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Samantha Hughes was eight years old when she first met William Byers.

It was Hawkins Elementary's first day back from winter break, and none of the second graders were having it. Especially Mrs. Hoover's homeroom.

No, actually. It wasn't Mrs. Hoover's homeroom, anymore. Sam's mom had mentioned something about Mrs. Hoover having a baby, so she wouldn't be returning for a good amount of time.

Sam didn't really get it, but she really did hope the stork delivered Mrs. Hoover's baby quicker. She didn't know how much longer she could stand Ms. Godfrey as their fill-in.

"All right, y'all. Ev'ryone stand up. Imma give y'all a'new seatin' chart for the new semest'r," the pale and wrinkly old lady had announced to them all. Sam didn't think Ms. Godfrey was aware that second graders had no clue what a seating chart or a semester was, but maybe that was the horrible accent Sam couldn't understand.

"I'm not havin' anoth'r Mrs. Hoover incident, ya hear? Y'all gettin' split up by boys and girls, 'cause y'all too young for all that."

Sam always tried to be a nice person, as her mother had taught her to be, but it had already been about five seconds with the woman and Sam was going to combust.

Whatever that word meant.

Ms. Godfrey pointed to one side of the classroom, and upon checking the L's on her hands, Sam realized it was the right. The teacher glanced down at her attendance sheet, "All right, fellas over there. Anthony Walsh, Matthew Jones, Taylor Brown, Justin Zimmerman..."

She continued listing off all the boys in Sam's classroom, but Sam tuned it out as the information didn't really pertain to her.

Unless Ms. Godfrey knew something Sam didn't, because it wasn't long before Sam swore she heard, "Will Byers, Mike Wheeler... oh, and Sam Hughes."

Sam's eyes shot up to the teacher, concerned and very, very confused. It was only when everyone started laughing at the Hughes girl that Sam realized Ms. Godfrey didn't even think she was a girl. She had seen the name 'Sam' on the attendance list and thought Sam was a literal boy.

"What's so funny, huh?" Ms. Godfrey snapped amongst the chatter, completely missing how Sam was trying to hide away from all human life due to the teacher's awful eyesight. "Quitch y'ur laughing and start movin' around!"

Sam, the people pleaser she was, had no bravery to tell her substitute that she was, in fact, a girl. So, she started moving around like the good little boy she apparently was and sat in the closest seat to the back corner she could find. Everyone was still turning around and laughing at Sam, causing her to slouch down even farther in her seat.

God, Sam missed Christmas break.

Stephanie probably had no problems like this in middle school. Why couldn't Sam be in middle school? This was totally unfair. Stephanie had friends. Stephanie didn't get made fun of. Stephanie didn't have a boy's nickname. What did Sam do so wrong?

"I said shut the hell up!" the old woman yelled again, and this time, everyone listened. Most students whipped around to the front of the classroom in fear.

Turns out, class was more dreadful than attendance. Who else was surprised?

Not Sam.

As they were let out for recess, Sam was very last to exit the classroom so no one could walk behind her. There was something about knowing people can stare at Sam that gave her immense anxiety (especially when Godfrey had just made her a target for teasing). All of Sam's classmates eagerly ran outside.

That was, except for two boys that, for some reason, had decided to wait for Sam to get up.

"Hi!" a very small and very friendly boy spoke up from in front the taller black-haired boy wearing an unamused expression. Sam flinched at the volume of his voice, blinking rapidly to understand what was going on.

"...Hi?"

"Y'all hear what I said?" Ms. Godfrey stayed put at her desk, glaring at the three students who had yet to leave the classroom. "Git outta here!"

Sam let out a long and loud passive aggressive sigh, trying to hide a glare as she walked out of the classroom. Even as she left it, the two boys still followed her trail (well, the smaller one dragged the miserable one, but).

"I'm Will! Well, William, but you can call me Will," he continued, now side-by-side with Sam.

She had to do a double take, still confused as to why he would be so excited to speak with her. Why wasn't he just making fun of her like everyone else?

"I'm... Sam," the Hughes girl replied, stopping randomly in the hall as she didn't feel like going outside in the cold. She shrugged self-consciously, "I guess you probably knew that, though. It's supposed to be short for Samantha."

Will nodded, "Yeah. Sorry Mrs. Godfrey's so weird. I would say worse words, but my mom doesn't allow that!"

"My mom doesn't either, but my sister still says them anyways. My dad says she's a bad influence on me, but I think she's funny," Sam confessed. She had no clue why she was telling this all to a boy she'd just met, but he seemed nice enough. Sam could use some of that.

"You have a sister?" Will gasped. "That's so cool! I have an older brother! His name is Jonathan."

Sam smiled at him, "My sister's name is Stephanie. She's a little weird, but I like her." At the mention of 'weird,' Sam was instantly reminded of the third person in their group who had yet to say a word. "Um... What's your name?"

It was quiet for a few moments as the boy just stared back at Sam. Will's smile turned tight-lipped at his friend's rudeness, and he nodded the boy's way. "That's Mike. Short for Michael."

Mike still did not respond.

