𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖗

She thought about Hawkins High — the crowded hallways she hadn't walked through yet, the locker combination she would have to remember, the fact that she would be a new face in a sea of people who had grown up together. That meant eyes. Questions. Maybe even whispers. And Joyce wasn't wrong. There were always people who looked at her like she was something other.

But Joyce's hand on her shoulder made her shoulders relax a little. "You think I'm cool?" El asked, an eyebrow arching, unable to hide the amusement that tugged at her mouth. It wasn't often she felt that way about herself. Mostly because she felt like she was trying to catch up. Almost like everyone else got a rulebook for how to be normal and hers was lost somewhere in the mail.

"I can try to ignore them." And she meant it. It wasn't like she hadn't had practice in that department. She had been stared at before. Called names. Laughed at. Hawkins High couldn't possibly be any worse than what she had been through.

Then, she gave Joyce's arm a nudge. "I think you're cool too, for what it's worth." Which, probably wasn't much considering Joyce was an adult and this was coming from her child, but El meant it. But they were all starting something new, so maybe if Joyce helped El's ego a little bit, El could return the favor.

"Your grandma puts sugar in vegetables?" She asked like it was the strangest revelation of the entire day. El was no stranger to eating sugar and consuming, well, mass amounts of it. Growing up, food was a source of sustenance. Any sugar she ingested were natural, already present in whatever she was eating. The world of processed sugars was one that she had come to love — but even she had endured stomach aches from too much of a good thing and had learned what balance was.

She dropped the can back in the box with a dull thud, dusting her hands together like she had just done a full day of work. It wasn't all that often that someone told her she didn’t stick out. Mostly, she just assumed she did. The simple fact that she didn't grow up like everyone else made her visible and there was almost no way of masking it.

"Fish out of water," the echo came out soft. "That's... more than accurate, I think," El's lips quirked upwards, though it wasn't much of a smile. More like an acknowledgment. She didn't always know how to tell him, or anyone for that matter, that she needed to hear those words. Gentle reminders that she could exist in their world.

Her gaze flicked toward the passing students, the swell of voices in the hall beyond the booth before returning her attention to Mike. She wanted to believe in the finish line, in the idea that life would just magically settle once they crossed it. She thought that's what would happen going to a real school, but she had been alive long enough now to know things rarely tied themselves up that neatly. Still, she nodded. "I hope you’re right."

A small pause lingered before she added, almost like she couldn’t help it: "Will trusts you more than anyone. If you think he'll be okay, then... he will be." El leaned forward, elbows back on the table, and let the corner of her mouth pull up again. "But don’t think I'm letting you sugar beans for me. That's where I draw the line. I mean, that's just gross."

Will looped the headphones over his ears and waited for El to do the same before he hit play on the tape. The first track started out slow, almost melancholy as the solo guitar plucked dreamily through the airwaves. He tilted his head towards his sister's, letting the ends of her hair tickle his cheek. Nothing else really mattered right now.

"They always do," he hummed. Will half-expected Mike to come bursting through the crowd right then, barreling down on them in a mixture of excitement and panic. Neither of them could go too long without the other, and Will breathed a sign of relief that they weren't hundreds of miles away in California after all.

At El's question, Will's eyes lit up, "You know Pink Floyd? That band Jonathan likes?" He hummed a couple of bars from "Wish You Were Here" for good measure. Will took El's wide-eyed gaze as encouragement and barreled ahead, "So the front man of Pink Floyd, Roger Waters, released this in '84. It's like a long narrative album, all about him basically having a midlife crisis. The last track is my favorite-- 'The Moment of Clarity.' It's him, like, waking up from his dream and realizing he didn't actually want to wish his life away."

For someone relatively quiet and soft-spoken, Will could easily go on for longer than El ever wanted about The Pros And Cons of Hitch Hiking. He could tell her that, when he bought it on vinyl last year, he'd painted over the cover because he didn't want to wake up and see that everyday. "Uh-- sorry," he blushed, thankful for the loud swell of track two to pull him back from telling El all about how Steve O'Rourke wanted Pros to be a Pink Floyd album, not a solo work.

