Nancy expected to hear from Steve before the start of homeroom - a note, a greeting in the hall, something - but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't find him until midway through the school day, right at the end of lunch period. He was lounging by the vending machines with his friends Tommy and Carol. Carol was smoking, which was definitely not allowed, but nobody was stopping her. Nancy approached them, feeling unusually intimidated. Two days ago he was shoving his tongue down your throat, she told herself. There's nothing weird about wanting to say hello.

"Hey, Steve," she said, waving at him awkwardly.

"Uh, hi Nance," Steve responded, running his hand through his hair. He didn't stand up or invite her to sit down, so she just stood there, feeling a blush beginning to creep up her neck.

"How was the party?" she asked.

Tommy and Carol started laughing their asses off, and Steve couldn't help but chuckle along. "It was… uh… it was great."

She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was missing out on some inside joke. "Cool… sorry I couldn't make it."

"No worries," he said, smiling at her. It almost made her feel better, but then he followed up with, "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yeah, um, see you," she mumbled, feeling like she had been dismissed. "Bye."

She turned the corner and heard the three of them burst into laughter once again. Her heart clenched in her chest and her eyes began to water.

Barb could tell that Nancy was upset as soon as she saw her. They sat next to each other in English class, and as soon as the teacher left the room (ostensibly to give them time to catch up on reading, although everyone in school knew he was going to smoke in the teacher's lounge) she tapped her best friend on the shoulder, looking sympathetic.

"You okay, Nance?"

Nancy frowned. "I just… I feel like I should've gone to that party."

Barb raised her eyebrows and tried not to laugh. "Seriously? That party was going to be hell on Earth."

"You don't know that," objected Nancy.

"In what universe does drinking cheap beer and getting felt up by Steve Harrington sound like a fun night?"

"Shut up," muttered Nancy, turning pink. "It wouldn't have been like that."

"Are you guys talking about Steve's party?" asked Susan, the girl who sat next to them in class. She was known for being a bit of a gossip.

Barb rolled her eyes but Nancy nodded. "I was invited, but I couldn't go."

Susan leaned forward, glancing around conspiratorially. "I heard he hooked up with Celeste."

Nancy stared at her, stomach churning. "Steve hooked up with… Celeste Johnson? Are you… are you sure?"

"Apparently," Susan whispered, giggling, "they skinny-dipped in his pool, and then she gave him head in the living room, and then…"

Barb wrinkled her nose. "Gross." She really really didn't need to know any of that. It was a moment before she looked at Nancy and winced at her friend's heartbroken expression. "Nance…"

Nancy stood up and dashed out of the classroom, trying to keep her face neutral. She held in her tears until she reached the safe haven of the Ladies' Room.

Calm down, she told herself. It's just some stupid rumor. Steve likes you, he wouldn't hook up with another girl just because you weren't available.

A bevy of girls entered the restroom and Nancy ducked into one of the stalls, still trying to compose herself. The sound of their casual chatter helped calm her down - at first.

"Hey, Celeste, I heard you had a good time at Steve's party…"

Nancy heard giggling and her chest felt like it was made of ice.

"Oh my god, we got so drunk. His house is huge," Celeste told them. There was some teasing about whether other things were huge as well.

"So are you guys, like, a thing now?" asked Melanie Boyd.

Celeste chuckled. "Well, we're going to the football game together, so who knows?"

"What about that girl… what's her name… Natalie? Weren't they going out?"

"Natalie?" repeated Celeste, confused. "Oh, you mean Nancy, Nancy Wheeler?"

Nancy gripped the stall handle, her knuckles turning white.

"I don't think he was very serious about her," commented Celeste. "She just wasn't his type, if you know what I mean."

Nancy couldn't take it anymore. She opened the stall door with a bang, making all the girls jump in surprise. With her head held high, she ignored their smirks and stares, washing her hands and drying them carefully before going back out into the hallway.

As soon as she exited the bathroom she felt her legs start to give way and her lip began to tremble once again. She looked around for a new sanctuary and spotted the Photography Class darkroom. Without thinking twice, she rushed inside.

The room was too hot and smelled of chemicals, but Nancy was relieved to once again find herself alone. She walked along the rows of drying photographs, wiping her eyes and calling herself every synonym for "fool" she could think of.

"Nancy?"

She spun around, startled. Jonathan Byers was standing by the door in a ratty t-shirt and jeans, clutching a roll of negatives. "Jonathan? What are you doing here?"

Jonathan Byers stared at her and seemed unsure of what to say. "I'm… um… developing film."

"Oh, right," she said, cringing at herself. "Well, sorry for getting in the way. I'll just… I'll be going."

