"Seriously, Will?"
With his arms crossed and his feet planted, Lucas is the embodiment of stubborn disapproval. His scowl goes well with his camouflage bandana, mostly-black outfit, and combat boots. Mike doesn't look too friendly either, with his lanky form clad in dark colors and annoyance written all over his face. At least Dustin isn't outright angry with me, but the black streaks painted under his eyes are crinkled in confusion.
It's around dusk on Halloween. The four of us are lingering on the edge of a crowd of about thirty other teens, outside a red barn that's decorated for the occasion. From the eaves, a fifty-foot-long banner ripples in the wind. Pearly floodlights illuminate the words: Haunted Scavenger Hunt! Friday after sundown!
This is one of the many local fundraisers that came up some time after my disappearing act. Because of the rising awareness of our town being "cursed", new Halloween activities have been popping up like weeds from year to year, attracting residents of Hawkins and tourists alike. I figure that most of the people who go to these events are blissfully unaware of what really inspired them. But some enthusiasts must have done their research, because I've glimpsed homemade decorations, costumes, and haunted house props that look way too familiar. I've even heard rumors of someone offering midnight tours of the abandoned lab.
For those of us who experienced these horrors firsthand, all the propaganda and excitement that revolves around the holiday can get overwhelming. I think that's why El and Max decided to stay in this year - and I don't blame them. Before Mike came up with this idea, I was planning on spending the night at home with my family, re-watching our favorite Halloween movies in our PJs. But my friends were excited for this, and I would've felt guilty if I'd left them hanging.
Besides, we all knew what going out tonight would entail. I'm not the only one who's been psychologically scarred. So I've resolved to not let my anxiety-trauma-centipede-thing ruin all the activities I would normally enjoy. But that doesn't make it any easier to ignore all the reminders. I guess that's part of the reason I asked Jesse to come; he seems to have a knack for distracting me from my problems.
"What's the big deal?"
Lucas rolls his eyes at my tone. "You know exactly what 'the big deal' is!"
"You invited someone to join our party without asking us first," Mike fills in irritably.
"Is democracy dead?" Dustin complains.
"I didn't invite him to join our party," I defend myself. "I only invited him to the scavenger hunt. We needed an extra person anyway. And I wanted to ask you, but I didn't get a chance."
"Because you just met him three hours ago," Lucas tacks on dryly.
"Also, we don't need another person," Dustin points out. "Five is the limit, not the minimum."
"Yeah, but they'll have to sort through the ones who came alone," I reason, "and if we start with five, we won't get stuck with someone random."
Mike's frown wavers - he was complaining about that scenario this morning - but Lucas isn't budging. "How is getting stuck with this Jason guy better?" He demands.
"Jesse," I correct, "and I promise you'll like him. He's really nice, and he's good at picking up on things that other people would miss. I'm sure he'll be great at this. Plus, he's into Lord of the Rings." My friends still look skeptical, so I try the sympathy card: "Also, he just moved here a week ago, and he doesn't know anyone yet. It's a lot like what happened with Max..."
That sentiment seems to wear them down. After a few seconds, Mike gives a noncommittal shrug and says, "Alright. It's just one night."
Lucas seems more shocked by his reasoning than the fact that he agreed to it. "It's Halloween. I thought this was your favorite night of the year!"
Mike frowns. "Yeah, it was - but I'm not twelve anymore, Lucas. I don't think it's worth fighting over." Lucas scoffs and grumbles something under his breath, and I think I hear my name. Mike ignores him.
When I look to Dustin, he's wearing his usual brainstorming face. "You know, if you think about it," he brings up, "before tonight, Will was the only one of us who never did anything that directly went against one or more members of the party." We raise our eyebrows for clarification, and he places a hand on his chest. "I kept Dart even after Will told us he was dangerous." He pokes Mike in the arm. "You insisted on keeping Eleven around when Lucas and I were against it." He jabs a finger at Lucas. "And you invited Max to hang out with us when you knew it would annoy Mike."
"You invited Max too," Lucas reminds him.
"But she only stayed because you told her about the Upside-Down - and that's another stupid thing you did without consulting the rest of us."
