People don't always say what they're thinking. But if you capture the right moment, it says more.
-Jonathan Byers

Fall 1984.

The sound of his fellow classmates whooping and hollering over the upcoming Homecoming game drifted in from the hallway as Jonathan Byers stood in the darkroom developing prints.

He tried to ignore the noise. He could care less about Homecoming. He had bigger things on his mind - like the fact that graduation was seven months away, and he still had no clue what he was going to do afterwards. NYU wasn't really an option, even with financial aid. He had briefly considered the wild notion of hopping on a bus to New York and going wherever the wind blew him - hey, it had worked for some people, right? But the thought of leaving his mother and Will was pretty terrible. He didn't know what he was going to do.

There was a soft knock at the door. Jonathan smiled to himself.

"Come in. It's safe."

Nancy Wheeler stepped in and grinned at him. "Hey!"

"Hey," Jonathan replied. "What's up?"

Over the past year Jonathan and Nancy developed a strange friendship in this darkroom. She often came in after school to sit and talk with him while he worked. Sometimes she stayed for just a few minutes, sometimes for hours. She asked him a lot of questions about photography. Jonathan couldn't tell if she was genuinely interested, or if she just wanted the company. He knew Nancy didn't like being alone.

They didn't interact much anywhere else. Outside their lives went on as normal. Nancy would smile at Jonathan in the hallways, or say a friendly hello when he came to her house to pick up Will. He would see Nancy and Steve having lunch together or at the movie theater, laughing and horsing around with their friends. Jonathan and Steve had come to an uneasy truce after the events of last fall, but Jonathan knew Steve still viewed him with suspicion. It was ok. The feeling was mutual.

It was almost like the darkroom was Jonathan and Nancy's "secret" place. They talked about everything. Everything except Steve, that is, which was perfectly fine with Jonathan. Nancy confided in Jonathan that she still had nightmares. Jonathan told her things about his mother, father and brother that he hadn't told anyone else. He even told her about his pipe dream to attend NYU.

What Jonathan hadn't told her yet was how he really felt about her. He hadn't told her about how much he looked forward to her visits, and the disappointment he felt on the days she didn't come. He didn't tell her that he made her a million sappy mix tapes and never gave them to her. He didn't tell her that he often replayed their conversations late at night when he was trying to sleep. And he didn't tell her that her face was usually the last thing he saw as he was drifting off.

"What are you working on?" Nancy asked as she gazed across a hanging line of photos.

"Project for class. We're supposed to take photos of reflections. Reflections in puddles, mirrors, that kind of thing," Jonathan replied.

Nancy nodded and cleared her throat.

"Listen, um...I need to ask you a favor."

"What is it?" Jonathan asked, bending over to inspect a negative through a magnifying glass.

"I want you to take my senior photos."

Jonathan almost dropped the magnifying glass and looked up at her, startled. "What?"

"I want you to take my senior photos," she said again.

"Why?"

"Because you're the best photographer I know. Don't worry, my parents will pay you and everything."

Jonathan furrowed his brows. "You do know there are professional photographers who can do that?"

Nancy snorted. The one professional photographer in town, Frank Koenig, was about 90 years old and almost completely deaf. She had seen some of the senior photos he took of her friends - cheesy, cliched portraits with forced smiles in front of some lame background.

"I don't want my photo to look like everyone else's. My grandchildren are gonna see this someday. I trust you," Nancy said with a smile.

Jonathan just stood there, skeptical. He really wasn't a portrait photographer. He much preferred landscapes and subjects that didn't involve interacting with human beings up close.

"Come on. I promise it'll be fun."

"I guess we could try it out. But I don't want your grandchildren to hunt me down if the photos are bad."

Nancy smiled. "They won't. So when can we do this?"

"Uhhh...tomorrow after school. We can meet here."

"Great!" Nancy exclaimed. "See you then."

And with that, she turned and left the darkroom.

The red and gold autumn leaves danced along the streets as Jonathan drove Nancy home the next day.

