"Cami, dear, what are—why aren't you still in school?"

I fiddle with my watch as I realize I really should have anticipated Mrs. Holland asking me this very question, my teeth chewing at the inside of my cheek for a moment as I try to concoct a suitable reply. Feigning sickness will hardly do me any good, and if the worst sorts of things I am already starting to believe are not, in fact, true, I risk getting Barb in trouble by exposing the reality that she never made it to school, as well.

I'm quite literally between a rock and a hard place, but desperation brought me here, to Barb's door, anyway. Desperation, and a need to have my friend reassure me that whatever I may or may not be feeling as it pertains to Steve and Nancy is not at all out of line.

Barb was always good at that. Talking me down from my own fears. Almost as good as Jonathan, honestly…

Was.

Damn it, I cannot start referring to her in the past tense. Not yet. Hopefully not ever.

"I um—I just—Nancy said she left her jacket in Barb's car after the—the thing for Will last night. And Barb didn't have it with her at school today, so—do you know if she maybe—left it here?"

Great job, Camille. Real smooth.

"Barbara hasn't been home all day. She told me she was staying the night at Nancy's," Mrs. Holland says, something in her gaze alerting me to her suspicions regarding the real reason for my presence here, and forcing me to square my shoulders a bit in an effort to seem more self-assured, "You weren't with them?"

"I didn't go last night. I wasn't—I wasn't feeling well."

"Oh, I see."

"I guess I should have asked Nancy to check Barb's car first before sending me on a wild goose chase," I murmur, managing a faint laugh, and noting that although her suspicions are not entirely erased, Mrs. Holland is at least favoring me with a moderately amused smile in spite of it all, "Sorry, I—I didn't mean to bother you in the middle of your day."

"It's no trouble at all, dear. Would you like a ride back to the school?"

"Oh, no, I—I can just take my bike."

"Are you sure? You must have missed so much already just biking out here," Mrs. Holland persists, concern still lingering in her eyes as she watches me waver on her doorstep like some overly anxious child, "After everything with that poor Byers boy, I don't know that you should be wandering around on your own."

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Holland. I promise."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Alright. Just—be careful. And Camille?"

I realize that I know what Barb's mom is going to ask of me before the words ever leave her mouth, dread coiling its way around my heart so it can deliver an almost painful squeeze. But I can't tell her the truth. That now that I know Barb never made it home, and I know she definitely wasn't at Nancy's last night, I am left with nothing but fear that my friend has somehow suffered a similar fate to Will.

I can't put the fear for her daughter's safety into her mind right now. Not when she so clearly seems to believe nothing is amiss, and so I force myself to manage a smile and a nod as she makes her final request, turning away to head toward my bike before she can get even a hint that any of it is false at all.

"If you see Barbara, have her give me a call?"

"I will, Mrs. Holland. Thanks again."

I bike away without coming anywhere close to paying attention to the road, taking the route that will get me to the Wheelers' on instinct and nothing else while my mind trails over everything I have come to learn in what feels like no time at all. Will is missing. Hiding, somewhere, and in very real danger. The thing I saw in the woods is clearly real, no matter how I might wish to brush aside its existence altogether. Barb is probably missing too, and her parents don't have a clue. Nancy doesn't have a clue.

Nancy.

Nancy slept with Steve…

"You don't care. You don't."

The words ring false even as I hiss them to myself, and I find that I am gripping the handlebars of my bike far tighter than is truly necessary as a result. Comparatively speaking, Nancy's love life is nowhere near as important as the rest of what is going on, right now. Not even close.

So why does my mind keep dragging me back to the thought of it? To the thought of her in Steve's bed, when there had been a time not all that long ago that I thought there was nowhere else I would rather be, myself.

But Will is missing. Barb is missing.

And I am over Steve Harrington.

Or at least, so I tell myself.

Turning onto the familiar street that leads to the Wheelers' home, I bike past their driveway and head off in the direction of the far end of the road, instead, deciding that it will seem far less suspicious to never turn up there at all, regardless of my lingering apprehension at the thought of waiting for Eleven, and the rest of the kids by the power lines on my own. If Karen Wheeler sees that I've skipped school, she will certainly start asking questions.

Questions that, even now, I am entirely unable to answer.

