Four
Friday, November 1, 1985.
Dustin wakes up before his alarm goes off, always a good sign for the day.
He doesn't, for the first time in years, have cereal for breakfast. He makes himself scrambled eggs, a sight so unusual it makes his mom look up from her newspaper and just watch him. There would be plenty of junk food that night, might as well start the day with a healthy, savory meal.
She seems troubled by whatever article caught her eye, so Dustin tries to flip his eggs like a pancake for her entertainment. They don't get on the floor, at least.
Dustin feels like catching the bus early, which makes no sense, it's going to come when it always does. He double-checks the sound system he set up in the den after trick-or-treaters faded out the previous night – two speakers, one on the right cabinet and one to the left of the couch just sitting on the carpet, and a microphone. He still feels that maybe he should have added more, but. Some of the equipment he borrowed from the A/V club had to be sent to his silent partner in this business. She still ended up calling him last night for help, but oh well. Plus, there was the issue of feedback from noise that was bound to happen.
Is he missing anything? No, he's fine, it's gonna be great.
Dustin gives his mom a hug and kiss, along with his standard weekday morning "Bye, mom!", and thinks: why do people read the news first thing in the morning? It's never good news, that's now how you should start the day.
He wouldn't know what his mom was reading until much later: the Recording Industry Association of America had agreed and publicly announced, while the PMRC Senate hearing was still going on, to put 'Parental Advisory' warning labels on album covers. The RIAA would decide what music, and who's music, had any kind of profanity or inappropriate references. It had been a done deal before the hearings ever started.
If anything important happens at school he doesn't notice. Did someone 'accidentally' bump into him and sneer, "Watch it, loser!", did a cheerleader give birth to a pterodactyl in 3rd period, did everybody break into coordinated song and athletic dance to discuss the Articles of Confederation before they were replaced in 1789? He can't say.
Dustin is a freshman in high school. High school kids used to seem so grown up, the most grown up you could possibly get before you started worrying about things like taxes and 401k returns, or worse – before you started being excited about things like taxes and 401k returns. And now he's one of them.
He's got plans for tonight, and places to be in his life.
When Dustin gets home, that's when he remembers what he's missing: he sort of forgot to put up any decorations the night before. He made a giant platter of Ritz crackers and cheddar, ate some of the crackers and cheddar while putting it together, wrapped it in too much saran wrap, stuck it in the fridge, and forgot about doing anything else.
"Dustin, you idiot," he tells himself.
But it was only a little after 3pm. It'll be fine, as long as no one shows up early.
He forgoes a mental dunce cap with a seat in the corner, and just gets to work.
The phone rings while Dustin is trying to hang a black-and-orange string of pumpkins and witch's hats. He's murdered one entire roll of tape so far. How was this so much more difficult than anything he built at Camp Know-Where? One of the mysteries of the universe.
His mother calls to say it's for him.
Could it be - ? No, it's still too early.
"Hello?"
"Hi Dustin," says a polite voice on the phone. "This is Kevin McCullough."
"Hey Kevin, what's up?"
Dustin thinks: he's calling to check what to bring, so we don't have jumbo plastic 20 bottles of pop and no chips.
"My parents say I can't come, sorry."
"Oh."
"So I'm calling to let you know."
"Yes, you – you just did that."
"I'm sure you'll have a good time without me. See you at school."
Dustin slowly sets the phone back in the cradle. He takes some time to untangle the cord as much as possible, since it will eventually start to twist again in the same spot. Maybe tonight, maybe not until tomorrow, but it'll inevitably knot into a mess again.
Kevin is the only one to call.
The key is to use staple Halloween figures, not generic scary decorations. Spider webs, plastic skeletons, fake tombstones, any kind of simulated blood or generic grotesque monsters – nobody needs a reminder of Upside Down shit.
But cartoony ghosts? Witches? Frankenstein and the Mummy? Dustin could totally carpet-bomb the den with that stuff. Could, but there is a specific way that each decoration needs to be placed or hung or displayed. He made a list. Is it too early to joke that he's checking it twice? The list is also in a precise order.
