Jonathan doesn't actually turn up in chemistry, or any other class after that, and I find myself more than a little frustrated that he never once bothered to give any indication that this was his plan all along. A part of me knows I should have seen this coming, of course. Jonathan had wanted to go see his dad from day one. But I thought it was understood that if he did something like that, I would be coming with him. That I wouldn't let him face a man he hated alone.
Apparently, on that score, I could never have been more wrong.
Left with no other means of escape, though, I make it through the remainder of the school day as best I can, carefully steering clear of Steve, Carol and Tommy in hopes of avoiding another session of 'bait the police chief's daughter.' With Jonathan missing in action, I definitely know that I can't trust myself to keep a level head.
I know that Carol and Tommy in particular will take any chance they can find to comment on his absence. To snark about Will's disappearance.
Saying anything other than that their assumptions and remarks are the very last thing I need to hear right now would be a lie.
Even with my success at avoiding Tommy and Carol, though, I am not nearly so lucky when it comes to avoiding Barb or Nancy, both of them seeming to take it upon themselves to form a sort of protective vigil around me both in class, and in the halls as well. I would be a fool to pretend I'm not grateful for it, whether I could ever comfortably admit to it out loud. But I know that I really only have a small window before one of them—most likely Nancy—tries to break my silence, and figure out what is really going on…
As it turns out, Nancy only gives me until shortly after lunch, before she cannot hold out any longer, her expression practically radiating concern as she loops an arm through mine while Barb walks in a knowing silence on my other side.
"Cami—"
"Don't, Nance."
"This is about Jonathan, isn't it? What—what Tommy and Carol said?"
"What is—this—exactly?"
"Your silence. You've been walking around all day like—like you're about one step away from falling apart, and I'm just—I'm worried," Nancy admits, clearly taking note of how I am already preparing to protest, and hurrying to go on before I have the chance to interrupt, "And I just—I want you to know—"
"To know what?"
"That Tommy's an ass, and Steve already put him in his place over what he said."
"Steve," I repeat, slowing to a stop so that Barb and Nancy are forced to do the same, all of us ignoring the grumbled protests of the other students that suddenly have to shift to move around us to avoid a collision in the hall, "Why would he—he shouldn't have—"
"He saw how upset you were, and—"
"Nancy, I don't need your boyfriend to fight my battles for me, okay?"
"Steve's not—Cami, it's not like that."
"I think what Nancy is trying to say is that you're not the only one that wanted to introduce Tommy's face to a locker after what he said," Barb cuts in, ever the voice of reason when Nancy and I can't seem to see eye to eye. Which, now that Nancy is frequently going googly-eyed over one Steve Harrington, seems to be a lot, "And she may or may not be trying to butter you up so you change your mind and agree to go to the party tonight."
"Barb!"
"What? We both know that's what this is really about, right?"
"Barb!"
"Whatever it's about, it doesn't change anything," I state, sharing a look that could almost pass as conspiratorial with Barb, and finding myself more than a little relieved that she has chosen to divert my attention from Nancy's attempts to defend Steve altogether, "I'm not going."
"Cami, come on, I can't go to this thing alone!"
"Take Barb."
"Yeah. Because I'd totally fit in at a party thrown by Steve 'The Hair' Harrington," Barb grouses, her gaze zeroing in on me while her expression turns from mild exasperation to true horror in next to no time at all, "Come on, Cami, you're not serious."
"Nancy seems to think she needs a chaperone."
"And I'm the one that has to defend her honor because?"
"Eww, you guys are—gross," Nancy protests, making a show of cringing in disgust, though Barb and I can see how hard she is trying to hide her growing smile in spite of it, "I don't need a knight in shining armor, I just need—"
"Someone to help you keep it in your pants?"
"More like someone to help Steve keep it in his pants," I quip, dodging Nancy's well-aimed swipe at my shoulder, and trying to ignore how, regardless of her show of innocent disagreement, I can see the very obvious blush that is starting to stain her cheeks. I shouldn't care what she does or doesn't do with Steve. Not when whatever it was that he and I had is long gone. Over. Done.