Lucas seems annoyed by his assessment. "You know, the only one of those that ended badly was the thing you did."
Sarcasm thickens Dustin's voice as he retorts, "And I realize that - thanks for reminding me - but you've completely missed my point." Tilting his head at me, he concludes, "Will has never gone against the wishes of the party before. All things considered, I think he deserves a pass."
"I'll second that," Mike votes.
With a sigh of resignation, Lucas decides, "Fine. I don't care, as long he doesn't ruin it for the rest of us."
Right on cue, a chipper voice steals our attention: "Hey, Will!" I swallow a cocktail of joy and nervousness as Jesse jogs up to us. I meet his bright grin with a smile of my own - even though I barely recognize him. His hair is pushed back, and he's wearing a black leather bomber jacket, a mostly black graphic tee, dark jeans, and a pair of Converse that were probably black-and-white at some point. He would've blended in perfectly at a rock concert - or in a cornfield at night.
Before I can say a word, Lucas straightens up and announces, "You're late." He taps his watch. "Sundown was at 6:22. It's 6:34."
Jesse observes him like he's gauging how serious he's being. Then his lips quirk into a lopsided smile, and he asks, "Are you related to Erica Sinclair?"
Now Lucas is the one who's caught off guard. "You know my sister?"
Jesse's smile grows as he explains, "On my first day, I was rushing to a class, and I accidentally knocked her over. I tried to help her up, but she smacked my hand away and said, 'Back off, Johnny Lawrence!'" Dustin snorts loudly, and Mike and I grin. Chuckling to himself, Jesse goes on, "She also threatened to kick my ass if I ever came within ten feet of her again. She still glares at me whenever she sees me; I swear she counts the floor tiles between us."
Cracks spread through Lucas's stern façade. "That does sound like Erica," he admits in a detached way as his frown twitches. "What made you think we're related?"
Jesse shrugs, but his impish smile betrays him. "You remind me of her."
Before Lucas can react to that, I decide to launch into introductions: "Jesse, these are my best friends - Lucas, Mike, and Dustin." Lucas nods once. Mike flashes a smile. Dustin makes a gesture that's something between a wave and a salute.
"Jesse Clarke," the blond boy replies lightly, "and no, I'm not related to the middle school science teacher. It's a total coincidence."
"You like Queen?" Mike infers, nodding at the elaborate red and gold logo on his shirt.
Jesse's warm eyes light up. "Yeah! Who doesn't?" He pauses for a half-second, and I get the feeling that he's containing an excited tangent. "Also, this is the darkest shirt I own," he says instead.
"I'm not worried about your shirt," Lucas mutters, eyeing the blond strands that found their way back onto Jesse's forehead. The nearby floodlight on the barn is making his golden hair more luminescent than usual.
Jesse's smile flickers as he realizes his predicament. "Oh, shit. I didn't think of that." He runs a hand through his hair and grimaces. "Well, at least I'll blend in with the corn."
"Oh! I may have a solution," Dustin realizes, opening his backpack and sifting through our supplies. Then he pulls out an army green baseball cap with three yellow words that are so bold they seem to shout.
"'The War Zone'?" I read aloud, feeling like I'm in a fever dream.
"Why do you have that?" Mike inserts in the same astonished tone.
"Steve bought it for me," Dustin answers offhandedly as he adjusts the strap. "It's this store outside of town."
"You and Steve went to a store called 'The War Zone'?" Mike echoes in disbelief.
"Yep. Your sister was there too." When Dustin sees that we're still staring, he waves a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. You guys were probably at the beach or something."
Mike and I exchange perplexed frowns. When we make the connection, we both pull a face. Neither of us have fond memories of the endless hours we spent driving through the desert, while our friends and family prepared for battle on the other side of the continent. Lucas and Dustin still tease us about it sometimes - as if we were on some kind of vacation while they were in the trenches.
But Dustin has already moved on. He's in full fashion designer mode, looking from Jesse to the hat like he's envisioning the combination. He wrinkles his nose at the flashy lettering. Then he makes an eager noise, turns the cap around, and situates it on Jesse's head. Taken aback by the disregard for personal space, I start to protest, but Dustin talks over me:
"There! It's perfect!"
