"And in Roane County, the search for Will Byers has developed into a full-fledged investigation. The twelve-year-old boy was reported missing by his family yesterday morning, and the Hawkins Police Force has been organizing search parties throughout the night. Police have yet to release an official statement of their findings, though one bystander told reporters they saw two officers exiting the woods with a child's bike sometime late afternoon. For more on this story, we…"

Christine turned off the television with more force than was necessary. It hadn't truly processed until she'd woken up the next morning. A kid gone missing in a small town like Hawkins. A kid that she knew—knew well enough anyway. She'd watched Will play Dungeons and Dragons with his friends, raced him home with Dustin, snuck him extra candy when he went to the movies with his mom. The news ran stories about missing kids all the time, and sure it was sad, but it had never really affected her. Now just seeing Will's picture, smiling without care or worry, made her stomach feel a bit queasy.

She collected her school things earlier than usual, going to knock on the Henderson's door.

"Come in!" Mrs. Henderson was already bustling around the front room, her coat on and her car keys in hand. "Oh, there you are, Christine. Thank you so much for doing this."

"No problem, Claudia. Where's Dustin?"

"He should be out in a minute. Dusty! Christine is waiting for you! Let's go!"

"I KNOW! I'm MOVING!"

"Heading into work early?" Christine asked, watching Mrs. Henderson slip on her shoes.

"Yes. I'm hoping to sneak out a few minutes early and head down to the station to help with the search party. Now, Dustin's going to the Wheelers' after school—they were all so insistent on those radios—so you don't have to worry about bringing him home. I do want you to be careful though. Maybe you could go with them and spend some time with Nancy?"

"Uh, yeah, I'll figure something out," Christine said airily. "I might go down to the station myself. It feels kind of weird sitting at home with everything that's going on."

"Oh, alright. Just be careful. Please!"

Dustin came bursting out of the hallway, tripping over himself as he rushed for the door.

"Come on, people! Let's move it! I don't wanna be late! Love you, Mom! See you later! Chop chop, Christine!"

Christine shared a dubious look with Mrs. Henderson, but followed Dustin out into the driveway. "What's got you in such a tizzy?"

"My education, Christine. Sorry for thinking school is important."

The statement was punctuated with a sneeze so powerful that Dustin nearly knocked himself over. Christine raised an eyebrow.

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

They started off toward the middle school, moving faster than they normally would have. Dustin wasn't looping around at the corners to wait for her anymore, and more than once he completely blew through a stop sign. She didn't comment at first, but after he hydroplaned through a giant puddle and nearly lost control, she had to put the proverbial brakes on.

"Alright, what the hell is going on with you?" she demanded, pulling up on his right. "You have got to slow down, Dust."

"No can do. Gotta get to school."

"What is so important that you can't stop at a stop sign?"

"Learning!" he insisted. Dustin sneezed again, his bike veering dangerously as he fought to recover. "And I've gotta talk to Mike and Lucas. Party meeting. Confidential."

"Uh-huh." She narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. "You went out last night, didn't you?"

"What? No! That's crazy! Why would you say something like that?"

"Because you lie like your pants are in a permanent state of combustion."

Dustin turned to her with a wide grin. "That was a good one."

"Thank you. Did you sneak out last night?"

"Yeah," he said reluctantly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "And it was raining. And now I'm sick."

"Not to be an asshole, but you kind of earned it."

"Are you gonna tell my mom?"

"Depends," said Christine with a steady glare. "Are you going out again tonight?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Then I don't know. Maybe I will."

For a few blocks, they biked in silence. Dustin kept his eyes forward, pouting at the ground. Christine wanted to stand her ground, leave her disciplinary action to stand on its own. But it was always uncomfortable when Dustin went quiet. She didn't like seeing him upset.

"Did you find anything?" she prodded. "When you went investigating?"

"Nothing that will help us find Will," he said, defeated.

"Anything interesting?"

"Do you think there are really crazy people at Pennhurst?"

"I—What?" Christine blinked. "Pennhurst?"

"Yeah, the asylum in Kerley County. Lucas says there's a lot of psychos there. Like, Michael Myers psychos."

She stared at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was serious. "You think Michael Myers took Will?"

"Don't be stupid, Christine," he complained. "If Michael Myers got to Will, we would have found his body by now. This is a completely separate conversation."

"Okay, uh… Do I think there are crazy people in the mental facility in Kerley County? Yeah, I think there are probably a few."

