Two
"Her maiden flight, Dusty-bun! There was a sudden delay for 22 minutes and 30 seconds, thanks to a faulty 'on' indication for a main engine liquid hydrogen prevalve close remote power controller, which of course was resolved in time to continue. Oh, I felt like I was watching one of the Apollo missions! I wish you could have seen it live too."
Dustin nods, even though his girlfriend can't see. He pulls out a pen and spiral notebook from his top desk drawer, and turns to a specific page with a neatly drawn tally. "Being able to watch a Space Shuttle launch as it happens in real time, that's a solid point in favor of homeschooling."
He hears Suzie's efforts over the phone to take out her matching notebook and record the latest data point in. "But, let's not forget all the socialization benefits of attending an actual school with multiple other children who are not biologically related to you."
"We already tallied that one last month, no double-dipping. Plus, I distinctly remember our agreement to a simple pass/fail system, because it would take too long to properly deliberate the context and consequences of each one. There are no debating the pros and cons, of each pro and con that we think of."
"That was before I had to watch Atlantis rise in the three-ring circus that is the Bingham living room. With Father, and Mother, and our Lord Jesus Christ - from both his paintings in there and from his heavenly gaze above - and Eden, and Tabitha, and Cornelius, and Sterling, and Tanner and Tatum and Peter-"
"You can just say your whole family, no need to go down the whole roster."
"Oh, there is a definitely a need, Dustin Henderson," Suzie tells him. "You're an only child. You can't possibly begin to comprehend the menagerie otherwise."
Dustin lets the silence go on for a bit. It feels like a lot of people are talking about things he doesn't understand lately, and not just in Latin class. And for what? What is so complicated that it can't be spoken aloud?
Suzie senses his disquiet. "Normally, I agree with my parents' strict safeguarding of what we watch on television. There is far too much graphic violence and explicit sexual content shown to the average American, and before 9pm at that."
Dustin does not mention anything from his time watching the Parents Music Resource Center Senate hearings. He will not even think about such things, not while talking with his girlfriend.
"But the rule about everyone having to watch together as a family, it – it simply isn't productive! It doesn't bring us any closer, it ruins and distracts from any enjoyment or learning. Which I'm sure is meant to be a deterrent against inappropriate TV shows, but for 3-2-1 Contact? Sir David Attenborough programs? It's not fair! I should be allowed to watch reruns of Nova without all of my siblings screaming or complaining two inches from my face the entire time."
"I hear you. You follow the rules but you're still being punished."
Suzie detours for the next few minutes on the antics of her older sister and how she ruins everything, before coming back to her point. "Just a few months from now, students across the country will gather in their classrooms to watch the next Challenger shuttle launch. Challenger, Dustin! She carried the first American woman astronaut to space, and later, the first American woman spacewalker. Next she'll carry Mission Specialist Judith Reznik, and Payload Specialist Christa McAuliffe. Mrs. McAuliffe isn't even an Astronaut, she's a civilian!"
"If you're going to send a non-Astronaut to space, a teacher is the next best thing. 'A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.' Why they didn't pick a science teacher I'll never know…"
"I know you're still upset that your favorite teacher didn't make the short list, but can you please not interrupt me when I'm sharing? It's important to know that you hear me, and not just my words."
"Sorry. I'm listening, I am. Go ahead."
Suzie groans, only partly in teenage anguish. "Don't you see, Dustin? This is something that you already know far better than me. Your movie nights with your friends, and everything else you do together, are made all the better because you share the experience with other people just as excited as you. And you'll have that again in January with millions of other students. Meanwhile, here in Utah, the countdown for liftoff will be taken as a countdown to try and trap me under a blanket with a fart."
Dustin sucks in a breath and covers his mouth with a fist. "Oh, no," is all he manages to get out, a couple octaves higher than normal.
"My brothers are the most disgusting cretins!"
"I'll-" Dustin stops and thumps his chest. That one syllable came out like he was 8 years old again. "Well, I'll defend you if we ever get the chance to watch Nova together. Mike is asking his parents about visiting our friends in California for winter break. Maybe I could come to Utah; trains run from Indianapolis to Salt Lake City. I'm sure your parents would like that better than you visiting me in Indiana, so they could chaperone."
"Oh, I would love that Dusty-bun. You know," Suzie says, and her tone of voice changes ever so slightly. "As our city's name implies, there are a lot of salt lakes here. No one ever wants to go with me to the Great Salt Lake, even though it's fascinating! It's the largest saltwater lake in the western hemisphere, and home to all kinds of unique birds. Just observing God's handiwork would make for a wonderful date. We could pretend to be characters in a Jane Austen novel, and take a turn about the lake."