"He's not much of a talker," Will laughed awkwardly. "Well, actually, he is, but I think he doesn't like new people. Guess you two just need to get closer to each other!"

Sam doubted that would ever happen from this boy's behavior, but she still settled on the polite route with, "Hi!"

"Hi."

Sam furrowed her eyebrows and her nose crinkled. She tried to make some sort of conversation with him so as to not be rude, "Do you... have any siblings, or...?"

"Yeah."

Will sighed.

He hit Mike in the shoulder, "He has a sister. Her name is Nancy and she's really cool! You should come over and meet her some time!"

Mike scoffed, "Um, no. She shouldn't."

"Mike," Will hissed, as if Sam didn't hear the whole interaction. She also tried to hide the fact it affected her.

"It's ok," Sam forced. "You can just come over to mine. I doubt Stephanie would want to hang with us, but we don't need her!"

Will gasped a second time, as if Sam presented her with a new car, "Really?"

"Yeah, sure! I'll ask my mom if you could come over this weekend! You too, Mike," Sam beamed. She's never clicked with someone like this. "I don't really have a lot of toys, though. I really just like to draw."

"I love to draw!" Will exclaimed happily. "We can draw together!"

Sam's face lit up, matching Will's energy, "That would be so fun!"

"Yeah, yeah," Mike drawled sarcastically. He turned to Will, "Can we go play now?"

Yeah, Sam didn't really think Mike liked her.

But that was okay. At least she had Will, now.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

She lost Will. She really lost Will.

Sam didn't even know how to process it, really. All she knew was that she had Will, and now she lost Will. He was gone. And although part of her brain told her he wasn't, that he was still alive, Sam was done being optimistic. She was done trusting in some random bald girl with superpowers, or Sam's own intuition, or any other non-logical related facet in her life. Sam was a science girl. She looked at facts.

Fact: Will Byers was dead.

She heard a soft knocking on her bedroom door, causing Sam to look up. For the past 3 hours or so (because she received no sleep whatsoever), Sam had just been sitting here in her bed. She wasn't saying or doing anything, just sitting there and staring at her sheets.

Will Byers was dead.

"Hey, Sammy. It's me," Stephanie's muffled voice vibrated through Sam's wooden door. "Can I come in?"

Sam tried to answer, she really did. But it was like the words got stuck in her throat, a mess of Will, Will, Will, and she just couldn't do it. Sam continued to stare at her door, as if that would telepathically convey her message to Stephanie.

But Stephanie got some semblance of an answer when she tried opening Sam's door anyway, only for it to already be locked. Stephanie sighed out in the hallway, but Sam was used to disappointing people right now.

"I'm assuming you're gonna miss school today," continued Stephanie shakily, "and that's totally fine, all right? Take all the time you need. You've even got Corey worried," she added, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but it only made Sam's stomach churn. Flashes of Sam's breakdown replayed in her mind.

Still, Sam did not answer, which shouldn't have been a surprise, but Stephanie still left a blank of silence for her in case Sam wanted to.

"Alright, well, I've gotta get going. If you need anything... just — just call me, or something. I'll be here as soon as I can," said Stephanie, almost in a pleading voice. There were three words attached in the silence, like a ghost looming over them. Neither of them could say it, but both of them knew each other wanted to. It was just... ever since their parents died, well...

The words got stuck in their throat, then, too.

"Okay," Sam whispered in her raw, croaking voice, but Stephanie had already left the hallway by then. When a lone tear fell down Sam's face, she carelessly wiped it away.

Finally finding the ability to move, Sam shifted further down in her bed so she could lay in it properly. She pulled the covers up, wanting to swallow herself whole and lie in the reality Sam couldn't accept.

Will Byers was dead.

But just as she closed her eyes, no longer wanting to be conscious for the day—

"Sam? Lucas? Do you copy?" came Mike's garbled voice through Sam's Walkie.

Sam's eyes snapped open. A dangerous glare lacing her features directed towards Mike, although he couldn't see it. There was a beat of silence where neither Sam nor Lucas answered.

"Guys, come on," Mike spoke again, after a sigh. "I know you're there! This is urgent, I'm serious."

Sam and Lucas's ability to communicate wordlessly, even when they couldn't see or hear each other, was pretty astounding — both of them had somehow reached the agreement to ignore Mike reaching out to them.

"I'm not gonna stop until one of you answers," stated Mike, like the annoying asshole he was. "Samantha! Lucas!"

Then—

"Sam and Lucas, Sam and Lucas, Sam and Lucas, Sam and Lucas, Sam and Lucas, Sam and Lucas, Sam and Lu—"

"Go away, Mike," Lucas cut him off, sounding just as annoyed as Sam felt. As Lucas responded, Sam had (finally) gotten out of her bed. Her Walkie was still resting on her desk from the last time she used it, so Sam decided she wanted (scratch, needed) to turn the thing off. If she had to hear Mike's voice any longer, Will wouldn't be the only dead Party member. Lucas continued, "We're clearly not in the mood, all right? Over and out."

Thankful for Lucas warding Mike off, Sam reached for her Walkie atop her desk so that she could finally turn it off; the same way she assumed Lucas was doing. But Sam picked it up, and Mike was arguing again.