As he steps back to admire his work, the rest of us fail miserably at hiding our amusement. The backwards baseball cap conceals most of Jesse's reflective hair, but it looks absurd with his leather jacket and Queen t-shirt. Apparently Dustin isn't satisfied yet, because he steps toward him to make one more adjustment. "Dustin, stop," I beg, but he ignores me again. When he's finished, a single strand of Jesse's hair is sticking out from the hat in a cartoonish way, hanging over his forehead from the space above the strap.
Dustin pats the other boy's shoulder like he's reassuring a skittish animal. "Okay. Now it's perfect."
Jesse handles this awkward situation surprisingly well - by treating it like a game. With a goofy grin, he holds out his arms and surveys the rest of us: "How do I look?"
Cute, I think before I can catch myself. I tamp down that idea as the butterflies in my stomach go wild. "Like a rockstar on a field trip," I answer instead.
"Or a dad having a mid-life crisis," Mike quips.
"It's kind of making me want to kick your ass," Lucas jokes.
Jesse laughs along with the rest of us. "Well, it's a good thing I'm trying not to be seen!"
Just then, the barn doors are heaved open, and the adults running the event call us inside to go over the rules.
The game seems pretty straightforward. Each team is assigned a color and given a map of the farm that includes some of the surrounding forest. Markers on the map indicate points of interest: triangles denote flag locations, skulls signify dangerous areas, and dashed lines represent paths through the cornfields or the woods. The goal is to be the first team to collect all four flags that match their team's color and return to the barn for their reward: apple cider, Halloween cookies, and bragging rights.
But there are a few catches. For one, the color of the flags isn't labeled on the map, so there's an element of luck in finding the right ones. Also, we'll need to be stealthy, because a handful of adults in costumes will be patrolling the areas marked with the skulls, searching for us with military-grade flashlights and prop weapons. If anyone from our team gets caught - tagged - by one of these "monsters", our whole team gets sent back to the barn for five minutes, costing us valuable time. And at least one flag of each color is located in a guarded area.
After the adults finish explaining the rules, a whistle is blown. At once, the groups set off from the barn in different directions, venturing into the darkness with nothing but a map, flashlights, and compasses. "Let's check this part of the woods first," Dustin suggests, pointing to a shaded area on the west side of our map, below the blank corner where someone had scribbled with a light blue marker. "It's not far, and there's a couple of flags in a cluster here."
"And no skulls," I observe.
"Let's save those for last," Mike proposes.
We find the first of our flags in the forest where Dustin indicated, but it's wrapped around a tree branch about eight feet off the ground. Lucas takes a running leap, and Mike makes an attempt too, but their fingers miss the fabric by a few inches. Then Dustin comes up with the idea for Mike to use Lucas as a step stool. "If my mom asks how I got muddy footprints on my back, I'm blaming you," Lucas complains, and Dustin shrugs.
The second one is easier to reach but much harder to find. We end up wandering through a corn maze for at least twenty minutes. About halfway through, we decide to split into smaller groups and rejoin at one end of the maze, so we can cover more ground. Jesse and I come across several different teams and their flags before we finally find a blue one.
About ten minutes after that, we discover our third flag in a tree hollow at the edge of a pond. With three of our four objectives completed, we huddle at the water's edge to come up with a plan. "Alright," our curly-haired mapholder begins, "we found the first one here, in the woods on the west side of the map. The second one was in the maze somewhere over here."
"Wait, no," I interject, pointing at a marker on the opposite end of the maze. "It was on the south end, by the exit. We almost ran into that werewolf on the way out, remember?"
Dustin frowns at the skull closest to my finger. "Right, okay. And the third one-"
"-was right here, where we are now," Mike finishes for him, touching the page.
"In the east," Lucas adds meaningfully.
"So the last one is probably in the north," Jesse concludes.
"That would be the most logical location," Dustin confirms, "unless they're trying to throw us off by spacing them close together."
"I don't remember seeing of the any of the other colors near each other," Lucas points out.
"Me neither," Mike says, "and we know the last one is going to be guarded." He hesitates. "Unless we already got that one."
"I don't think the werewolf was guarding ours," I reason, "or he would've been in the maze, not on the edge of it."
