but she heard Mr. Clarke's voice soften. "Sorry, boys. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but..." Melanie's pen froze mid-sentence as she glanced up, catching the crestfallen expressions on her friends' faces. But then, a mischievous smirk began to stretch across Mr. Clarke's pointed face. "It came!"

A chorus of relieved cheers erupted as Mr. Clarke retrieved the keys to the AV room from the top drawer of his desk. The three boys practically raced towards the classroom door, only pausing when Dustin glanced back and called, "Coming, Mel?"

Melanie nodded, swiftly gathering her books and following them into the now-deserted hallway. She did not mind the delay to her next class—neither did Mr. Clarke, who always made sure to excuse the Party's tardiness. Melanie suspected he enjoyed their company on his free prep period as much as they valued his.

About halfway down the hallway, they stopped at a small, unsuspecting door. The AV room, once a modest janitorial closet, had been transformed into a compact yet efficient workspace. Once dusty shelves were now brimmed with club supplies and school materials. At the room's square center sat a large desk, crowned with the newly assembled Heathkit Ham Shack. Its sparkling turquoise hue gleamed under the fluorescent lights, pristine and ready for use.

Mike was the first to reach the desk, dropping into the solitary plush chair. Meanwhile, Melanie positioned herself behind him, with Dustin and Lucas flanking her, all four of them eagerly reaching out to explore the new equipment. Their fingers danced over the buttons, eyes wide with wonder.

"Wow," Melanie breathed. "This bad boy makes all our old radios look like toys."

Mr. Clarke chuckled. "Ain't she a beaut?"

Dustin turned a dial. "I bet you can talk to New York on this thing!" He exclaimed.

Mr. Clarke smiled deviously. "Think bigger," He encouraged.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder at their teacher. "California?" he ventured.

"Bigger."

Mike's eyes widened, likely considering the farthest place from Hawkins he could imagine. "Australia?" he gasped. Mr. Clarke gave a nod of approval, and the boys erupted into an excited uproar.

Amidst the commotion, Melanie's gaze fell on a pair of headphones resting to the side, connected to the radio. She reached for them just as Mike did, but with a single, stern look from her, he immediately relinquished his grasp. Melanie's lips curved into a satisfied smile. Despite Mike's technical older twin brother status, he never used it against her. Besides, she had always had him wrapped around her finger since their toddler years.

Gently brushing her sleek, black hair from her shoulders, Melanie placed the headphones over her ears. "Can you contact NASA?" she asked. "Or any of the space stations?"

At her question, Mr. Clarke's smile faltered momentarily, though he quickly masked it with another chuckle. "I'm not sure about that," he admitted. "I don't think there's much that can reach NASA unless it's directly connected through government channels."

Melanie nodded in understanding, her curiosity still piqued. Beside her, Lucas reached forward to press another button. His grin was infectious, and he practically bounced on his toes. "Man, when Will sees this, he's totally going to blow his shit!" he declared.

"Lucas!" Mr. Clarke admonished, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Though the Party knew Mr. Clarke was well aware of their occasional curses, he never failed to address the children's brash language. It was one of his quirks, an insistence on maintaining a certain level of modesty and respect.

Lucas looked down, contrite. "Sorry," he mumbled. Mr. Clarke's stern expression softened into a fond smile, accepting the apology. Just like that, the momentary lapse was quickly forgotten as they all returned to their excitement.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek of static erupted from the headphones, making Melanie yelp in both pain and surprise. She yanked the headphones away from her head and glanced immediately at Mike, who was the only one with a finger hovering over a dial. He met her stare with an apologetic, yet cautious look.

"Sorry?" he offered.

Melanie, still wincing from the sharp sound, tossed the headphones back to her twin. He caught them effortlessly and slipped them over his ears. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the large microphone from the desk and positioned it close to his lips. He began to speak into the device with a thick, faux Australian accent. "Hello, this is Mike Wheeler, president of Hawkins Middle AV Club," he introduced.

Like a firework igniting, Dustin burst in next. He snatched the headphones off Mike's head and placed them atop his head, the plastic seeming to sink beneath his unruly curls. "Hello, this is Dustin!" he boomed in an exaggerated Australian accent of his own. "The treasurer of Hawkins Middle AV Club. Do you eat kangaroos for breakfast?"

Melanie could not suppress a small chuckle as she crouched beside the radio, her fingers hovering over its many buttons. The intricate controls, each with their minuscule labels, enticed her. This radio was a true beauty—something she had never encountered before.

