— CHAPTER 4 —
THE WEIRDO

MONDAY 7th NOVEMBER,
1983

THIS is not what Cath had in mind when she pictured a night home alone. It was hard to believe almost two hours ago, she was blubbering about being shut into the house by herself with nothing to console her except for Ringo and the trashy nighttime TV. But instead, she'd somehow wound up in Mike Wheeler's basement with a total stranger who both terrified her and intrigued her.

The ride to Mike's house was a horror movie in itself. Having been the only one without a bike, Cath had no choice but to perch on the back of one of the boy's bikes — "Without a helmet?!", she'd cried — and since Dustin's bike was apparently too ragged and Mike's already occupied with their find in the woods, she'd ended up awkwardly sitting herself behind Lucas Sinclair, hooking her arms around his chest as her only seatbelt. Her eyes had been clenched shut the entire time, so hard that she felt the strained muscles around her eyes, and could only hope her petrified shrieks every time he turned a corner were drowned out by the thunder.

Still buzzing from the ride (and she had to stress, in the worst way possible), Cath had blindly followed them through a back entrance and down a flight of creaky stairs, and it wasn't until the aroma of musty wood hit her that she came to her senses.

Cath had always thought of basements as dark, creepy places where she couldn't bear being for more than two minutes — but there was something surprisingly homely about Mike Wheeler's basement. The instantly noticeable thing was the large lampshade hanging stilted over a table, where four chairs were messily drawn out around it. The remnants of a board game lay untouched on the table — Dungeons & Dragons, she read on the box, which Cath had no idea how to play — littered with loose sheets and dice. She almost felt intrusive, like she'd walked in on someone's private space. Either way, the basement seemed comfortable enough, even with the stranger sitting opposite them. The anomaly.

     Thunder claps and illuminates the peculiar girl in a sharp flash of lightning that aches in her retinas. Shadows streak the raindrops still trickling down the girl's shaven head, her chest heaving with distressed breaths as her alarmed, deep brown eyes stare fixated at a point in the distance. Cath can only stare in perplexed curiosity with the boys and wonder where on earth she's come from.

     "Is there a number we can call for your parents?" Mike finally asks, after a long period of touchy silence.

     It's the starting gun for a rapid succession of questions, Cath adding on, "Do you remember how you ended up in the woods?"

     "Where's your hair?" Dustin pries. His eyes suddenly grow twice the size and his jaw drops. "Do you have cancer?" he asks in an awestruck whisper.

     "Did you run away?" Lucas inquires.

     "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

     "Is that blood?"

     Mike smacks Lucas's hand away before he can reach the girl, perhaps noticing the horror painted in her eyes at the confrontation. "Stop it!" he exclaims. "You're freaking her out."

     "She's freaking me out!" Lucas rebukes incredulously.

     "I bet she's deaf..." says Dustin. Without warning, he claps his hands at the girl — she instinctively jerks back and starts, her nerves clearly shot. He blinks. "Not deaf." Cath glares at him, muttering his name in a low, disapproving whisper.

     "Alright, that's enough." Studying the girl, Mike sighs. "She's just... scared and cold."

     As he disappears into the corner to fetch some dry clothes, the trio stare at the girl again. Another crack of lightning strikes — the girl suppresses a whimper through sealed lips, eyes clenched shut and nostrils flaring. Cath hopes she sees her sympathetic stare when she opens her eyes again. Whoever she is and wherever she's from, something is not right. She mournfully imagines her parents, pulling their hair our restlessly as they try to search for their daughter, just like the Byers family.

     Mike soon returns, arms bundled with fresh clothes from the laundry basket. "Here," he says, gently handing them to her. "These are clean, okay?"

     The girl takes them hesitantly, slowly massaging the fabric between her fingertips. Then, to their confusion, she raises the shirt up and buries her face in it — Cath isn't sure whether she's smelling it or wiping the rain droplets from her face. Setting down the clothes next to her on the couch, the girl stands up and swiftly reaches down, beginning to pull her shirt off —

     "WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" A wave of panic bordering disgust erupts from the boys, Mike frantically clamping his hands around her wrists before she can go any further, whilst the other three rapidly spin around.

     "See over there?" he explains calmly, "That's the bathroom. Privacy. Get it?"

     Feeling that it's safe to face forwards once more, Cath turns around and sees the girl's alarmed eyes, strained with confusion as she slowly picks up the clothes and shuffles over to the bathroom. Mike follows after her and begins to shut the door, only before she sees her fingers blockade him with a surprisingly steely grip.

     "You don't want it closed?"

     From the bathroom, tuning out from Dustin and Lucas's disapproving mutterings, Cath hears a muffled, "No."

     "Oh, so you can speak." Mike almost sounds delighted, a hint of a smile in his voice. She doesn't understand how he's doing this — staying so patient, so calm with the total stranger. She wishes she had that natural warmth. "Alright. Well. Um. How about we keep the door..." he closes it until it's only open a crack. "... just like this. Is that better?"