Halfway between slapping ghost cutouts on the wall (he started by making a loop of a piece of tape, and carefully affixing that to the back of each little ghost, and attaching that to the wall, before giving up and ripping off tape at wild to put it all up faster) Dustin runs up to his room to put on a fresh coat of deodorant.
"Don't come yet, don't come yet," he chants.
He's just gonna do as much as he can until he can't anymore. It's just a Halloween party, if you have one lit jack-o-lantern you're fine. He'll be fine. No doorbell sound yet, he's got time.
He takes the shade off of every lamp in the room and replaces them with black witches' hats.
He uses a bicycle pump to inflate an ungodly amount of purple, orange, and green balloons that all float to the ceiling, and gives himself an arm cramp.
He even has a giant black plastic cauldron that he puts on the credenza by the TV, filled halfway with room temperature water. Then, with the help of some goggles, gloves, and tongs (his own; only an amateur would try borrowing their mom's cleaning or cooking supplies), he drops some in dry ice. Boom; instant bubbling witches' cauldron.
And at some point, he actually finishes, without any interruption whatsoever.
Dustin glances at his watch: it's after 4. Holy crap, he made it!
Now all he had to do was wait.
All the decorations with glitter were a mistake. Oh my god, they were a mistake. It got on the walls, ground into the carpet, on his shirt, on his skin, at this rate he'll be washing orange glitter out of his own buttcrack. Never again.
5pm comes and goes. But that's to be expected, even Dustin knows it's not cool to just up right on time.
He just has to be patient and wait.
He does a quick BO check – the deodorant is still going strong, good.
The doorbell finally rings just before 6pm, and Dustin runs from the den to the front door.
He gets just a glance of Steve's huge grin before the man shoves a large paper bag into his arms, making him stumble.
"Happy Birthday, Henderson!"
"You're such a dick," Dustin tells him. Inside the bag-
"Holy shit!"
"Best days to buy candy of any kind – February 15, and November 1," Steve says.
Dustin puts the bag on the floor right there, and paws through the bright rainbow cornucopia. "Oh my god, you got the good stuff!"
The Henderson household had run out quickly the night before, because the second cheapest candy only 24 hours ago were bags of tootsie rolls. Cheapest of all were boxes of raisins, but even his mom knew that was how to get your house egged.
"Uh huh, and where's my thank you?"
Dustin kneels down and hugs the bag of candy, the same way he'd kindly embrace a toddler. "Thank you so much," he says, in a muppet accent. He doesn't really know why, it's just easier to express his gratitude via humor, but it does make Steve laugh.
"Oh, and this is from Robin."
Dustin stands back up to take the VHS tape box. "She's not coming?"
Steve does a weird kind of full-body shrug.
"And you're not staying," Dustin says. He can't keep the disappointment out of voice.
"I've already left Robin alone against the Friday night crush for too long," Steve says. "Sorry. We'll hang out some other time, 'kay?"
"Yeah, okay."
Steve leans in to clap a hand over Dustin's cap, squashing it over his head and ruffling the hair underneath.
"No, you're gonna mess it up!"
"Can't suffer from hat hair if you never wear a hat, Henderson. Think about it."
And then Steve is walking back to his car, giving him a jaunty little backwards wave. His very first partygoer never even steps foot inside.
Dustin remembers to lift with his legs when picking up the bag of candy, and take it along with the movie rental to the den. He has so much candy now, if he weren't having a party it would last until Christmas.
But he's still alone.
The clock strikes 6 o'clock. Then a quarter past, then half an hour, then at three quarters of an hour.
Heavy chimes have never sounded so ominous to him. It's a countdown to nothing, nothing, and more nothing, and Dustin is just sitting there on his ass for all of it.
He planned to keep the speakers off until a certain moment tonight, but the radio was free. Dustin turns the radio to whatever station is playing Tears for Fears the clearest.
"I'm coming in!" Dustin's mom shouts. "Don't mind me, I'm not here, I just – ah."
Dustin sinks even further into the couch. "Yeah, it's still just me."
