It was six o'clock when she woke up by rolling off the couch and onto the floor.

Christine jolted awake with a groan, looking around at her dark surroundings. Her eyes were drawn to the glass patio doors, where the pool was still glowing a brilliant turquoise. Beyond that was black forest, trees stretching up into a purple sky that was still dark—but just light enough to tell her she was on the wrong side of midnight.

Her stomach did several consecutive somersaults. First, when she realized how late it must be. Second, when she remembered where she was. Next, when she realized how much trouble she was going to be in when she got home. Then, when she remembered her father wasn't home, and she was in the clear. But if it was so late, or early, where was everybody? Who the hell had let her fall asleep alone at Steve Harrington's house? Where was Barb? Where was Nancy?

And then the nausea hit her.

Christine scrambled to her feet, fighting against the blanket that had twisted itself around her ankles. She stumbled through the kitchen and into the bathroom, barely able to close the door before she collapsed to her knees on the tile. She promptly hurled everything that was sloshing around in her stomach directly into the toilet.

It was a while before she was able to stand. She pulled herself up by the counter, splashing some water on her face and combing her fingers through her hair before she dared to look in the mirror. Considering she'd heaved her stomach raw, it could have been worse. She didn't look much more wrecked than she had the night before, anyway, if a bit blearier. Maybe drinking water before she'd passed out had helped after all.

Another wave of sickness washed over her, and she white-knuckled the marble counter. She should have scavenged for some Cheerios.

She forced herself out of the bathroom, clutching her head as she walked back to the living room. She picked the blanket up off the floor, folding it so it could be draped along the back of the couch. It occurred to her that she hadn't fallen asleep with a blanket. Someone must have grabbed one while she was asleep. Probably the same someone who had left a glass of water and two aspirin on the coffee table. In other words, a saint.

Christine pounced on the medicine. She threw the pills back and then glanced at the time on the wall, squinting until the hands finally came into focus. Her frown deepened. Where was everyone?

Cautiously, she headed out onto the patio. She shivered, wishing she had brought the blanket. With the alcohol mostly out of her bloodstream, there was nothing to protect her from the biting morning air.

Everything was exactly where they'd left it. Empty beer cans still scattered the patio, Steve's pocket knife glinting in the low light by the edge of the pool. Christine glared at the dwindling bottle of whiskey by the lawn chairs. Just looking at it made her want to start hurling again.

"Barb?" she called softly, peering around the yard. "Nancy?"

There was no response.

Christine walked an entire lap of the pool. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for. Someone asleep in the bushes? Someone ready to jump out and yell "surprise"? Whatever it was, she didn't find it, and she headed around to the front of the house.

Tommy's car was nowhere in sight, nor was Barb's. That didn't mean much. Christine couldn't remember seeing it the night before, either. Knowing Nancy's paranoia, they'd probably parked a few blocks away and walked, though without knowing where, it was impossible to check. She doubted either of them would have spent the night at Steve's, what with their parents being home. But that left another unnerving question. Why had they left her behind?

A car pulled out of the driveway next door, the driver giving the horn a short blast in farewell to their family in the doorway. Christine jumped, and glanced at the house behind her. If Hawkins was beginning to wake up and start the day, there was only one thing she needed to be concerned about—getting the hell off Steve Harrington's property.

She hopped on her bike, taking off as fast as her growing headache would allow. She was freezing, but it helped with the nausea, and seemed to stall the stabbing pain in her temples.

By the time she pulled in her driveway, the sky had already shed several shades of blue. The streetlamps were off, and the lights were flicking on inside most houses on the street.

Christine ducked inside her own home, and leaned her back against the door. The darkness was comforting, even if the scenery wasn't. Cups were still strewn across the kitchen, her unfinished dinner abandoned in the living room. Glad as she was to be home, it felt like a lifetime since she'd walked out the door—so confident that she was going to salvage a bad night.

Well. That had been a colossal mistake.