He cleared his throat, tilting his head to the side and looking at his sister. "Do you ever feel like that-- like you need to move somewhere far away and, like, start over?" Will asked, tiptoeing towards something real.

And she nodded when Will asked her about Pink Floyd and listened as he continued on and on about the album and members of the band. She didn't really care, nor did she retain much of the information that Will rambled on about, but she liked seeing Will this way. Passionate about something. Interested in something. And that was enough for her to put on a smile and nod along.

When Will asked that question, her breath caught for a second. Not because it surprised her, but because it felt like he had yanked a thought straight from her head. Like maybe she wasn't quite as alone in those feelings as she thought.

"I used to," El said finally, just loud enough to be heard over the track. "When I first came here. After the lab. After... everything." Her voice stayed calm, almost detached, like she was reading it off a memory card instead of reliving it.

She glanced at him then. "I thought maybe if I moved somewhere new, with new people, I could be someone else. Someone normal. Someone who didn’t flinch when the lights buzzed too loud."

The headphones crackled slightly, like the song agreed with her. El pulled one headphone back slightly, letting the music bleed into the open air. "It's not the place that makes things better," she said. "It’s the people. You and Joyce. Jonathan. Mike. Max."

She let her head tilt toward Will’s again, more on purpose this time. "I don't know where I'd go if I left," she admitted. "But if I did... I think I'd want someone to come with me. Someone who gets it.” Her eyes found his, clear and earnest as she nudged at him. "You ever dream of somewhere far, far away? Like, Tatooine?"

She held on, her fingers still curled around Max's like they were meant to fit that way. The back of her knuckles were warm, thumb rubbing slow over Max's, like she was memorizing the shape of it. Not romantic, necessarily. Just something tethering her there. Maybe even something sacred.

"I know what you mean," she said finally, voice low. El was a lot of things — naive, odd, but never stupid or unobservant. "About Hawkins. About people." She didn't care to talk about Hawkins like it was home; it was the people in it that were home. But, she understood what it meant to be stared at. To be turned into something to fear. To entertain. To pity. A weapon or a miracle. Rarely ever just a girl. Something Max always let her be.

She leaned her shoulder into Max's as they walked. Max was right, people would stare no matter what they did. And it wasn't like El needed to prove anything. She just liked that Max didn’t need her to be anything but herself or that she never asked El to explain why her feelings didn’t always line up with the words people used to describe them. Max just got it. Like she always did.

"And if it was different somewhere else," El added, "would we still be just friends?" She didn’t ask it in a way that needed a direct answer. It came out like curiosity more than some kind of deep confession. And if anything, it was nice to dream. Of a place that was more understanding of the way El felt when she was around girls.

She looked sideways at Max, a flicker of a grin curling the corner of her mouth. "Because if California means we could hold hands and no one says anything, maybe we should go," then a brief pause with the faintest hint of El telling a joke, "don't think we'd get very far on that skateboard of yours, though."

"It’s not the sweat," she pointed out. "It’s more... your posture. And the look on your face," she explained as her eyes flicked over him, forehead creased in mock-concern. The truth was, she didn’t think he looked bad. He just looked Mike — perpetually out of place, a little over it, trying not to care. It was almost comforting, how some things didn’t change. She hoped he never would.

El tapped her fingers against the edge of the donation box as she watched him lean back and seemingly attempt to vanish into his chair. She could almost see the thoughts turning in his head, and for once, she didn’t push to know what they were.

"I get why you signed up," her voice was a little softer when she said it. Not only did it seem pretty easy to El, which meant that probably any shmuck could do it and it just seemed safe. Minimal amount of socialization, there wasn't anyone keeping an eye on whether or not they were doing a good job, and it's not like they were held all that accountable for what people put in the box.

She leaned in slightly to him. "Plus, you get to judge everyone’s snack choices," she reached into the donation box and held up a dented can of green beans she was sure someone had dropped off earlier and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Healthy, but who likes this crap?"