     "Yes." the girl says.

In her periphery, Cath notices Lucas giving an erratic shake of his head. His hands are tucked into his pockets, elbows jutted out as he sighs sharply through his nose.

"This is mental..." Dustin whisper-yells, eyes wide as Mike returns to the group.

"At least she can talk." Mike offers as an argument.

"She said 'No' and 'Yes'," counters Lucas, his tone devoid of any sympathy. "Your three year-old sister says more."

Uncomfortable with just glancing awkwardly between the boys, Cath steps forward and nods to the bathroom door. "But look at her," she says sadly. "Surely she must be in some kind of shock."

"She tried to get naked!" cries Dustin.

"There's something wrong with her..." Lucas taps his temple. "Like, in the head."

"She just went —" Dustin mimics the motion of the girl taking off her shirt, knocking off his baseball cap in the process and turning, disorientated, to find where his hat went.

"I bet she escaped from Pennhurst."

"From where?" Mike blinks, not following Lucas's idea. Cath's heard the name too, but only in hushed conversations, or in jokes at family gatherings that make her recoil in distaste — even if she doesn't understand them.

"The nuthouse in Kerley county."

Dustin smirks at him cheekily. "You got a lot of family there?"

"Bite me." Lucas deadpans. "Seriously though, think about it. That would explain her shaved hair, and why she's so crazy."

"Why she went like —" As Dustin acts out the motion again, Cath whispers a soft "Okay, we get it." under her breath.

"She's an escapee is the point. She's probably a psycho."

"Like Michael Myers..."

"Michael who?" Cath queries, completely out of the loop.

"He's a serial killer from the slasher movies." Dustin clarifies.

"What?" Panic arising in her, she spins around to face the bathroom door again. The girl has yet to emerge. Surely she couldn't do that much harm to them... right? She is just scared and lost, and her parents are probably just as distraught. But the prospect of Pennhurst and serial killers isn't any more comforting to Cath.

"Exactly!" Lucas throws his arms up into the air. "We should've never brought her here!"

"So you'd rather just leave her out in that storm?" Mike asks defensively.

"N-no—"

Cutting her off before she can say anything, Lucas snaps, "Yes. We went to find Will, not another problem."

"We should tell your Mom." Dustin suggests.

"I second that."

"Yeah, I agree with them." says Cath.

Mike scrunches his nose up in protest. "Who's crazy now?"

"How is that crazy?"

"Oh, at least tell the Police, Mike." she pleads, tilting her head to the side and dropping her shoulders.

     "We weren't supposed to be out tonight, remember?" he reminds them.

     "So?"

     "So," Mike sighs, "if I tell your mom, and she tells your mom, and your mom..." he winces and hesitates on Cath, before correcting himself. "dad—"

     "Oh man..."

     "Our houses become Alcatraz."

     Cath doesn't have to know what Alcatraz means to get the gist of what Mike is saying. "Ohh, no no no..." she whispers, bouncing tensely on her heels. She can't even begin to imagine the trouble she'd be in if her father found out what she was doing. This wasn't fair. She didn't even want to do this! She didn't want to be home alone, she didn't want to tag along on their stupid search party, she just wanted to go home and for Will to be safe—

     "Exactly. We'll never find Will." Mike pauses. His words bring her back round and she swallows thickly. "Alright, here's the plan," he finally says. "She sleeps here tonight."

     Dustin's eyes pop open so wide she thinks they'll fall out of their sockets. "You're letting a girl—"

     "Just. Listen. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and she'll know exactly what to do. She'll send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from. We'll be totally in the clear." A determined flame is set ablaze in his stare as he adds, "And tomorrow night, we go back out. And this time... we find Will."

━━━━━━

TUESDAY 8th NOVEMBER,
1983

     IF there was one thing that Daphne had learned last night, it was that search parties are a grim affair.

     What she'd expected to be a mass gathering of the community, all united in finding this one kid, was discouraging at best. For what felt like hours, she wandered aimlessly through the woods amongst clusters of flashlight-bearing adults, yelling Will's name until her voice went hoarse. It was a meandering maze of false hope that kept leading her to dead ends — her fingers began to freeze around her flashlight, trembling from the cold.

     At some point, she remembers feeling a rough hand settling on her shoulder. Jerking around, she shone the torch into the face of the figure, who stumbled back and brung a hand up to shield his eyes.

"Jesus, kid..." Hopper cursed, squinting through the light until she brung it away from his face. He rubbed his eyes painfully. "What're you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Like you're doing exactly what I told you not to do."

"Hopper please," Daphne had begged. "I just wanna help. The more people who are out here looking, the quicker we can find Will!"

"Does your dad know you're out here?" he interrogated. Seeing the hesitation it took to scramble for an answer, he clenches his jaw. "Daphne, I'm serious. Go. Home."

