— CHAPTER 8 —
CRACKS IN THE WALLS

THURSDAY 1st NOVEMBER,
1984

"CAN I ask you something?" says Cath all of a sudden. For the past ten minutes since they got in the car, Daphne has heard nothing from her sister in the passenger seat. The young girl has anxiously wrung out her bag strap so much that it's crumpled, a result of stewing in her thoughts. What those are exactly, Daphne isn't sure. But in the liminal, intimate space of her small car, she has a feeling her thoughts will spill out sooner or later.

She does know Cath seemed to have a rough Halloween too — not that she said anything, but Daphne guessed it from her reluctance to discuss the topic. So after her question, Daphne naturally assumes she is finally ready to talk about it, and tries to shift into Approachable-Empathetic-Big-Sister mode as responsibly as she can... even when she herself is struggling. Since last year she has tried making more of an effort at that. After leaving Cath in the dark for far too long, she wants to make sure she never does that again.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead," Daphne nods, eyes fixed on the road.

A brief pause. She hears her sister squirm in her seat, then exhale through her nose.

     "Do you know why we barely talk about Mom?"

     Daphne feels what must be a totally transparent reaction jolt through her body — the question, complete whiplash from what she had anticipated, throws her to the point where she almost forgets to turn at the oncoming road. Her brain has barely caught up with what Cath asked, but her mouth is already making sounds... more like incoherent stammering.

     "W-what do you mean?" she asks, unsure if she really heard those words come out of her mouth.

Cath's eyebrows knit together in deep thought as she stares out the window. "Well, it's just we hardly talk about her. Not even casually in conversations. And when we do, it feels like... no one really wants to stay on that subject. Like yesterday, I tried asking Dad about it, and he started saying something before he kind of shut off and changed the topic."

"I don't know. I– I guess it's just... hard? Especially for Dad."

"I know, and I get that. I just..." A sudden self-awareness seems to snap into her sister, and internally Daphne despairs. She always seems to revert back to bottling things up before she can truly let them out. "Actually don't worry," says Cath, forcing a chirpy tone. "It doesn't matter. I don't know why I asked, I was just being stupid."

"It's not stupid," Daphne insists firmly. "I... I understand how you feel."

Cath sighs, as if she doesn't believe her. But it's true — Daphne misses everything about her mother. And she had the lucky privilege of knowing her, even if it was only in the first small slither of her life, before she lost her when she was four. That is one of the weirdest parts about losing her so young; there is a detachment, and yet such an ache of loss. The reminder that she is gone hits her at the most random moments: when she hears a song she thinks she would have liked, or when she feels like indulging in some 'girl talk' that Thomas can't get to grips with, or the days in Elementary School when Amy's mother came to collect her and kissed the top of her head...

Daphne cannot necessarily recall fully-fledged memories of her mother. She was just so young while she had her. Instead they are small snapshots, seemingly insignificant moments that replay in her memory. She remembers sitting in a bathtub, looking into a loving pair of hazel eyes as bubbles were scooped onto her head. She remembers grass between her toes and her mother's laugh as they chased each other around the garden. As much as she hates it, however, Daphne sometimes feels herself forgetting parts of her, or misremembering. One of the two. Now and then, she will question if that's really how her voice sounded, or if she really looked like that in that one memory? She almost feels guilty for it — as though she is letting her down somehow.

All of these things are ones Daphne ponders a lot, just like everything else in her life. They are things that keep her up at night, whether Cath knows or not. However she wasn't expecting to get all caught up in that train of thought this morning — so when she pulls up in the parking lot outside school, it takes Daphne a second to return to the real world and notice her sister hurriedly bidding goodbye before rushing off. She doesn't even get to say goodbye herself, or maybe ask again if she is okay... perhaps later instead.

With a sigh, Daphne slams the car door shut and joins the swarm of students flooding into Hawkins High. She meanders through the halls to find her locker and finds Amy there, waiting with a strangely tense demeanour. Daphne picks up her pace, looking forward to catching up — after the weird night yesterday she is eager to check on both her and Felix.