Then, like the thought just occurred to her. "Thanks for not making it weird," she pointed out. "Me being here." She wasn’t just talking about the booth. She was talking about being back in Hawkins High, in public, in her skin. There were moments she still felt like a science project walking around.

And sometimes she still felt like a burden. As soon as she wasn't saving the world anymore, there was always the thought that maybe it was fleeting. Like her friendships were bound to all go away at any moment.

"Do you think Will'll be okay?" El asked, out of her own curiosity. She had no idea what life had for her at school. She had never made friends outside of the party and she had certainly never sat in a desk before, but Will had. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to reassurance from someone else that Will would be fine.

He flashed a smile at his sister, laughing softly. "Okay... it's different," he leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers, an unspoken promise that he wasn't offended. "Different doesn't mean lame," he reiterated, echoing the sentiment Jonathan passed down to him all those years ago, before Will really even knew what different could entail.

Will's nose wrinkled up in disgust as he shook his head at the image of Hubert's spit flying, "Ew, gross." He wondered for a moment if Mike would, like, kill him for discouraging a potential new member, but Will couldn't stop himself from saying, "Or maybe not. Imagine playing a whole campaign without a spit guard. No thanks." He felt a little mean for what was most definitely punching down, but Will was genuinely grossed out at the thought.

He nodded sympathetically, pushing himself up on forearms to rummage through his backpack. "Me, either. Guess I didn't realize how many people would be here," Will frowned, pushing past assorted school supplies and an old, incredibly worn Dungeons and Dragons manual to no avail.

"Not yet," he admitted in response. Will wasn't sure what her look meant-- maybe El didn't want to see Mike, or something-- but he decided to sidestep it. "She'll come by eventually," Will reassured his sister, pulling his Walkman out of the bag. He grinned, rigging his splitter with a pair of headphones for him and a pair of headphones for El. "Wanna wait for them to find us?" he lifted the headphones in offering.

"Okay," she answered, and took the headphones from him with both hands like it was bound to break if she wasn’t careful enough. "We can wait."

El didn’t really get music the way Will did. Not like how it meant something so deeply to him and Jonathan like it was basically stitched into their bones. But she liked watching him listen to it. Like Will was somewhere better when he listened to it.

She slid the headphones on to wrap around her ears and leaned back against the grass, letting her head tilt just slightly toward his. When the first track crackled through the static, she let the corners of her mouth lift. Not quite a smile, but close enough.

"Thanks," she said after a minute. Then, almost as an afterthought, "they'll find us eventually." At some point, she was sure their music session would be interrupted by someone. Whether it was Mike or Max or Dustin or - well, the list could go on.

There was a lot she didn’t understand - about people, about herself. But she knew how to recognize when her chest didn’t feel quite so heavy. And sometimes that only happened when Will had an extra pair of headphones. She turned her head and looked at him again, serious. "What are we listening to?" She asked. El wasn't quite as in the know about music other than what Will provided her with or what she would let Max play. In fact, if El had to discover music on her own, she didn't even know where she would start. (90s!El you are going to love discovering The Cranberries)

She watched Joyce like she might catch her saying something different with her hands or the corners of her smile. It was still strange sometimes. Being wanted. Not as a weapon or an experiment or a burden, but as someone Joyce actually hoped would stay close. El had never really gotten used to that feeling.

The offer to help in the office made her lift her eyes again. "You want me to be your assistant?" She asked, a little surprised, a little amused. "Do I get a badge?" That was her own try at making a joke.

Maybe it was just Joyce’s way of keeping her nearby. El was naive, but she wasn't stupid. She could tell when someone was worrying behind their smile. But she didn’t mind. She liked knowing someone wanted her in their orbit. And if it meant being close to Joyce, learning a little about how this new life worked. She could totally do paperwork or run errands.

"I think I would like that," she nodded. And this time she didn't agree just out of politeness. "It would be way better than P.E." Her eyes flicked up when Joyce called her brave, and that made her blink a few times. Brave. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that. She had saved her friends lives and the world, what? A handful of times? But it always felt different coming from Joyce. It was real and it was normal.