She made her way to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth, then parked herself on the floor. She was fairly certain she wouldn't have to vomit again, but she'd been wrong before. She felt weak, and she didn't want to risk having to run for it from her bed. Her limbs felt so dead that the floor wasn't much less comfortable anyway. She stretched to snatch her hairbrush off the back of the toilet, and started working on the knots in her hair. The sun began to rise outside, and she watched the stripes of sky pale in the slots of her blinds.

Once the sound of passing cars had become a bit more regular out on the street, Christine figured it would be safe to move. She walked to the kitchen, grabbing the box of Cheerios out of the cabinet and stuffing a handful in her mouth. Then she moved to the wall phone. She pinned the handset on her shoulder and plugged in the number, rushing to swallow before anyone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Holland. It's Christine."

"Oh, good morning, Christine! You're calling awfully early."

"I know. I am so, so sorry. Has Barb left for school yet?"

"Well, Barbara's not here," she answered, a curious tilt in her voice. "She said she was staying at the Wheeler's after the special assembly last night. I figured you'd be there as well."

"Right," said Christine, switching gears. "I actually had to bail because I wasn't feeling well. That's why I was calling. To ask her to bring home my schoolwork and stuff. I just thought she'd come home before heading to school."

"Nope. But you could always try the Wheelers? I'm sure they haven't left yet."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Holland. I'll do that."

"Alright. Feel better, sweetheart!"

"Thank you. Bye!"

Christine hung up the phone, and promptly walked away. She had no intentions of calling the Wheelers. She did not need to start her day with that kind of drama.

A slam outside caught her attention, and she wandered to the window with her cereal.

"I have to go, Mom!" Dustin was yelling, sprinting to his bike with even less grace than he normally had. "Mike's gotta show me something before school! It's for the party! It's for science! It doesn't matter! I'll see you later!"

Christine furrowed her brow, hurrying to the door as Dustin struggled with his kickstand.

"Yo!" she called from the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Wheelers," he shouted, not even bothering to look up at her. "Then school! Bye!"

"Alright, well give me a minute. I'll bike with you."

"NO!" Dustin slipped in his urgency and the bike toppled underneath him, threatening to throw him to the ground. "Uh, I mean, don't worry about it. It's fine. Don't follow me. We're cool."

"Dustin, I said…"

"And I have AV club after school, so don't worry about picking me up! Or dropping me off! Or following me! Bye, Christine!"

He raced out of the driveway and into the road, leaving a dumbfounded Christine on her front lawn. Dustin was weird at the best of times, but that…that had been peak levels of weird.

There was no internal debate. Christine dropped the box of cereal inside the door, grabbed her bike, and set off after Dustin.

Years of biking aimlessly around Hawkins had left her with a pretty good knowledge of the town. She knew the path Dustin usually took to Mike's, and knew that she'd have to beat him there if she was going to get any answers. She hopped a curb, coasting through the elementary school playground and spitting out the other side. She also cut through a side yard, which deposited her nicely on Maple Street, just a few houses down from the Wheeler house.

Christine went past the front door, pulling up instead on the grass beside the house. Mike and Lucas were waiting outside, standing guard to the side door of the Wheelers' basement. Both boys jumped to attention when they saw her, assuming very casual positions of pin straight posture with their hands behind their backs.

"C-Christine!" said Lucas, laughing nervously. "Uh, hey! What's up? Are—Are you here for Nancy?"

"Nope."

"Oh, uh, okay. Then what are you doing here?"

"I don't know, guys." She did not dismount, but folded her arms on top on the handlebars. She watched coolly as the boys fidgeted. "Why don't you tell me what I'm doing here?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mike snapped. "Just get lost, Christine!"

"Ouch. Someone's jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy. You're just annoying."

"Oh, for sure. But that doesn't mean you're not hiding something." She turned her eyes on Lucas, who was already staring away from her. "Lucas?"

"Hm?"

"Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

He was smart enough to avoid her gaze. He looked at anything and everything else—the trees, his shoes, the siding on the Wheelers' house. It made it easier for him to keep his mouth shut tight.

Christine frowned, and checked the front door. She didn't want to risk running into Nancy, but she didn't trust the boys' innocent looks. Something was going on, and she did not want that on her conscience when shit hit the fan. But Mike was a stubborn kid, just like his sister. She doubted there was anything she could say to make him budge.

"MAYDAY! MAYDAY! HOUSTON WE HAVE A HUGE PROBLEM!"

Mike facepalmed, and Lucas groaned. Christine, however, broke into a wide smile as Dustin raced onto the lawn.

"Guys! Chrissy saw me leave my house and—and…" Dustin braked, gawking at her. He looked around wildly. "Christine? Where…? How did you…?"

"Shortcut."

"What shortcut?"

"A new one."

Mike rolled his eyes. "How can you make a new shortcut?"

"Will you show me?" asked Dustin.

"Maybe," Christine said with a shrug. "If you tell me what's going on."

The boys exchanged dubious looks.

"Party meeting," Dustin announced, dropping his bike so he could join the other two at the door.

They formed a small huddle, all with their backs to her. Still, it wasn't exactly Fort Knox.

"I think we should tell her," she heard Lucas say, and Mike's frame sagged as he rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Lucas."

"Don't tell me to shut up!"

"You're only saying that because it's Christine."

"Mike, I think he's right."

"What? No way! We said no grown-ups!"

"Christine's not a grown up," Dustin argued. "She's just more grown up than us."

"Yeah! Maybe she'll know what to do!"

"She's not gonna know what to do," Mike argued. "All she's gonna do is call the police, which is why we said no grown-ups!"

"Her dad's not home," Dustin said suddenly.

"What?"

"Her dad's on a business trip. That means her house is empty. We can use that! It can be like safe haven!"

"We don't need a safe haven! We need to find Will!"

"You guys know I can hear everything you're saying, right?"

They turned around to look at her. Christine sighed and climbed off her bike, walking it over to the side of the house. She looked at them each in turn, taking in their apprehensive faces.

"So this is about Will, huh?"

"Yeah," said Dustin sheepishly.

"Look, I meant what I said the other day," she reminded them. "I don't think you guys should be running around looking for him on your own. So if you're gonna do something, you can talk to me. I'm not gonna tell on you."

"See?" said Dustin, elbowing Mike. "Chrissy's cool!"

This did not seem to ease Mike's nerves. He stared stubbornly at Christine, not budging until Lucas laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Mike. Come on, man. We are way out of our depth here. Plus, she's a girl."

Christine was not sure what relevance this had, but it seemed to matter to Mike at least. He looked to Lucas and Dustin, unenthusiastic, but outnumbered.

"Fine," he huffed, rounding on Christine. "Fine, we'll tell you. But you cannot tell anyone."

"Okay."

"No, you have to promise."

"Why?"

"Because it's important!"

"Woah, okay…"

She held her hands up in surrender, looking back and forth between the boys. She expected at least one of them to be snickering, amused by her reaction. But each of them looked as solemn as the next. Whatever it was they were doing, they were taking it seriously.

"Okay, fine," she agreed. "I promise."

Mike considered her for a moment before he took a step back. He nodded at Dustin to go ahead.

"Alright, so you remember yesterday when you asked me if we found anything when we went looking for Will?"

"Wait," Lucas said, holding up a hand. "You told her we went looking for Will?"

"Psh, give me some credit. I didn't tell her. She guessed." Dustin rolled his eyes, turning back to her. "Anyway, remember how I told you were didn't find anything that would help us?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, turns out I was wrong." He beckoned her over to the side door, and paused with his hand on the handle. "You're gonna be cool, right?"

Christine wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, whatever. I'll be cool."

Dustin opened the door, and Christine followed the boys inside.