And more than not wanting Nancy or Barb to see how distraught I am over Will—over Jonathan venturing off to confront his father without me—I really don't want either one of them to start thinking I still have any sort of interest in Steve at all.
"Listen, Nance, you don't need me. You don't. And I really don't think Steve wants me there, anyway."
"He invited you—"
"Yeah, only because it would look super weird to invite you, and pretend like Barb and I weren't even there."
"As opposed to every other day, when he pretends you and I aren't even there so often it's practically an established profession," Barb teases, the words earning her a smile from me, and an exasperated roll of the eyes from Nancy, though neither are enough to completely dissuade her from going on, "But if you're so dead-set against coming with Nance, that must mean you have some plans of your own."
"I—I don't."
"Right. Because you, Cami Hopper, walk around willingly turning down excuses to party all the time."
"Saying it like that makes it seem like I'm the town drunk, Barb."
"Oh be quiet, you know I didn't mean it like that."
"I do know," I acknowledge, nudging Barb lightly in the side, and starting to move back down the hall, aware of Nancy's arm once again looping through mine as we move, "But I think this time, I'm going to do what no one expects me to do."
"Oh? And what's that?"
"I'm staying home."
"That's definitely code for 'I'm going to sit on Jonathan's front porch until he gets home and make him regret ditching me'," Nancy surmises, smirking at my obviously failed attempt at innocence, her head dropping down to lean on my shoulder for a fraction of a second before she pulls away once again, "Just let us know if you need help hiding the body or something."
"Woah. Do not drag me into your plan to commit murder. I'm fine with defending poor, innocent Nancy's honor, but that? No. I'm too awesome for jail."
As if on cue, the three of us dissolve into what is likely to be far too rambunctious laughter over Barb's remark, the odd looks we receive from some of our classmates going largely unnoticed as we squeeze through the door to our next class. Together, we make our way to our routine seats situated near the front, more out of Nancy's preference for being as close as possible to the chalkboard to take good notes than any real desire of Barb's or my own. And, even if only for a moment, I find that it isn't so hard as I thought to pretend this is just an ordinary day. To walk around like no one is missing. Like my best friend isn't headed off to face his father alone.
For a moment, I allow myself to pretend that everything is going to be alright, never knowing that what I find shortly after I get home from school will be anything but…
…
Sitting on the beaten down old couch in the den of my father's trailer after school, I make an attempt at getting a start on homework, despite the fact that my heart is definitely not in it even to a small degree. The television is playing softly in the background, but more often than not, my gaze fixes itself on the window nearby.
I don't want to own to the ridiculousness of what it is that I am expecting, but the reality is plain as day whether I want it to be or not.
I want more than anything to hear the crunch of gravel as Jonathan pulls his car into the drive. I want Will to clamber out of the car with him, having been at Lonnie's all along.
I want these things so fiercely that I almost question the very real crunch of gravel that reaches my ears through the open window, figuring I am just inventing the sound to try and assuage my worry. My guilt. Everything that is weighing down on me until I can barely breathe. But then I hear it. Voices. Familiar voices, arguing softly as they draw nearer and nearer to the door.
"This is a bad idea."
"No way. Cami's cool."
"You're just saying that because you think she's pretty."
"Shut up Lucas."
"There's no way she's going to help—"
"If you're so sure she won't, why'd you come with me?"
"Maybe because I thought I could keep you from doing something stupid."
"Knocking on her door isn't stupid. I bet it's the smartest choice I've made all day."
My brow furrows as I struggle to keep up with the hushed conversation, and although I know there is no way that I can be imagining this, I still jump as soon as I hear a loud knock sounding on the door. For a moment, I debate the possibility of pretending I am not home, but as though the two boys standing outside sense that hesitation, another knock sounds out in response.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming."
Moving to the door and wrenching it open, I spend a moment staring in open-mouthed shock at the boys looking up at me, a part of my brain trying to reconcile why on earth they would have biked all the way out here to me while the other part seizes in dread at the thought of something having happened to Will. Maybe they aren't here for me, at all. Maybe they're trying to find my dad…
Of course, before the panic has a chance to set in completely, I find myself stumbling back as Dustin barges inside, his eyes roaming the small den for a moment before he turns back to face me, while Lucas remains hovering hesitantly in the door.