Dustin coughs and can't catch his breath. At Camp Know-Where, take a turn about the lake was code for 'sneak behind the janitor's shed and let Suzie thoroughly lick the inside of his mouth.'
Of course, that's when Mrs. Bingham picks up the phone.
"Mother!"
Dustin straightens up in his chair. "Good evening, Mrs. Bingham! What a pleasure to hear your voice. Suzie and I were just discussing the upcoming Space Shuttle launch schedule, care to weigh in? I think NASA is missing out on the good publicity of a Christmas launch. Symbolism of the Star of Bethlehem and all that, no?"
"I afraid don't think commercialism is the best way to honor God. Say goodnight, Susan."
They bid each other goodnight, from their two households alike in dignity – that of the Latter-day Saints, and that of Asimov.
When he gets in bed for the night, Dustin thinks that watching things in real-time while on the phone with Will would be a great idea to do on movie-nights – although, with the time difference, they'd have to start late and he'd have to start early.
He hasn't called him once since the Byers moved to California. Well, they're all starting high school – he'll call or write to him later.
Dustin truly and genuinely misses Mr. Clarke. But he has no idea how to be friends with an old person, so his plan is to mail Mr. Clarke a non-denominational holiday card in December and think of something else later.
"Please tell me we're done," Mike says.
"I think we're finally done," Dustin tells him. "It looks done. Lucas?"
Lucas surveys their work for the day. Even in the crisp temperature of October, they were all sweaty and grimy.
"Yeah. It's finished."
Dustin whoops and Mike thanks God.
The Hawkins pool has been shut down since the end of summer, but they bribed one of the lifeguards with sob stories and $50 for a key. Not to swim, but for access to the going-unused tennis courts. Next weekend it would be very, very used.
The idea belonged to Lucas, and it was a good one. They spent all of Saturday gathering – scavenging, really – things like concrete blocks and lumber and bags of mulch. On Sunday they brought it all to one of the tennis courts, using their bikes and wagon carts. With a little luck, a lot of time and effort, and one growing bruise on Mike's hand where he missed a nail with his hammer, they had a DIY skatepark Lucas was going to surprise Max with for their next date.
It was the deal they struck since she was dead set on not going to the Homecoming Dance.
"She's gonna love it," Dustin tells him.
"You think so?"
"She better," Mike says. "My hand really hurts. I wanna go look for an ice pack."
Lucas makes a squinty face that Dustin knows too well. "Stop overthinking it!" he says. "This place looks awesome, you're gonna have fun, there will be flipkicks and flapjacks and all that stuff skateboarders do. Max will simply have no choice but to be forever enamored of you."
Mike makes kissy noises and Lucas shoves him. "Yeah, and what are you writing in your letters to El?"
"Nothing like that! Just what life is like here, and how it's not as good as if she were here, and wanting to know all about what her new school and life are like in California."
Dustin scratches an itch under his cap. "It's kind of funny, Max came here from California, and then El left here to go live in California."
"California is a gigantic state," Lucas says. "The Byers are nowhere near where Max is from."
"I'm just saying. It's too bad Will moved away now. I mean," Dustin says, "It's too bad that he moved away at all, but here we're in an official D&D club only after he's gone. He loves the game more than all of us combined. He'd really like Eddie's campaigns."
"Has anyone actually told him about Hellfire Club?" Lucas asks. "Because I remember he wanted to play a ton over the summer and we constantly shut him down. Now he's gone, and we've started up again. That's not gonna make him feel better. Especially since he doesn't have anyone to play with in California, right?"
He puts the question to Mike, who is still flexing his bruised hand. "Uh, I dunno. I don't think so."
"Well, what do you talk about when you write to him?"
"I haven't written Will anything yet, I thought we agreed we were gonna do it all together and then send it to him."
Dustin and Lucas share a look. Mike, of course, does not notice.
Then Lucas puts his hands on his hips and surveys the tennis court for the thousandth time. "You don't think Max will be weirded out, having a date where Billy worked?"
His friends shrug. "Didn't he stick to the pool?" says Mike, confident even though he never visited the pool once that summer. "He was a lifeguard."
"Yeah," says Dustin. "I can't see Billy Hargrove ever taking up tennis. Ugh, now I'm thinking of him in a sweater set and chinos and it's so wrong."