Mrs. Henderson puts down the laundry basket she was carrying, and goes to sit with her son.
"Oh, Dustin," she tells him. "I know how excited you were to host your first big high school party."
"Yeah, well." Dustin grabs a throw pillow and hugs it to his chest. "I get excited over a lot of things other people think are stupid. D&D, robotics, the feud between Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla. I should have known this would be another one."
Why did he think this would be a thing other people would be hyped up for? Hellfire Club has made him too cocky, maybe. So he talks to the people he sits with in class, at lunch. Obviously that doesn't mean they all want to be friends with Dustin Henderson, grade A+ dork.
His mom kindly offers, "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"
"That's really nice of you mom, and I really appreciate it, but I hope you understand when I say I really don't want to do that and I would rather spend the night all alone in the futile hope that even one other person shows up."
She gives him a kiss, and resumes her laundry chores.
It's 7pm, do you know where your friends are?
'Cause Dustin sure as hell doesn't.
He tries to imagine: Lucas, he's probably busy with his new favorite hobby. It was taking up his time and all this thoughts even before today. All it would take is one great shot on the court, now he's in the zone and he wants to keep going, and anyone practicing with him is egging him on.
Mike: now he could be in detention, using it as cover to write another long letter to El. Maybe the reset of Hellfire joined him and caused such a ruckus that the teacher keeps adding another hour, but they're having so much fun that the more the teacher adds the more it riles up the club and they're stuck in a never ending, tautological detention.
Max: he doesn't think he can blame her for not coming. She's got real shit to deal with.
And everyone else-
Dustin wants to call Suzie, but he has to conserve his phone privileges. And the bill for his mom.
He might as well dig into the cheese and crackers plate he made up.
The first guest to actually come inside is Mike.
Nancy hangs back while her younger – no longer little – brother says hi.
"The den, right?" asks Mike, since that's where they have their regular movie nights, and Dustin waves him in.
He looks hopefully at Nancy. She clears her throat but doesn't speak up.
"Are you worried Steve is gonna be here?" he suddenly says. "Because he's not coming."
"Oh, no. Uh, thank you. I really am busy with homework, and being editor takes up a lot of my time."
Dustin wonders if maybe, actually, it's that she doesn't have much of a social life left without Jonathan.
"You know, I'm in a long-distance relationship myself," he says.
There's an expression on her face Dustin can't parse at all. "Yeah… with – Suzie, right?"
"That's my girl. Obviously she's not here tonight, but I'm going to have fun with my friends anyway. Because it's important not to forget your friends even if you've found the love of your life and they consume almost every blissful waking thought you have."
"I haven't forgotten my friends," Nancy protests. She even arches an eyebrow, like she can't believe the boy she advised and danced with a year ago has any advice to give back to her. "I went to Kristy's party last weekend and almost got vomited on three separate times. Just because I take schoolwork seriously doesn't mean I'm some kind of hermit."
Dustin thinks: who is your friend besides Barbara Holland, who's dead? Your boyfriend is thousands of miles away. Your ex-boyfriend is practically next door. You have a weird non-relationship with Robin. You keep yourself busy, all right.
But he doesn't know how to say what needs to be said, without it sounding like he just wants her to act popular and come to his party.
Dustin nods, as cover for coming to terms that she's not coming inside.
"All right. Well, you have a good Friday studying at home Miss Future Valedictorian."
"I'll settle for early acceptance into Emerson. Pinching over GPA points like pennies isn't really my thing anymore."
She touches Dustin on the shoulder, friendly-like but not like same-age-friends do, and then she's driving away.
1 out of 3 so far.
Down in the Henderson den, Mike is pouring what has to be his second or even third refill of pop, going by how much liquid is already gone from the 2-liter bottle. There are empty candy wrappers on the coffee table already. "Hey, there's no punch in the cauldron," he says.
"That's 'cause dry ice can kill you. If you swallow a pea-sized amount that's frostbite all in your mouth and down your esophagus and your stomach. It's display-only."
"But aren't there like, tricks and stuff you can do so you can still drink?"
"Oh are there? You be sure to show me next time you throw a Halloween party."