"Hey there," Daphne says casually, flashing her a friendly smile. When Amy only nods back awkwardly, she blinks and tries continuing the conversation. "So... crazy time last night, huh? Did you get home okay? I still feel really bad I didn't see you guys out."

"Yeah, I was fine," Amy replies quickly, eyes darting over her shoulder.

"Have you heard anything from Felix yet?"

     "Oh yeah," she straightens up, tugging at her sweater neck. "There is no way he's coming in. He called me this morning to say... didn't even have to tell me he was hung over. He sounded more like he had just died."

     Daphne chuckles, hiding the pang of guilt that sets itself in her expression behind her locker door. She can't help but notice the little things now — he didn't call her? He never does anymore, actually. It was one thing after their immediate break up, that was just the rawness of young love getting in the way. But now... it feels more and more like he is slipping away from her as a friend too. Does he not feel like he can talk to her?

     Frustrated, she slams her locker door shut. "I'm still worried about him. I mean, how did I not—"

     Being abruptly cut off, Daphne feels Amy grab her by the shoulders and spin her around to face the other direction. Her friend hastily circles around to stand opposite her again, a paranoid look seizing her all of a sudden.

     "Amy, what are you—"

     "Keep your eyes on me and act casual," Amy instructs through gritted teeth.

     "Oh, so more casual than we've already been acting the past couple of minutes?" Daphne replies sarcastically.

     Amy seems to ignore her remark, eyes laser-focused on a distant point beyond her. Daphne still has no clue what this could possibly be about until Elaine enters her peripheral. She walks past from behind Amy, in what was formerly in her line of sight — she seems somewhat unaffected by whatever has Amy in a frenzy. However, against her friend's instructions, Daphne feels herself accidentally make eye contact with Elaine. The girl glances back in acknowledgement until she notices Amy. And then the weirdest part of it all... is that she walks faster down the hallway.

The tension that still simmers after the whole interaction has Daphne reeling. "What was that all about?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"It doesn't matter," Amy answers abruptly. "I just... it's not important."

     "... Alright, if you say so," Daphne gives in with a shrug. After many years of friendship, she has learned when Amy's stubbornness simply cannot be overridden, and it is best to leave the topic — as curious as she is over what just unfolded. How come they seemed to be so friendly last night, then suddenly avoiding each other like the plague overnight? She thinks she has a vague idea why, but feels it would be out-of-line to spring it on Amy.

     With words left unsaid, the first few lessons of the day drag on massively. Even though Daphne drank nothing the night before, she almost feels the effects of a hangover, as though it were a coming of age... unless she is just finding something to blame the effects of everything on. Between the people who did make it into school today, she hears exchanges of gossip from the party; Daphne finds it bizarre that for once she actually knows the ins-and-outs of what happened. Most of the chatter is about Billy Hargrove and the spell he seems to have cast over the youth of Hawkins High — she is still working on the logic behind that one.

     However, one story she eavesdrops on does catch her attention, which is a re-telling of an argument between Steve Harrington and his girlfriend at the party, taken completely out of context. From giggles over how 'smashed' Nancy was to the hyperbolic details added in, Daphne experience an intense feeling of discomfort. Yep, she thinks to herself grimly, you definitely haven't missed out on anything all these years.

     If Daphne were in Steve's shoes right now, she would take all the stories in her stride, as much as she hated being the centre of attention. She has always tried marching to the beat of her own drum, and on top of that has developed a thick skin from the merciless onslaught of bullying that characterised her Middle School experience.

     But for someone like Steve, that doesn't seem so easy.

In her lunch break she passes the gym — in no other world would she stop and ogle at a bunch of sweaty boys dribbling a ball and tossing it into flimsy nets. Today, however, Daphne finds herself stopping in front of the gym doors and spying through the glass windows. They're in the middle of practice, shoes squeaking against the floor as they follow the ball in frantic herds while a smug, shirtless Billy hogs it. On the opposite team, Steve is shuffling around him trying to block him; she doesn't think she has ever seen him look so flustered. Then Billy shoves into him with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground, and shoots the basketball clean through the hoop.

