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CHAPTER EIGHT
funerals for dummies
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( the flea and the acrobat, pt. i )

• °:.☆ . ₊°• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

THE FAIRER FAMILY has never been great at practicing religion. Her mom has a more agnostic belief than her grandparents had raised her with, though it didn't stop her from scaring Laura and Colleen with threats of yōkai attacking them when they didn't listen as young children. Her dad's family is ethnically Jewish but bad in custom. They don't do much aside from gathering for celebrations of Hanukkah, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Passover. Laura was never expected to keep kosher, nor did she have a bat mitzvah.

As such, it feels foreign for them to hear a pastor reading from scripture at a funeral for a boy who's probably still alive. The day is surprisingly sunny. It feels like it should be raining, or dreary at least, not so bright that Laura has to squint from the sun's reflection on the yellowed lawn.

This is the second funeral she's attended in her lifetime, and this morning had sent her into a panic when she realized she didn't have a nice jacket. All of hers are old, worn-out, or inappropriately colored for the occasion. She ends up wearing a black sweater tucked into her trousers and one of her father's suit jackets on top. It's too big, obviously, but she feels more comfortable than she would have without it.

The pastor's words are unfamiliar as he speaks of finding strength in God. Laura shifts from foot to foot, occasionally brushing against Nancy's side from how close they stand. Her family is right next to the Wheelers, meaning they get a second-row view of the polished casket with flowers placed on top.

"I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,'" the pastor recites, then closes his Bible and continues, "It's times like these that our faith is challenged. How, if He is so benevolent, could God take from us someone so young, so innocent? It would be easy to turn from God, but we must remember that nothing, not even tragedy, can separate us from His love."

She wonders who is supposed to feel comforted by this sermon. Certainly not Joyce, whose jaw is set to the side as if she thinks this is a waste of time, that she should be looking for the actual Will. And not Jonathan since he now knows the truth about the creature in the woods. Not even Will's best friends appear distraught— in fact, she thinks she notices Dustin smiling at one point, like he finds something about this situation amusing.

He whispers something to Lucas and Mike, but Mrs. Wheeler leans down to shush him. Laura's eyes flicker down to Lucas. He's trying to smother a grin by pulling his lips back into his mouth, his shoulders trembling with the effort not to laugh.

How much do these kids know? She wants to interrogate Mike, but he's going through an infuriating pre-teen phase where he's as difficult as possible about everything, so she'd be lucky to get information from him. Lucas is good at keeping his mouth shut tight. Maybe she could bribe Dustin with cookies?

Laura doesn't hear the rest of the sermon. She blinks, realizing that the casket has been lowered into the ground and people are tossing roses onto it as they pass, silently paying their respects. She takes a white one from the basket and makes a silent vow.

We'll find you, Will. This won't be how you end up.

Then she drops the rose onto the casket, hoping her message reaches the true lost boy and not the supposed counterfeit that's six feet under.

Laura, Nancy, and Jonathan sit on the dead grass a few plots away from the procession, huddled over a map of Hawkins. It's funny how easily they all fit together as a group. Back in the dark room, she'd already spoken to Jonathan more times than she ever had in her life, and now here they are again, trying to figure out this whole monster-person conundrum.

Sometimes it's the strangest things that can bring people together.

"This is where we know for sure it's been, right?" Jonathan says.

"So that's...?" Nancy trails off, pointing to one of the red x-marks he'd dawn.

"Steve's house," he answers. "And that's the woods where they found Will's bike." His finger moves a bit further down the street. "That's my house."

"It's all so close," Nancy says.

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Well, that has to mean something, right?" Laura wonders, adjusting her position so she's not sitting on the end of her dad's jacket. The dry grass crunches under her movement. "Maybe it's contained to that area for some reason? Or something is keeping it from straying too much?"

"It seems like it," Jonathan agrees. "I mean, it's all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it's... it's not traveling far."

Nancy reads his expression for a moment before realizing, "You wanna go out there."

"Hmm?" Laura asks, checking his face for a tip that that's what he's thinking. It usually takes her a while to read people like that. With Nancy, she usually can, but they've also known each other for over a decade, so she's memorized what every minute expression of hers means. Jonathan's tics and mannerisms are a puzzle she has yet to figure out.