Lucas shakes his head. "Everything about that guy was wrong."
They take a very long and awkward moment in honor of his memory.
"Yeah, uh," says Dustin. "Rest in peace, asshole psycho who kind of saved our lives."
He attempts to make the sign of the cross, although it's more like the sign of the quadrilateral.
"Now you just have to hope it doesn't rain, not even once, the entire week," says Mike.
Lucas groans.
The night is dark. The candles burn bright. The troupe pushes forward for glory.
"You finally see the old tower up ahead," Eddie informs the Hellfire club-members. "All that stands between it, and you, is a mere stream. It stretches to the left, and to the right, as far as your eyes can see, just a narrow little stream. No more than a yard's width at the widest points, and easy enough to jump over."
He gestures with his descriptions, throwing out one arm to the left, and the other arm for to the right.
Eddie leans forward, eyes gleaming. "Or is it? For this is no mere spring brook. These are the legendary Abyssal Waters. There is no solid riverbed ground, only a few feet down from the water's surface like a normal stream – this water goes deep, deeper than you'd ever think possible. The very ground you stand on are actually the overhanging banks to a mighty underground river. The calm of the narrow stream is an illusion. If you fall in this water, you'll be yanked down," he reaches up high to make a fist, and then slam it down on the table on the word yanked, "into a giant underwater catacomb, never to be seen again."
"Like the real-life Bolton Strid!" Dustin exclaims.
"No interruptions Henderson, we've talked about this!"
"Sorry."
Eddie closes his eyes and counts to five before starting again. "Gentlemen. Do you take your chances and cross the water?"
Immediately, Gareth says, "I say we go back and take the mountain pass,"
"That'll take forever!" Mike pipes up. "It's why we choose this shortcut in the first place."
"If only we had a Druid…" Fred groans.
"Not having a Druid in the party is exactly why a certain hardass Dungeon Master would give us such a dangerous river to cross in the first place," Mike says. "It's not a challenge otherwise."
Eddie smiles, and tilts his head.
"Okay, are there any trees around?" Mike asks next. "We could make a bridge."
There were indeed trees. On the other side of the river.
Dustin points a pencil at Little John. "You're a tiefling, you can fly; can you carry us over the river, one at a time?"
The die is cast. The tiefling can not make safe passage.
"What if we're overthinking this?" says Fred. "He said it's only a few feet across at the widest spots, that's jumpable."
"He also mentioned illusions," Mike pipes up. "I cast Detect Magic to check for any or traps or creatures."
There is an aura coming from the narrow river – and from far, far below the surface.
They start to debate all the possibilities. Even retreat, which would make Gareth, and only Gareth, happy.
At some point, Dustin realizes Eddie is watching Lucas. Lucas, who has been kind of quiet and just following along, and not participating as much as the other Hellfire Club members.
Don't do it, he thinks. Eddie, I need you to pick up on my thoughts. Do you hear me? PICK UP. Do not start shit with Lucas, not today!
"Hey Sinclair, where were you today?"
Damn it, Eddie!
"At school? Where else would I be, I don't skip."
"Naw, I mean – at lunch."
Dustin and Mike glance at each other. They'd asked Lucas the same thing when they joined up after school was over for the day. He'd been in the gym, 'working off steam', and was instantly on the defensive just from their asking. Eddie asking him the same question was only going make him grouchier, like picking at an angry scab.
Lucas taps his pencil up and down. "Just doing stuff," he shrugs.
Eddie casually leans back in his chair, too casual to be natural. "Yeah? What stuff – c'mon, if you had lunch detention we're not gonna judge. We could've sat with you. Take it from me, it always helps the time go faster."
"What are you, my mother?" Lucas says. "I don't need to tell you where I'm going or what I'm doing all the time."
Little John puts his can of pop down.
Eddie ticks off on one hand. "Where and what, but we already know when – that only leaves a who! Hey man, I'm just curious. Normally Hellfire sticks together, that's all."
"He could've been with Max, we don't need to hear all the details, why spend time pressing for details? I want to know more details about the terrain around these Abyssal Waters," Dustin tries to help. The kick to his ankle tells him otherwise, but he can't figure out why.
"Max?" Eddie echoes. "Who's that?"
"She lives in the same trailer park as you," Lucas tells him. "Guess you guys don't do the whole casserole exchange when people move in."
Dustin knows his eyes have gone wide as saucers so he looks down, all the way down, like he can see his high-tops through the tabletop.