     The coach blows his whistle, seemingly concluding practice, as suck-ups like Tommy Hagan congregate around Billy. Even the opposite teammates and the benchwarmers quietly follow the Hargrove boy towards the bleachers to retrieve their things, leaving Steve alone on the court. Daphne watches him grimace slightly as he sits up, then gets to his feet, chest heaving as he catches his breath — there is something about him, right in that moment, that fills her with a kind of pitiful curiosity. She cannot remember a time in her life when 'King Steve' had ever been overtaken in school. He was one of the top dogs, always, and people fell over themselves just to try and be his friend. And now... here he is, completely neglected by the people who used to worship him, as they flock to whoever has claimed the new spot. Steve almost seems lost.

Maybe the 'King' has finally lost his crown.

Daphne knew his fallout with Nancy was bad, but was it really so bad that it would hurt his popularity that much? The final nail in the coffin? If it's really the case, then she finds herself bewildered at what it must be like to live that high up in the school hierarchy. She always knew it was shallow, but she had never considered how scary it could possibly be. One minute you're on top of the world, then suddenly all the people you thought you could trust turn on you... if it were Daphne, that kind of back-stab would send her spinning into some kind of existential funk. If anything, this is all a confirmation that she is doing the right thing, trying to stay true to herself...

     She's still wondering about this until, after a second of strangely intense (and very accidental) eye contact, Daphne snaps back to reality and realises Steve has spotted her through the window. Face flushed with embarrassment, she scrambles away from the door and presses her back to the cold brick wall next to it.

     Windows work two ways, you idiot, Daphne reminds herself, mortified.

How long was he looking at her? Or more importantly, how long was she looking at him? The thought of him noticing her staring at him, completely zoned out and absorbed in thought, makes her wish for a convenient sinkhole to open up in Hawkins and claim her.

Hoping not to dwell in the embarrassment too much longer, Daphne scurries outside into the car park, where she remembers what she originally intended to do — fetch one of her textbooks from her trunk, which she forgot to retrieve before going in this morning. She locates her humble little car in a sea of parent-funded, flashy new models that some of the other students drive, and while rummaging in her trunk notices Nancy and Jonathan sat together on the hood of his car. It's refreshing to see them coming together; still, despite not wanting to interrupt them, Daphne also feels the need to know how Nancy is after last night.

"Hey, Nancy," Daphne greets her, when she circles round to them. They both have their lunch set out on the car's hood between them.

"Oh, hey..." Nancy trails off, somewhat stiffly.

The two of them fall into a slightly awkward silence, Daphne rocking back and forth on her heels, and Nancy staring down at her lap whilst Jonathan takes a bite of his sandwich.

"Hey, I'm sorry about—"

"Last night?"

"Yeah," Nancy sighs, "that you had to see me... like that."

Daphne shrugs, slipping her hands into her pockets. "Don't worry. It happens... I mean, I just came to check if everything was okay with you."

     At this, the Wheeler girl's lips thin out, strained by whatever thought that just made her gunmetal blue eyes wince. She looks away for a moment and squints into the sun where no one can read her; then, tucking her cropped brown hair behind her ear, Nancy shuffles along one spot on Jonathan's car. She pats the warm metal — sit, she says — and Daphne obliges, perching herself on the side.

     "I think I really messed up with Steve last night," Nancy flinches with guilt. "I mean, I don't remember what I said, but he was pretty upset when I tried to talk to him this morning..."

     "Hey, cut yourself some slack," Jonathan interjects, when he notices how downtrodden she looks. "People say stupid things when they're wasted. Things they don't mean."

     "But that's the thing... what if I did mean it?"

     Daphne stares down at her shoes, trying as best as possible to appear neutral in her reaction. This is what she had sensed deep down all along about Nancy. Going off from what Steve said, it all made sense. From his end, she could see how maybe he was head-over-heels. But for her... not so much. All she knows is that now probably isn't the best time to mention her encounter with Steve after the party last night.

     "All this time, I've been trying so hard to pretend like everything's fine, but it's not," Nancy explains. "I feel like there's this... I don't know, like this..."