"It’s loud," El admitted, glancing toward the crowd. "Too many people. Too many smells." Her nose scrunched a little. "But, it's good. I like seeing everyone. I like watching." That was easier than talking sometimes. She still hadn’t figured out how to start conversations that didn’t involve talking to people that she already knew.

Her hand moved toward one of the lanyards, tracing the plastic strap absently. "We do... think you're a big deal," she finally added. She imagined that Joyce had more of an obligation to Will and Jonathan. They were her sons and El figured there was some kind of maternal nature in that, but when it came to herself? Joyce welcomed El in as her own. It wasn't something she had to do.

"Do you think people will think I'm strange when school starts?" She asked. El was used to being looked at - whether it was when people couldn't tell whether she was a boy or a girl or the lack of words she spoke. Now, she would be the homeschooled freak.

Eleven was her best friend. Figures her first girl best friend would be some formerly powered, strange girl from a lab. The world might've been new to El in more ways than most people could understand, but she always got what Max was feeling. Or trying to say. She was pretty sure they called that emotional intelligence, and El certainly made up where she was lacking. She was a one of kind person, the best humanity had to offer amongst all it's bleakness. They had moved through monsters and loss together, spent weekend after weekend in each other's bedrooms, if there was something Max wanted to share, El would be the first to know. Sure the nature of their relationship had changed, but none of those things had. Just because Max was helping El, like, explore and learn more about herself, didn't make them not friends. Max did worry sometimes if she was letting lines between curiosity and pleasure blur. She liked kissing El in those secret late night moments, or cuddling during a movie, or whatever. She'd talked with El over and over about self-discovery and exploration, so surely it'd registered with her. Or at least Max hoped it had. So today, when Eleven grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together and all, in the middle of the block party, Max kind of panicked. While she'd never kissed a girl before El, it wasn't all that hard for her to quietly accept that she liked engaging physically with guys and girls like that. Emotional engagement was another story. Max held it for a while, like it was just some friend thing they did, and made a mental note to bring it up later. It was later. "Hey? El?" Max broke the silence of the darkening street, extending her hand between them. She waited for the other to take it. "I'm sorry about earlier, when...you know." Last thing she ever wanted was to make El feel bad. Max had long worked through issues with her identity, coming to accept who she was with a badge of honor. But she wasn't ignorant, or naive, she knew the world they lived in. "It's just like, there are some assholes out in the world who don't like girls and girls together. Or guys and guys. Especially in Hawkins." Max lamented, "I wish it wasn't like that, but it is. So I guess I just got worried that it wasn't safe." Max's grip on El's hand tightened. Vulnerability and honesty didn't come easily to her, not in the slightest, but Eleven deserved that from her, so she would do her best to give it. Despite her discomfort, she clarified, "We're not like....a couple or anything, right?"

But, just because she realized it didn't mean she understood it.

When El finally spoke, it came out meek - quiet. Almost like if she spoke too loud, somebody would hear them. "You don’t have to be sorry," and she meant it. Max was rarely wrong, in El's experience. The world was full of people who didn’t understand. People who looked at difference like it was something dangerous. El had spent most of her whole life being called strange. Being told to hide. And maybe that was the comfortability in Max - she never made El feel like she had to.

"I wasn’t upset," she added after a beat. "Just... confused, I guess," and that wasn't even just from the looks of people on main or because Max had pulled away. It was because it was still hard sometimes to tell the difference between what she felt or what she was expected to feel. What people called love, or friendship, or something in between. There were so many rules and regulations to something that she didn't think had to have much thought.

She thought about Mike. About how they used to hold hands all the time and kiss because that's what boyfriends and girlfriends did. About how she thought she loved him. And she did love Mike, but as time unfolded, she realized that it was less than romantic. So, maybe her way of looking at relationships were a little skewed. And, El didn't know if she wanted Max to be her girlfriend. If she was, would that make her like Mike? El didn't want Max to be like Mike.