It didn't take much argument. By then, although she wouldn't admit it, Daphne was numb with the cold and the disappointment of that night. She trudged on home as fast as she could, suddenly hyper-aware of the nocturnal sounds surrounding her — and she didn't stop until she had locked the door behind her and kicked her shoes off. Cath was home (dripping wet, much to her confusion) and her father still working his shift at the Hawk Theatre.

     Her neck was safe. For now.

     The fatigue from yesterday's mentally and physically laborious search still weighs sluggishly in her bones. Daphne hides a yawn behind her sleeve as she walks into school the next morning, trying to blink the sleep away from her eyes as much as she can. She drags her feet past the bulletin board and stops abruptly — taking a few steps back, she sees the remnants of green paper, pinned to the cork board and frayed at the ends.

     Of course. This was bound to happen sooner or later. And she could bet a few bucks on who she thinks did it.

     Daphne sighs heavily through her nose, walking over to the board and unzipping her bag. She plunges her hand into it and pulls out another poster from the small pile of spares she had from yesterday. She observes the symbols drawn on it, a globe embellished with leaves and trees, scouting environmental slogans around it. Maybe this is a futile fight. But maybe Tonya was also right. They'll see, she thinks, one day they'll see.

      As she takes out the first pin from the board, another figure emerges into her periphery. Daphne glances across and recognises it to be Jonathan — except for the tired bags under his eyes, the colour drained from his face... not that he's always been the most colourful of personalities, anyway.

     Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper from his bag and her heart drops. He smooths his hands over the Missing Person poster on the spot where he wants it to go, before grabbing a spare pin from the cork board and slotting one in. Daphne swallows thickly as she tries not to stare at Will's grinning face in the photo and her eyes fall onto the text below:

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
Will Byers   Aged 12   4'9"
Brown hair, Brown eyes, 73lbs
Last seen wearing Jeans
Blue Plaid Shirt, White T Shirt,
Red Down Vest with tan stripe
carrying Black Canvas Day Bag
Any information call Joyce Byers
555-0141

     Sighing in remorse, Daphne tries to lean into his line of vision. "Hi, Jonathan." she says softly.

     Jonathan turns to face her briefly, acknowledging her presence, before turning back to the task he is absorbed in. That all of the Byers must be absorbed in. "Hi." he mumbles absentmindedly.

     "I..." Daphne stumbles, her mouth going dry. The poster keeps staring back at her — Will's twinkling eyes boring into hers. "I-I'm so sorry about Will."

     He says nothing. How could he? And how could she? No one ever told her how to treat someone whose little brother went missing. She observes the poster again. 4'9"... Cath is only taller by a small margin. But that weight can't be far off. And they are similar in their timid nature, for sure. Her stomach flips at the prospect of the switched roles.

     Taking a deep breath, she attempts to collect her thoughts. Be the bigger person. Be the bigger sister. "How've you been holding up? You know, you and your mom?"

     Shrugging in what was a failed attempt of indifference, Jonathan bows his head. "It... could be better. Mom isn't taking it so well."

     "No kidding. If that was my son, I'd be a wreck too." Daphne watches his hands fall to his sides, stepping back for a moment before the half pinned-up flyer. She's never seen Jonathan looks so crestfallen, so lost before. "But seriously, Jonathan, if you guys need anything — literally anything — we're here for you." She lightly rocks back and forth on her heels. "I... I was actually thinking I might drop by later. I've got something for you guys."

"Uh, yeah sure." he mumbles, meeting her eyes for the first time this morning. "Thanks," he breathes. "It means a lot."

Just as Daphne begins to nod, her focus drifts over his shoulder to a girl making her way over, a folder bundled in her arms and her lips thinned into an anxious grimace. She slows down, briefly acknowledging Daphne before turning her attention back to Jonathan.

"You got company," she warns him under her breath. "Four o'clock."

Jonathan turns the moment Nancy Wheeler has stopped in front of him. The abruptness of his turn seems to startle them both — Nancy's eyelashes flutter as she looks between him and the poster, whilst his shoulders tense into a self-conscious hunchback. The memory from the bathroom on Monday morning creeps back into Daphne's consciousness, so she untucks a strand of blonde hair from her ear and hides her flushed face behind it — only stealing the occasional side-eyed glance to spy on the two of them.

"Hey," says Nancy. He echoes her greeting, his voice laced with wary surprise. "I just... I wanted to say, you know, um..." She too is struggling to find the words as she fails to tear her eyes away from Will's poster. When she finally does, her gunmetal blue eyes grow wide with sympathy. "... I'm sorry about everything."

Reading something from his face, the girl turns to look behind her. Daphne follows their line of sight too, starting when it falls on Steve Harrington — with his usual posse, Carol and Tommy, as well as Barbara Holland for some bizarre reason. Surely she's only there out of association with Nancy. Either way, they all unnaturally begin looking around them as if they weren't staring ogle-eyed at the pair just before, whilst Tommy and Carol titter to themselves not-so-subtly. Daphne, on the other hand, tries to hide herself behind Jonathan's figure since the ground can't swallow her up right now. As she watches Steve smirk at something one of his friends said, she can't help but seethe silently to herself.