"Nuts," said Dustin, shaking his head.

Nothing more was said of the subject.

Christine dropped Dustin off at the front doors to the middle school, staying to watch him park his bike and double check his backpack for his books. She grabbed him by the arm before he headed inside, forcing him to face her.

"Listen. I know you want to find Will. But you can't just go running around after dark when nobody knows where you are. That's exactly how Will got lost in the first place."

"I know," he said sheepishly. "But the party can't abandon him. What if he needs us?"

"Then you should probably be taking care of yourself, shouldn't you?" She ruffled his curls, and sighed. "I know you're probably not gonna listen to me. But seriously, Dust. If you guys decide to go out looking for Will, tell me, okay? I don't want you out there alone."

Dustin finally looked up at her, a small smile showing the gap at his gums. "You'll come with us?"

"We'll see. But you have to be honest with me."

"Okay. Promise."

"Good. Now get going."

She shoved his shoulder lightly, pushing him toward the building. He waved as he hopped up the steps, but Christine waited until he was safely inside before turning around and heading for the high school.

In retrospect, she probably should have left earlier. The high school parking lot was almost empty when she got there—full of cars, but devoid of people. The warning bell rang inside, and Christine cursed under her breath. She was late.

She stashed her bike, fumbling with her backpack as she sifted through the contents. She wouldn't have time to stop at her locker, but she had most of her morning assignments with her. Some of the textbooks she might be able to share, and she could always write notes in a different notebook and just transfer—

"Ouch!"

A collision knocked Christine off her feet, and she just barely avoided toppling to the pavement. A hand grabbed her arm to steady her, then released her almost immediately.

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean—…"

"Jonathan, hey." Christine gripped the bike rack, rolling her ankle around until she was sure she could put weight on it. "Sorry, that was my fault. I'm late so…shit."

Christine looked at the ground, where thirty or forty flyers were scattered around. Will's face stared up at her, the same picture they were using on the news.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She bent down to help him, grabbing franticly at everything in her reach before the wind could pick up. "Sorry, uh, here…"

"Not, it's cool, uh…thanks."

He stood up, not meeting her eye as he straightened the pile of flyers in his arms. Christine straightened the books in her backpack, and shuffled her feet. They stood there until the final bell rang inside, jolting them both.

"Sorry I made you late," he offered.

"Oh no, not you. I took Dustin all the way to school this morning, so I was already doomed."

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, that's—that was probably a good idea."

"You skipping again today?"

"Yeah. My mom kinda needs me at home and the police still have a bunch of questions and stuff, so…"

"Hey, do…do you wanna give me some of the flyers?" she asked, gesturing at the stack. "I could put some up around school, maybe go down to the shops later. If you wanted some help."

"That'd be great, actually, yeah." He nodded, peeling off a few and handing them to her. "Thanks, Christine."

"Yeah, you got it." Christine nodded, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "If there's anything else I can do, let me know. I know all the boys are…well, Dustin's freaked. But Will's probably the smartest of all of them. So, if you need anything…or your mom or something…"

"Thanks," he said again. "Yeah, I—I will."

"Cool." She nodded again, backing away toward the school. "I'll see you around. Uh…hang in there."

She quickly ducked through the double doors, speed-walking toward homeroom. She scrunched up her face, wiggling her nose in an effort to shake the awkwardness that was clinging to her like a cobweb. She'd always kind of known Jonathan Byers, but they were a far cry from friends. And she felt for him, she did. But her morning definitely could have gone without that painful interaction.

"Miss Walcott," Ms. Snider greeted, pausing in her announcements as Christine slunk into the room. "Glad you finally decided to arrive."

"Sorry, Ms. Snider. Just trying to pitch in."

She held up the stack of flyers, and the woman's face immediately softened. "Alright, well try and keep it between classes next time."

"Yes, ma'am."

She hurried to her seat, waving off Barb and Nancy's concerned glances.

"Pitching in?" Barb echoed once they were all safely in the hallway.

"It worked, didn't it?" Christine picked out a poster, taking it up on a corkboard as they passed. "Free hall pass."

"Real classy," said Nancy dryly.

"Hey, I'm worried about Will. We all are. Besides, makes me feel better about my whole stinted conversation with Byers."

"Is that why you were late?" asked Barb.

"Nah. Ferrying Dustin to school, just making sure he got in okay."