     Jonathan suddenly interjects, "Like there's this weight you're carrying around with you. All the time. I feel it, too."

     Exchanging a glance with Jonathan, Daphne swallows thickly. This is the first time the three of them have talked frankly about this since last year. Hearing someone put her own feelings into words like that feels more raw than she thinks she's ready for.

     "Yeah, but it's different for you," says Nancy. "Will came home."

     "Yeah. He did. But he's not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but... I don't know."

     "I know what you mean," Daphne chimes in, as she reminisces of Felix drinking his demons away at the party. Checking the coast is clear, she lowers her voice. "With Felix, it's like... he talks about Tonya. So much. Sometimes I can see how much it's hurting him, and one time, he even asked me... he asked me if I thought she was ever gonna come back. And I had to look him in the eyes and lie to him. I mean... how long are we even supposed to do this for?"

     Having voiced her own feelings for the first time, Daphne feels a portion of the weight shift off her shoulders. But equally it numbs her inside and leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

     "Maybe... some things just can't go back to the way they were," Jonathan finally says solemnly.

     "Doesn't that make you mad?" Nancy's eyes glint, her voice suffocated by anger.

     "Mad?"

     "Yeah, that those... those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just get away with it."

     "Those people... they're dead," Jonathan says bluntly.

     "Do you really believe that?" she rebukes.

     Nancy's certainty sparks a sudden anxiousness in Daphne. Don't start down that path, she thinks uneasily to herself. Her worries about last year are harrowing enough on their own — but with this seed planted, that maybe everything isn't over after all, they fester more. But what more could they want? She thought Dr. Owens was going to fix things. At least, that's what she wants to believe. Really she has no idea...

     In the silence that has followed, Nancy has been staring quizzically at a boy listening to his Walkman at a picnic bench. She suddenly perks up. "Jonathan, your Mom's boyfriend..." she says. "He works at Radio Shack, right?"

     "Yeah. Why? What are you thinking?"

     Nancy has that familiar scheming look on her face — one that Daphne hasn't seen on her since they first banded together, three unaware youngsters last year in the face of otherworldly danger. It half scares her and half excited her.

     "... Do you guys wanna skip fourth period?" she finally asks. Although from the tone, Daphne has a feeling there isn't a 'No' option to her question.

━━━━━━

MR. Clarke's talk on Phineas Gage should in theory prove a welcome distraction to Cath. But instead, no matter how hard she tries to focus and write notes, inklings of worry keep spreading through her consciousness in the dark classroom only lit by the large projector. And for once, none of them are about the fact that Richard Mills is using a pencil borrowed from her as they speak...

From her notebook, she keeps looking up at the back of Will's head. Maybe he is just focused on the presentation, but his quietness is unsettling her today. Of course, he's always a little quiet, in an endearing way — but this feels different. Eerier. Like his mind is weighed down by something. Cath grapples with the dilemma of whether she should ask him about last night, or whether she would be overstepping there. She doesn't want to upset him. The lines drawing what the right thing to do is are blurring these days.

Will must have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to her, because as if he can read her mind, he turns in his chair and looks behind him at her. Before his eyes can lock onto hers, Cath promptly gets her head down over her work and pretends to be writing again. She doesn't look up until she knows Will has looked away in her periphery — in the corner of her eye, though, she also spots Max averting her gaze nearby. Perhaps she isn't the only one curious about Will...

And in Cath's case, Will is no longer her only concern overall, as her attention instead drifts to Mike in the next seat over. He too seems otherwise occupied by the lesson, but all morning she has struggled to look him in the eyes without feeling some immense guilt or pity. She can't decide which.

     Cath knew she shouldn't have listened in on him last night, but the accidental eavesdrop proved to shed a lot of light on things that had otherwise been shrouded in shadow. It didn't take rocket science to figure out Mike was trying to contact Eleven, and from there it felt like the missing puzzle piece — it was as though Cath finally understood what was going on with him. All his mood swings, his outburst to her on Halloween night and many more prior incidents suddenly seem feasible with what he can't seem to tell anyone else.