She'd never spent much time in the Wheelers' basement. It was mostly Mike's domain—used almost exclusively for Dungeons and Dragons and game nights. She'd been issued a free pass a few times, when she pitched in with a campaign or sprung to buy pizza and soda. There was a blanket fort in the corner, and the walls were covered in maps and drawings of different characters they'd created. Christine noted the large poster of The Thing with pride. She'd given it to Mike when the film closed at the theater the previous year.

She stopped short when she looked at the couch.

"Christine, this is Eleven," said Mike, stepping up to the sofa. "We found her in the woods while we were looking for Will. El, this is Chrissy."

The girl on the couch looked up. She was small, and seemed even smaller in the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants she was borrowing. Her hair had been shaved short, and her big brown eyes were open wide. She tugged her knees closer to her chest, looking apprehensive.

"Um…hi," Christine said uncertainly.

The girl did not say anything.

"She's quiet," Dustin explained.

"No kidding," said Lucas.

"Okay. And you know her how?"

"We found her," Mike repeated. "She was wandering in the woods, the night it stormed. When we went to go find Will."

"Right. What was she doing there?"

"We don't know."

"…okay. Where did she come from?"

"We…don't know."

Christine narrowed her eyes. "Where's her family?"

Mike did not seem willing to answer, so Lucas chimed in. "We don't know that either."

"Great," said Christine. She folded her arms over her chest. "And your mom was just…cool with that?"

The boys all looked at each other. This time, no one was brave enough to answer.

Christine looked back to the girl on the couch, and her jaw dropped.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no…"

Dustin jumped in front of her, waving his hands wildly. "Hey, hey, hey! Christine! Christine, come on. You said you'd be cool. You promised you'd be cool!"

"Yeah, Dustin, that was before I knew Mike was harboring an actual human child in his basement!"

All three boys shushed her, glancing nervously up the stairs at the door to the Wheelers' kitchen. Against her better judgment, Christine lowered her voice to a hiss.

"Explain. Now." They all began talking at once, and Christine quickly held up her hands. She fixed her sights on Mike, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You. Go."

"I told you," he said. "We went out to Mirkwood to look for Will. It started raining, we heard something in the bushes, and we found El. It was cold, so we brought her back here so she could change into dry clothes."

"And what? Now she's living on your couch?"

"I know that sounds bad," Dustin interrupted, "but it's been two days and she hasn't killed us. So she's not crazy!"

Lucas whacked Dustin in the stomach to shut him up.

"Both of you knock it off," Christine snapped. "This is insane!"

"She was scared," Mike defended. "She said there were bad people after her, people who wanted to hurt her."

"Which is exactly why you should have gone to the cops!"

"We can't! El said that if we told anybody, the bad men would come after us too."

"Oh great," she scoffed, throwing her hands up. "So let's just bring her right on in!"

"What were we supposed to do? Leave her out there to freeze to death? Let her get caught?"

Christine groaned, and pressed a hand to her forehead. She knew his heart was in the right place—knew that in the same situation, she'd probably have done the same thing—but this was insanity. She was not prepared to deal with it this early in the morning.

"Okay, back up," she tried. "We can't go to the cops because…?"

"Because of the bad men," Dustin supplied.

"And how are the bed men gonna know if we call the cops? What if we just leave an anonymous tip or something?"

"We can't," Mike sighed in exasperation. "The bad men are powerful! They've got eyes everywhere! If we take El to the station, they're gonna find her. She has to stay hidden."

"And what does this have to do with Will?"

"She saw him," said Dustin. "Or at least, we think she did."

"You think she saw him?"

"Yeah," said Lucas, somewhat snidely. "Like we said. She's quiet."

"She pointed at his picture," Mike insisted. "She singled him out of my picture of the science fair and said his name!"

"Mike, Will's picture has been everywhere," Christine reasoned. "He's been in the paper, on the news. His brother put wanted posters on every flat surface in town. She could have seen him anywhere."