Sometimes she feels like she's missing something in times like these. When Nancy can tell what someone is thinking with a single look, or can detect the faintest hint of someone's tone in their words. She may as well be on the other side of a glass wall.

Jonathan raises his shoulder in a half shrug. "We might not find anything."

"We found something," Nancy reminds him, motioning to Laura. "And if we do see it... then what?"

"We kill it," Laura replies immediately.

Nancy gives her an incredulous expression at her quick response. Laura throws out a hand, asking, "Oh, do you want me to say that we ask it nicely where it's taking people?"

Jonathan nods, jerking his head toward her in agreement. "I'm with Laura. We kill it. And to do that... hang on."

He scrambles to his feet and crumples the map in his hand in the process. The girls share a questioning look before getting up and following him to the parking lot, where he fumbles with the lock on the glove compartment of a car — his dad's, probably, since it hadn't been parked in front of the Byers's house when Joyce was home. Laura knows nothing about cars, but it's shiny and black, so it must be a nice one.

"What are you doing?" Nancy questions.

"Just give me a second," Jonathan replies.

Nancy sighs, glancing apprehensively over their shoulders. Laura is less concerned about them being caught and shoves her hands into the pockets of the suit jacket while she waits. When Nancy looks back at the car, Jonathan pulls out a small revolver, loads it with bullets, and shoves an extra box of ammunition into his pocket.

Nancy's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Are you serious?"

"What? It's like Laura said, you wanna find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?"

"Nancy could probably yell at it to death if she tried," Laura chimes in.

The girl elbows her in the side and shoots her a look that says, Are you shitting me?

It makes her crack a grin. "It's true, Nance. You're a narc."

When Jonathan finally exits the car, Nancy tells him, "This is a terrible idea."

"Yeah, well, it's the best we've got," he sighs. Upon noticing the apprehension on Nancy's face, in the way she worries her bottom lip and scrunches her eyebrows, he adds, "What? You can tell someone, but they're not gonna believe you. You know that."

A flare of jealousy bursts into Laura's gut, surprising her. She has prided herself on her ability to detect Nancy's unspoken emotions, to know what each movement of her face means. Jonathan has been around for, what, a day, and he can already do the thing that Laura had spent years perfecting?

She crosses her arms over her chest, embarrassed by the brewing feeling.

"Your mom would," Nancy argues.

"She's been through enough," Jonathan counters.

"She deserves to know."

"Nance," Laura pipes up, catching her attention. Nancy looks at her, her expression almost pleading for Laura to take her side. She shakes her head instead. "We saw how she was yesterday. We can't make things worse for her— not until this thing is out of the way."

Nancy looks down at her shoes for a moment before huffing a sigh through her nose, a silent sign that she relents. Jonathan meets Laura's gaze and gives her a small nod. Thank you.

Laura shrugs in response. Not a problem.

—°• ☆ . °—

With her parents still at the funeral service, Laura has the house to herself to figure out the best course of action for monster killing. She'd forced herself to write down a list to keep her mind on track. Glancing down at it, she reads the scribbled words once again.

HOW TO PREPARE FOR MONSTER HUNTING:
1. Warm clothes that you won't mind getting dirty
2. Hair out of face
3. Snacks?
4. Weapon ?????

Laura gives herself a final look in the mirror. She has no idea how late they're going to be out, so she'd decided to prepare for the sub-zero temperatures that will torment them when the sun goes down. Her first layer is a black turtleneck. Over that is an old, gray, Nike crewneck sweatshirt that was her dad's when he had a fleeting jogging stint. Finally, she'd chosen a navy blue coat with maroon and white stripes along the top— it's a size too big, meaning her upper thighs are protected. A pair of faded blue jeans and scuffed sneakers complete the outfit.

She'd decided to tie her hair into two braids to check off the second part of her list. The last thing she wants is her hair blowing into her face during a crucial moment. Worried about her ears being exposed to the cold, she grabs a white knit hat and tugs it on. It's as ready as she'll ever be.