"I still don't get why you don't just make it official and actually babysit him," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, with the amount of time you spend over there, you could make serious bank on that kid."

"Well maybe I just like pitching in," Christine replied with a grin. She dodged as Barb attempted to bump her into the lockers.

"Well do you have to pitch in tonight?" asked Nancy.

"I don't know yet. The boys are supposed to end up at your place."

"Do you wanna come with them? We could just hang out for a while, watch a movie."

"You sure?" Christine asked. "You don't have more…I don't know. Studying to do?"

"No," Nancy said quickly. "I mean, Kamisky's test is today, so. And I—I actually did a lot of studying last night so…I'm totally good to go. Any movie. Your pick."

Christine didn't miss the insinuation, but no one seemed ready to acknowledge it plainly. Nancy's face remained hopeful, and Barb was suddenly extremely interested in the various flyers on the message board. Even when Christine cleared her throat, she refused to look at either of them.

"Uh, maybe," said Christine carefully. "Like I said, I'm kind of on Dustin duty. So it depends on the party."

"The party, right. I get it. Just let me know, okay?"

Christine nodded, peeling off toward her own class. The awkward cobweb feeling was itching at her again, but she pushed it aside. Things with Nancy would go back to normal eventually.

The rest of the day was relatively normal, until it was time for physics. She wasn't dreading it as much as yesterday. She hadn't been as firm with Steve as she'd intended to be, but she was certain she'd sent a clear message not to talk to her. If only to save her the pain of humiliation. They could go back to being minimally friendly lab partners, and that would be the end of it.

Mr. Austin already had lab supplies out when class began. Christine picked up a lab sheet and headed to her table, scanning through the assignment and collecting the materials they'd need. She decided to get started on her own, since Steve was busy at the next table over talking to one of his basketball teammates.

Lab periods were ideal because they were the only times you could actually have a conversation in class. With everyone talking at once, it was nearly impossible to tell who was talking about science and who was gossiping about the next big game. So long as the work got done, it didn't really matter. Most people loved that benefit. It didn't really matter to Christine, who rarely had anyone to talk to, and usually did most of the work.

"So, what are we doing today?" Steve asked when he finally joined her at the table.

"Magnetic lab. Compasses work based on the natural field of…"

"Psh, not the lab," he interrupted, propping his elbows on the desk. "I'm talking about you. What are you doing tonight?"

Christine paused, eyeing him. "…Why?"

"Well you're not the only one whose parents go away."

"No, Steve."

"Come on," he groaned, pulling the meter stick out of her hands. He twirled it lamely like a baton. "I know the last party you went to wasn't exactly phenomenal, but this is totally different."

"No, it's not." She tried to swipe the meter stick back, but he twirled it out of her reach. Christine huffed. "How is this any different?"

"Well, for one, it's me. And it's not gonna be a hundred people. Just four or five of us, chilling at my place. Tell me you're in."

"I'm out." She made another grab, but missed. "Steve, I'm serious. I'm not interested."

"Why not? It's gonna be fun."

"Why should I?" she demanded. "Hm? We don't talk, Steve. Why are you suddenly so interested in inviting me over to your place?"

"I told you," he said, looking slightly taken aback. "I think you need to loosen up."

"Thanks. I'll take it under advisement."

Christine leaned around him, seizing the measuring stick and slamming it back on the table. She turned back to the lab report and tried to find where she'd left off in the instructions. The words didn't make much sense when she was reading them so quickly, but anything was better than looking at that stupid, smug face.

Steve sidled around beside her. He shifted the various magnets on the desk aimlessly, then ducked his head closer to hers.

"Alright, you wanna know the real reason I'm inviting you?" he asked lowly. "But you gotta be cool. This is just between us."

Christine glared at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm serious, Christine. You cannot say anything."

"Fine. Why?"

"Nancy asked me to invite you."

"Nancy?" Christine looked up from the paper, finally turning to him. "You already asked her?"

"Yeah, this morning," he said with a shrug. "I told her I was having some people over, and she said that she didn't want to come if it was just gonna be me and my friends. I told her she could bring you and the other girl, but she said I had to ask you myself. And then that I wasn't allowed to tell you that she told me. Whatever that's about."

It took a few seconds for her rage to sneak up on her. But once it did, it was difficult to hide her fuming. Both her hands clenched into fists, and if she was squeezing any tighter, she might have ripped her paper in half. Steve must have noticed the warning signs, because he quickly waved a hand.