Despite her family's well-off status, the Wheelers did not possess technology of this caliber, though she wished they did. Melanie longed for such wonders to one day possess herself, again—and always—dreaming of that day she could create groundbreaking equipment for NASA all on her own. Devices that no one had ever seen before.

Her reverie was shattered by a sharp knock on the AV club door. Melanie looked up to see Principal Coleman standing in the doorway. Behind him loomed Chief Jim Hopper and his two deputies, Calvin Powell and Phil Callahan.

The small room turned stifling still, the children and police alike locked in a now-silent standoff.

"Sorry to interrupt," Principal Coleman said to Mr. Clarke, "but may I borrow Melanie, Michael, Lucas, and Dustin?"

A frown creased Melanie's brow as she stood, her heart sinking. Why would the principal, and more troublingly, the police, need to speak with them? In fact, why were the police even at the school? There were no special events or emergencies scheduled this week.

Melanie's gaze flickered nervously to her cast, and she swallowed thickly, reminded of the last encounter she had had with law enforcement over a month ago. They had promised her it would be the last time, too.

Mr. Clarke, understandably sensing the gravity of the situation, gently took the headphones from Dustin's head. "Go on," he encouraged the Party.

Principal Coleman stepped out of the doorway, and the four students were ushered out. Melanie's stomach twisted into tight knots as she noticed the stern faces of the Chief and his deputies. Yet relief still washed over her as she saw that the hallway was deserted—no curious students or teachers to witness their solemn escort to the office.

Melanie kept her eyes fixed on the floor, deliberately avoiding any glance at the law enforcement officials, as she went.

⇝ ⇝ ⇝

ONLY TEN MINUTES LATER, Melanie's ears rang with intense discussion. The intensity being three young boys caught in a fierce battle of overlapping voices, each determined to claim the first and last word.

Currently, Melanie, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas were crammed onto a couch in the principal's office that was barely wide enough for three. Across from them, Chief Jim Hopper and his deputies sat in separate chairs of their own. The Chief simply looked upon the children while the deputies furiously scribbled notes, struggling to keep up with the madness and confusion of conflicting stories.

"Okay, okay, okay," Hopper finally interjected, his voice a weary growl as he raised a hand in an attempt to restore order. "One at a time, all right?" The boys fell silent instantly, and Hopper's attention shifted to Melanie. "You," he said, pointing a finger at her. "You've been awfully quiet."

Melanie met Hopper's eyes openly, and the room seemed to hold its breath. They both knew this was not their first encounter. In a town where secrets were rare, their mutual recognition carried an unspoken punch. Perhaps that was why he decided to call her out. Hopper knew what had happened to Melanie's arm, just as she knew what happened to his life.

Jim Hopper used to be a good guy—or so her mother's gossip went.

Once a man with a daughter and a pretty wife, now both lost: one to the cold grip of death, the other having moved on to her next numbing relationship. Grief and loneliness had driven the police chief to seek solace in the bottle. Its scent had lingered the last time Melanie had been close enough to notice. She wondered now if he was sober, or if the alcohol still held sway over him.

But Melanie's silence in the principal's office was not a result of sympathy for Hopper's tragic backstory. Instead, she was lost in the shock of the real reason they had been summoned here in the first place. The four friends were now entangled in a case of a missing child—a disappearance that threatened to turn their world upside down.

Will Byers, one of Melanie's best friends, was missing.

Joyce had reported Will's disappearance that morning after discovering he had never come home the previous night. Melanie was still grappling with the disbelief. Less than twelve hours ago, she had been laughing and playing games with Will. She had seen him just last night.

How could Will possibly be gone now?

There were no lost or abducted children in Hawkins, Indiana. No, such horrors were plainly inconceivable. Everyone knew everyone, and the town's nature made strangers, and by extension—strange itself—virtually nonexistent.

Melanie's gaze snapped back to Hopper, who was still watching her intently. "What am I supposed to say?" she demanded. "My friend is missing. You know just as much as I do."

The Chief shook his head. "You know more," he countered. "You four were the last to see Will before he disappeared." His attention shifted to Melanie's brother. "You," he said sharply, pointing at Mike, "You said he takes what?"

"Mirkwood," Mike answered.

"Mirkwood?" Hopper echoed. He turned to his closest deputy. "Have you ever heard of Mirkwood?"

Callahan glanced up briefly from his notepad. "I have not. It sounds made up to me."

"It's not made up," Mike insisted.

"It's from a book," Melanie informed.

"Lord of the Rings," Lucas explained.