"No," Eddie finally says. "No, we don't."
"Hey, you – you mean Maxine Mayfield," Fred jumps in, a little too fast and loud. "Her brother was the one that died at Starcourt this summer."
"Step-brother," Lucas corrects.
"Hold on," Eddie says, and he's animated again, all trace of seriousness gone like it was never there. "Is this Miss Maxine your girlfriend? As in your actual girlfriend, unlike the overly-detailed versions your friends constantly yammer about that I'm pretty sure don't exist."
"Suzie lives in Utah!" is mixed with, "Jane had to move to California with Will!"
"I'm not talking about her with you," Lucas says.
"Dude, you should be shouting from the rooftops!" Eddie beams. "I can't believe a freshman scored a girlfriend while the Hellfire upperclassmen remain single. Well, my status is unbelievable, we all know the ladies love an older bad boy type. The rest of you troglodytes…"
He laughs while Gareth and Little John start smacking him in the arms, playfighting them off. Fred isn't sitting next to him, so he settles for flicking him off.
"Max would dump me if I said hi to her in the hallway, let alone the rooftop," Lucas states, kind of forcefully. "We talk on our own, which is fine. Not everybody is a huge drama queen, Munson."
Mike swings his head from Lucas to Eddie.
"Nice strategy, but you can't reverse psycho me into giving you a clue," Eddie replies, still smiling and near vibrating with his usual brand of enthusiasm. "I've been called a lot worse than drama queen. You can't rile me up if that's my default state of being!"
"But what's your favorite insult," Little John asks.
"Oh, you'll never guess."
"Demon-eyed dope head?" Little John immediately guesses. "Trailer trash. Trailer trash that smells like wet dog."
"Lazy, dumb fucking sonofabitch," tries Gareth.
"I heard Marcus call you a grilled dick cheese sandwich that one time," Fred says.
"Yeah, he was having an off day," Eddie comments, almost concerned.
"Why are you so proud of people bullying you?" Lucas says. "It's like you love the attention. I mean, you can't actually enjoy being Eddie 'The Freak' Munson."
"Hey," says Gareth. He starts to get up out of his seat. "Get off his ass-"
"Nah, it's okay," Eddie says. "He asked a question, and I've got an answer: it's better to embrace being The Freak than let it get to me. That's what they want."
Mike swings his head back to Lucas. It's like they're watching a tennis match; the actual D&D game lies forgotten in front of them.
"So you just act the opposite of whatever people expect? If you're gonna put that much effort in, why not do something that gets people to leave you alone."
Eddie never stops smiling, but there's more of an edge now. "I could go full Stepford any time I wanted, Sinclair. I could cut my hair, throw away my kickass rings and coverup my tats, wear the right clothes, say the right things, and none of it would matter. Everybody's already made up their mind about me. They're gonna treat me how they're gonna treat me. So excuse me if I like to remind them every now and then, that their bullshit doesn't affect me."
He sits back in the Dungeon Master's chair, comfortable reigning from his dark throne. "I revel in being the rebel."
Lucas rolls his eyes, but Mike is listening.
"Soooo…" Dustin says. "Anybody got a plan on what to do next here?" He waves his hands over, and at, the tabletop with their figures.
"Yeah," says Lucas. "Can I jump in the river?"
Lucas races ahead of them into the Family Video store. Robin says hello, but he ignores her in favor wandering around the store, determined, and Dustin doesn't get it until they find Steve, restocking the Action aisle.
"Hey," says Lucas.
"Hey," Steve says back. "I got your Teen Wolf up at the counter, but we just got American Ninja in and there are plenty of copies."
He waves around a copy of the VHS - with two katana-wielding warriors against the backdrop of an American flag - in a sword-slashing motion.
"You were on the basketball team, right?" Lucas asks.
Steve doesn't answer right away. "I was, yeah."
"Do you remember Jason Carver? He would have been like a year behind you."
"Uh, yeah. Is he the new captain?"
Lucas nods. "What's he like? I mean, is he a good guy?"
Steve thumbs his nose, looks sideways. "I remember he likes to talk a lot. Turned into kind of a jagoff anytime he had to play something other than point guard. I'm not surprised he made Captain. But yeah, he's cool."
Lucas nods again. Dustin has no idea what's going on here.
"Do you have to do a project with him or something?" Dustin asks. Group projects were the worst, they were exactly like solo projects except everybody else got to take credit for his work. Although he couldn't think of what class Lucas had, that was a mix of freshmen and senior students.