"No," pressed Mike. "Not 'out.' I'm not messing around, okay? This is about Will. Over."

Sam reached blindly for her broken glasses, before successfully grabbing and putting them on. Hearing the sound of Will's name made Sam's heart drop to her stomach. She clicked on her Walkie to respond, but still found herself at a loss for words.

"What about Will?" Lucas asked for her. "You mean, about his funeral? Over."

"No, not his funeral. Screw his funeral!"

Sam's face screwed up wildly. What?

"What?"

"Just get over here stat," Mike ordered. "And bring Dustin. Sam, I know you're listening. You're coming over, too. I'll drag you myself. Over and out."

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So, apparently, Eleven had been fiddling with Mike's Walkie like she usually was. Somehow, someway, she turned the Super-comm onto a channel where they heard Will. Their Will. Their Will, who was supposed to be dead.

When Sam first heard this, she didn't believe Mike in the slightest. It was textbook psychology — the first stage of grief was denial. Sam knew of grief very well; she went through all the stages already when her parents died. She understood how close Mike and Will were, so she figured Mike was just trying to cope with the loss of his best friend.

So, Eleven tried proving it.

Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin sat in front of Eleven, who was sat at the entrance of the fort Mike made for her. They were all sitting crisscross, and the non-supernatural children listened as Eleven attempted to get in contact with Will again.

Through the Walkie, Sam heard whimpering, crying, and muttering of a small child. She stiffened, recognizing the sound instantly.

How could that be real?

"We keep losing the signal, but you heard it, right?" Mike looked around the small circle they had formed on the floor desperately and Dustin glanced away awkwardly while Lucas let out a small sigh.

"Yeah, I heard a baby," Lucas shrugged.

Mike's face screwed up. He asked, "What?"

"Mike, you obviously tapped into a baby monitor. It's probably the Blackburns' next door," Lucas reasoned, rubbing at his eye tiredly and trying his best to be sympathetic.

They all knew how close Mike and Will were, they were the first ones to become friends out of the entire Party and it wasn't a surprise that Mike was grasping for ways to keep Will alive in his mind, however unethical those methods were.

"Uh, did that sound like a baby to you?" Mike asked, speaking to Lucas as if he were dumb. "That was Will!"

"Mike..."

"Lucas, you don't understand. He spoke last night. Words!" stressed Mike, despite knowing he sounded crazy. "He was singing that weird song he loves."

Offended, Sam interjected, "Not weird. It's 'Should I Stay or Should I Go.'"

"Yeah, that! Even El heard him!" Mike retorted, pointing between the two.

Sarcastically, Lucas scoffed, "Oh, well, if the weirdo heard him, then I guess—"

"Are you sure you're on the right channel?" Dustin intervened, not interested in getting caught between another one of Lucas and Mike's fights.

With an unamused eyebrow, Sam commented, "What right channel is there for contacting the afterlife?"

"Will's not dead!" argued Mike.

"Sorry," started Sam sarcastically, after taking in a breath. "My bad. What right channel is there for contacting you're pronounced-dead-but-somehow-alive best friend?"

"Ha, ha," Mike deadpanned, before moving on. "I don't even think it's about that. I think, somehow, she's channeling him."

With a look of slow realization, Dustin awed, "Like... Like Professor X."

"Yeah," nodded Mike gratefully.

"Are you actually believing this crap?!" Lucas scoffed, looking at Dustin incredulously.

Dustin faltered. "I don't know, I mean... Do you remember when Will fell off his bike and broke his finger? He sounded a lot like that."

"I can recognize the sound of Will in a heartbeat. That was definitely him," Sam confirmed surely, nodding in agreement.

With wide eyes and a hurt look, Lucas started, "Sam—"

"But," she continued, because Lucas had stopped her from talking too early, "that's just... I don't understand how it can be possible. We saw them pull his body out of the water."

Lucas gestured to Sam gratefully. "Thank you!"

"Well, okay, don't sound too excited," Sam countered, a little off-put. "Now you sound like you want him to be dead. I'm just stating the facts."

Mike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Not everything has to be about science, Sam!"

"They pronounced him dead!" Sam debated.

Sam felt for snapping like that, because the group immediately went quiet. She sighed in disappointment of herself, forcing her shoulders to drop and stop being so tense. The subject of death was still always so sore for her. She thought she would be fine with separating Will and the sensitivity of her parents, but now Sam knew she was wrong.

"Well, maybe it's Will's ghost. Maybe he's haunting us," proposed Dustin, not wanting to watch his friends' sanities crumble, anymore.

"It's not his ghost," Mike denied easily.

Lucas crossed his arms, unamused. "And how do you know that?"

"I just do!"

"Then what was in that water?!"

"I don't know!" Mike grew frustrated with Lucas's failure to believe him. "All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive! He's out there somewhere. All we have to do is find him."

Lucas and Sam locked eyes. He was wearing a frustrated expression as he nodded from Sam to Mike.

"Tell him we're not going on anymore wild, goose chases," Lucas requested of Sam.

