And then there was darkness.
Eleven felt her body buzzing, felt every molecule vibrating and separating. There was a loud noise all around and she suddenly realized it was her; she was still screaming. She wasn't sure how she wasn't out of breath but she was too afraid to stop. If she stopped… she might be stuck there forever. So she pushed hard, screwed her eyes shut, screamed louder than before, so loud her own ears hurt.
Her atoms slowed and contracted back together. She felt solid again and, more importantly, she felt cold. Opening her eyes, the darkness was gone. She'd never been happy to see this place before. She knew the Upside Down. She could work with this.
She was still in the science classroom and there seemed to be no sign of the Demogorgon. She wondered if she'd managed to kill it completely. But she knew better than to assume all was safe so she carefully crept out of the room while deciding her next move. She was tired but still running on adrenaline, partly from fear, partly from victory. Knowing that she didn't have the strength to rip one open on her own, she decided to look for an existing gate. The one in the school seemed to have closed so she decided to head toward the Byers' house.
Walking briskly and keeping alert, El made her way across town, eventually finding herself walking along the small road to Will's house. She remembered the boys calling it Mirkwood and she felt more determined to find her way back to them. Dustin's jokes, Lucas' newfound support, Mike's smile...they gave her energy. And then she saw it, a faint orange glow not far from the road. A gate. It was tiny, barely a few inches, and hidden in a raggedy bush. El hooked her finger in the hole and pulled hard, using the last of her strength. It easily ripped open and she clawed her way past the branches to pull herself through.
And then came the light and the cool, clean smell of the real world. El breathed it in, heart bursting with relief, as she crawled out of the bush. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes, fingers caressing the grass and twigs around her. She was real again.
"Hey!"
El whipped her head around to find a girl standing on the road. She had long red hair, an oversized sweater, dirty Converse sneakers. A scowl on her face that seemed somehow unnatural. She was holding something in her arm, a board with wheels.
"Are you okay?"
Max had been bumming around, as she did most Sunday afternoons, practicing skate tricks on the old road at the edge of the woods. This was one of her favorite spots because no adults were around to force her to wear a helmet. And no kids were around to tease her. Not that she couldn't handle them (she wouldn't admit to herself how much they bothered her).
But after one particularly good kickturn she noticed something rustling in the bushes some yards away. She stopped, expecting a raccoon or maybe a stray dog (she was hoping for the dog) but instead a person crawled out and collapsed in the grass. A girl, maybe her age, pink dress and flannel shirt and no hair. Max called out, praying that the girl would answer because she really didn't feel like going to the police about a dead body.
"Are you okay?" she repeated. El nodded and picked herself up, dusting the stray leaves from her clothes. Max knew she should leave, should turn around and leave the girl alone now that she was confirmed alive. But something kept her there.
"What's your name?" Max asked.
"El." She subconsciously pulled her sleeve further down her arm.
"Max."
A silent moment passed, the two regarding each other, and then El pushed the words out. "Do you know Mike? Wheeler?"
"Uhh, no."
"Dustin? Lucas?"
"No. I just moved here though so I don't really know anyone."
El wished she was better with words and could describe her friends. Instead she looked down the road, wondering which way led to the Wheelers' house.
"Do you, uh, live around here?"
El shook her head and Max twisted her mouth before asking, "Do you wanna come over? I was gonna go have a snack."
She wanted to find her friends, but she was a little nervous about when she did. She had seen the looks on their faces when she left. Would they be mad at her? She came back as quickly as she could…
But Max was waiting for an answer and so El nodded, partly because she was starving.
Max tried not to peek too much at the strange girl next to her as they walked. She was quiet, tiny. Filthy clothes and a dirty face. She wondered if El was hungry, if she was cold. Max knew what it was like to be hungry and cold, to be too proud to ask for help, and that's why she invited her back to the house. That and there was just something about her.
"I like your hair."
El subconsciously grabbed her scalp as she looked over at the redhead.
"Really, it's hardcore."
"Hardcore?" El repeated.
"It's cool," Max said with a shrug and El smiled as she whispered "cool" to herself.
The house was a cheery blue with a large porch. It was nice inside, the furniture looking a little worn but loved, a TV in the corner, bigger than Mike's. El washed up in the bathroom while Max made boxed mac and cheese. Wearing Max's pajamas, El wolfed down the pasta while sitting on the couch. The redhead watched in amusement, pleased that she was right. El looked up with slight embarrassment to see Max looking at her. "Yummy."
"Mr. B always has mac and cheese in the cupboard, which is pretty cool," Max commented with a shrug.
"You live with your Papa?"
"Uh, no. My dad is dead. So's my mom. They died in a fire when I was little. Mr. B's our foster dad."
She wasn't sure why she was sharing so much, but El was a good listener. Perhaps Max had bottled too much of this, needed the release.
Max didn't mention the memories of that night that still confused her. The crackling in the kitchen, the sparks flying from Billy's fingers. That he pulled her out but left them behind.
But she told El about her journey through the foster system. There were good homes, where the parents were kind and understanding and the other kids fun. And there were bad homes, where people cried and drank and threw things. They never stayed in one place more than a year. Max knew this was largely the fault of Billy and his antics, but he was her brother, her one constant, so she never blamed him.
She was about to ask El about where she came from when the back door opened. Soon a voice called out, "Max? Is that you?"
El turned her head as the man walked into the room. He was not yet middle-aged but had the beginnings of laugh lines and crow's feet on his face. But El recognized him immediately; she could feel it.
"Will."