"No. She knows what happened to him, I know it! Last night she told us he was hiding."

"Hiding," she repeated. "From the bad men?"

Christine did not like the looks they exchanged at that.

"Seriously, guys, just spit it out. It cannot be worse than what you've already told me."

"He's not hiding from the bad men," said Dustin. "He's hiding from the Demogorgon."

"He is not hiding from the Demogorgon," Lucas groaned. "The Demogorgon isn't real!"

"Oh, okay, then what is it?" Dustin countered mockingly. "Mike asked her who Will was hiding from, and then she slammed the Demogorgon onto the board. He's hiding from the Demogorgon!"

"The board?" Christine's eyes flicked to the table, where the D&D board had been flipped upside down. It clicked, and she hounded them in an outrage. "Are you kidding me? If this is some stupid campaign, I swear to God I am going to make every single one of you…"

"It's not a campaign!" Mike insisted.

But Christine wasn't listening.

"What, so we're all real characters this time? And the fantasy has crossed into our world, and El is just some rogue you picked up along the way? Hm? Is she new at school? She's part of the party now?"

"She's not a rogue," said Dustin. "She's a mage!"

"She's not part of the party," argued Lucas. "She's not anything!"

"Um, obviously she's a mage. Hence the powers."

Dustin wiggled his fingers, and Christine deadpanned. "Powers?"

"Yeah," said Dustin. "Eleven has superpowers."

"Superpowers. Of course."

"No, really! Yesterday we were all arguing, right? And Lucas tried to go downstairs to tell Mike's mom about El, only he got to the door and then it slammed shut in his face! So he opened it, and it slammed shut again, and then it locked. And we were all like 'say whaaat!' And we turned around and she was standing there with blood gushing out of her nose all like 'no.'"

"It was not gushing out of her nose," Mike complained, which Dustin ignored.

"See? Look, I—I bet she could make this fly!" He darted across the room, unearthing a model of the Millennium Falcon from under a blanket and holding it up in front of the girl. "Hey! Hey. Okay, concentrate, okay?"

The girl looked up from the radio she was examining, and watched with mild interest as Dustin dropped the spaceship directly onto the floor.

"Okay, one more time," he said brightly, retrieving the toy. "Use your powers, okay?"

He held it up, raised his eyebrows, and then dropped the it onto the floor again.

"Idiot," Lucas groaned.

Mike crossed the room, snatching the model off the ground and glaring daggers at Dustin. "She's not a dog!"

"She can do it," he insisted.

Christine shook her head. "Dustin, knock it off. That's enough."

"Chrissy, really! She can…!"

"I said that's enough!"

Dustin immediately clamped his mouth shut, and his eyes sank to the floor with guilt.

"Hey, El, it's okay."

Mike kneeled down next to the couch, ducking his head to catch the girl's eye. She'd curled up into a ball again, and for a moment Christine thought she'd been frightened by the noise of the toy. But "Eleven" wasn't looking at Dustin, or the spaceship. She was looking reproachfully at Christine.

"This is Chrissy," Mike explained gently. "She's our friend too. She's just here to look out for us, but…Chrissy won't tell anyone. Right?"

He turned to look at her expectantly. Christine did not answer.

She had no idea how the boys had gotten caught up in something so crazy, especially in a town like Hawkins. The superpowers were ridiculous, of course, but that didn't make it any less dangerous. The girl probably had abusive parents, or strict doctors she'd escaped from. She might even have been kidnapped. If that was true, Mike was right—they couldn't just leave her to fend for herself. Honestly, it was all the more reason to go to the police.

The girl looked up at her, the fear fading at Mike's reassurance. Her eyes were bright and curious, and inspected her from head to foot. Her gaze lingered on her face, and her lips pulled into a feeble smile.

"Pretty."

Christine's heart clenched, and in an instant, she knew all reason had gone out the window. She put her hands on her hips, repressing a groan.