But Sam faltered, and Lucas could read her like a book.

"Sam—" he started, face full of dread.

"Scientifically, this makes no sense..." she breathing in shakily, rubbing her nervous hands on her pants. "But if there's a chance he's alive," Sam went on, with a certain expression on her face (not hope, but somewhat bordering it), "I'm taking it. We have to find him, Lucas. I mean, it's Will. It's Will. We can't do this without him."

Tentatively, Sam now met Mike's gaze. He nodded at her thankfully, to which Sam returned the gesture. They were both trying to smile, but it fell short on their faces with how stressed they were.

Because Sam was right. It's Will.

Mike's Walkie squealed as Eleven continued her attempt to channel Will. Mike continued paying attention to her again, sighing as he grabbed the super-comm from her hands.

"This isn't gonna work," Mike said. "We need to get El to a stronger radio."

Sam perked up in realization, saying, "Mr. Clarke's Heathkit ham shack," to which Mike nodded with a smile.

"The Heathkit's at school," Lucas reminded them logically. "There is no way we're gonna get the weirdo in there without anyone noticing. I mean... look at her!"

In unison, Sam's, Mike's, and Dustin's heads followed Lucas's gaze and examined Eleven. They took in her shaven head as she still wore Sam's "grunge" clothes. She looked back at them with her big, doe eyes, confused. The longer Sam stared, the more her brain worked.

"Or maybe there is," Sam disagreed with Lucas, wearing her "scheming face" (or as Will and Dustin called it). "I think... I think I have an idea."

A beat.

Then—

"Oh no," worried Lucas.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Sam sat Eleven down on Nancy's bed, opening up Nancy's makeup box that she was temporarily misappropriating for the time being. The plan was to do Eleven's makeup whilst the boys searched through the Wheelers' old clothes and costumes. Sam would've preferred using makeup and clothes from her own house, but they didn't have time to clammer all the way there.

They were trying to create a disguise for Eleven so that the Party could sneak her into the school without anyone batting an eye. All they needed, really, was a wig. Everything about Eleven was perfectly fine. It was only the bald head that was a little off-putting.

Nevertheless, Sam wasn't going to pass up on opportunity to dress someone up.

Sam and Eleven sat across from each other, crisscrossed on Nancy's bed. Sam scooted herself closer to Eleven so that she could get a better look at Eleven's face. The girl flinched back a little, frightened by Sam's close proximity.

"Sorry," Sam apologized sheepishly. "My eyesight isn't the best right now. These mouth-breathers shoved over Mike and I and it broke my glasses. But I got a pretty cool scar out of it. See?" She pointed up at the slit that ran across her eyebrow. Sam had taken the Band-Aid off, so that the deep, red line was in plain view.

All Eleven seemed to have taken out of that was, "'Glasses'?"

Sam's eyebrows furrowed for a second, confused. Then, she realized Eleven was asking her what glasses are.

"Oh," Sam brightened up at the realization. She confirmed, "Yeah. Glasses."

Sam took her own pair of glasses off, handing them to Eleven so that the girl could observe hands-on.

"They're to help people who can't really see... like me," explained Sam. "I've been wearing them since the fourth grade after my, uh, parents took me to this person called an optometrist — basically, it's just a doctor who examines eyesight and prescribes lenses."

Eleven put Sam's glasses on, testing them out for herself. Immediately, her face screwed up in confusion, making Sam smile in amusement. Eleven was swiveling her head around the room wildly, trying to understand.

"But blurry," she concurred.

Sam laughed a little, but not unkindly. She explained, "Well, they're blurry for you 'cause you can see. What you're seeing through the glasses is how I see in real life. But when I wear them, I see how you see. Makes sense?"

"No," Eleven answered blankly.

"Thought so," grinned Sam, thoroughly entertained. "It's okay if you don't understand. No one's gonna quiz you on the physics of my glasses prescription."

Eleven blinked.

"What is 'quiz,' 'physics,' and 'prescription'?"

Sam blinked back at her.

"You know, I should really learn to stop talking," Sam said, more-se speaking to herself. She shook her head, waving herself off, before addressing Eleven again. "Sorry. Sometimes I just get really excited and start rambling. Especially because I'm not used to speaking to girls. Or having friends that are girls. Or having people be nice to me besides the Party. That kind of sounds sad. Anyways. Do you mind if I take my glasses back now, so I can do your makeup?"

Confusion and rambles quickly forgotten, Eleven gently handed Sam her broken glasses back. She put them on her face again, beginning to rummage through Nancy's makeup kit.

Sam wasn't planning on caking too much makeup onto Eleven's face — just simple blush and lip gloss. It's not like she needed it. This was the first time Sam actually got close to Eleven, and Sam couldn't help but notice Eleven's natural beauty. The bald part will always really get to her, but if Sam ignored it, Eleven's face was beautiful.

Uncle Dan would kill Sam if he heard her inner thoughts.

Just as Sam finished doing Sam's makeup, the bedroom door swung open, and Lucas and Dustin strutted in. While Mike trailed tiredly behind them, a padded light pink dress hung from Lucas' hands and a tussled blonde wig was thrown sloppily over Dustin's head.

