XXVI

In the month of December 1980, Eleven witnesses once again a phenomenon that had caught her attention last year: coinciding with the coldest season, the city is filled with pine trees decorated with colored lights, reindeer and figures of old men with red and white suits.

Only now, thanks to school and television—which she watches in moderation, of course—she knows what it's all about.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Henry, who is sitting on the other end of the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, reading the newspaper: "If you want to say something, go ahead."

At times, Henry can be insufferable with his seeming omniscience.

"Are you in my head?" Eleven questions him.

"No, I promised you I wouldn't do that; besides, in training, you have already demonstrated quite well that you notice my intrusion and are even able to reject it at whim," he replies calmly and without looking up from the newspaper. "I just know you."

Eleven nods and stares at the TV screen. It's a somewhat old —that's the only reason it's being broadcasted on TV—yet very interesting movie about a very greedy man who faces some "Christmas ghosts."

"Henry, why don't we celebrate Christmas?" Eleven asks.

The man next to her finally puts down the newspaper and gives her a curious look: "Christmas? It's but a silly and tacky holiday," he says with a derisive tone. "Why should we?"

Eleven shrugs: "Mr. Scrooge didn't celebrate it either, but some ghosts have come to convince him of its true meaning and…"

"Ah, so that's the movie you're watching?" Henry comments, glancing at the screen. "Hm. It's a good story, A Christmas Carol. You should read the book sometime.

"However, Eleven"—Henry reaches out a hand to ruffle the curls she's been sporting for a while—"ghosts don't exist: nothing bad is going to happen if you don't celebrate Christmas."

He is unable to resume his reading when she asks: "And if I want to… celebrate it?"

Henry's expression is thoughtful. After a few moments, he replies: "I can't say I'm excited about the idea, but I would if you asked me to."

The corners of Eleven's lips rise into a smile.


Since he doubts there are any Christmas decorations at the store where he usually stocks up on supplies for the week, Henry decides to try a new alternative.

Thus, he finds himself in front of Melvald's General Store, a place he has never been in before—and certainly never thought of going into.

He takes a deep breath before opening the door. As soon as he does, a bell over the door alerts the shopkeeper to his presence: it's a woman about his age who smiles at him from behind the counter.

"Hello! Can I help you?"

Henry flashes a friendly smile: "Good afternoon. I'm looking for Christmas… decorative elements." That's what they're supposed to be called, right?

The woman blinks, surprised: "Uh, yeah, go ahead: they're all over the store. Are you looking for something in particular or…?"

"I want it all," Henry cut to the chase. "Lights, hanging ornaments, Santa dolls… A bit of everything."

The saleswoman watches him with wide eyes: "Pardon me? Is not too much? We have various types of lights and various types of ornaments and…"

Henry signals her not to worry with a wave of his hand: "No, really, I want a little of everything."

"Oh. Well, perfect then. I'll prepare it for you in a moment…"

When the woman walks past him to remove the lights from the shelf where they are placed, Henry's gaze slides by inertia to the small identification plate on her chest.

Joyce Byers.


Once he's paid and Mrs. Byers has helped him load the four boxes of Christmas decorations into the trunk, Henry gives her a nod and a distracted "goodbye" before getting in the car.

However, the woman seems to have another idea and approaches his window with a smile. Henry considers ignoring her, but decides that maybe it's something important, since she's been doing her job efficiently thus far.

"Yes?" he asks with the same old fake smile on his lips.

"Excuse me for intruding," she says with a slightly awkward smile, "but I couldn't help but notice that… Well, judging by the purchases you've made, is it possible that this is the first time you're celebrating Christmas? Of course, you could also have moved or lost your previous decorations in some flood or fire, well, I guess it could also have been something less serious like…"

"You're right." Irritated, Henry decides to give her the truth to shut her up. "Now, if that is all…"

"Oh, no, wait: you see, I was asking for a reason," the woman adds, raising her index finger. "If you need help cutting down a Christmas tree, I know someone who can do it for a fair price. If you want, I'll give you his contact so…"

Henry smiles at her again.

"I appreciate your suggestion," he cuts her off, "but that won't be necessary."


Joyce puts a hand on her waist and lets out a low whistle as she watches the man drive away.

What a weird guy, she thinks. But well, thanks to him, my Christmas commission will be quite juicy. Maybe I can even buy Will that new book about prisons and snakes or whatever he mentioned last time…

"Joyce, have you seen our Christmas catalog? Mrs. Wheeler asked me to send her a copy today, but I can't find it…"

"Coming, Donald!" she replies before going to his aid.


Henry places his hands on Eleven's shoulders and ducks his head to speak in her ear: "Remember: picture in your mind what you want to materialize."

It's just them, the whiteness of the snow and the tops of the trees that surround them.

Eleven closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"That's right, relax." Henry's voice betrays his approval. "And focus. Right now, there is only you and your target."

The girl opens her eyes. He doesn't turn away from her.

Eleven spreads her hands open and extends her arms.

The tree's trunk trembles.

"Come on…" Henry's voice in her ear.

She clenches her jaw. The trunk begins to vibrate.

"Come on!" Henry urges her, watching her progress.

"Ngh…!"

The trunk shakes and splinters, it weakens, it breaks…

"Yes, Eleven, very good, keep it up, keep it up…! Remember what I taught you: find a memory that makes you sad, that makes you angry, and destroy!"

With a cry, Eleven cleanly splits the trunk of the tree.

"Perfect!" Henry praises her. "Rest now; I'll take it from here."

It's the signal she needs to drop the tree; however, it does not sink into the snow that covers the ground, but remains in the air.

Wiping the blood from her nose, Eleven notes Henry's perfect posture and the concentration written on his face: with his right arm extended toward the tree, he levitates it towards them without too much effort.

"We can go now," he finally tells her, his smile betraying his satisfaction. "You have picked a truly beautiful tree."

More so than his compliments about the accurate handling of her powers, these last words are the ones that make Eleven smile.