Their judgements don't seem to faze Nancy too much. "Everyone's... thinking about you?" she offers as a condolence. Then, as if she realises how shallow it might sound, she sighs deeply. "It sucks."

"Yeah..." Jonathan mumbles.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's a smart kid." At this reassurance, Daphne suddenly remembers Nancy's little brother, Mike — one of Will's closest friends. She'd never thought about it until now, but surely Nancy and Jonathan have been meeting each other through them for years now.

The shrill tone of the school bell shatters the intense intimacy of the moment beside her. Nancy perks up, slowly starting to step backwards. "I have to go," she chuckles. "Chemistry test."

"Yeah," is all Jonathan can seem to say.

"Good luck!"

"Thanks..."

Daphne walks back to admire her handiwork with the green poster, a stark contrast in mood next to Will's saddening Missing Person flyer. She steps to the side of Jonathan, who stares blankly at the space where Nancy was just moments ago, as if he's still catching up on that entire conversation in a lagging reaction.

She clears her throat, appearing to grab his attention again. "I'll... see you when I see you?"

"Right. Uh, yeah," he nods firmly, fingers tightening around the strap of his back. "Thanks again, Daphne."

"No worries."

Stealing one last, aching look at Will's poster, Jonathan starts pacing down the hallway, picking up speed once an announcement drones over the speakers to inform of a gathering on the football field in his brother's honour. Just to rub it in.

━━━━━━

     TUESDAY in school drags laboriously. Cath's stomach twists and turns with the nerves of everything going on, both with Will and the strange girl from last night. There's a shiver that she hasn't been able to shake all day — whether that's from the rain soaking her through, plain fear or both, she can't tell.

     She's half-asleep on the bus to school. She's distant in Mr. Clarke's lessons. She's borderline catatonic at lunch with the girls (although they aren't exactly awe-inspiring either, as she watches them bury their heads in work whilst the words fall apart before her eyes).

     And then there's that empty chair. The one where Will should be.

     Cath is barely dragging her feet along the hallway at the end of school when she feels a burst of energy fall into step beside her. She jumps, hit by both a rush of warmth and a pang of guilt when she sees the girl.

     "Cather!" Andrea exclaims, grinning as always. "There you are. I was wondering where you went yesterday, we never got to meet up again." Today she's still sporting the same denim jacket emblazoned with badges, but today her bouncy, dark brown hair is loose as opposed to the low ponytail from yesterday.

     "I-I'm sorry," Cath begins to stammer, feeling her face burning. "My, uh, day just got really busy all of a sudden..."

     "That's fair enough. I'm pretty busy too, unpacking and all — not that it's easy when you have two super hyper little brothers."

     Super hyper? If Andrea is what Cath would define as those very two words, she can't even begin to imagine her supposedly more energetic brothers. Usually it would wear her out, meeting people so out-there, but she's suddenly quite fond of the idea if they don't stray too far from their sister in their outward sunniness.

     "You can come round, if ya want."

     Cath stops dead in her tracks, almost bumping into the kid in front. "Really? Wait, like today?"

     "Yeah, sure! I mean, only if you want to, I mean —" Andrea giggles nervously, hopping from one foot to the other. "— I don't wanna force you into coming or anything."

     "It's just... I was going to drop this book off at the library."

     "Oh! Yeah, yeah sure! No worries, that's fine. A-OK with me. Some other time then, yeah?"

     Cath nods fondly, grimacing at the awkward silence that's suddenly looking over them. She chews her lip as her mind wanders to the worn copy of 'Little Women' tucked neatly in her bag, before going back to the rhythmic tune Andrea has started clicking her fingers and slapping her knees to.

     Just say it.

    The words stick to the roof of her mouth like peanut butter. It's like the script is lying right in front of her face, but someone's turned off the volume on her voice—

     Say it!

     "Have you been to the—"

     "Hm?" Andrea cuts off the bare murmur before it finishes, eyes alive and attentive. Coughing bashfully, Cath tries again, this time a little louder.

     "Have you been to the Public Library yet?"

     "Nope. Haven't had the time yet."

     "Okay..." For Christ's sake, spit it out. "You can come with me, if– if you like?"

     Andrea appears to curl upwards into a totally different girl as her eyes light up. "Sure I can! Sounds fun. You can be my tour guide and everything."

Cath chuckles lightly, managing a small smile. Once the duo have broken out from the current of children surging towards school buses, she finds the air to breathe once more. Andrea must have, too, because she begins to chatter at a hundred miles an hour — something about her family, where she lived before, she can't quite catch it all. But she's perfectly content with it, Andrea hop-scotching alongside her as she tells animated stories from her previous homes.

As they're both giggling at a particularly amusing story about her Italian neighbours in Chicago, Andrea suddenly grows serious (within reason, of course) as she turns to Cath. "Hey," she laughs, "I just realised... all this time I've been yakking on about myself, but I don't know anything about you!"