She looked at Max again then, her red hair catching in the streetlight like copper wire. El offered her a small smile. "We’re not a couple," she said with a tentative nod. "I know that."

Honesty was something that made El feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, but she still added, "but I like being close to you. You make me feel... normal." El didn’t know if that was friendship or something else, but she didn’t need it to be more than what it was. Max had always seen her clearly, even before El could see it herself.

"I just don't get it. Don't friends hold hands? It doesn't have to be strange," El tried to explain, squeezing Max's hand. Not to make Max stay, or change anything, just to let her know she was still there despite it. "Why would people think it's so strange? Even if we were..." she let her words trail off, knowing Max could fill in that blank.

"I liked that game night," El said after a quiet pause. "Even if you lost," her voice was slightly hesitant, almost like she was unsure if she was allowed to say that part completely out loud. Then, because sincerity made her itchy at times, she was quick to add in a, “you still look like a wet sock.”

El let her gaze trail over the folding table, then the line of melting backpacks behind it, before pointing her chin toward his chair. "You want me to cover for you?" She asked. "I can pretend to be you. Say things like… 'Please do not crush the cans. If you crush the cans, I will be deeply annoyed,'" her voice dipped into a lower register, doing her very best tortured Mike Wheeler impression.

She stepped behind the booth, with or without his permission - or invitation, really. Maybe it was just El recognizing a familiar face in the sea of people, or some type of exposure therapy she needed, but she quickly found herself a chair and slid it over. "Scooch your booch," a term she had picked up on from someone, somewhere. Once settled next to him, her gaze flicked over to his. "So, we're donation collecting?"

He welcomed a break from talking to customers, and Will crouched down into a seated position next to El. He patted her knee, glancing around the crowd in hopes he'd spot one of their friends. "Yeah," he admitted. It was mostly adults this early in the day, and he guessed Mike was running late or something.

The back to school bash was the kind of thing everybody ended up coming to-- not because there was a ton to do here, but because it shut down most other businesses in Hawkins-- so it ended up being a sweaty mass of people milling around the same one-mile stretch of main. It was way more fun when they were kids, and ducking between booths unsupervised was, like, the epitome of summer freedom. "Did you see Max already?" he prodded, reserving a comment about how much time they were spending together lately. Not like he had any space to judge, even if he wanted to.

"Oh, Hubert's your--" Will started, jaw dropping in fake offense at El's conclusion. "You haven't even started high school and you already think I'm lame?" he joked, tucking a hand behind his head and stretching out in the grass next to his sister. "What makes Hubert so lame?"

"I don’t think you’re lame," she said at last, like it was a serious correction. "You’re just… Will." She turned her head to glance at him, eyebrows scrunched slightly, like maybe he should’ve understood what that meant already. "That’s different."

"Hubert asked if I knew what Dungeons and Dragons was. Then tried to explain it to me for fifteen minutes. He spit when he talked," a pause, "a lot. Maybe I should ask him to join Mike's little club that he's always talking about. That's what I meant." El definitely wasn't good at playing, nor did she think she really enjoyed it. She liked it because Will and Mike liked it. That was where it ended.

Before he could mention anything else about her pointed lameness, she tilted her head toward the bustle of the drive. The parents laughing too loudly, pop music coming from a speaker, someone arguing over the last drawstring bag at a booth, and added, "I don’t think I’m good at mentoring. Or at... this."

Her tone was flat, but not without feeling. Frustrated, maybe. A little vulnerable. "And I haven't seen Max yet," she shook her head. And maybe that was part of her problem. Nobody was together or around, and El hated being alone in a big space. Too suffocating. Especially when she couldn't find someone who was such a constant in her life like Max. "How am I supposed to find anyone here?" Then, a quirked look. "Have you seen Mike?"

But, El was really trying to blend in! To look like a real, teen girl. She had been for the last few years, but even then, the cons of being homeschooled and having only a few friends had definitely caught up with her.