Steeled by my desire to avoid such a thing, I navigate my way to the meeting place Mike had decided upon the previous day, trying to decide what on earth I am going to do to entertain myself until the others arrive after school. But as soon as I draw near enough to the location I thought would be empty, I find myself fighting back surprise, the sight of a slight figure in familiar sweatpants and a baggy blue shirt causing my eyes to go wide, my confusion only growing as I follow the line of her gaze to a cat, back arched and hissing on the ground.

"Eleven?"

The girl whirls, wide-eyed, to face me, then, fear written plainly in her features and giving me a moment's regret over sneaking up on her without warning. But as soon as comprehension sets in, she seems to relax, her features showing ample relief as she bolts towards me, flinging herself into my arms as soon as I manage to get free of my bike.

"Hey—hey, it's okay," I soothe, running my hand over Eleven's close-cropped hair on instinct, and realizing that the behavior that had always been reserved for Sara hasn't entirely left me, after all, "I'm here, it's—it's okay."

Trying my best to keep my mind firmly rooted in the present, instead of lingering on memories that will only tear me apart, I glance back to where I had seen the cat, my brow furrowing in surprise as I realize it is already gone. Eleven seems to sense my distraction, pulling back to peer up at me for a moment before following the line of my gaze.

I can feel her tense as she pulls away completely, her expression turning almost remorseful despite how I have absolutely no idea why it would ever need to be in the first place.

"Not a cat person, then?"

"W—what?"

"I don't really like them either. Always preferred dogs," I shrug, some small part of me realizing that I am way off the mark as far as the reason behind Eleven's sudden skittishness goes, though the tentative smile she gives me seems to indicate she appreciates it all the same, "You know, Will and Jonathan had a cat once. Scratched the hell out of my hands every time it had the chance."

"Will."

"Is he—is he still hiding? From—"

Eleven nods before I can persuade myself to finish, and once again apprehension ricochets through me like a tidal wave, my heart starting to pound erratically against my ribs not long after. I know that my distress is only increasing Eleven's agitation, and so I try, albeit without much success, to curtail it.

Of course as soon as I blurt my next words, all thought of keeping calm becomes near to obsolete.

"And Barb? Can—do you know if there's someone else—hiding with him?"

"Barb?" Eleven repeats, confusion coloring her tone, and giving me every reason to believe she has no idea who I am referring to, at all. At the back of my mind, whatever rational part of me that is left reminds me that Eleven had seen a picture of Will before being able to find him. That she has had no such opportunity with Barb. But before I can think of any means of rectifying that particular omission, the sound of more bike tires on gravel reaches my ears, the distraction causing both Eleven and I to turn in time to be greeted by the sight of Dustin, Lucas and Mike heading our way.

I make a mental note to find a picture of Barb to show her some time in the very near future before heading back to my own bike, Mike's impatience to begin our search almost infectious despite the ever-present doubt at the back of my mind that says we stand next to no chance at finding him at all.

"Your dad still doesn't know about this, right?"

"No," I reply, startled out of my own internal musings as I glance to where Mike walks along beside me, Eleven on his other side. We had been forced to walk our bikes through the foliage around thirty minutes prior, and I can already hear Dustin grumbling about sore feet where he and Lucas follow behind us just a few feet away. But even still, my focus remains almost entirely on Mike and Eleven, now, the former's lingering suspicion not quite frustrating me as much as I had initially feared that it would, "He's kind of already used to me skipping school whenever I can, at this point."

"Skipping—school?"

"Yeah. It's—it's when you still have classes left but you leave early anyway, and go back home. Or—other places," Mike explains, something in the surprising gentleness of his tone causing my mouth to twitch up at the corner, even though he narrows his eyes at me in a glare not long after, silently telling me to say absolutely nothing on the subject if I want any chance of being able to continue on with them in the hunt for Will, "And if your parents find out, you can get in trouble. A lot of trouble."

"That's the understatement of the century."

"Understatement?"

I frown as soon as I realize naturally Eleven will have no idea what I'm referring to, though she seems somewhat amused by the snort Mike gives in response to my comment on the whole. Not for the first time, I catch myself wondering what kind of life she had known before all of this. What sort of place she had lived in. How sheltered she must have been to still be so taken aback by events and terminology that ought to have been commonplace.

I'm suddenly nearly overwhelmed by a surprising burst of anger at anyone who could look at a child like Eleven and seek to deny her a life like other kids. At anyone who would see her as someone to be used, rather than encouraged. Cared for. Loved.