"Wait!" Jonathan said. Then he coughed and scratched behind his ear. "I mean, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing, nothing," she muttered, and lunged past him to the door. But when she opened it, she saw Steve standing in the hallway, and she quickly shut the door again.

Jonathan looked at her quizzically. "Nothing?"

She sighed and stared at her shoes, noticing how her white socks looked almost pink in the strange colored light. "Fine… I'm hiding."

To her surprise, Jonathan chuckled. She didn't think she'd ever heard him laugh before - the sound was deeper than she'd expected. She looked up to see him unspooling his roll of film and preparing to treat a new photograph, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"What?" she demanded. She couldn't stand having another person laughing at her.

"Nothing… it's just… this is a good place to hide," Jonathan said, quietly.

She studied him as he hung a new photo on the drying line. Nancy hadn't really talked to Jonathan in years. Back when she and Mike were closer, she would be over at the Byers' house every other weekend. She'd even had a bit of a crush on the eldest Byers boy, because he was two years older than her and used to make her laugh by pretending to be a master chef while he made the kids grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Are all of these yours?" she asked, motioning to the wall.

"Most of them," he said. She took a step towards him and looked down at the photo he was holding. In it, a flock of birds emerged from within a tangle of black tree branches, their wings catching the light.

"Wow… Jonathan, that's…" she breathed, impressed.

He was glad the darkroom light would disguise his reddening face. "So why are you hiding?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

She frowned, annoyed. "None of your business."

Jonathan smiled crookedly as he worked. "Well, you're in my darkroom."

"It's the school's darkroom," she shot back, crossing her arms.

He mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I reserved it," he said, knowing he was being immature. He was about to tell her to forget it, he didn't need to know - but then she started talking.

Nancy leaned against the wall. "The kids at this school, they're just… they're just…"

He raised his eyebrows and supplied a descriptor. "The worst?"

Nancy cracked a smile. "Exactly."

He smiled back, before returning to his project, secretly blushing. He had never imagined that a girl could look this pretty under red-light, but apparently…

"Have you ever been dating someone, and you think it's going great, and then suddenly they just turn around and act like a completely different person?"

"No," Jonathan said, honestly.

"Oh," said Nancy, feeling silly. Of course Jonathan didn't know anything about relationships. She wasn't even sure why she was telling him all this. "Well, it sucks."

"Sure," said Jonathan, sliding another photo into the solution. "Maybe that's who he was all along."

"Who?"

"Steve Harrington," Jonathan said calmly.

Nancy choked on air. "Who said anything about Steve?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "That's who you were talking about, isn't it?"

"Yeah… but…" stuttered Nancy. "How did you…"

"I hear things," Jonathan said. "People don't notice me much." He glanced at her pointedly, and Nancy looked down, embarrassed in spite of herself. She was probably guilty of that, too. Jonathan was quiet, and didn't have many friends, and most of the time it was just easier to pretend not to know him.

"Yeah, well, anyway… Steve's a jerk," muttered Nancy.

Jonathan leaned towards the table and mumbled something that sounded like, "No kidding." Nancy looked at the photos developing on the wall. Jonathan was talented, she had to admit. He cringed when she glanced over his shoulder, and seemed to attempt to shield the photo from her eyes. She saw it anyway.

The photo had been taken out by the football field. Girls and boys sat on the bleachers, their hands buried in their pockets because of the cold. Some laughed, while others looked bored. A couple in the far right was kissing passionately.

"Have you been doing this a while?" she asked.

"What?"

"Photography."

Jonathan nodded. He felt a need to explain, although he wasn't sure why. "Yeah… I guess I'd rather observe people than, you know…"

"Talk to them," supplied Nancy, smiling slightly.

He hunched his shoulders, looking down at his knees. "I know, it's weird."

"No!" Nancy said, her voice just a little too high to be convincing. The attempt made him laugh.

"No, it is… It's just, sometimes, people don't really say what they're really thinking. When you capture the right moment… it says more."

Nancy stared at him, intrigued despite herself. He looked away and then back towards her, seeming to waver somehow, and the intensity of his eyes caught her off guard. There seemed to be so many thoughts running through his head, thoughts that he would never say out loud and that she could only guess at. She found herself wishing she had a camera, so she could test his theory and find out what was really going on behind that stare.

The bell rang and she felt like she was waking from a trance. "I have to go," she told him. "I missed English class already."

He looked at her for a second before the words processed. "Are you… are you sure you're okay?" he asked, frowning. "What about Steve?"

Nancy sighed. "I'll just avoid him, for now. He's not worth getting detention over."

She picked up her book bag and slung it over her shoulder. On her way out the door, she paused and looked behind her.

"Thanks, Jonathan," she murmured, and he smiled, and she felt like maybe, just maybe, she would be okay.