She hovered for a second at the edge of Joyce’s booth. Long enough to hear her give the full pitch about school calendars, lanyards, water bottles, even the cheesy green and gold pencils with tiny cartoon hawks stamped into the sides. El’s lips twitched into this sort of tight lipped smile that she only regarded for things that made her chest feel warm inside. It was nice seeing Joyce like this.

"Hi," she spoke, her voice just loud enough to catch Joyce's attention. "I am taking this," she added, without any real bite behind it as she reached for one of the pencils on the table. She could’ve asked. Of course she could’ve asked. But, it was up for grabs, wasn't it?

"You know you have fans?" El asked, a playful glint in her eyes. "That sophomore just asked you can have interns. Interns." She emphasized. It was kind of cool. El didn't know what it meant or felt like to be cool, but something about her psuedomom being seen as cool felt... cool? Maybe it was bound to save her ass this coming school year.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she leaned forward a little. "I think you might be a big deal."

Eventually, she walked over. No rush. Just appeared in front of him like a very unimpressed summer ghost. Her arms were crossed, holding a half-empty iced tea she’d gotten from the vending machine near the gym, the condensation dripping onto her wrist. It was probably watered down by now, but it was cold and that counted for something.

When Mike did his little speech, she just stared at him for a beat longer than was socially normal. Then she raised one brow and said, "I’m not here for a donation." Although, when she did start to look around, she thought about taking the clipboard. As grateful as she often was for Joyce, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of her head that always said she was eating too much out of the fridge or getting too many clothes.

A pause. Then she added, "you look like you might pass out." With a hand, she dug into the bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out a half-eaten bag of chips she’d been saving for later. "It's like a good gesture. For beating you at Monopoly last week."

There were a lot of things to be worried about heading into senior year. For one, Will was already bracing himself for the same kind of torment he got in middle school. Sure, Lucas was popular now and Will at least had the Hellfire Club to fall back on in the friend category, but that didn't change his status as homeschooled-zombie-boy-freak. On top of that, Mom had just gotten an administration job at Hawkins High, which she swears is just a good opportunity-- but bring-your-mom-to-school day wasn't likely to score him any cool points, either. Not that Will particularly cared about being cool-- he mostly just wanted to be left alone.

Then they sent the letter home about Freshman Focus day, and assigned Will a freshman to mentor. He was more than a little panicked about this-- what the hell could he possibly tell an incoming freshman that would have any merit? Don't bike home at night? If you start seeing visions, tell someone because you might be possessed? Will sighed, hoisting a box of school supplies onto the folding chair behind the Melvald's booth and beginning to sort the notebooks according to color. Jonathan had stepped away for a smoke break, and Will didn't think any of his friends were here yet, so he didn't mind finishing the setup.

When a potential customer looked his way, Will offered a gentle smile, dropping his hand onto the table and smoothing out the forest green tablecloth. "Hi!" he greeted, watching them for a moment before asking, "Can I ask you sort of a weird question?" Will decided to go for it, desperate for any piece of wisdom he could dispense to his mentee on Saturday. "What's something you wish you knew as a freshman?"

Then she heard him. Will. It was gentle, familiar, and maybe it was a little embarrassing to cling to the people she did know, especially lived with. He was talking to someone, but that had never stopped El before. She hesitated as she crossed over to the booth.

"Max said to avoid the cafeteria fish sticks," she announced, a little too abruptly. "That they are made of sea monsters," she deadpanned. Not that she actually believed they were sea monsters, she wasn't quite so gullible. And the sea monsters comment was enough to make whoever Will was talking to walk away.

El plopped down on the curb beside him and laid her back onto what little patch of grass was behind them. "This sucks," she groaned, draping her forearm across her eyes. If El hated the crowds and being around classmates, she had a hunch that Will felt the same. She didn't want to complain much. This was the freedom El craved and wanted. She couldn't go back on her word now. "And Hubert does not like me," she said. The mentee she had been assigned was some crater-faced bug of a boy.

"You might like him. He's..." she trailed off, trying to find the proper words that both made sense and wouldn't offend Will. "...Lame?"