I don't exactly understand how I have come to be so attached to her in so little time, but the fire burning through my veins as I risk another look at her makes it all too clear that I am.

I'd almost be tempted to believe that Eleven is the universe's attempt at making amends for taking Sara but then when has the damned universe ever been so kind?

Never.

"An understatement is like—when something is huge, in some way. But you try to—um—downplay it?"

"Right, because that's so much clearer."

"Well I didn't see you trying to explain, smart guy," I quip, nudging Mike with my elbow, and finding that I am more than a little surprised when I stumble to the side as he retaliates in kind, "Hey!"

"You started it."

"It was a joke."

"Yeah? I'm not laughing," Mike retorts, clearly exerting a great deal of effort to appear stern, though even I can see the twitch he is trying to hide so fiercely at the corner of his mouth. Eleven is looking between us in amazement, her eyes gleaming as she determines we are simply messing around. As soon as Mike catches sight of that, all attempts at restraining his own amusement disappear, and I avert my gaze to the path ahead of us to conceal my own smile, as well…

And then I see it. The familiar driveway at the end of that path. The house at the end of the driveway.

Will's house.

"Here."

The surety behind the single word gives me every reason to believe that Eleven truly does believe that Will is nearby, but a part of me already knows that can hardly be the case. Plenty might say Joyce is a slightly erratic mother. A woman that is not always the most organized or observant person in the world. I can recall countless times where Jonathan and I were roped into helping her search for missing keys or other sundry items around the house, but I know for a fact that if her own son were right under her nose, she never would have reported him missing in the first place.

"Yeah, this is where Will lives."

"Hiding."

"No. No, this is where he lives. He's missing from here. Understand?" Mike persists, glancing at me as though hoping I can interject. That I can help Eleven to see Will can't possibly be here. But before I can even attempt to do so, Lucas and Dustin catch up with us, the former's disbelief apparent as he exhales in a huff, before he speaks.

"What are we doing here?"

"She said he's hiding here."

"Um—no!"

"I swear, if we walked all the way out here for nothing—"

"That's exactly what we did!" Lucas exclaims, Dustin's aggravated sigh causing me to frown, though I have no chance to even begin to intervene as Lucas steps in once again, "I told you she didn't know what the hell she was talking about!"

I can feel Eleven flinching and drawing closer to my side, some small part of me wondering how, exactly, she had moved away from Mike, without me ever taking note of it at all. I step just a bit closer to her, as a result, if for no other reason than to try and show her that I don't mind providing whatever support she needs in the slightest.

Of course, if I could have predicted Lucas' next outburst, I might have decided to do so far sooner.

"Why did you bring us here?"

"Okay, that's enough!" I cut in, aware of how Eleven now stands just a bit behind me, her fingers curling into the sleeve of my shirt as though she is determined to try and use it as some sort of protective barrier if Lucas gets any closer, "You're scaring her."

"And you're defending a liar!"

"She's not a liar!"

"Shut up, Mike. Just because she's not grossed out by you—"

"Hey! I said enough!"

Mike and Lucas both fall silent in response to the shout, and although I do my best not to show it, I am honestly more than a little surprised to be able to have such an effect at all. But I cannot afford to give in to that surprise. Not now.

If I hesitate, even a little, they'll just start up all over again, and we'll be back to square one in next to no time at all.

"Look, I know you're worried about Will. I'm worried about Will," I begin, making sure to take the time to look Lucas, Dustin and Mike in the eye one by one, before even attempting to press on, "But yelling at someone who's only trying to help isn't going to get us very far, okay?"

"But she's—"

"She's trying to help, Lucas. End of story. And regardless of what we might want, nobody gets that sort of thing right all the time. Got it?"

"But Will isn't here."

"I know he's not."

"Then what the hell are we gonna do?"

I open my mouth to reply to that, wanting nothing more than to reassure Lucas—to reassure all of us—that everything is going to be alright. But I can't. I can't say that, because even now, I know it will be nothing more than a lie.

And then, we hear the sirens. Their wails, and the sound of tires speeding across gravel that all but throws whatever last shred of hope we had remaining to us right back in our faces as police cruisers zip past, heading farther off down the road…

"Will."

I'm not even sure which one of the boys says his name, because suddenly we are all very much occupied with clambering back onto our bikes and pedaling off as fast as we can after the fading sound of the sirens, my heart already lodging in my throat at the idea of what we might find when we catch up.