"Is your dad here?"
"Why? Did something—"
"Is. Your. Dad. Here?" Dustin repeats, turning in a slow circle as though he half-expects the man in question to make an appearance, providing an obvious answer to the question I seem to be avoiding for as long as I can, "Any day now, Cami—"
"No. No, he's not—he's not here."
"Good."
"Good?" I question, skepticism apparent in the singular word as Dustin comes full circle, and looks me straight in the eye, "What are you doing here?"
"We need your help."
"No we don't, man."
"We've been over this, Lucas. She's the only one that the party can trust," Dustin insists, moving away from me and flopping down on the couch, the springs giving a muted groan of protest as he bounces in place for a moment before going on, "Cami?"
"Yes, Dustin?"
"Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to drag Lucas in here and shut the damn door?"
"Are you going to actually get around to telling me why you're here?"
Dustin remains almost stubbornly silent as he continues to eye me from the couch, and I force myself to suppress a groan before turning back to the door, Lucas clearly deciding to step inside voluntarily, rather than risk me dragging him in by force. I can tell he is still reluctant, but still, I shut the door and head back to the den, with Lucas hot on my heels, my body sagging into my dad's favorite armchair while I regard Dustin with a look that I hope says all too clearly he'd be best served by coming clean quickly, before I reconsider and shove the two of them back outside instead.
"Well?"
"Right. Business. Yeah," Dustin nods, clearly ignoring how Lucas smacks a hand to his forehead and lets out a muted groan, in favor of focusing on me with such intensity I am half-tempted to squirm a bit in my seat, "We need your help."
"With?"
"We uh—we kinda can't tell you yet."
"If I don't know what I'm helping you with, how am I supposed to agree?"
"See? I told you she'd say no."
"That isn't a no, Lucas. Clearly, you need to get your hearing checked."
"You need to get your hearing checked! She doesn't wanna help us!"
"I didn't say that," I disagree, only just resisting the urge to roll my eyes as I take note of Dustin's self-satisfied grin, one hand lifting to drag through my hair before I summon the wherewithal to go on, "I just said I don't really want to dive head-first into something without knowing the facts."
"Oh come on. Where's your spirit of adventure? Don't you remember when you and Jonathan were part of that campaign a few years ago? He was totally losing his nerve, but you stayed with us to fight?"
"Dustin, that was—that was a game."
"Right. But what if part of it was also real?"
"What?"
"She's never gonna believe you, man," Lucas cuts in, something in his tone almost chafing against my sense of pride, though I soon realize I am far too distracted by the unreadable look that passes between him, and Dustin, to care. I know these boys have always had a knack for fantasy. For constructing insanely detailed stories for their campaigns, that I have honestly always sort of admired, whether I paid the tales much attention or not. Over the years, given the amount of time I spend at Jonathan's, each of them—Lucas, Dustin, and Mike—managed to wheedle their way into my life, every bit as much as Will did.
And that means I know them. I know when they're trying to hide something.
Given everything that is happening lately, I am not even close to being prepared to allow that to happen.
"Why don't you just try me?" I suggest, pointedly ignoring the scoff Lucas gives in response, and turning my attention back to Dustin instead. I can tell he's wavering. That he's almost ready to give in, just as I suspected he would be from the start. But just as he opens his mouth, Lucas interjects once again, his words causing me to narrow my eyes in such a way that he takes a hesitant step away in response.
"It's like I said, Dustin. This is a waste of time. We never should have come."
"But we're here, now, so—"
"So we should leave."
Lucas is already heading back toward the door, Dustin following along, albeit at a much slower pace behind him, leaving me to perch on the edge of my father's armchair, dumbfounded to say the least. And a part of me wants to just let them go, even with the stab of guilt that claws at my heart over the thought, the lingering idea of Jonathan possibly coming here and finding me missing in action giving me pause. But a still greater part practically panics at the thought of the boys' elusiveness. The very obvious secret they are trying to hide, and how every instinct I possess all but screams that this might have something to do with Will.