Not wanting to get her school backpack dirty, she finds an old knapsack in her parents' closet and stuffs a few granola bars and water bottles inside. Something catches her eye while in the small room. On the top shelf of the closet lies a black case. Laura had nearly forgotten about its existence, but Jonathan's tiny revolver isn't going to fair well against a ginormous crearure, and it's the only way she can check number four off of her list unless she gets super creative with household utensils.

Laura leaves her house with her backpack and the case and heads across the street to the Wheelers'. The garage is open, so she makes a beeline toward it, only to recognize a masculine frame with annoying hair standing inside with his back to her. Laura freezes, ready to turn around and come back in a few minutes, but Nancy has already spotted her from over Steve's shoulder.

She sighs and walks up the driveway. Steve turns around once he notices Nancy staring past him, and his eyes widen at the sight of the huge case in her hand.

"Jesus, Fairer," he says, "why do you have a rifle?"

"It's my dad's," she explains. "For hunting. Mr. Wheeler was wondering if he could borrow it."

Steve shoots Nancy a curious glance. "Your dad hunts?"

Ted Wheeler is more of the "lay-on-the-couch" type than the hunting sort, which is obvious to anyone who looks at him, but Nancy goes with the lie anyway and nods. Steve makes a "huh" sound of consideration.

"Anyway, about the movie..." he says to her, clearly alluding to a conversation they'd had before Laura's arrival.

Nancy's mouth twists to the side. "I just, I... I don't think I can. I've been really busy with this whole funeral thing and... with my brother. It's been really hard on him."

"Yeah, sure," Steve answers. "Sure, yeah, yeah."

Nancy sways to the side, eyeing the street. "So..."

"I should go," he says, finally taking the hint.

"Sorry. I'll call you later. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

Nancy offers him a smile and a peck on the lips. Laura feels vaguely nauseous, standing awkwardly with the heavy case in her hand until they break apart from each other. Steve sings to himself as he exits the garage, his hands shoved in his pockets, "Just take those old records off the shelf. I'll sit and listen to them..."

Laura walks fully inside, raising her eyebrows in amusement at Steve's little show. Nancy gives her a glare that bounces right off of her. Then she raises her chin almost haughtily.

"He apologized," she tells Laura. "Asked about Barb."

"Should we give him an award?" Laura asks. "Throw him a parade, maybe?"

Nancy fiddles with the wooden baseball bat in her hands. Her cream-colored gloves are cut off at the fingers, allowing her to grip the top without it slipping. "I just don't get why you hate him so much."

Laura nearly laughs, but manages to stop herself at the last second. There are countless reasons for her to dislike Steve. From the way he pressures Nancy into doing things she doesn't normally do, to his choice of friends, she could go on a tirade. Now isn't the time, though. She doesn't feel like getting into it when they have a long day ahead of them.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Laura says, setting the case on the ground and unlatching it, revealing the rifle and ammunition within. "We have monster hunting to do."

Though Nancy will want an explanation at some point, she agrees to drop it for now. She eyes the rifle warily as Laura loads it and ensures the safety is on before slinging it across her back. The backpack and her coat's hood mostly obscure it from view, but she's not worried about getting caught openly carrying it, anyway. Most of the town is preoccupied with the funeral.

She shoves a few boxes of ammo into her bag before closing the case and sliding it to the side of the garage. "Ready?"

Nancy nods. "Ready."

Finding Jonathan is easy. They start at the midway point between the Byers and Harrington houses and head into the woods from there, following the periodic sounds of gunfire that signal his location. The dying foliage around them makes for an uncomfortable journey. Exposed branches scrape against Laura's legs, threatening to rip holes in her jeans. Nancy trips over the uneven terrain more than once. But eventually, they make it to a clearing where Jonathan stands in the middle, shooting bullets at a line of empty pop cans placed on tree stumps.

Bang! A bullet whizzes past the one on the end.

"You're supposed to hit the cans, right?" Nancy asks wryly, the bat clenched in her hand as the girls climb the slight incline into the clearing.

Jonathan cracks a grin. "No, actually, you see the spaces in between the cans? I'm aiming for those."

Laura had always thought that he was stoic by nature due to the fact that she'd never seen him smile. Each time she saw Jonathan through the years, he wore the same expression: slight bitterness mixed with boredom. Now, she's beginning to realize that all it takes is someone to engage in real conversation for him to open up.