He had taken photos of her in three different places already. Nancy seemed happy with how things were going, but Jonathan had nagging doubts. She was so incredibly photogenic. Yet none of the photos he had taken so far felt good enough. They were too stiff, or too posed, or something. He really wanted the photos to be perfect, and for Nancy to love them. Not just love them, but LOVE them.

"Thanks again Jonathan," Nancy said. "I mean it."

"Sure," he replied nervously. Please don't kill me if these photos are complete shit, he thought.

A moment passed. Nancy looked out the window and sighed. "You realize it's been a year, right?"

Jonathan nodded. "I know. Doesn't feel like it, does it?"

"No," Nancy replied. "It doesn't. It seems like yesterday that Barb and I were studying for our chemistry midterm together."

Nancy didn't talk about her much, but Jonathan knew she still missed Barb terribly. He felt a pang as he looked over at her. Outside the passenger window he caught a glimpse of a familiar dirt road.

"Do you have to be home right away?" he asked.

"I have a few more minutes," she replied. "I promised to help my mom with dinner."

"I want to show you something," Jonathan said as he pulled the car over and flipped a u-turn. "This road here leads to a pretty spot overlooking the lake. We should be right in time to catch the sunset."

"That sounds good," Nancy said. "I could use a sunset right about now." They smiled at each other. Nancy leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later they were sitting cross-legged next to each other on the hood of Jonathan's car. The sun was about halfway down the horizon and dropping fast.

"Wow, you were right. This place is really beautiful," Nancy said.

"Yeah, I like to come here to take pictures. The light is really good at the end of the day. Plus, not many people know about it."

"It's pretty romantic too," Nancy said slyly. "Just how many girls have you brought here, Jonathan Byers?"

There was a teasing note in her voice, and Jonathan could feel himself blushing. He hoped Nancy didn't think he brought her to some sleazy make-out spot because he wanted to get some action.

He shook his head. "I've never brought anyone here." He cleared his throat. "I really don't...date much, y'know."

Nancy sighed. "Yeah, well...dating is overrated anyway."

Jonathan had no idea what that meant, and decided not to ask.

A few minutes of silence passed. Jonathan loved that they could sit together without the need to make awkward small talk.

Nancy stared contemplatively across the lake. "Sometimes I think I'll never get over what happened last year. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you." Her voice cracked a little at the end.

Surprised, Jonathan turned to look at her profile. The hazy orange afterglow from the setting sun was hitting her face in all the right places, and a soft breeze was blowing the dark curls around her face. In the corner of her eye he thought he saw the slight glistening of a tear, but she blinked and it was gone.

"Don't move," he said, as he scrambled for his camera.

Nancy turned her head to look into Jonathan's lens. As he clicked the shutter, she smiled gently. Her eyes contained a look of such warmth and tenderness that it literally took his breath away.

In that moment Jonathan thought he'd never seen anyone look more beautiful or transcendent.

He snapped a few shots, but something compelled him to lower the camera so he could see her with his own eyes. My god, he thought.

"What's wrong?" she asked quizzically. And then the moment was over.

"Nothing," Jonathan replied.

Everything was perfect. He knew he had his shot, and it was burned into his memory forever.

A few days later Jonathan was in the darkroom working when Mr. Maxfield, his photography teacher, walked in the room. "How's it going Jonathan?" Mr. Maxfield asked.

"Fine, Mr. Maxfield. You?"

Mr. Maxfield spotted an 8x10 print hanging on the line, and stepped closer to it for inspection.

"You took this?"

Jonathan nodded.

"This is excellent. Great use of light. Clearly you've been paying attention. Is this your girlfriend?"

Jonathan felt sheepish. "Uh, no...she's a friend."

"Huh," Mr. Maxfield muttered. "She's looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. You sure she's not your girlfriend?" And with that, he winked at Jonathan and left.

Jonathan smiled and shook his head. All due respect to Mr. Maxfield, who was a good guy and taught Jonathan a lot, but he had no clue what he was talking about.

He carefully slipped the print in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote "Nancy" on the cover.

Should he slip it in her locker?

No, he thought. I need to see her reaction.

To be continued...