"Your stylists have arrived," Lucas smirked, throwing the dress onto the bed with a cocky smile.

Sam smiled, amused by her friend's antics. But she then noticed how Lucas faltered when Dustin failed to follow his lead; he turned to Dustin with a frown and tutting at him. Lucas slapped Dustin's shoulder and snatched the wig from his curly head, throwing it on top of the pastel fabric and grumbling under his breath about his friend's stupidity. Then, Mike made a comment about how they were both stupid.

Eleven frowned as she still sat next to Sam, who was toying with the fabric of the dress absentmindedly.

She held the corners of it up, looking the item of clothing up and down in confusion. "H-How?" Sam blinked back at Eleven in question, and Eleven gestured towards the dress again. "How?"

Then Sam wore a look of realization, while the boys just grew awkward. She began crawling out the bed, waving her friends out of the room.

"I'll help Eleven get ready. You pervs wait outside."

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

The impatient trio of boys turned at the sound of the door opening, Sam sneaking out Nancy's room with a bundle of nervous energy dancing inside her.

"Alright," she blew away a strand of hair falling in front of her lenses. "She's ready."

And just as she said the words, Eleven timidly joined them out in the hallway. Sam was now able to get a full-body look at the girl, who she'd only been looking at close-up until now. She was now wearing the blonde wig that was just as light as Sam's hair; the pink dress Lucas found fit Eleven perfectly, with it's long sleeves and hem going all the way to Eleven's knees. Sam paired the outfit with long, white socks from Hawkins High School and dirtied, white sneakers.

Dustin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Woah, she's—"

"Pretty," Mike finished with a sappy smile, the smile falling from his face and an air of false indifference clouding him when the rest of the Party sent him suspicious looks. "Good. You look pretty good."

Eleven smiled slightly, making her way over to the mirror in the middle of the hall. She stared at herself through those large, doe-like eyes.

"Pretty," she said softly, catching Sam's eye in the reflection of the mirror.

Sam managed to put a smile on her fact. "Yeah," Sam encouraged, "pretty."

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

"Okay, guys, maybe this is a bad idea," Sam spoke up anxiously, once she, Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Eleven made it through the front doors of their middle school. "If Corey sees me, I'm dead. My whole family thinks I'm holed up at home."

In a very annoying, definitely exasperated tone, Mike said, "What's more important, Sam? Finding our best friend who's in terrible danger, or getting in trouble for going to school?"

Sam's fists clenched idly, but she hoped no one noticed that.

"Well, me getting in trouble and you getting in trouble would be a little different, wouldn't it?" Sam said, with a tense note to her voice.

The trio of boys stiffened a little, too. They knew Sam was right, and they didn't even want to ask what getting in trouble with Uncle Dan entailed. There was a reason the Party never hung out at Sam's household — he was one of the scariest adults any of them had the displeasure of meeting.

Mike sighed, taking the bite out his tone and now speaking to Sam kindlier. "We won't let him see you, all right?" Then, now addressing the whole group, "But, if anyone does see us, remember to look sad. I doubt even Corey Gray is that much an asshole he'd snitch because you're mourning, Sam."

"Why would I be mourning if he's not dead?"

"Pretend you're morning," said Mike, terrible disgruntled. "God, Sam, are you serious?"

Sam shrugged back at him defensively with her shoulders, both hands holding either strap of her backpack. She muttered something under her breath about just a question, although she knew better than to provoke Mike any further. The whole while Sam and Mike were bickering, Eleven made a confused face to Lucas and Dustin when Mike told them all to act sad. In response, they'd drawn their fingers down their eyes and made pouty faces, to demonstrate someone crying in explanation. Eleven copied their actions, making sure she understood them correctly. Dustin enthusiastically nodded and smiled at Eleven when she did.

"Attention students," in came the voice of Principal Coleman on the PA system, "there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period."

The group of five finally reached the door labeled "Audio Visual Room." Mike got there first and was the one who attempted opening it. He was also the one to find out the AV room was locked. All the handle did when Mike attempted jiggling it was remain unwavering.

Mike hit the door in aggravation, addressing the Party. "It's locked."

They stared back at him with dissatisfied, crushing hope. Lucas's face screwed up. "What?" he asked, more-so to himself before trying to open the door himself.

Of course, it was locked, and didn't open for him, either.

"Hey!" Sam started with an exciting idea, acknowledging Eleven. "Do you think you could open it? With your powers?"

Eleven returned her gaze with a startled look, opening her mouth slightly. But what she was going to say, Sam would never know.

"Kids?" Mr. Clarke came rounding the corner, out of fucking nowhere holy shit. The five kids whipped to face him, flooded with fear.

Lucas tried to lean casually against the locked door, although he looked anything but. He smiled awkwardly, "Hi."

"Assembly's about to start," Mr. Clarke told them, very confused as to why they weren't where they were supposed to be.

In unison, they remembered Mike's words. If anyone does see us, remember to look sad.

"We know," Mike responded in a quiet voice. He looked to the ground, kicking his foot sadly. "We're just, you know..."