Something tells me it isn't going to be anything good.

We arrive at the quarry not long after the police, and I find myself dragging the boys and Eleven behind a nearby ambulance that is, mercifully, empty, at least for the time-being, the sight of my father standing a bit closer to the water causing my heart to hammer erratically against my ribs. Before ducking behind our impromptu hiding place, I had managed to catch glimpses of emergency personnel out in the water. Other deputies are combing the area, or standing near my father, waiting for what would come next.

If he sees me here, I am as good as dead, but all of that pales in comparison to the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as I peer around the edge of the ambulance in time to see two of the men standing ankle deep in the water lifting something small—lifeless—from its depths.

A body.

"No—"

"It's not Will. It can't be," Mike declares, the sound of his voice immediately to my left causing me to jump, despite the fact that a part of me knew he had been standing there all along. I don't know if he says the words to reassure me, or himself, but none of that matters since the longer I stare at the body the more I come to know the truth.

Mike is wrong. That is Will. I would know that reddish-orange vest anywhere.

"It's Will. It's—it's really Will."

I can hear the brokenness in Lucas' voice, and I want to turn to comfort him. To say or do anything because I know that in seconds, the lives of three young boys have been irrevocably changed. None of them should be seeing this. They're far too young.

That's Will that they're dragging to shore, though. Sweet, sensitive, caring Will.

He is far too young to be dead.

Tears burn at the corners of my eyes and some even manage to spill out onto my cheeks before I can stop them. And in spite of the voice at the back of my head that urges me to wipe them away because I'm not the sort of person to cry in front of anyone, I resist, instead giving in to the distraction presented by the sudden realization that Mike is moving away from my side, and whirling on Eleven, instead.

"Mike—"

"Mike? Mike what? You were supposed to help us find him alive," Mike yells, the lack of any sort of gentleness behind the words causing Eleven to retreat almost immediately, her feet carrying her backward until her shoulder bumps against my torso, effectively stopping her in her tracks, "What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?"

"Mike—"

"What?!"

"Mike, c'mon. Don't do this," Dustin pleads, somehow able to say the words that I cannot manage, myself, though Mike is clearly not at all willing to listen to them, either way, "Mike—where are you going? Mike!"

"Just—just let him go, man."

I can tell that Dustin is not exactly willing to go along with Lucas' instruction. For that matter, I'm really not, either, but in spite of that, I cannot seem to persuade myself to move a muscle to head after Mike, myself. It's like I've suddenly become rooted to the spot, regardless of the worry that coils around my heart at the thought of Mike heading out on his own, when clearly there is something in Hawkins that is more dangerous than any of us could ever have prepared for on our own.

My hand has somehow come to rest on Eleven's shoulder again, and I can feel her shaking beneath my fingertips, but as Mike bikes away, all that I can do is watch. Watch, and struggle to remember how to breathe, because suddenly I am left with the task of keeping the three remaining kids safe. Taking care of them because they now have undeniable proof that their friend is never coming back.

Not for the first time, I wonder how on earth I even came to be here at all, but even that astonishment fades to the wayside to be replaced by the painful reality of everything we have all just witnessed with our very own eyes.

Will Byers is dead. Actually, really dead.

He's dead and gone, just like Sara, and comprehension dawns on me with all the force of a wrecking ball, my blood rushing in my ears as another reality brings itself to the forefront of my mind.

Jonathan and Joyce still do not know. They don't know that they've just lost everything…

My best friend is going to have to carry a pain I never wanted him to know, and in spite of my desire to be strong for him that has been at the forefront of my mind since all of this started, I am not entirely certain that I have the fortitude that will be required to help him pick up the pieces in an attempt to begin to move on.

Hello, everyone! And welcome (finally!) to a brand new chapter in Cami's tale! Once again, I am so very sorry for the delay between updates, but I hope that now that I've gotten our girl into the real beginning of the plot, perhaps they can come a bit more frequently (unless Sadie and Eddie continue to steal the show like they've been doing thus far, lol). I truly do appreciate every single one of you for sticking with me, though, and I really do hope that you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!

As always, 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 thus far (and special thanks to MulishaMaiden for the lovely review on chapter eight!) I appreciate the support, so, so much more than you know! And as always, I cannot wait to hear what you think of this installment as well!

Until next time, darlings…

MOMM