     "Oh... no, I guess not." she shrugs sheepishly, gazing down at the floor.

     "Where to begin... hmm... well, I'm sure you haven't moved around the country as much as me, right?"

"No, not really. I-I mean not at all."

"So you were born in Hawkins, right?"

Cath nods, not sure whether that's something to be proud of or not. "Yeah. And my family have lived here... pretty much since it was first founded, so..."

Andrea puffs out a breath of air, bewildered somehow. "Wow. I can't imagine settling down in one place for so long, especially in a small town like this place — I've only lived in cities before, so this is completely different than what I'm..." She trails off and leans her head back, arms dangling limply by her side as she groans. "There I go again! Going on and on about myself."

"That's okay."

"What else... do you have any siblings?"

"Um, my sister Daphne," she answers. "She's older than me."

"By how much?"

"She turned seventeen about a week ago."

"Cool, cool..." Andrea rubs her hands together, then cupping them to breathe warm air into them. Suddenly she jerks them away and snaps her fingers. "Oh, that reminds me! I told my mom all about you yesterday —" She either doesn't see the startled look on Cath's face or ignores it very well. "— and we... well, we kind of have this thing about getting to know people. So, um, she asked me to ask you if your mom is interested in meeting my mom."

Cath's heart sinks, her stare burning into the pavement. "I... I-I um—"

"She's super flexible at the moment too, so whatever time works for you."

"But I—"

"Maybe if she's free tomorrow they could—"

"Look," she finally manages to stop her, the girl stopping in her tracks to face her. "That's... that's really nice of you to ask, but... it's not gonna work." Swallowing thickly, Cath glances self-consciously around her. She doesn't think she's ever told this to anyone within such a short time of knowing them. "My mom isn't really... around, anymore."

A few seconds pass, with Andrea carefully studying her face to extract meaning from her vague statement. Then as it clicks, her eyes widen, pooling with regret — her mouth gapes slightly and she covers it with her hand. "Oh my— Cath, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise—"

"Don't worry, it's fine." Cath nods curtly with a little smile.

"I'm just gonna shut up, I think, before I say anything even more stupid—"

"No, seriously! It's okay..." Stopping in front of the steps leading to the Public Library, Cath inhales a deep breath, tugging on the ends of her mustard yellow sweater. "I never really met her anyway, so..."

Andrea's smile has been completely wiped clean for the first time, replaced with a thoughtful frown — and now she won't stop looking at her. Oh, wonderful, Cath thinks, now you've made it awkward, haven't you? No wonder her family can barely stand to talk about her death for more than five minutes.

Safe inside the two tall doors of the library, a hushed calmness seeps into Cath's mind and settles her nerves. The slight musty smell of the old shelves, the crinkling of pages turning in the tranquility every few moments, the warmly lit nooks to tuck into with a good book. She'll read anything from these shelves — one week it was a History guide, the next it was the works of Louisa May Alcott.

Sitting at the front desk is a friendly and familiar face. Sighing in relief, she walks over whilst retrieving 'Little Women' from her bag, Andrea trailing closely behind. Sensing her apprehension, Cath looks up and gives her a friendly smile.

"I just need to return a book," she murmurs through the quiet of the library. "I'll be a couple of minutes, so, um... feel free to look around if you want." Andrea whispers a little "Okay!" with a thumbs up, before strolling off to the right and disappearing between the shelves.

As Cath steps up to the desk, the woman stirs from her seemingly stationary position — her chin rested on her hand as her eyes glide over the pages of a newspaper, she peers up from it to see the girl. Her lips smooth themselves into a smile, gently shutting the paper. "Bonjour, Catherine." Her voice is like honey, lavish with a thick Québécois accent.

"Hi, Colette." she grins fully, a rare occurrence.

As sad as it might sound, Cath seems to find Colette Rancourt as one of her best friends. She's known the woman for years, of course from bringing her son around to play with Daphne when they were younger — she can see where Felix gets his natural charisma and affection towards others from. But it's her visits to the Hawkins Library, where she knows Colette will listen and resonate with her enthusiasm over her reads, that really cemented her companionship in her. She would've done the same with Daphne... if she was willing these days.

"Let me guess: another renewal?" Colette asks cheekily, watching her slide 'Little Women' across the front desk.

"No, not this time," she says. "I think I've re-read it too many times now."

"Ah." The woman picks up the book and inspects it, rapidly flicking through the worn pages. "You don't want to read a book too many times at once, or else you get bored of them and they get bored of you. Let's say... like your favourite pair of shoes, yes? You wear them too much, and they break! Then what use are they to you anymore?"

"Yeah, I guess so...?" Cath doesn't always understand her whimsical analogies, but even still she enjoys listening to them.

Colette bends down and slides the book into a shelf under the table. "Do you have any idea what you'll be reading next?"