Lucas huffed a laugh nervously, finishing, "Upset," for Mike. Then, he realized upset people don't smile, so his face snapped into a frown robotically, eyes flitting to the floor with a forlorn look.

"Y-Yeah, d-definitely upset," stammered Dustin, although his face really held no emotion.

Sam exhaled a deep, dramatic breath, pretending to sniffle. Eyes trained on her fidgeting hands, she added, "It's just really... hard."

"We need some alone time," agreed Mike, with his manipulative-as-shit puppy dog face.

A horrible actor, Dustin concluded, "To... cry."

"Yeah, listen..." Mr. Clarke said empathetically, somehow falling for that performance, "I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let's just be there for Will, huh?"

Under Mr. Clarke's gaze, the kids kept their sad, pitiful looks on. Sam nodded dismally at her science teacher to show she understood, purposefully making it look pathetic so he would feel bad for them.

"And then," he continued, fishing in the pocket of his pants to pull out a jingling metal (Sam squinted to note it was a ring of keys), tossing it over to Sam who just barely caught it in her unathletic hands, "the Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?"

The kids all shared optimistic looks. They really just got away with that. He even gave them the keys to the AV room! Everything was going to be fine—

"I don't believe we've met," Mr. Clarke's gaze fell upon Eleven. "What's your name?"

Everyone looked in a panic toward the girl, who slowly let out an answer, "Eleven—"

"Eleanor!" Mike quickly interjected, amplifying his voice so it transposed Eleven's. Wracking his brain for a story, he stammered, "She's my, uh—"

"Cousin," Lucas nodded, still leaning his back against the door like a weirdo.

"Second cousin!" Dustin added for no reason, holding up two fingers — just in case the man with a PhD in physics and applied mathematics had trouble with numbers.

Sam nodded rapidly, holding a wide-eyed-yet-attempting-to-look-serious face. "She's here for Will's funeral."

"Ah, well," nodded Mr. Clarke, before kindly addressing Eleven again, "welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances."

Thankfully, Eleven had an incredible poker-face that didn't show she was lying at all. Blankly, she said, "Thank you"

Upon staring at her further, Mr. Clarke's eyebrows furrowed. "Uh, where are you from exactly?"

Panicked stares were shot towards Eleven. They watched a haunted look fill her eyes. She shook her head, "Bad place—"

"Sweden!" Sam interjected, doing the same thing Mike did by making his voice louder than Eleven's quiet one.

"I have a lot of Swedish family," Mike immediately jumped onto Sam's lie without any hesitation.

Dustin nodded, still staring Mr. Clarke dead in the eyes. "She hates it there."

"Cold!" Lucas expanded, nodding rapidly.

"Subzero," dramatized Dustin.

Mr. Clarke frowned at them but decided not to ask any more questions. Awkwardly, he said, "Shall we?" throwing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the assembly hall. The group of middle schoolers following him obediently, herding closer to him and forming a sort of protective barrier between him and Eleven to delay any more questions they hadn't made up the answers to yet.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

"At times like these, it is important that we come together as a community. We come—"

Principal Coleman was promptly cut off by Dustin throwing (yes, throwing) the double doors to the gymnasium open. He made a loud slam that had everyone's heads whipping towards them and Principal Coleman shocked into a silence.

The intruders stared back at everyone dumbly, now feeling terrible awkward under the attention. Or, at least, Sam could say that for herself.

Looking back at all the eyes on her, she somehow immediately made out Corey's tense body sitting in the bleachers. Sam's eyesight was too shitty to make out his expression, but he was watching her, too.

And so was Justin.

And so was Carrie Cunningham.

And so was every goddamn person on the planet, apparently.

"Abort," Sam whispered to her friends in a panic. She immediately pivoted on her heel, trying to escape the gymnasium as quickly as she'd walked in.

Sam tried charging past her friends, but Lucas promptly grabbed a hold of her shoulders. He turned her around and forced Sam not to retreat, because apparently, he was praying on Sam's downfall. What did she ever do to him?

He was gripping both of her biceps as he began guiding her to an empty spot in the bleachers.

"I don't want to be here," she hissed at him in annoyance, peering over her shoulder at Lucas with a glare.

Sam attempted to dig the heels of her shoes against the tiles below to stop Lucas from pushing her.

"We have to do this," Lucas whispered back, heaving Sam all the way to take a spot in the assembly.

"We have come together to heal," Principal Coleman continued, tired of the interruption.

Sam tried not to look in Corey's direction, but her head was turning his way, anyways. She was startled to find he was already staring at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes traveled over Sam's group of friends, and they fell upon Eleven—

"We have come together to grieve..."

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"Will Byers's death is an unimaginable tragedy," Principal Coleman continued his long speech at the memorial. Sam knew she was supposed to be on the side that Will was alive, but his words were successfully punching her in the heart. She still couldn't believe they were talking about a dead kid, and that kid was Will. "Will was an exceptional student and a wonderful friend to all of us. It's impossible to express the hole his loss will leave in our community. I'd like to introduce you to Sandy Sloane. She's a local grief counselor from the church over in Jonesboro. But before she comes up here, I just want those of you who are having trouble dealing with this tragic loss to know—"

"Look at these fakers," Mike was whispering as he surveyed the crowd.