"No. I just need to know if he's even gonna give me a chance to prove myself, or just use me for target practice as soon as I walk into the gym."
Mike and Dustin and Steve stare at him.
"When I… try out for the basketball team," he continues.
"Oh, shit!" says Dustin. He affably smacks Lucas on the arm. "Am I about to have a jock for a friend?"
Steve, who had started to smile, turns to Dustin. "What am I, chopped liver?"
"Don't be so down on yourself, you're top tier foie gras, Steve!" Robin calls out from where she was not at all subtly eavesdropping.
"Nuh-uh, too fancy," says Dustin. "All-American burger and fries, maybe?"
"Lasagna," says Mike. "Cheesy, dumb lasagna."
"You guys are weird." Steve slaps the last VHS in place.
"We haven't even gotten to popular breakfast foods!" Dustin says. They follow Steve, like ducklings, back to the main counter. "Bacon and eggs? Pancakes and waffles with syrup!"
"That's El's food," says Mike. "And can we get back to the part when you, Lucas Sinclair, want to be a high school basketball player?"
"Why do you have to say it like that?" Lucas replies.
"Like what?"
Dustin answers for Mike, "Like the way most people in this country say high school football player."
"But not us, 'cause we're deep in Hoosier country," Robin says. "The pigskin has no power here."
"What's wrong with basketball?" Steve wants to know.
"Nothing, basketball is fine." Mike curls his fingers over the counter glass like he's picking at something. "It's the idea of Jason Carver as your new best friend that's completely wrong."
Dustin puts a hand on Lucas's shoulder. "Since I know my best friend can have as many friends as he wants, and why wouldn't anyone wants to be friends with this man? I will be the one to enquire – what's wrong with this Jason guy?"
Lucas shoots him a grateful look.
"He looks and sounds like a teenage version of Mayor Kline," Mike says. "He's popular. You know exactly what he's gonna be like, don't be so desperate for yuppie approval."
"How would you know what he's like? When have you ever talked to him?" Lucas asks.
"Oh, I've never talked to him, and he's never talked to me. All I had to do was pass him in the hallway while he was doing one of his Upright Citizen speeches." Mike stands up straighter and does something with his arms that looks like the robot dance.
Lucas puts a hand over his eyes and pretends to look around. "Hey Dustin, have you seen Mike lately? 'Cause this guy looks just like him, but all I hear is a total knockoff of a guy who's name rhymes with Freddie Bunsen."
Dustin laughs with him, which just makes Mike grumpier. "If Will were here he'd agree with me."
Steve rings them up. "You got a hoop at your place?" he asks Lucas, who tells him 'no'. "You wanna practice on your own first, not at the gym. Come to gym with some skills and confidence already."
"There are courts at the park," Dustin remembers. "We could go there."
"We?" Mike says. "I have enough to do without spending my free time tossing balls through circles for imaginary points."
"Aren't imaginary points the whole purpose of your fantasy board game?" Robin points out.
Mike is less than pleased with the presentation of such a simple, logical fact. "Forget it, you guys have fun," he says, and storms out. It's kind of becoming his thing. Dustin thinks, I wouldn't be a happy camper either if Lucas were suddenly gone, and I couldn't talk to him or Suzie for months. Maybe years.
Then he remembers how Latin class is going. "Yeah, I probably don't have time for basketball practice either. Unless you practice on your own, and I just sit there memorizing Latin verbs. You want some moral support, at least?"
"I'll take all the help I can get," Lucas assures him. They hand over precious allowance money to Steve for Teen Wolf. "Do you know how to say Go Tigers in Latin?"
"Uh… ire tigrides? Don't quote me on that, especially at the zoo. It might also count as an attack phrase."
He passes Max in the hallway and she doesn't respond to his wave or his 'hi'. It feels like a sucker-punch coming from the inside of his chest, like the chestburster from Alien, where all Dustin can do is feel, and feel, and feel the stark rejection, even as he keeps walking on autopilot.
He thought they were true friends, not just a-friend-of-my-boyfriend's. So what, outside of Biology she's just not gonna talk to him anymore?
Then Dustin realizes she was wearing headphones, and had stared past him like she hadn't recognized his presence at all. It wasn't personal. She literally didn't see him. The chestburster fades away.
He decides not to chase her down for a proper hello. There were only a few minutes between classes. So with headphones on, she was either listening to the world's greatest album ever, or she wanted to tune out the world.
It's best to leave any pestering to the confines of Biology class.