"I talked to Eleven," Mike told the guys as he slid in next to Lucas at the lunch table.

"Really?" asked Will, pausing as he sipped milk through a straw. "When?"

Mike fidgeted with his yogurt, feeling guilty. "After school yesterday, I went back and found her on the radio."

The boys stared at him. "Why didn't you tell us?" asked Dustin. "We would've come with you."

Mike shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I was crazy."

"Well, what did she say?" asked Dustin through a bite of PB&J.

Mike tried to think of a good way to explain their conversation. "She said she was hungry… and she talked about doctors and nurses…"

"Is she in a hospital?" asked Will.

Mike frowned. "Maybe." That didn't seem right, though. "She said… she said she'd see me later."

"That's strange," Dustin commented.

"No," Mike shook his head. "It was almost like… you know that dream I had?"

The boys nodded.

"I had another one, last night. She was in my house, and we talked for a long time."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lucas.

"I feel like… when she said see you later, she was talking about the dream."

"Mike," Lucas said, "You know that's crazy."

"Yeah, but…"

Will shrugged, looking at Mike apologetically. "She might have misspoken. You know, like, she said 'see you later,' but she meant 'talk to you later.'"

Dustin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, like when your waiter gives you your food and says 'Enjoy your meal,' and you say, 'You too!' or something like that." He laughed. "My dad does that all the time."

Mike shook his head. "I think this is different. If you'd heard her say it…"

Will smiled at him, in a comforting expression that he seemed to have inherited directly from his mother, Joyce. "Let's try and talk to her today, alright? We can find out once and for all what she meant."

Mike's hands shook at the radio dials and he looked around nervously at his friends while the machine powered on.

"Hey, um, are you there, El? It's Mike."

"El?" mouthed Lucas, looking at Dustin and Will.

Mike heard him and rolled his eyes. "It's short for Eleven, okay?"

A long pause, and then suddenly a voice came crackling from the speakers.

"Mike…"

He could hear the smile in her voice, could almost picture her, and he grinned into his hand, trying not to let the others see.

"Hey El! How are you?"

"Tired," she said.

Mike frowned, once again feeling worried about her. "Why? What have you been doing?"

"Practicing," she said, as if this explained everything. Mike felt stumped.

"What time is it where you are?" Will asked, trying a new approach.

Eleven didn't respond. Mike was again reminded of the girl from his dream, her quietness, the way even simple questions seemed to confuse her. It really did seem like they were the same person… but of course that was impossible.

"Hey Eleven!" Dustin shouted. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, Dustinhenderson," she said, and he chuckled.

"Are you bald?"

Mike shoved Dustin in the gut, glaring at him, but Dustin ignored him.

"Bald?" Eleven replied.

"What Dustin means is, what do you look like?" Mike explained. "You don't have to tell us, if you don't want. We were just, um, curious."

"You saw me," Eleven said simply, and Mike's eyes went wide. He tried not to shiver.

"In the… in the dreams?" Mike whispered.

"Yes," she said. "That's what I look like. Except…" there was a pause. "I gave myself clothes. To be pretty."

"So all that stuff… those dreams… they were real?" Mike asked. His heart was pounding and he couldn't look away from the audio speakers, as if he might see her if he just stared long enough.

"No," Eleven said sadly. "I really didn't go to school, or fly, or touch your hand. I just dreamed it."

The other boys looked at each other at this last comment, but Mike didn't notice.

"But you're saying, somehow… we had the same dream?" Mike whispered urgently. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Eleven admitted.

"Okay, guys, stop it," Lucas said, looking frustrated. "This isn't funny. Stop kidding around."

"I'm not kidding, Lucas!" Mike snapped. "This is happening. I'm not sure how, but… she's telling the truth."

"No way," Lucas scoffed, "It's like a bad Twilight Zone rerun. You're obviously pranking us. Well, I'm not falling for it."

"Lucas…" Mike began, but Lucas rolled his eyes and stood up, storming out of the room. Mike stared after him, clenching his fists. Why couldn't Lucas just believe him? Why did he have to try to poke holes in everything?

"Angry?" asked El, her voice soft and fearful.

"No, El, don't worry about it," Dustin said. "Mike and Lucas argue all the time, they'll make up."

"Lucas is being an asshole," Mike said into the mic.

"What is a..." El began.

Dustin cut her off. "We'll tell you another time, okay El?"

"Okay, Dus," said El, making Dustin guffaw.

"I'll talk to Lucas," Will told Mike, reassuring him. "But… you swear you're not making this up."

Mike gazed at Dustin and Will. "I swear I'm not," Mike said.

Will could tell from his friend's expression that he was telling the truth. And that was a truly frightening thought.