In short, to her surprise, Jonathan Byers is... a massive dork.

"I might end up being our only hope," Laura says, tossing her bag on the ground and readying her rifle. She peers through the scope for a second and aligns both sights. "I'll save you both, don't worry."

Bang!

The sound of the bullet firing is louder than Jonathan's revolver, and the kickback makes Laura rock on her feet before steadying herself. It dents one of the cans and knocks it over. She clicks the safety back on and lowers it, grinning when she notices Jonathan's gaping expression.

"My dad takes me hunting with him," she explains.

It started off when she was young and all she could do was sit there while her dad did all of the grisly work. At first, she'd found it boring to sit in one spot for hours without moving, waiting for potential game to stroll by, but as she got older, she grew to enjoy their trips. The woods become silent and you learn to detect the faintest of sounds. Even without talking, she and her dad had become closer than ever while away from the house.

"Well, shit, I'm glad we have you," Jonathan says. He looks at Nancy. "You ever shot a gun before?"

Nancy scoffs. "Have you met my parents?"

"Yeah, I haven't shot one since I was ten." Jonathan empties the chamber and drops the empty shell casings on the ground. "My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit."

"A rabbit?"

"Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something." As he loads new ammunition, Jonathan pauses, then admits, "I cried for a week."

"Jesus," Nancy whispers.

"What?" he asks. "I'm a fan of Thumper."

"I meant your dad."

Jonathan seems unbothered, or maybe he's gotten used to his father's shitty behavior over the years and has learned to not let it affect him anymore. "Yeah. I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but... I wasn't around for that part."

Nancy holds her hand out for the gun. Jonathan looks at her in surprise for a moment before handing it to her. "Um, yeah. Just, uh, point and shoot."

Laura rolls her eyes and steps toward Nancy, gently kicking her foot into a wider stance with her own. "Feet shoulder width apart. Dominant hand around the handle, other one around it for support. Straighten your elbows." She adjusts Nancy's arms and fingers while trying to ignore how her heart flutters at their close proximity. "Align the front and rear sights. Keep looking at the front one, not your target. And, uh, shoot."

She steps out of the way so Nancy can take the shot. Before she does, though, she says thoughtfully, "I don't think my parents ever loved each other."

"They must've married for some reason," Jonathan says.

Nancy peers through the front sight with one eye closed. "My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac... and started their nuclear family."

Laura, once again, feels like an outsider in their conversation. Her parents are so in love that it's disgusting sometimes. They'd married young at nineteen, then spent three years trying to make enough money for a house and a family before having Laura's older sister. Her childhood is filled with memories of kitchen dances, kisses just because, and her dad looking at her mom like she'd hung the sun in the sky. He could put a smile on her mom's face that nobody else could.

She supposes that it would take a love that strong to withstand the social ostracism that mixed-race relationships suffered from at the time. Some of her dad's so-called "friends" in high school told him he could go for someone better — meaning someone white — like maybe one of the pretty, blonde cheerleader girls who came from money. Her dad told them to screw themselves in whatever slang was popular at the time, married the girl born of Japanese immigrants, and made it work because love prevailed.

So she stays silent, acknowledging that this conversation is not for her, sliding her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Screw that," Jonathan asserts.

"Yeah," Nancy agrees. "Screw that."

She pulls the trigger, and the middle can clatters off the tree stump where the bullet had struck it.

A smile of disbelief lights up her face. She looks between Laura and Jonathan, surprisingly thrilled by the idea of shooting a gun she didn't want him to bring in the first place.

"Yeah, maybe you two should switch weapons," Laura says, grabbing Nancy's bat and holding it out to Jonathan. "We can do the shooting."

____

a/n:

also, nocturnalamp made this meme that perfectly encapsulates That One Scene from chapter 4:

IT'S SO PERFECT I LAUGH EVERY TIME I SEE IT

literally only one of my OCs has parents who:
1. are both alive
2. they don't have a difficult relationship with at least one of them
and that OC is NOT laura. but that's okay. they're working on it <3

— kristyn

( word count: 3.5k )