Mike shrugs, and looks at Dustin's prize cheese-n-crackers plate. "Did you make this yourself?"
Dustin doesn't appreciate his tone. Good thing he's the single guest of honor. "It's party food! You haven't even gotten to the Chex Mix or Doritos."
"I'm starving, can't we order a pizza or something?"
Dustin gestures around the den. "Wow Dustin, look at all your hard work! Look at all this food and all these decorations and all the people not here are so missing out, and the one person who is here, is totally not appreciating it!"
"Geez, what's with you?"
Dustin plops himself down next to Mike on the sofa. "I really thought more people would come. It's just been a waste. Also, I'm out of allowance money. Like, completely. I had to get an advance through next week."
"Well… the night is still young. Lucas is coming, right?"
"Not if he thinks you're gonna fight with him the whole time."
Mike rolls his eyes so hard he makes his head go in a circle too. "I'm cool if he's cool. It's just, one day he's not even gonna bother showing up for a D&D campaign. He's slowly ditching us."
Dustin feels an angry buzz over his whole body, like a pressure building and working like a lever to make him want to stand up before he starts shouting. "He is not ditching us!"
"I'm not saying he's an asshole, I just – look, we had our last real fight when El came into our lives. We know we can count on each other when shit goes down. But that's all over now, and we have to deal with the crap of regular life. Lucas – I guess he's just dealing with it differently than the rest of us. We're nerds, and he's on his way to being a former nerd. It's like he's leaving just like El – and Will – but it's all his own choice and I still have to see him."
Dustin passes a hand over his face. "Why aren't you ever this eloquent with him? Why can't any of my friends just talk to each other."
"Well, it's not very manly." The moment well and truly over, Mike puts his hands together in mock prayer. "Now, please: pleeeeeease can we have some real food?"
Dustin slaps his knees, pushes up to his feet, trudges the length of the den to get to the doorway. All for his one and only guest of the evening. He yells up, "MOM! CAN WE ORDER SOME PIZZA PLEASE?"
Mike stretches his neck towards Dustin. "Can you make it meatlovers or something?
"SOMETHING WITH TONS OF SAUSAGE AND PEPPERONI PLEASE!"
"And not from Domino's!"
"We know not to get pizza from Domino's, Michael Wheeler. Where do you think you are, have some respect!"
"Sorry."
Eddie Munson had forbidden even the slightest mention of anything party related the moment Dustin opened his mouth to speak at lunch that day.
So it was a shock to see him and the other members of Corroded Coffin standing on the Henderson front stoop, Eddie's hand still raised from continuously knocking on the front door until someone opened it.
"No way!" Dustin exclaims.
"My way," says Eddie. "We're not sticking around; we've got a gig at The Hideout in like an hour."
How ironic. In one hour it was go time for Dustin's 'main event', which was feeling smaller stupider the closer he got to it. Meanwhile, Mike was still the only person here.
"Then why are you here?" Dustin asks. If it were anyone else – even anyone else in Hellfire Club – he might think Eddie was there as a prank. To get his hopes up only to have them dashed in person. But Eddie Munson wasn't a prankster or a bully, even if he gleefully cultivated that kind of public identity.
Eddie makes a show of reaching into his leather jacket, and Dustin thinks: am I getting party supplies?
But no; it's a blank VHS tape. Unlike the one from Robin, this one has no plastic box, and no label, other than a worn brand sticker telling Dustin it's a home recordable one.
"A little something for your little jamboree," says Eddie.
When Dustin reaches for it, Eddie pulls it back at the last second. "Do not," he states, deadly serious, "watch this when your mom is around. Or any girls, actually, just to be safe."
"But this is a co-ed party," says Dustin. At least it's supposed to be.
"Then save it for when you're alone," says Little John.
Dustin pulls back like the tape might bite him. "I can't take that kind of movie, my mom is right inside! That can NOT come inside the house!"
"Oh, for – it's not porn, Henderson!"
"Wellllll…." Gareth says.