     Then the same as Will, she struggles to know what to say to him without hurting his feelings somehow. Where would she even begin? Hey Mike, hope you're well, I know this a super invasion of your privacy and all, but I listened to you on your Supercom last night and heard you trying to contact El. Wanna unpack that for me?

     And then where would any form of comfort go from there? Eleven is gone. Of that, Cath is sure. Heartbreaking but true. She just worries that the more Mike tries to reach out to her, the more he will be torturing himself over what he can't fix.

     Before she can stress over moral conundrums further, an abrupt SLAM of the classroom door alerts her as Dustin sweeps in unfashionably late. "I am so sorry, Mr. Clarke," Dustin pants breathlessly, squeezing past tables to find his seat, "Really, I'm so sorry... please continue with the class, don't mind me... really, continue, please. Thanks."

     Contrary to what he'd just said, the moment Mr. Clarke starts to talk again, Dustin turns in his seat to the other boys. Cath tries leaning in a little herself so she can eavesdrop. Even Andrea near the front leans back to listen, somewhat curious. "We have to meet. All of us. At lunch, A.V. Club..." Dustin whispers hoarsely.

"Why?" Cath hears Mike whisper back.

"I have something that you won't believe..." Dustin replies softly. Then, leaning back in his chair, he relays the message to Cath and Max nearer the back. "A.V. Club. Lunch."

The two girls nod in unison, just as Mr. Clarke stops his talk.

"Dustin!" he says sternly, although still with his usual softened edge.

"Yes, my Lord?" Dustin turns and looks at him doe-eyed.

"Would you care to join the class now?"

"Please, yes..."

"The case of Phineas Gage—"

"Phineas Gage."

"Page 104."

"Page 104..." Dustin murmurs, sifting chaotically through his textbook. Whilst Cath watches his back, her gaze drops down to a small box sticking out of his back, sealed with black and yellow tape — suddenly the box trembles and emits a muffled chittering sound, almost animalistic, until Dustin nudges it with his foot and the box turns quiet again. Cath's eyes widen in complete bewilderment, and so she promptly decides to return to her work.

After class, Cath goes to meet Andrea outside so they can eat lunch together, then promptly go to this highly important A.V. Club meeting Dustin keeps pushing for. Walking outside and seeing her friend, lacking in her usual energy and seeming somewhat distant, only adds to her ever growing list of concerns.

"I don't know about you," says Andrea dully, "but I didn't catch a single word of that talk, so I hope you have good notes."

"They're alright, I guess. And I thought it was interesting..." Cath stares at her as they start walking down the corridor, chewing her bottom lip as she debates whether to say something. "Andrea, are you sure you're okay?"

"Look, I told you, my dad's just sick and we don't know why," she answers for the fourth time this morning, in response to Cath's doting. But this time she adds some new information. "Last night he was just worse. He was puking all night, and so I didn't get a wink of sleep. Mom's even staying home from work this morning to keep an eye on him. I don't know, it doesn't feel right..."

Andrea abruptly stops walking, making Cath almost stumble into her.

"I know you might be busy and all, but... could we hang out tonight? Please?" Andrea pleads, her eyes suddenly strained with a hint of desperation. "It's just, being at home right now is honestly a little depressing. I could just really, really do with that. We don't even have to meet at your place or anything. Maybe we could meet in the park. That would just make my day."

"... Yeah. Yeah of course," says Cath, taken aback by Andrea's plea.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"... Okay." Andrea takes a deep breath, glancing over at Dustin rambling excitedly about something to a perplexed Lucas as they walk out of class. "So, this A.V. Club meeting... what's that all about? I guess it isn't top secret, since the new girl is going too."

"I'm honestly not sure—"

"Miss Sandoval?"

Principal Coleman emerges from behind Andrea, prompting her to turn and face him. "Your mother is here to collect you," he informs her.

She spins around to exchange a tense glance with Cath. "Bummer. Guess I'll miss out on the big discovery then..." Andrea hums, although nothing in her tone suggests that's the first thing on her mind. Neither of them seem to like how ominous Principal Coleman sounded.

