November 5th, 1984.
14
Hopper is a jackass. And yeah, I know what that means. I heard Mike call one of the other white coats that and he say it means someone who really bothers you and makes your life hard for no reason. For Hop, it means he keeps drilling me over and over again and won't let me slip up on anything. I get one word wrong and he makes me do the whole thing over again.
Mike isn't being easy either. It's like for every one thing he teaches me, he has ten questions about it. Prodding and poking at every possible angle to ensure it's perfect. He looks tired. He's faded like my lion. When I first got him he was this bright orange. The loudest, alive-est thing I'd ever seen here. Now he's kind of brown and his hair is coming out in spots. Mike's hair isn't falling out, thank god. I need to ask Mike what is god. Everyone always thanking him. I don't know why. But yes. I could never recover him losing his curls- well. I would still like him. He'd still be Mike. He'd still have those eyes and… but it would be sad. I do not want Mike to lose his hair.
"Concentrate, Eleven." Hopper growls, and I snap out of my reverie.
I glare at him and he raises an eyebrow. He just looks at me for a long time and eventually I feel awkward and look down at the table, cheeks flushed. Embarrassed doesn't leave room for mad. He usually wins stareoffs, but I'm lasting longer and longer. One day.
"Sorry." I say, turning my gaze back to the cards on the table.
"You've been pretty shit recently, kid. You gotta concentrate or Brenner will lose his mind."
"I'm trying." I say, running a hand through my hair.
"Try harder. Your turn."
He's right. Papa is not pleased with my inattentiveness. I try to focus, but for some reason, every time I see Mike it is harder and harder to focus. All I want to do is look at him and think about him and listen to him.
Suddenly, an impulse comes over me and I don't ignore it.
"Hop. You ever have person where… person who makes your stomach hurt and your skin hot and you just… you don't know how to be around them?"
"You mean a crush?"
"Crush?" I repeat, envisioning a can.
"Not like," he mimics what I'd been thinking of and I frown. "Like, you like someone and-jesus this is goddamn weird to explain. You think they're attractive-pretty- and you like to spend time with them. You want to be with them."
"Oh." I consider this.
"Wait. You have a crush on someone?" Hopper's face is concerned. Worried. I don't know why, but this is clearly something he thinks wrong. So I lie.
"No. Uhm. Mike does. He talk about… girl." I fib.
"Hm." Hop says. I don't know if he believes me but he doesn't ask any more questions and that's enough.