"Not a clue."

"Good, because I've set aside a book just for you."

"You have?"

Intertwining her fingers together, a mischievously eager glint in her eye, Colette leans forward and bows her head confidentially towards Cath. "Catherine, have you read any Jane Austen before?"

"... I don't think so." For all she knows, she could've had it read to her when she was little, but nothing specific comes to mind.

"Oh! Well today is your lucky day. She's only one of the best writers in the history of literature." She drums her fingers on the polished mahogany of the desk and adds, "I think you'll particularly like this one, though."

"Why's that?" When Colette simply smiles, it only adds gasoline to the fire of Cath's curiosity. "Can you give me a clue?"

     "I thought you didn't like spoilers? Find out for yourself, you nosy parker! I've left it on the top trolley in the beginning of the A-Z authors section. You'll know which one it is."

      Alright then. A mystery it is. Cath sets off on her search for the unnamed Austen novel, departing from her dearly beloved 'Little Women' with a fond reluctance. Just before she disappears into a sea of shelves decorated with colourful spines, she catches a glimpse of Andrea mesmerised in a pop-up children's book. She bites back a smile — and really hopes she hadn't made things too awkward earlier on.

     As she looks pointedly away from an ominous book poster — Coming Soon! Stephen King's newest novel, 'Pet Sematary' arriving this November — she feels her spirits lift in the enclosed shadows of the bookshelves. Daphne would probably come out with some poetic statement, something about "blending the line between fiction and reality" or "losing yourself in someone else's reality that you prefer to your own".

     Cath doesn't know about that... she just knows she really enjoys a good book. It's a good hour or two well-spent. Books don't ask difficult questions or require you to prove an on-the-spot answer. You can, quite rightly, disappear.

     She soon locates the trolley Colette had mentioned, tucked in snugly by the beginning of the alphabetically ordered authors section. Her hands stroke the cover of the paperback book, then the spine, before she picks it up and inspects the cover — it bears an oil painting of two women, one more sprightly-looking than the other sensible one, posing gracefully. Above it is, of course, Jane Austen's name and the title, 'Sense and Sensibility'.

     Humming in curiosity, she turns over the book to read the back of it. She's barely begun reading the first sentence when —

     "Hi Cath!"

     She gasps, head jolting upwards to meet Dustin Henderson's face peering through a gap in the shelf. He grins a toothless grin, adjusting his cap on his mass of curly hair. Clutching a hand to her chest, Cath exhales. "... Hi, Dustin."

     "Lucas, I found her!" he suddenly calls, far too loud. Her cheeks burn with mortification as a stranger shushes him aggressively, and he whisper-yells, "Sorry, my bad." Dustin spots the book in her hands and begins walking round from the other side of the shelf. "Hey, whatcha got there?"

     "Um..." she blinks, patting the paperback cover. "It's a book."

     Dustin snorts. "Yeah, duh! 'Sense and Sensibility'..." he reads over her shoulder curiously. "Jane Austen. Huh. What's it about?"

     "I don't know. I was going to have a look before you—"

     "There you are." Lucas joins them, his hands fused to his hips in an exasperated stance. His jaw is clenched with a burning determination in his eyes, one that she's noticed hasn't disappeared since last night.

     In a random burst of confidence, Cath blurts out, "So you didn't die from the cold then?"

     A pause. After a few beats, Lucas furrows his eyebrows at her. "Wait, what?"

     "Oh— i-it's just, you know... after yesterday, because you..." Her attempt to explain her so-called joke is a failure, because now even Dustin's looking at her quizzically. Was it even that funny? It wasn't rocket science anyway; Lucas had simply driven far away from his house in the pouring rain to bring her home, only to pedal all the way back again... somehow. God, Cath, just shut up. "Don't worry, never mind. It was a joke." Note to self: you're not a comedian, so don't even try next time.

     "No, no, I got it, I just..." Waving his arms about in the air, as if to shift the conversation, he stresses, "Whatever! That's not important right now. We were looking for you today."

     She perks up like a freshly watered daisy. "You were?"

     "Yeah," Dustin says, as if it's obvious. "We're looking for Will again tonight. Remember?"

     "Oh... right." Cath falters, tensing up on the spot. She didn't think they'd need her — want her — to help again. And she's not even sure if she wants to be roped into this mess after all.

"We're going to Mike's house first," he continues. "But we wanted to come here and get you first."

"So are you coming or not?" Lucas inquires.

"... Do I have a choice?"

"Do you want to find Will?"

She drags out a long sigh, her shoulders sinking lower as if she were a deflating balloon. It'll be harmless, she tries telling herself. They won't find him anyway, and at least they aren't looking in the dead of night this time. The real work will be left to the actual Police. "Alright," she agrees, lacking any conviction. "But I don't have a ride."

"That's why we have our esteemed chauffeur, Lucas Sinclair." Dustin announces proudly, slapping him on the back, to which he receives a sharp nudge in the elbow.