     "Good luck," Cath wishes her, although neither of them know to what.

     Andrea just nods, appearing stuck between confusion and slight nausea as she follows the principal down the hallway. And just like that, Cath is alone. She quietly heads to the cafeteria in search of somewhere to sit — usually she and Andrea would occupy a table to themselves, spacious but still full with energy. But she can't just hog a table to herself today... and part of her feels so much more vulnerable sat alone.

     The natural next best in her mind is wherever the boys sit, who she spots at their own table chatting away (except for Will, who seems withdrawn in his own thoughts). Despite telling herself she is friends with them, Cath still finds she has to pluck up the courage to begin approaching and ask. Even though their paths often cross in and outside school, sometimes she still feels there is a... distance of sorts. She is close enough to be their friend, but not enough to be included in practically everything they do — and in no malicious way. Cath simply just wonders if sometimes, if it hadn't been for last year, would they still be as close?

     Cath is frozen in the middle of the cafeteria, still considering this until a third option suddenly emerges in the form of a hair of red hair flurrying outside. Max. She is reminded of how many times she has seen the new girl alone this week, and looks back at the boys' table — they still haven't spotted her yet. In a strange way, it reassures her that she isn't missing anything. And she will see them afterwards anyway. Right now, it feels more important to sit with someone who might suffer from loneliness just as much as she does.

The sun breaks through overhanging cloud ever so slightly, shining some much-needed autumnal warmth for the first November day. Cath scans her outside surroundings, noting the little clusters of friends sat together on the grass. Well past them is Max, having located the shade of a tree to sit cross-legged on the grass underneath. Cath can't help but smile to herself — it is one of her own favourite spots, and where she always ended up on the older days sat alone. She starts walking over, while Max pulls out a crumpled brown paper bag from her backpack.

It is only when Cath is a few steps away from her, that she seems to realise someone is approaching to talk to her, looking up to listen with a stifled expression; she seems to have her guard up.

"Hello," Cath greets her timidly.

"Hi..." Max replies, her eyes awkwardly shifting between her and the skateboard on her lap.

"This is a nice spot you've picked," she says, nodding to the tree. "I sit here sometimes. It's super nice in the summer."

Max simply nods. She takes out a sandwich, processed slices of ham layered thin between two triangles of white bread, and bites into it.

"Um... do you mind if I sit?" Cath finally asks.

"Oh, uh... sure, go ahead." Almost surprised that someone wants to sit with her, Max scoots over a little to provide more room under the shade, and watches as Cath sits down on the grass and smooths her hands over her skirt. Usually she always feels a tad anxious initiating conversation herself, but the compulsion to make Max feel more comfortable and less alone overrides it.

"So, how are you finding Hawkins so far?" she asks, biting into her own wholemeal cheese and lettuce sandwich.

"It's fine, I guess," the girl shrugs in response. "I mean, there isn't a whole lot to say about it. Hawkins is just... Hawkins. And I've only been here a few days anyways."

"I'll bet it's really different from California."

At this, Max scoffs and looks out at the courtyard with a scrutinising gaze. "You can say that again. It's a far cry from home..."

The word home lingers in the air, and Cath feels a pang of sympathy. Max is right — Hawkins and whatever hip California town she imagines she came from, could not be more different. She can sense the homesickness in the tone of her voice, and wonders if maybe she should switch the subject for her sake.

"Did you enjoy Halloween last night?"

"It was cool, yeah," Max smiles a little bit now. "But those friends of yours are absolutely nuts. And I mean specifically Lucas and Dustin."

Cath giggles. "They're definitely something special. And they really want to get to know you, for sure."

"Oh yeah, I got the feeling. If only they could just tone down on the stalking... Mike, on the other hand, I'm pretty sure he hates me — it is Mike, isn't it? The grumpy-looking one?"

Although chuckling uneasily at the description, Cath nods. "That's him. But what makes you think he hates you?"

"You've seen it," says Max. "He clearly doesn't want me in the Party, and he seems to be the 'leader' or whatever, so what he says goes I guess. I just don't know what I did to him."