"Oh, shit."

Dustin turned to her with a knowing smile. "So you'll do it? You won't tell anyone?"

"Yeah, okay. You're all insane, and I—I definitely kind of hate you, but okay. At least until further notice…I won't tell anyone."

"Awesome," said Mike, smiling for the first time. He beckoned them over to the game table, and waited until everyone gathered around to continue. "Okay, so Christine will wait until we leave to take El back to her house. We'll circle around on our bikes, and Eleven can take us from there. If we start at Mirkwood…"

"Nope, hold on," Christine said flatly. "You three are not skipping school."

"Seriously?" Lucas complained. "That's what you're worried about?"

"Will needs our help!" insisted Mike. "This is important!"

"What this is, is not up for discussion. Alright? I'll help you guys look for Will, I'll keep my mouth shut about your friend, who apparently has superpowers—whatever that's about…"

"It's true," said Dustin, but he ducked his head when she glared at him.

"You three are not skipping. We'll go after school. End of story."

"Fine," Mike said across from her. "But you have to keep El at your house for the day."

"What? Why?"

"She can't stay here alone! What if my mom tries to clean the basement? Or Holly comes down to play with some toys? If anyone finds her here, it's over!"

"Well what am I supposed to do with her?"

"You're a babysitter," said Dustin. "Just watch her. Duh."

"Excuse me?" She glanced down at him, suspicious. "You hate it when I say babysitter."

"Yeah, well desperate times call for desperate measures. We have to keep Eleven safe, and your house is the only place we can do that. Suck it up, sister."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "Alright, fine. Not like I was going to school anyway."

"How come we have to go to school and you get to skip?"

"Because I'm the babysitter."

Christine stuck out her tongue, and Dustin opened his mouth ready to argue, but Mike slammed his hands on down on the table.

"Can I continue?" He glowered at both of them, daring them to interrupt, and then getting back to the point. "We'll just tell my mom we have AV club after school. That will give us at least a few hours for Operation Mirkwood."

"You seriously think the weirdo knows where Will is?" asked Lucas, shooting the girl a doubtful look.

"Weirdo?" Christine echoed. "I thought everyone was on board with this."

"Just because she knows stuff doesn't mean she's not weird."

"Will you stop?" Mike asked, glaring at Lucas. "Just trust me on this, okay?"

Lucas still didn't look convinced, but he nodded.

"Did you get the supplies?"

"Yeah." Lucas opened his backpack, and began piling items onto the table. "Binoculars, from 'Nam. Army knife, also from 'Nam. Hammer. Camouflage bandana. And—the wrist rocket!"

"You're gonna take out the Demogorgon with a slingshot?" Dustin asked on Christine's left, unimpressed.

"First of all, it's a wrist rocket. And second of all, I told you, the Demogorgon's not real. It's made up. But if there is something out there, I'm gonna shoot it in the eye, and blind it!"

He snapped the plastic toy with a victorious grin, but Christine was still eyeing the knife on the table.

"God, I am so uncomfortable with this."

"Dustin, what did you get?" Mike asked.

Dustin grinned, and dumped the contents of his bag out onto the table.

"Well, alrighty. So we got Nutty Bars, Bazooka, Pez, Smarties, Pringles, Nilla wafers, apple, banana, and trail mix. Oh, and some Pop Tarts."

"Hey, those are mine," Christine gasped, trying to snatch the box back from him.

"Yeah, you left your back door open last night. Don't do that."

"Seriously?" asked Lucas, looking down his nose at the food.

"We need energy for our travels," Dustin argued. "For stamina. Besides, I also brought Christine."

"On accident! That doesn't count!"

"Um, I'm pretty sure it counts. Because of me, we now have a safe home base. Hallow ground."

"How did you get to be so dumb?"

"You're the dumb one. Why do we even need weapons anyway? We have her!"

Dustin jabbed a finger at El, who had gone back to fiddling with the radio. Lucas groaned.