"Ancient pagan rockstars! Murderous robot cults! Alien vampires in uniform! And yeah, a lot of free frontal boob and that one waterfall-slash-electrocution-slash-monologue scene," Eddie yells at Gareth, while they are all still on Dustin's front stoop, in waning if not broad daylight, within hearing distance of all the neighbors and, as previously stated, his mother. "I'm still training the degenerate stain of pop rock out of you, I don't have time to tutor you in movie masterpieces too."
Eddie slaps it to Dustin's chest hard enough to hurt. "Bootleg was recorded in whatever country it came from, so, no subtitles. Sorry. The soundtrack totally makes up for it, though!"
Behind Eddie, Jeff is shaking his head, 'no, it doesn't'.
Dustin lifts the tape with just his thumb and pointer finger. "Okay…"
Mike comes up behind him. The siren song of The Freak's stage voice lured him out from too-quickly cooling pizza in the den. "Hey guys! Uh, what's that?"
Dustin can't answer. But he doesn't hand the tape over, either.
"Just trust me, boys." Eddie's devious smile reaches his eyes, and it's the smile of all mischievous boys everywhere who never want to grow up, not all the way. "This is something your pal at the Family Video could never in a million years find for you. Good thing you've got me for a friend."
Kevin is not the only person to call, actually.
"Dustin! Phone for you again!"
He takes the handset from his mom. They really needed to put a phone in the den. A phone in every room of the house; that was the way of the future. "Hello?"
"So I help you defeat a bunch of commie Russians and a giant disgusting hell monster made from people just a couple months ago, out of the goodness of my bleeding heart and at risk to my own life, but I'm not good enough to be invited to your stupid Halloween party that you couldn't even schedule on the correct date?"
Dustin cringes. "Hiiiii, Erica. Well, if you're free-"
"Oh don't bother inviting me now! I just hope you don't need my help ever again in the future. I've got a long memory, Dustin Henderson. And I'll do the right thing if necessary but it's going to cost you."
She hangs up on him.
But – Erica only could've found out if Lucas mentioned it.
Lucas shows up with, like, 10 minutes to go – and he's got Max with him. Even better, they're holding hands, aww yes. Dustin wasn't completely obvious to lovers' trouble in paradise.
Not that Hawkins could ever be called a paradise.
"You made it!" he says, and goes to hug them both in one go, right down the middle with one arm for each friend. He gets one-armed hugs from each of them in return, together.
"Yeah man," says Lucas. "I said I'd be here. Plus, we've got something to celebrate."
He looks at Max, who is stony-faced and rocking back and forth on her heels. "Can we just get inside? It's cold."
"Domus mea est domus tua!"
"Oh!" Suddenly Max is the most enthusiastic he's seen in forever. "I think I remember this one, actually – melon! Your friend is a melon in Elvish."
Dustin grins brightly at Max and just nods. "Yep! Yep, that's it. Both cantaloupe and honeydew accepted. Come on in, guys."
Down in the den Mike greets them, "Hey! Long time no see, Mad Max."
"Whatever."
"I'm happy to see you too. Want some lukewarm cheese in any of its multiple forms?"
He waves at Dustin's cheese and crackers plate, then demonstrates by eating another slice of pizza. Half of it is gone in seconds thanks to his teenage appetite.
"So what's the good news?" Dustin asks.
Lucas makes a bunch of grand gestures around Max. She slaps his hands away but also blushes.
"I finally talked to Mrs. Beckett. I'm not officially hired yet, but she agreed I can be a kind of 'relief bagger' at the grocery since the holidays are coming up. So. I can help my mom, and buy myself a single new shirt this Christmas. Maybe if I do a good job she'll keep me on."
"You sell yourself short," says Lucas. "My mom drives half an hour to shop at the grocery store just outside Hawkins because she can't stand Mrs. Beckett. Something about shampoo. And you wore her down."
Mike lifts his red solo cup to congratulate her, then everyone is getting a drink to hold up and join in, over her protests to shut up. Max is smiling the whole time though, so they know she doesn't really mean it.
Dustin chugs his pop, crushes the empty plastic cup, and with all his might throws it to the ground where it softly and silently lands on the carpet.