     "Mike doesn't hate you. And I promise he isn't always like that. In fact, he's actually a really great friend if you have the luck of getting to know him — they all are. He's just... going through something at the moment. I'm sure he'll come around eventually..." Cath pauses then, feigning a serious expression. "And if he doesn't, I'll have words with him. I can be very persuasive."

     Max laughs then, breaking out into a fully-fledged grin which fills Cath with relief. Throughout their conversation and as it evolves through the rest of their eating lunch, inklings of Max's real personality have started to show. She isn't nearly as aloof as she makes herself out to be — underneath her guard are hints of a real boisterous and fierce spirit, much more fearless than Cath feels she could ever be. Nevertheless, she ends up being somewhat more confident in Max's presence, balancing each other out.

     When they have eaten their lunch, Cath glances down at her watch. "Alright. We'd better hurry to the A.V. Club, otherwise Dustin might explode if he has to wait any longer..."

━━━━━━

DUSTIN'S small cage opens with such abrupt ferocity that it startles Cath, and she clutches a hand to her chest. But soon she instead overtaken by overwhelming curiosity, leaning in between Will, Mike and the others as they peer inside the box. She saw it lively and moving earlier in Dustin's bag, although maybe assumed that at best he had just smuggled a hamster into school or something else ridiculous...

     But what they instead bears witness to is not what she expects in the slightest.

     It's hard to pinpoint exactly what the creature in the box is. The best Cath can come up with is some slug-lizard hybrid — it looks about the size of her palm, with jaundiced skin glistening in a sheen of slime. A small reptilian tail wags at the end of its body and it emits a small screech that further embodies a lizard of sorts. The faceless creature completely stumps Cath for words.

     Dustin picks up the creature in his palm, infatuated with admiration. "His name is D'Artagnan."

     "D'Artagnan?" Mike retorts with distaste.

     "Dart for short. Cute, right?"

     "Cute?" Cath echoes incredulously, wrinkling her nose at the slimy creature.

     "And he was in your trash?" Max asks slowly, in disbelief.

"Foraging for food..." Dustin confirms. He runs his finger along Dart's back and the creature purrs in response. Then, looking up at Max, his eyes twinkle. "Do you wanna hold him?"

"No, no don't—"

But Max's protests come too late, for Dustin has already tipped the slippery thing into Max's reluctantly open palms. "Eurgh, oh God, he's all slimy!" she grimaces, passing him to Lucas in what turns Dart into a hot potato being exchanged around the circle.

"Eww, he's like a living booger!" Lucas exclaims as he hands Dart across the table to Will.

"Ugh, oh God..." Will shudders. Very quickly Cath recognises the emerging pattern, as he spins around and starts letting Dart run into her opening palms.

"No no no, don't give it to me!" she squeals, but it's too late — Cath gags at the sensation of the cold, writhing mass of slimy flesh in her hands, her brain screaming to abort Dart immediately.

She is more than relieved when Mike extends his hands out to her; their fingertips touch to allow a runaway for Dart. Once she is free of the creature, Cath dismally wipes her sticky hands in her skirt. Unlike everyone else, Mike has gotten over Dart's grosser qualities and instead holds him up close, inspecting him with a degree of sceptical curiosity.

"What is he?" Mike asks slowly.

"My question exactly," Dustin grins.

He takes Dart back from Mike and sets him down on the table. Then, he reaches into his bag and drops a pile of zoology books with marked pages onto the table as everyone gathers around. "So at first I thought he was some type of pollywog—"

"Pollywog?" Max echoes, confused.

"It's another word for tadpole," Dustin explains, flitting through different pages. "A tadpole's the larval state of a toad—"

"Yeah, I know what a tadpole is."

"Alright, then you know that most tadpoles are aquatic, right? Well, Dart isn't, he doesn't need water."

"Well yeah, but aren't there non-aquatic pollywogs?" Lucas interjects.

"Terrestrial pollywogs? Yep, two to be exact..." Dustin lays out two open pages with the names. "Indirana Semipalmata and the Adenomera Andreae. One's from India, one's from South America. So how did one end up in my trash?"