"I took her last time! It's your turn."

"Who said anything about turns—?"

"Shhh!" Another stranger hisses, face souring into one of distaste as they look the boys up and down. Again, they mutter an embarrassed apology, cowering under the woman's glare until it disappears beneath her cat-eye spectacles.

Cath begins following the boys out from the library, tucking her shiny new copy of 'Sense and Sensibility' into her bag when a pair of footsteps come rushing out from behind, followed by an exclamation.

"Cather! You're going already?" Andrea's clutching some kind of travel book in one hand, her head tilted to the side quizzically.

"Y-yeah... uh... something came up..." Helplessly, she shoots a disappointed glance at that something, observing as they both push open the doors.

"Oh, what's that?"

"I'm so sorry, it's really important, so I've gotta... go..."

Something about the way Andrea seems to dissipate before her is shattering. It's almost as if she's trying so hard to keep it together, that she's actually fine with this after all, but it shows through the cracks. What is she doing? She ditched her the first time yesterday, and now she's doing it again.

"Sit with us at lunch tomorrow."

The words fly out before Cath thinks them, but even then she doesn't take them back. She watches in hope as Andrea seems to recharge with a spark of optimism once more, a grin creeping onto her face.

"Do you know where the cafeteria is?" Cath asks, and she nods. "Okay, well, we often eat in there. So, um, if you meet me outside in the entrance, then I can show you where our table is. Is... is that okay?"

Andrea is positively beaming now. "Com certeza!"

"Excuse me?"

"It's— don't worry, just Portuguese," she giggles. "I'm excited, basically."

"Oh, okay." she laughs back, hovering on the spot to say goodbye.

"Cath, come on!" Dustin calls from the end of the library, getting shushed for a third time. At this point, she's surprised he hasn't been dragged out by the back of his hoodie yet.

"Wait, before you go—"

"Yeah?"

"Um... thanks." Andrea's smile softens into something more sincere, more genuine. "Seriously, it's great to know I'm not alone here."

Cath nods back to her, lingering a moment more before stepping away to catch up with the boys. Yeah, she thinks. Me too.

━━━━━━

     "LOOKING sharp, Delaney."

     Daphne freezes upon hearing the unfortunately familiar voice — she was midway through staring blankly at the desk as her mind wandered to distant places, imagined lands, alternate universes. But here she is instead, in Hawkins, Indiana, cooped up in a small ticket booth at the front of the Hawk Theatre like a toy in a vintage thrift store, and confronted with the last people she wants to see right now.

     Slowly but surely, delaying whatever time she can until she sees their faces, Daphne draws her chin up to look at them. She sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth, her gaze involuntarily drifting to that stupid hair of the one at the forefront, before mustering the willpower to speak.

     "Hello, Steve." she manages, in her most flowery customer-service voice that she can manage. She looks past him at the others and gives a small nod, deciding she's not even going to try wasting her breath on them.

     "What is that, a bow tie?" Tommy prods a finger towards her neck, to which she jerks back reflexively. "Man, are you lost or something? Did your time machine not take you back to the 1950s?" As he aggressively chortles, she becomes increasingly thankful for the sheet of glass separating them.

Daphne traces her fingers self-consciously along the bow tie, straightening it slightly in the reflection of the glass. It's not a bad uniform, she thinks optimistically, then running her hands down her burgundy waist coat. Don't let him get under your skin.

"You're right, Tommy, I do need to get back," she says through a forced smile. "Which is why the sooner you tell me what tickets you're after, the sooner we can all get on with our lives. Sound good?"

Either not understanding her comment or ignoring it, Steve takes over. "Yeah, we'll, uh, have four tickets for 'All The Right Moves'."

"How generic of you..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Shit, did she say that out loud? Not that she needed to take back her point. Whilst she hadn't actually seen 'All The Right Moves', she figures she doesn't have to — Tom Cruise and the football scene was enough to put her right off it. As she retrieves their tickets, she glances up briefly at Steve when he isn't looking. He's shaking his head and laughing at something Tommy said, his infamous hair shaking with it, and all Daphne can think is How the hell did I like this guy once upon a time?

Once she's managed to usher them away into the depths of the movie theatre, Daphne rubs her eyes until phosphenes daze her vision. Sure, the unattractive rudder of this part-time job might be dealing with idiots like them, but it's easily bearable when she considers all the positives that outweigh them. Most significantly that she could literally live in this theatre without complaints — the authenticity of the old screen rooms, the classic red velvet curtains, the traditional lobby...

This is the hub for a movie buff like her.

Glancing at her watch, Daphne gets up from her seat and feels her tailbone throb from sitting down for two hours without movement. She gives each leg a shake to wake them up again, locking the ticket booth door behind her and hobbling over with pins and needles to the wall of posters, where one of her colleagues is unboxing a cylindrical case.

"Ah, perfect timing," he says once he sees her. "Do you mind swapping this with 'Rumble Fish' for me? I've gotta go clear up Screen Three."