Lucas broke his attention away from the speech to take a look, as well. He shook his head, "They probably didn't even know his name 'till today."

Then, they all heard quiet laughter from a good bit away to the right of them. Sam's head turned to find the perpetrators were none other than Troy and James.

Her fists immediately clenched in her lap. They weren't even near Sam and her friends. The two assholes were being so loud and heartless that the Party could hear them all the way from where they sat.

Troy and James were clearly making fun of Will and his assembly, even after under the impression he was literally dead.

How horrible of a person did you have to be? To laugh in the face of mourning, to hate in a time when people are supposed to come together. Sam, for some reason, was disappointed in their behavior; surprised that there was a part of her that still held out hope Troy and James could be empathetic people. They dismantled expectations she had for them even when Sam didn't even know they were there in the first place. That's how fucked up Troy and James were.

Eleven peered at Troy and James from behind Sam, Lucas and Mike (with Dustin behind her, that is). She muttered, "Mouth-breather," and Sam was suddenly brought back to her earlier conversation with Eleven about Sam's glasses.

The wakeup call helped Sam snap out of her thoughts, unclenching her fists to realize there were now crescent marks in her palms with how hard she was squeezing. She'd never felt an anger so pure before in her life.

Now, she knew what pure, unadulterated hatred felt like.

Slowly, Sam's head turned to meet Mike's stare.

She knew then that he was feeling it too.

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When the assembly ended, all the students began filing out of the gymnasium all at once. Sam couldn't help but find Corey's figure again. She noticed with a breath of panic that he was trying to make his way to her.

Totally nonchalantly and discreetly and not-at-all obviously, Sam tried to get lost in the crowd and use Lucas and Dustin as her personal body-guards. She would've hid behind Mike too, but for some reason he was separated from the group entirely.

"Hey, Troy!"

Oh, maybe that's why.

Troy and James slowly turned to meet Mike's venomous glare. Sam was surprised by his sudden boost of confidence. Of course, she wanted to chew them out for being douches, too, but it's not like she believed she could actually do it.

"You... you think this is funny?!" seethed Mike.

Troy sneered, taking a threatening step forward. "What'd you say, Wheeler?"

Sam, Eleven, Lucas, and Dustin immediately flanked Mike's sides, watching the interaction carefully. Of course, Sam thought Mike was crazy for confronting their bullies (especially after what happened yesterday), but she would take his side no matter what. To display that, she glared hard at them, too.

"I saw you guys laughing over there," Mike stated boldly, fists clenched in an effort to hide his nerves. "And I think that's a real messed up thing to do!"

"Didn't you listen to the grief counselor, Wheeler? Grief shows itself in funny ways," smirked James, sharing a discreet look with Troy that didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired boy who was quickly running out of patience.

"Besides, what's there to be sad about anyway?" Troy leered, a malicious smile on his face. "Will's in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other fairies? All happy and gay?"

They'd received themselves an audience with all their arguing. Most of the middle schoolers hadn't even left the gymnasium yet, forming a circle around the altercation in annoying nosiness.

The only plus side of the onlookers was that they were able to witness first-hand how Troy and James tried walking away from Mike, singing "Tralalala" as they made fun of Will furthermore. They were able to witness how Mike — skinny, weak, and unathletic Michael Wheeler — snapped, charging forward and shoving Troy Walsh straight to the ground.

A thud echoed the room, mixed with Troy's grunt and gasps from the students who all observed the action. Sam's jaw hung quickly at Mike's performance, cheering him on over the series of Ooo's.

"You're dead, Wheeler!" Troy snarled as he picked himself up from the ground. "Dead!"

Troy began to charge forward toward Mike, but suddenly, he stopped in his running stance. Sam's eyebrows pulled together in perplexity, wondering why the bully didn't attack Mike, as he always attacked everyone.

But then, Sam saw it.

A darkness began soaking Troy's pants, coming directly from his crotch area. The wetness slowly began moving down his legs, and Sam literally could not fucking believe what she saw was real.

"Holy, shit," hissed Corey, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Troy fucking peed himself!"

As Troy's urine continued, a puddle slowly began forming at his feet. The whole entourage of students broke out into hysteric laughter, and Sam definitely was not (was) the most excited of them all. Lucas had nudged her, looking quite pleased with what happened, which only caused Sam's giggles to heighten. She shared an amused grin with Dustin, not even really thinking of the science of how it all happened.

Or, lack of science. Sam kind of missed the part where Eleven squeezed Troy's bladder with her superpowers. There wasn't much science to it, actually.

Sam didn't care. It was fucking hilarious.

"Hey! What's going on here?" the stern voice of Principal Coleman alarmed everyone.

Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin all looked at each other in alarm at the sound of the principal's voice, giggling to themselves as they made a run for the exit, and just for a minute things were okay.