"Hey, that's not to say I don't want you to come. I wouldn't invite you if I didn't want you there. But Nancy was going on last night about how close you two are, and…"

"Last night."

She'd already known. But just like her conversation with Barb, she hoped he would correct her.

"Yeah," he said plainly. "I was at her place to uh…help her study."

Christine nodded, grinning furiously at her lab. She forced a deep breath through her lungs, and grabbed for the compass on the table. Science. She needed to do science.

But Steve grabbed her wrist and pried the instrument from her hands.

"Look, is it a crime to wanna hang out with my lab partner?" he asked. "No ulterior motives, no weirdness. I just figured it'd be more fun that way. You know, your friends and my friends."

He sounded earnest. But it was a tone she was getting used to. And this time, it wouldn't work.

"I get it, Steve," she assured him, her face composed in a sweet smile. "Seriously. I completely understand."

"Sweet. So you're coming?"

"Still no." Steve groaned, and Christine smiled wider. "You can tell Nancy I was very flattered and distraught, but I'm babysitting tonight. I'm sure if you ask nicely she'll still come."

"Babysitting?" He scoffed, tapping her on the nose with the compass. "Damn, Walcott. You really don't know how to relax, do you? Anyone ever tell you you're kinda a buzzkill?"

"Nope. Usually I'm such a buzzkill no one wants to talk to me." There was a beat of silence, and Christine eased the compass out of Steve's hands. "That was a joke."

"Oh, shit." He relaxed a bit, and Christine was amused to find a twinge of relief in his chuckle. "You had me going there for a second. I didn't know you could joke."

"Can we get back to the lab now? Please?"

Steve was reluctant, but eventually relented into doing the work. It was a pretty simple lab, a lot of repetitive work and recording numbers. Slide the magnet toward the compass, record. Slide the magnet toward the compass, record again. That was ideal for Steve, since it didn't require a lot of complex theories. It was ideal for Christine because she wouldn't be distracted from the fury that was brewing inside her chest.

When class was over, Christine headed straight to the gymnasium. She hadn't brought lunch today, but it didn't matter. She'd gladly go hungry if it meant skipping the cafeteria. She leaned back on the tiger mural, turning her Walkman on like she had the day before. For a few songs, Billy Joel was loud enough to drown out the basketball game behind her. But there was nothing he could do to protect her from the nudge against her foot.

Christine stopped humming abruptly, opening her eyes to see a recognizable pair of brown loafers.

"Hey, Nance," she greeted, pulling her headphones down around her neck. "What's up?"

"You tell me," said Nancy. She peered down at Christine, her face not quite impartial. "You're the one skipping lunch to brood by the gymnasium."

"I'm not brooding," she defended. It was a weak argument at best. "How'd you find me anyway?"

"Wasn't hard. Figured I'd start in the last place you'd actually want to be, seeing as you're avoiding me."

Christine didn't bother arguing that point. She shrugged, stowing her Walkman away in her bag. "Just wanted some time to think."

"About?"

"I don't know, life? In case you haven't noticed, things have been a little hectic lately."

"Yeah, I guess they have." Nancy frowned. Her fingers wandered the strap of her messenger bag. "You know you can talk to me, though, right? If something's bothering you?"

Christine stared at her shoes—beaten, mud streaked tennis shoes next to Nancy's shiny penny loafers. The cobwebs were back, inching over her cheeks and prickling at the back of her throat. And after two days of swallowing her feelings, she finally snapped.

"When were you gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Nancy asked, innocence slathered over the words.

"About the party. Tonight. Were you just gonna let me think that Steve invited me for real? We were just gonna go to your house and you'd pretend you were just tagging along again? Until Carol or Tommy said something stupid, and then I'd make a scene in front of everyone."

"Christine, it wasn't like that," Nancy said imploringly. "Really! I just thought, you know, since you've been so upset the last couple days…"

"What? That asking your boyfriend to pretend to care about me was gonna make me feel better?"

"He's not my boyfriend," she said quickly. "And he does care. He said it would be fine! The more the merrier."

"Of course that's what he said to you."

Nancy leaned against the wall, and Christine could feel her looking down on her even though she didn't lift her head. The loafer nudged her knee this time, pleading.