"ALL RIGHT, IT'S TIME!"
There are more speakers in the den than normal, now that Lucas, Mike, and Max are paying attention to a hyped-up Dustin. He turns off the radio and drops a microphone on the coffee table, narrowly missing some pizza but hitting the bowl of Doritos, which flips and the chips go all over the table. He doesn't notice Mike eying the new topping appreciatively. Then he takes cords that are plugged into the speakers and one from the microphone, and drags it all through the hallways of his house to the phone near the kitchen he's been using all afternoon.
Dustin plugs everything into the landline, via a very effective method that would not at all be approved by the FCC if they knew about it. At some point he has to pause to burp; he's gotta remember to stop drinking pop so fast.
He calls a special number and confirms with his counterpart.
Then, he leaves the phone off the hook. "MOM!" he yells. "WE'RE STARTING NOW, DON'T USE THE PHONE ANYMORE!"
Her answer of 'Okay, Dusty!' is faint as he runs back to the den.
"What are you doing?" Lucas asks him.
Dustin just holds up a finger in response. He turns both of the speakers on, then does the same to the microphone.
"Calling the golden coast," he says into the microphone. "Hello, can anyone read me? Over."
Nothing yet.
"Hello, this is Dustin Henderson, reaching out for signs of life," he states.
There's a thump, maybe a woman speaking in the distance, or very quietly. And then, through the speakers:
"…Dustin?"
Behind him, Mike jumps up. "It's Will!"
"Mike? What are – you guys, hi!"
Mike, Lucas, and Max crowd around Dustin and the microphone, all speaking at the same time.
"We miss you, man!" Lucas shouts.
"It's so weird going to school without you," Mike adds.
"You better be enjoying the weather over there," says Max. "Your shitty Indiana winters are not fun."
"I appreciate each and every palm tree, I promise," says Will. "I miss you guys too!"
He sounds so, so much better than the last time Dustin heard him this noncorporeal, as just a voice through a speaker.
"I can't believe we're all talking like this," Will goes on. "Mom just handed me a microphone, and there are – speakers and stuff plugged into the phone. You guys know I never really picked up much in A/V club, I only know that it's cool, not how it works."
"She set it up just as my instructions said!" Dustin crows. "And if you will direct your eyes towards your Californian television set, you will see Halloween decorations, which are exactly the same ones set up exactly the same as they are here in Hawkins." Minus the dry ice, he didn't want to risk Mrs. Byler hurting herself.
Around Dustin, the other Hawkins kids look at the party décor around the room, re-evaluating.
"Where did the equipment come from?" Will asks. "You didn't have my mom buy this, right?"
"Of course not," says Dustin. "Some is from my personal collection, some I borrowed from the A/V club."
Will is in disbelief, and Lucas smacks Dustin on the shoulder.
"You're gonna get in so much trouble!"
"Are you gonna tell the principal, Lucas? Are you? No? Then it'll be fine, just be cool!"
"Hey," says Mike. "Is El there too?"
"Yeah, hold on. She just went to the bathroom."
Lucas wants to know if Will has followed his advice about staking out bathroom access early, now that he has a sister.
"Oh my god, you were so right, what do they even do in there? Every – oh, hang on."
"…Mike?"
Her voice over the scratchy speakers is what Dustin would describe as 'susurrant.' El just has that way of speaking; soft but strong.
"El! I'm really glad to hear your voice. How are you?"
Max and Lucas and Dustin chorus their hello's to her.
"This is… like what I used to be able to do," El says.
The air in the den turns heavy, but only for a moment because Mike is right there. "You still can," he says. "You can still talk to me, to all of us like this, or even just over the phone like normal. And hey, this way doesn't come with nosebleeds."
"Or needing to make a sensory deprivation tank in a kiddie pool," Dustin adds.
"I don't know," Max says. "I think I liked the threat of her being able to spy on you guys. Makes it less likely you'll say any stupid guy stuff."
Dustin is suddenly very glad he took Eddie's VHS to his room instead of leaving it somewhere in the den. He's not sure why.