Just for a minute.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

Sam opened up the door to the AV room with the keys Mr. Clarke had given her. She quickly turned on the nights as she beckoned for the rest of her friends to file in. They made it over to where Mr. Clarke placed the Heathkit ham shack, filing behind the table and facing his radio. It was still the coolest thing Sam had ever seen, so she felt a sort of thrill getting to use it again.

She was a nerd. Sue her.

Eleven sat in the chair right in front of the Heathkit, with the rest of the kids gathering around her.

"Now what?" Dustin asked, unsure.

Mike leaned to reach the radio, fiddling with the set-up to get it up and running for Eleven. He answered, "She'll find him. Right, El?"

Eleven didn't really respond, so all they heard was the whirring of the radio as Mike tried to set it properly. He turned the dials and looked at Eleven to check on her.

Eleven's eyes closed shut so she could... Honestly, Sam had no clue what Eleven was trying to do. Mike was saying she was finding Will, but like Sam said — that was scientifically impossible. There wasn't a logical explanation for how Eleven could do that.

Then again, there wasn't really an explanation for why she had psionic powers, so Sam shouldn't really be speaking.

As Eleven focused, the Heathkit continued to hum on whatever channel Mike put it on. Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin stared expenctantly, all silently wondering how this was going to go.

Then the radio started switching channels on its own. With wide eyes, Sam began hearing clips of random conversations happing in range of the Heathkit. Eleven wasn't touching a single dial — only using her mind.

"She's doing it," said Mike proudly. "She's finding him!"

Dustin shook his head in awe. "This is crazy."

"Calm down," Lucas rolled his eyes. "She just closed her eyes."

Sam pointed at Eleven incredulously, said to Lucas, "You can't hear her surfing through the channels? I can't believe this—"

Scaring the arguing party, the light bulb above them randomly burned out with a loud explosion.

In unison, the four of their heads looked up into the darkness. Dustin muttered, "Holy..."

Then the radio changed course again. They heard a crackling boom that had them whipping their attention back downward. Boom. Again. Boom. Boom. BOOM. BOOM!

"What is that?" asked Sam with furrowed eyebrows, face only lit up now by the lamp set atop the table.

The kids looked around nervously, but none of them had an answer.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A child panting. Whimpering.

BOOM! BOOM!

Then—

"Mom?"

Sam gasped, flinching back in bewilderment. That was undoubtedly the sound of Will's voice. Their Will. He sounded scared and absolutely terrified, but it was still him.

"No way!" exclaimed Lucas, just as freaked out as Sam was.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Mom!" Will's voice called out again. "Please..."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Mom!" the urgency in Will's tone amplified tenfold. He was so afraid, and it was breaking Sam's heart. "Mom—"

"WILL!" Mike shouted back into the Heathkit's microphone, trying to get through to his best friend.

"Will, it's us!" Lucas yelled, as well. "Are you there?!"

Desperately, Dustin called, "Can you hear us?! We're here!"

But Will just—

"Hello? Mom?" his shaky voice went on, ignoring his friends along with the BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Lucas slapped the table in frustration. "Why can't he hear us?"

"I don't know!" yelled Mike, equally as upset.

Although Sam actively knew Will couldn't hear them on the Heathkit, Sam also wasn't thinking properly with the amount of distress she was under. She was eyeing the radio, terribly deserved, and breathing shortened breaths. Desperately, she attempted, "Will? Will, please, come on!"

"...Sam?"

Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin gasped in perfect synchronization. The boys' heads whipped to face Sam, mirroring Sam's face of utter disbelief and disconcertion.

"H-He heard you!" concluded Mike, as if anyone needed a replay on what happened about 2 fucking seconds ago. "Sam, how did he—?!"

"I don't know," answered Sam, in a quiet, greatly disturbed whisper.

Lucas shook his head, trying to process it all. "Do you think—?"

"Mom?" Will's frantic voice cut Lucas off, and they all remembered they didn't have time to worry about Sam right now. He continued, "Mom! Mom..." in the background, there was a low, animalistic growling that put everyone on edge. "Mom, it's coming! It's like home, but it's so dark! It's so dark and empty! And it's cold! Mom?! MOM! Mom, please!"

And then the Heathkit fucking exploded.

Everyone yelled at the scare, jumping away from the large flames consuming Mr. Clarke's radio. Eleven's eyes shot open with her heaving gasp. The light above them finally flickered back on, just as the fire alarm sounded with the amount of smoke that was beginning to cloud in the room.

Thinking quickly (and maybe cursing repeatedly as she went), Sam ran to grab the fire extinguisher that was in the corner of the AV room. She pointed the nozzle at the Heathkit before extinguishing the fire with the white foam inside. Sam didn't stop until she was entirely sure the flames were gone.

When they were, Sam's head faced all of her friends with a panting, discombobulated expression. They matched her features, with furrowed eyebrows and gaping mouths that quirked down. Somehow, Sam knew they were all thinking the same, exact thing.

What. The. Fuck.

◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦

me when me when me me when me when when

if you squint there was a stalia inspired hughclair moment <333

speaking of: what are we thinking for sam + lucas ship name?? i've been using hughclair but ig there could also be like lusam, samcas, sinclughes... idk... thoughts???

what'd you think?