"Then forget Steve. Do it for me. I really want you to come, Christine. You and Barb. I don't want to get stuck talking to Tommy and Carol again all night. It's gonna be so weird. I need you there. Please."

She wouldn't respond. She wouldn't look up.

The loafer kicked her again.

"Besides, it's a party at Steve Harrington's house," Nancy added with a giggle. "That's like your dream. You cannot turn that…"

"Will you shut up?"

Christine jumped to her feet, snatching up her bag and rounding on Nancy. She was still standing against the wall, shocked and floundering. It made derisive laughter bubble from Christine's throat.

"Don't you get it? Things are not the same anymore! We're not just gonna go back to normal!"

"Chris, what are you talking about?"

"You and Steve!" She carded both of her hands through her hair, gripping it at the scalp. "Are you even listening to yourself? We can't fangirl over him together like there's nothing going on. You can't use him as bait for me when you're already dating him!"

"I am not!"

"You're not what?"

"I don't—both! I'm not baiting you, and I am not dating Steve."

"No," Christine laughed. "So Steve didn't sneak into your room to hook up with you last night?"

Nancy flushed, clamping her mouth shut. But she did not argue. Christine sneered victoriously.

"Yeah, I bet you aced Kaminsky's test. For sure."

"He really did help me study," Nancy insisted. "He's not as shallow as you make him out to be."

"See, that's what I thought too. You know, I really thought he gave a crap. That somewhere behind all his popular friends and his jock persona, there was actually a nice person. But it's just a mask, Nancy. He's just asking me over to his house to make sure you feel comfortable enough to come. Just like he asked me to Jenny's party to get you there, or he visits me at work to make sure I do his physics labs. And now you're doing the same exact thing. You're just trying to play on my crush on him to get what you want. Looks like you and Steve have a lot more in common than I thought."

Nancy was staring at her, tight lipped.

"Look," she started, her words slow and controlled. "I know you're upset about Jenny Fischer's party. But you do not get to put that on me. You're supposed to be my friend. Would it kill you to be happy for me for like two seconds?"

"Oh my God!" Christine cackled again, spinning on the spot. She advanced on Nancy so rapidly that the other girl took a step back. "That is—That is rich. Because you know the best part? You don't even care! You don't care how he used me so long as you're the one who gets to make out with him. How's that for friendship?"

"Oh, and you're so much better?" Nancy snapped. "You're not even mad at him!"

"Didn't you hear what I said? Yes, I…"

"No, Chrissy, you're not. Because if you really hated him, you wouldn't be this upset with me. So what? I'm supposed to hate him for what he did to my friend, and you get to forgive him cause he did it to you? And then you're the only one who gets to like him? Really convenient."

"It's not a switch, Nancy," Christine spat, glowering at her. "I can't just stop liking Steve, or just stop being hurt, or just stop being upset that he doesn't like me too. So I know you're waiting for me to break out the bouquet and confetti for you, but it's never gonna happen if you keep dangling your stupid boyfriend in front of my face."

"He's not my boyfriend! And I'm not dangling him!"

"Right, of course not. My mistake. What do you call tricking me into coming to another stupid house party so I can make an idiot of myself and you two can make out in front of me?"

"I was just trying to be nice!"

"Oh, like you were so nice at Jenny's party?"

"That was not my fault!"

"You didn't have to kiss him!"

"And he didn't have to kiss me!" Nancy finally took a step forward, lowering her voice to a near growl. "You're just jealous, Christine. And it's pathetic. You're jealous, and whiny, and pissed, because even though you spend so much time following him around and desperately trying to get him to notice you, Steve likes me and not you."

It hit her like a slap. Christine was certain she'd actually stopped breathing. The momentary lapse of control must have been why her lip began to tremble, why her eyes began to fill with furious tears. She could not believe she was standing here, outside the gym, crying because of Nancy Wheeler of all people. What kind of idiot was she?

Nancy realized too late that she'd taken it a step too far. She muttered Christine's name, took another step forward, but Christine held up a hand.

"You're right," she managed, though the words were even shakier than her hands. "I am jealous, you're right. And maybe I am pathetic. But you know what? You're a bitch. Screw you, Nancy."

She turned and walked away. Nancy might have been calling her, but her pulse was so loud in her own ears that it was impossible to tell. She didn't have the energy to run, didn't have a destination in mind. She just walked away, praying Nancy wouldn't come after her, and that this time, she might be allowed a few minutes to cry in peace.