#lih.starter

Time was a funny thing. One day, four years ago, The Hargrove-Mayfield caravan rolled into town, and Max hated it. Hawkins showed it's true colors fairly quickly, in spite of it, she felt a sense of belonging for a brief period of time, then went back to hating it. Now, on the precipice of her senior year, Max still wasn't fond of Hawkins. Whoever said time heals all wounds, or she'd come around, or whatever bullshit, was a big fat liar. In theory, she was supposed to meet the rest of "The Party" (she didn't even play Dungeons and Dragons) behind the barricades that corralled in vendors on main. But she hadn't had a social life this robust in years, so she was comfortable taking her time before surrounding herself with Dustin, Lucas, and Mike and their nonsense for hours on end. Max set her skateboard down in the streets, weaving between booths and bodies freely, reveling in the glare or two she got. She'd miss Summer. Booth after booth flew past in bright blurs of green and gold until one thing, or rather person, stuck out. Max skidded to a stop at the familiar face doing their best, but failing miserably to haggle. Just her area of expertise! Like she'd done a million times before, she tucked her board beneath her arm and approached. "This is kind of pathetic." She informed the other person, then raised her brows to say now watch how it's really done. With the sweetest, most fabricated concern, Max chimed in to the vendor, "Excuse me, I think that kid just ran off with one of your products." She pointed in the opposite direction, and when the vendor naturally looked and began to yell, she snagged something off the table. She'd had worse days, worse deeds. Grinning, she slowly walked away from the booth, holding the item in her hand for the other to take, "See? Now it's free."

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?"

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: Main Street Block Party - 8:30pm. Parking lot near St. Francis Parish Hall.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: Jonathan is wrapping up a freelance photography gig that so happens to coincide with a huge block party. How fun!

The wedding was still going when Jonathan ducked out. Last he saw, the flower girl was asleep under a folding chair and someone’s uncle was butchering TIME AFTER TIME at the mic. Jonathan wasn’t a guest … just the guy they’d hired to shoot it all. A freelance gig that he’d landed through word of mouth and, honestly, who could turn down a hundred bucks with a dinner plate included? He was in a nearby parking lot now, parked crooked along the back edge. His day had started early with portraits and ended somewhere more unfortunate with the bride crying with makeup halfway melted off. Jonathan sat on the tailgate of his car, tie loosened, camera bag by his feet, with a half-eaten slice of cake sweating through a paper plate beside him. Somewhere not far off in the distance there were fairy lights blinking behind the church hall. A couple of kids running around unsupervised. One of them was wearing a plastic crown while the other kept throwing wedding rice at the moon. The sound from the block party bled in from Main Street. A meeting of worlds. Laughter. Fireworks that weren’t part of anyone’s permit. Jonathan rubbed at his temple. It smeared a bit of sweat into his hairline but his shoulder ached oh so damn bad from holding the camera all day. All the film was already safely tucked away in his trunk – pretty good shots, he thought. Quiet ones. Unpolished. Then, he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and stared at it like it might light itself. It didn’t. “Shit,” he muttered. Jonathan fished through his pockets with one hand. Nothing … but just when almost all hope was lost, someone passed by. The timing was too perfect to ignore. He didn’t even check who it was. “H-hey,” he called out, a little hesitant at first. God, was that creepy? Too late to reconsider! He lifted the cigarette. “You got a light?”

dustin had been in line at the post office long enough for the clerk to develop the thousand-yard stare of someone questioning all their life choices.

the package on the counter was only half-taped, the flaps bending and popping open every time he nudged it. inside: a roll of black and white film from the disposable camera he’d used for his latest experiment, a tiny glass vial of harmless (probably) blue powder and a letter to suzie that had so many cross-outs it looked like a map. he’d been rearranging those three items for ten solid minutes, as if a different angle might suddenly make the box feel complete.

“you can’t send liquids,” the clerk said flatly. “and it’s not a liquid,” dustin shot back. “it’s powdered copper sulfate. totally safe. unless you eat, like, a pound of it. which - why would anyon— look, it’s fine.”

the clerk’s reply was a slow blink which only made dustin exhale hard through his nose, slapping the tape dispenser onto the counter and yanking the box back toward himself. “y’know what? forget it. i’m taking this on the road before i commit a federal crime.”

two steps from the counter, still muttering something about 'people who wouldn’t know science if it hit them in the face', he spotted the first person in range and practically shoved the box into their hands. “alright, so here’s the deal. i need something for suzie. it’s gotta be something she’ll think is cool but not, you know, suspicious to a federal agency if they open the box. like, imagine you’re sending a care package to the smartest person you know and you want them to open it and immediately think, ‘wow, i should probably marry this guy’ — not that i want to marry her, i mean, we’re teenagers, relax. but hypothetically.”

he gestured at the open flaps, then back over his shoulder toward the counter. “because apparently powdered copper sulfate is ‘dangerous’ now and my other idea is bubble wrap and a cassette of me singing the periodic table. which, by the way, would absolutely kill at any science fair.”