Shrugging cluelessly, Max starts theorising. "Maybe some scientists brought it here, and it escaped?"

     "Well, wherever it came from, you should make sure it ends up back where it belongs," Cath interjects, staring uneasily at Dart as he squirms next to his cage. "Who knows where it — sorry, he's been..."

     "Hey," says Mike all of a sudden, leaning over the table. "Do you guys see that? Looks like something's... moving inside of it."

     The group all peer over Dart on the table, and surely enough, his observation is correct. Dart gargles in discomfort as something bulges and squelches underneath his skin. Wanting to get a closer look, Mike moves the lamp over above him — but the creature appears to repel the heat of the light, emitting a high-pitched shriek in retaliation which makes Cath jump out of her skin. Dart tries making a run for it and tumbles into Dustin's palms.

     "Whoa, it's okay, I got you little guy... I know you don't like that, it's okay..." Dustin coos dotingly to Dart. His eyes brighten up as he looks around the rest of the group, still bewildered by the creature's reaction. "And that's another thing — reptiles, they're ectothermic, right? They love heat, the sun. Dart hates it. It hurts him."

     Lucas squints thoughtfully. "So, if he's not a pollywog or a reptile—"

     "It means I've discovered a new species," Dustin concludes proudly.

Following the shrill tone of the school bell, the group pack up and file out of the small A.V. Club room. Dustin begins to gloat about how he wishes to name this new species Dustonius Pollywoggus, while Cath hangs slightly behind the group to fall into step with Will. Dustin seems more eager than ever to show off his new discovery to Mr. Clarke.

"I don't know about you, but I still don't like that thing," Cath murmurs to Will, then sighs. "But I guess if Dustin likes him..."

Will says nothing. He seems to have disappeared elsewhere again, completely spaced out and lost in thought.

"... Will?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry," he gives his head a little revelatory shake. "I was just... thinking."

Suddenly Will stops in the hallway, clutching his book close to his chest, then glances contemplatively at Cath — as if he is weighing up whether he should say something to her or not. She's becoming more and more accustomed to that look the past few days.

"What's wrong?" she asks, just as Mike appears beside her, also having noticed Will stopping.

Will's eyes flicker nervously between them, wide with dread. "It's about D'Artagnan... I think I know where he might have come from."

Mike and Cath gaze at him expectantly, and he sighs.

"I think I've seen him before. In... in these visions I have. I think he's from the Upside Down. And also —" Will pauses for a moment, flinching self-consciously at his own thoughts before continuing. "— after last year, I wasn't really... the same. I think there was still a part of that world in me. And, sometimes I... things came up."

"Things?" Cath echoes, in dreaded confusion.

"Like... I kind of, you know... coughed them up."

It takes a few seconds to connect the dots, but once Cath does, her eyes widen in horror as she glares at Will. "Hold on, so let me get this straight... you coughed something up from the Upside Down, and it looked like Dart?"

"I think so, yeah."

"... Are you serious?!"

"I mean, they weren't that big at the time," Will quickly justifies.

Cath blinks at him in disbelief. "That doesn't make it any better, Will. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Hold on, so if that thing's from the Upside Down..." Mike trails off, eyes narrowed in thought. The same realisation sinks in for the both of them at the same time, a pit of dread opening in their stomachs — if Dart is from the Upside Down, let alone the fact that he seems to be growing rapidly, then they are in deep trouble...

And clearly not as free from the Upside Down as they had all thought.

━━━━━━

A/N;

ooh it's all kicking off! as the title "cracks in the walls" may have suggested, this chapter was meant to show how the facades of the characters are starting to break down — not just with my OCs, but also in other characters like nancy, steve, will, mike and more. however it also shows positive breakthroughs, e.g. with max letting her guard down a bit with cath. anyway, that was some ✨symbolism time✨ for you guys if you were interested...

thank you for reading as always, and hope you have a lovely day/evening!

— Imogen

[ Pre-written: June 10th, 2022 ]
[ Published: June 26th, 2022 ]