"She shut one door!"

"Yeah, with her mind! Are you kidding me? That's insane! Imagine all the other cool stuff she could do!"

"Okay, can we stop talking about the superpowers?" Christine pleaded, rubbing her temples. "I really need you to stop talking about the superpowers."

"Boys! Time for school!"

Everyone in the basement jumped at the sound of Mrs. Wheeler's voice, and scrambled into action. Dustin and Lucas began shoveling supplies back into their backpacks, and Mike beckoned Christine over to the couch. She went the long way, walking under the staircase just in case Mrs. Wheeler peeked downstairs to check up on them. Super-covert mission aside, she did not want Mike's mom announcing that she was hiding in the basement.

"You're gonna go with Chrissy," Mike was explaining to Eleven. "She'll take you back to her house. You'll be safe there."

"Safe?" the girl repeated.

"Yeah, safe. No moms, no dads. You can hang out all day, and no one will find you."

Eleven turned wordlessly to look at Christine, and Mike rushed to reassure her.

"You don't have to worry about Chrissy. She's cool. Sometimes."

"Wow. Thanks, Mike."

"Michael!" Mrs. Wheeler shouted again.

"I'm coming!" he screamed, and turned back to Eleven. "We'll be back before you know it. We'll come meet you at Christine's after school."

"After school?"

"Yeah. Three-fifteen."

She stared at him blankly, and Christine raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't know how to tell time?"

"I don't know," said Mike, already busy taking off his watch. "We don't really know how she grew up. She doesn't know a lot of things."

He gently took Eleven's hand, and fastened his watch around her wrist.

"Here. When the numbers read three-one-five, meet us in the backyard."

"Three-one-five," she repeated, nodding.

"Three-one-five," Mike agreed. He turned to Christine. "You got that?"

"Three-one—yes, three-fifteen. I got it, Mike."

He stood up, pulling on his coat but still hesitating by the stairs. "Just…Just look out for her, okay? She likes TV, and waffles, and—and she doesn't like loud noises."

"Mike, it's gonna be okay," said Christine. "I watch the three of you all the time. I bet you're way worse than she is."

"Shut up," he said, with a small smile. He looked at Eleven for a moment longer, then darted up the stairs. "See you guys later."

"Bye, Mike."

Christine turned to look down at Eleven, who was staring after Mike with such an unmasked expression of longing, it made her heart hurt again. She took a cautious step forward, ready for it when the girl flinched and shrunk back from her. Christine held up her hands.

"It's okay. Can I sit here?"

She nodded to the empty spot on the couch by Eleven's feet.

The girl considered her for a few more seconds, and tugged her legs closer to her chest. Then she nodded.

Christine made sure to move slowly. She eased herself onto the couch, and tried not to look at Eleven too much. She didn't want to make her uncomfortable by staring. That was hard, considering Eleven didn't seem to have the same consideration. Christine could feel those two big eyes boring holes into the side of her head. She knew she shouldn't take it personally. The girl was like a cornered animal, on high alert for any new threats. Still, her stare was a little unnerving.

"I'm Christine," she said, breaking the silence. "You can just call me Chrissy if you want. Is it okay if I call you El?"

The girl stared at her, and did not respond.

"Okay. Um, can I ask why the boys are calling you Eleven? Is that your real name?"

Nothing.

Christine nodded, looking around the room. She hadn't expected it to be quite this difficult to talk to the girl. She'd seemed comfortable enough with Mike, even if her words were short. But she'd already known Mike for a few days, it seemed. Christine was just going to have to start from scratch.

"Right. Well, we just have to wait until Mike's mom leaves the house. Then we can go outside and go to my house. It's not too far away. Do you know how to ride a bike?"

Eleven continued to stare at her blankly.

"O-kay. I guess we'll just…walk…"

Christine leaned back on the couch, letting out a soft sigh. She had a feeling it was going to be a very, very long day.