"Yeah, sure..." she mumbles, grabbing the case. She reaches in and pulls out a large rolled-up poster, almost knocking out a passer-by with the force of it. It's simply lucky that Tuesday afternoon isn't exactly peak hour for going to the movies, because otherwise Daphne's audience watching this unfold would be significantly larger. This would be a lot easier with two people. Eventually, she manages to pin down the curled-up 'Terms of Endearment' poster on the floor with her hands and knees, now debating what move to make next.

     "No one told me you guys were playing Twister?"

     Daphne's face flushes bright red — whether it's from the blood rushing to her head, the person the voice belongs to, or both. She peers up sheepishly from her position, seeing a lopsided picture of Felix standing in the lobby. His hands rest relaxed in his pockets, and his caramel hair flops weightlessly as he cranes his neck to the side, complete with an amused smile.

     "You really pick your moments, don't you?" She springs up onto her feet and, as she does, the 'Terms of Endearment' poster re-coils back into its scroll-like state from before. Daphne growls through an exasperated sigh.

     "Oh dear," Felix tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "And this is the up-and-coming Spielberg we have in our midst."

     "Actually, I could use your help. This is impossible to do with one person."

     "Mmm, I don't know."

     Daphne huffs, letting the poster recoil once more. "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "Well, you see, you're getting paid for this —" For a moment she becomes distracted by his bobbing up and down, which over the years she's realised is his constant heel-raising for ballet. Her heart warms a little. "— and I wanna know what's in it for me."

     "Okay, hear me out... free tickets to go see 'Terms of Endearment' at the end of the month?"

     "Oh, you had me at free."

     "Wow, what a cheapskate you are."

     "Says the girl who shops for her entire life in thrift stores."

     Daphne's hand slides down the opened glass case where the 'Rumble Fish' poster currently resides, her jaw dropping as she clutches a hand to her chest. "Are you... mocking me?"

     "Not at all. If you want to wear anything not from this decade, then I say wear it." As Felix is handed the old poster, he inspects it for a moment and lets out a dreamy breath. "I don't know about you, but I think this poster should just stay up."

     "You like it?"

     "By it, I mean Diane Lane. Just cut out her face and stick it up there forever, and that's it. That would do it for me."

     Snorting, Daphne breaks out into a grin mirroring Felix's, one so wide that she feels the sides of her cheeks aching already. Together they smooth the new poster over the board and pin it up, and for a moment she's taken back to this morning — Will's poster. Suddenly his eyes are right there, young and soulful with so much ahead of him. It reminds her that she really should drop by and see Joyce this afternoon.

     On the last pin, her fingertips brush against Felix's — it's merely a light touching of skin, but it completely dissolves her as she feels electricity tingle over skin and set her hairs on end. And caught up in his tender gaze that happens to linger a beat longer, it's so much easier to step into what was. Remembering being wrapped up in his arms, lying between blades of grass on those warm summer evenings, and his kiss. God, his kiss.

     Don't. He doesn't want to go back, and neither can you if only one is in it.

     Daphne clears her throat, flustered and eager to change the subject. "Hey, weren't rehearsals on today?"

     "No. Well, they were, but..." Felix's face falls. "That's actually what I wanted to ask you about."

     "Ask me?"

     "Tonya never showed up today."

     She blinks at him, eyebrows knitted together in surprise. "She didn't?"

     Shaking his head, Felix shrugs. "Nope," he replies. "And she wasn't at school today, either. I tried calling her but no one answered the phone. Did she seem okay when she dropped you off yesterday?"

     "Yeah... yeah, she was absolutely fine." Daphne can't understand it. Maybe she's overthinking it, but something about what he's describing doesn't sit right with her. Tonya was practically glowing last night. And then something twists in the pit of her stomach like seasickness churning her insides. If Tonya supposedly went missing the day after Will did...

No. It's too soon to say. She's probably fine.

     "Hm. That's funny..." Scratching his head, puzzled, his brown eyes drift off in uncertainty. "Oh well. I'll try calling her later. Anyway, I'd better be on my way home now, so I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, see you..."

Once is an anomaly. Twice is a coincidence...

And if everything Daphne's seen in crime thrillers is true, then she can only hope they don't reach number Three.

━━━━━━

A/N;

i kind of have a love-hate relationship with this chapter – some parts i felt meh writing, other parts i loved. and fun fact: while writing the daphne/felix scene i listened to "because you loved me" by céline dion. it's of literally zero significance to the plot. i just thought it would be a fun fact...

(edit: SCRAP THAT I JUST RE-READ THE CHAPTER AND I LOVE IT ALL NOW)

also i just realised i'm publishing this on the same date that most of this chapter takes place! wow! all of this was happening 37 years ago (i think. look, my mental maths is mediocre at best). now somewhere in the world, cath's in her late 40s whilst daphne and andrea are in their 50s... WHAT

— Imogen

[ Published: November 8th, 2020 ]