"I am not a spy," El protests.
"Nah," Lucas says. "You're just a regular kid like us now. But we still think you're pretty cool."
"The coolest!" Mike immediately says.
"All right, BEGIN SYNCHRONIZATION," Dustin says. He hands the microphone to Lucas, and finally opens the plastic Family Video tape box. He pushes it into the VHS player and turns the TV to the right channel.
Dustin turns his heads as far back as he can without doing a Linda Blair, "Actually, don't synchronize yet, make sure the tape is rewound to the beginning first!"
"Synchronize what? Mom, what's he talking…" Will's voice trails out as he bugs his mom. They just barely hear him gasp. "Dustin! Is this your copy?"
"Yeah, I mailed mine to you and I rented the movie here. Come on now, be KIND and REWIND damnit!"
Even with everyone chatting back and forth, Dustin and Will manage to get the tapes perfectly rewound, and start a countdown.
"Okay, we each have to press play on the count of three!" Dustin yells. "Ready? One – two –"
"Are we pressing on three or the beat after the count of three?"
Dustin throws a hand up, really into the spirit now. "An excellent distinction from Will the Wise, a presence sorely missed in our campaigns of late. Oh, now that gives me an idea."
"Get on with it already!" Max shouts, around a mouthful of pizza.
"Getting on with it now, pressing play in one – two – three!"
The resulting silence is such a contrast. But hey, Dustin did a good job of building up the moment.
On the TV, the not-quite-true-blackness of film plays. Glowing red letters fill the screen, and the amazing music starts:
Fantasy Films
Presents
J.R.R. Tolkien's
"Lord of the Rings!" says Lucas, right as the name is emblazoned on screen. "Man, we haven't watched this in forever!"
"Not since before middle school," Mike confirms.
There's a moment, and a noise that they will later recognize as the microphone being passed around. "What is a lord of rings?" asks El.
"Don't spoil the whole story for her!" Will cries in the background.
"We're not!" Mike says. "We won't. Okay, so."
He launches into an exuberant, if not entirely accurate, retelling of the tale. Over the silhouettes against the glowing red background, and the clanging noise of ironworking, Will and Lucas jump in at points to correct him, or add to the story. Max hasn't seen the movie, but she's heard of the book trilogy, and has her own opinions.
And nobody tells anybody to shush.
This has been the whole point all along, the whole reason Dustin launched this hairbrained Halloween scheme – they already know the story. Now, the movie serves as a foundation to keep the conversation going. He wanted everybody to ask questions and talk about the characters in real time and argue about rotoscoping. It's almost like Will and El are physically there.
"I think I've seen of this," Max says. "Wasn't it on TV a few years ago?"
Dustin raises a finger. Professor mode. "You might be thinking of one of the animated Rankin/Bass productions, which bracket this much superior version."
"You actually rank cartoons?"
"There are objective standards to meet, just like live action. Why not?"
"Do you think they'll ever make a live action version of Lord of the Rings?" Lucas asks.
"They'll make one, but the real question is will it be any good," says Dustin, "Or will it be like the Dune movie from last year?"
"It was okay!" Will argues, and everyone else agrees with him.
"Once again," Dustin implores them. "I am telling you to sit down and actually read the epic inspiration behind Star Wars."
"I don't trust Hollywood to get it right," Mike says. "They'd do something like cast Tom Cruise as Aragorn."
"I suppose anything's possible," Dustin tells them all.
He sits on the floor against the front of the couch, and puts the whole cheese and crackers plate in his lap. He might have to forgo any more pizza, but if no one else is going to each this masterpiece, then he will! Pizza be damned.
It feels – full. Complete. The Party Proper. Like it never stops being hard to grow up, but they're all gonna make it. Dustin can feel it. He can smell it too, it smells like cheap no-brand pop and pizza, and sounds like all his friends, and looks like Lucas holding the remote like a foil in en garde while poking a laughing Mike in the stomach, and tastes like American candy.
They're gonna make it.
Onscreen, the TV flickers for a second too long, in sync with some hall lights.
No one sees.
fini