Regardless of my own misgivings, the idea of letting them head back out on their own when whoever took their friend might come after them next practically curdles in my gut, and before I know it I am clambering to my feet and following after them, slipping my shoes on as quickly as I can while Lucas and Dustin turn to face me with shock written clearly in their faces.
"What are—Cami, what are you doing?" Dustin asks, eyeing me as though I have suddenly sprouted an extra pair of hands as I hobble on one foot toward the door, trying to tug my other shoe on as I reply.
"I'm coming with you, duh. Just give me a minute to get my bike."
"But you said—"
"I never said anything," I cut in, finally getting the shoe onto my foot, and stepping through the door, shutting it with a soft snap behind me before going on, "But now, I'm saying that if either one of you think I'm letting you run around town on your own with everything that's going on, you're insane."
"We don't need a babysitter," Lucas protests, once again taking a step back as I give him a look that obviously quells his mounting displeasure, both hands lifting in a gesture of obvious surrender that almost has me grinning, though I resist with all the strength I have left.
"I'm not a babysitter. I'm—what the hell did you guys call me after that campaign again?"
"A rogue," Dustin supplies, grinning from ear to ear as I jog off to grab my bike from its place toppled onto its side in the yard, and swinging his leg over his own, before turning to look at Lucas, instead, "Told you she'd come with us."
Lucas doesn't even bother to reply, the three of us heading off down the drive, and taking a turn that I recognize on instinct as one that will lead us to the Wheelers'. I am still partly amazed that I am even doing this. Heading off with Dustin and Lucas, without a clue as to what we are doing, or why we are doing it. But as the panic I had felt over letting them venture off on their own starts to fade, I know.
I know, somehow, that I am doing the right thing.
…
We arrive at the Wheelers' in silence, Dustin and Lucas sharing more than one nervous glance as they leave their bikes splayed haphazardly on the lawn, forcing me to do the same before jogging after them as they head to the door leading inside from the still-open garage. I half-expect them to head for the kitchen, knowing that their stomachs are, more often than not, the absolute epitome of a bottomless pit. But instead, they bypass that room entirely, heading for the basement door, wrenching it open, and then filing down the stairs, one after the other.
Jesus Christ, if they are doing this deliberately—acting all mysterious, and hush-hush, and I follow them down the stairs, only to find this is all some elaborate joke, or the start to another campaign…
If that is all this is, I may end up needing Nancy and Barb's help to bury a body or two, after all.
Still, I force myself to head down the stairs regardless of any lingering reluctance, the steps creaking a bit in a way that is all too familiar from the numerous times Nancy and I have attempted to sneak down to get some space from the boys before they even realize where we've gone. And although I'm expecting something ridiculous as soon as I reach the landing, I still cannot entirely prevent my jaw from dropping open as I clear the final step, my gaze almost immediately landing on the couch at the far end of the room, and the waifish figure seated there, curling inwards as though trying to become completely invisible to the naked eye.
It is the same child I saw in the woods. The child that was with me after I woke. After I'd seen that—thing—the memory of which still terrifies me more than I want to admit. And as I stand stock-still, heart hammering in my chest while dread curls in a vice around my throat, I watch as the child's wide brown eyes flare with sudden recognition, the single word that breaks the silence in the room nearly deafening despite me knowing that it is barely above a whisper.
"Hi."
…
Well hello again, darling readers! And welcome to a chapter that admittedly took a rather surprising turn! I honestly had no idea where I was really going with this until the muses just sort of took over, and went wild. I'd initially planned to have Cami at the party with Nancy and Barb, but then the idea of having her take a somewhat different path got into my head. So, hopefully the end result isn't too objectionable? As always, I cannot wait to hear what you think!
My heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! And special thanks go out to MulishaMaiden and Angryfanfic for leaving such lovely reviews the last time around! I appreciate the feedback and support so much more than you know, and I hope everyone continues to enjoy where the story goes from here!
Until next time, my loves…
MOMM