"Well, The Hobbit," Dustin clarified with a shrug

Melanie and Lucas exchanged an exasperated sigh, their irritation evident as Dustin's irrelevant comment hung in the air. Melanie did not even need to glance at Lucas to sense the eye roll that accompanied his response. "It doesn't matter!" He snapped.

"He asked!" Dustin defended.

"He asked!" Lucas mocked, dragging out the words in a high-pitched imitation of Dustin's speech.

Melanie's face darkened, a frown forming as she registered Lucas's low blow. It was one thing to be annoyed, but to ridicule an uncontrollable speech impediment was beyond fair. Dustin was bullied enough by their other classmates as it was. He did not need to hear it from his own best friends.

She hastily leaned around Mike and shot Lucas a steely glare. "Don't be an ass!" she hissed.

"Miss Wheeler!"

At Principal Coleman's horrified cry, Melanie slumped back in her seat. She had forgotten he was even there if she was being honest, but his disapproval was well-known now. After all, if there was one thing that the principal despised, it was a foul mouth running loose in his school.

Melanie had no choice but to meet Principal Coleman's stern stare. "You've just earned yourself an hour of detention this Thursday," He told her.

Melanie's jaw dropped. "What? Why? I was just standing up for Dustin! You're punishing me for stopping a bully?"

"For being impolite," Principal Coleman corrected sharply.

Melanie rolled her eyes in frustration, before reluctantly sinking back into her seat once more with a sulky demeanor. "Hypocrite," she muttered.

As the room fell into an uneasy silence, Hopper's gaze swept back over the crowded couch of heated middle school students. His attention settled on Melanie's twin again. "What is Mirkwood?" he prodded.

"It's a real road," Mike explained. "'Mirkwood'—It's just the name that's made up. It's where Cornwallis and Kerley meet."

Hopper nodded, as if finally able to put a mental image to the sight. "Yeah, I think I know that—"

"We can show you if you want," Mike offered eagerly.

"I said I know it!" Hopper barked.

Mike immediately shrank back, his shoulder brushing against Melanie's as they both instinctively leaned away from the Chief's harsh tone. After a brief, internal struggle, Melanie's brother decided to lean forward again, his expression fierce as he clenched his fists in his lap. "We can help look," he volunteered.

"Yeah," Melanie agreed, nodding her head. "We know that road like the back of our hands."

On instinct, Hopper's eyes dropped to Melanie's arm, encased in a cast. He shook his head decisively. "No," he said firmly. "After school, all four of you are to go home. Immediately. That means no biking around looking for your friend, no investigating, no nonsense. This isn't some Lord of the Rings book."

"The Hobbit," Dustin corrected.

Multiple glares of annoyance were directed at the Henderson boy. Lucas groaned, and reached across the couch, his arm stretching over both Mike and Melanie, and delivered a swift punch to Dustin's arm. Dustin shot back with a quick jab. Within seconds, the couch was a hissy fit of flailing limbs and indignation, with Melanie and her twin brother caught in the middle.

Unable to bear the senseless bickering any longer, Melanie thrust her hands out to shove the fighting boys apart. "Stop it!" she shouted. "You're both acting like toddlers!" Gripping the fabric of their shirts, she shoved them back onto far opposite sides of the couch. "Just shut up!"

Hopper observed the scene with limited patience. Once the four children had settled, no thanks to the principal, he leaned forward. "So, do I make myself clear?" he asked, his voice low. When no one immediately responded, Hopper rose from his chair, towering over the Party with a newfound intimidating authority. "Do I make myself . . . clear?"

Mike nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir."

"Yes," Melanie murmured.

"Yeah," Lucas and Dustin chimed in unenthusiastically.

"Good," Hopper concluded. He glanced at his deputies, who had already risen from their seats. Without another word, the trio turned and exited the office. The four young friends watched in silence, their eyes fixed on the doorway long after the officers had disappeared.

The spell was broken only when Principal Coleman cleared his throat. "Back to class, kids," he said dismissively. Lucas was the first to dart out, followed closely by Dustin. Melanie trailed behind her brother but stopped abruptly when Principal Coleman called her back. She turned to see him holding out a small red slip. "For you, Miss Wheeler."

A cold dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. Melanie did not need to look at the small slip to know its message. She had observed countless identical ones cluttering Jason Duke's locker. Detention slips. This one was her first, but with a troubling certainty, she suspected it would not be her last.

Without a word, she accepted the slip from Principal Coleman's hand. Then, turning on her heel, Melanie Wheeler stormed out of the office, the slip already crumpled into a tight ball in her fist.

~~~~~~~~~~

edited 08/06/2024.