"What about over here?" Jesse suggests, pointing to a skull at the northern edge of the map, at the intersection of four winding paths through the woods.
"I think that's our target," Dustin agrees.
"Hang on. What are the odds that three of our four flags aren't in the maze?" Lucas questions, gesturing to the majority of the map that's shaded as corn fields. His finger stops over a skull in the northeast quadrant of the paper, in the center of another field. "It could also be here."
I frown. "That's pretty close to where we are now."
"We could check it out first," Jesse suggests, "and if that doesn't work, we can go for the one that's further north."
"We wasted a lot of time in the maze earlier," Dustin reminds us, checking his watch. "We've been out here for fifty-one minutes already; the other teams must be close to finishing by now. We can't afford to get caught - not until we've got our last flag, at least. After that, it won't matter much if we get sent back to the barn."
"Let's take a vote," Mike suggests. "Corn maze or woods?"
We all pause for a beat - and then something perfect happens. "Woods," we all say at once.
As we exchanged surprised smiles, Jesse remarks happily, "Well, that was easy."
But the hunt for our last objective proves to be a lot more complicated.
As we're navigating the northern woods, Lucas whispers something that makes us freeze: "Turn off your flashlights." In unspoken agreement, we take cover behind the nearest tree or bush and scan the darkness ahead. Crickets and owls serenade us, and a gust of wind makes the skeletal trees creak. Then we spot it: about a hundred feet away, a much brighter light is bobbing in the distance.
"There's our monster," Mike murmurs.
I try to keep my breathing steady, but I feel a familiar prickling on my skin. It's like something's whispering in my ear, reminding me of the last time I was out in the woods this late. With the dropping temperature, the near pitch darkness, and the eerie stillness, it's easy to mistake protruding tree roots for slimy tendrils. Pine needles hiss in the breeze, trailing icy fingers down my spine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
It's just a game. The real monsters are gone. We're safe.
"Will? You okay?"
Jesse's hushed voice makes me flinch, and my grip tightens on something leathery. I suddenly realize that my hand is on his arm. I must have reached for him when my mind was wandering - when I needed something to anchor me to reality. Flustered by the impulse, I let go and mumble, "Yeah. Sorry."
Hidden behind a bush a few feet away, Lucas and Dustin don't notice the interaction. Mike, on the other hand, is right next to us. He directs a worried frown at me and whispers, "What is it?"
The dread in his tone makes me wince. I have a history of alerting my friends to danger, and judging by Mike's expression, I must not be the only one who has trouble believing that those days are over. I shake my head and respond in the most confident whisper I can muster, "It's nothing."
Looking relieved, Mike nods. Then Lucas and Dustin beckon for us to join them. The five of us huddle together as Dustin wraps one of the flags over his flashlight and flips the switch. In the muted blue light, we check our position on the map. "There are four flags in this vicinity," Dustin declares, "and that monster is in the middle of all of them. There's no way we'll be able to check all four without being seen. Even if we travel with our flashlights off, they'd probably hear us coming."
"Not if they're distracted," Mike suggests.
"Some of us could lure them away while another person checks the flags," Jesse agrees, on the same page as usual.
"I'll handle the flags," Lucas volunteers. "The rest of you, sneak closer to the monster - but don't be too subtle."
"We'll meet you at the willow tree at the edge of the field," Mike tells him, pointing to the map. "After that, if all goes well, we can head back to the barn and collect our prize."
Dustin unveils his flashlight and passes the map to Lucas. "Give me a head start," Lucas requests, pocketing the paper. His outline quickly melts into the shadows.
Once we can't hear him anymore, the rest of us turn on our flashlights and march toward the light in the distance. "We should run a little slower at first - you know, so they think they've got us," Mike plans. "Then we'll actually run."
Moments later, the beam from his flashlight collides with a tall figure in a bloody butcher costume. When he turns to face us, I glimpse a pasty, sunken-eyed mask surrounded by tangled black hair. We act surprised for a second; then we take off. As the butcher stomps after us, a ferocious revving noise splits the air. "He's got a chainsaw!" Dustin shouts, but there's a smile underneath his panic.
I grin as we run. Fooling this guy is much more fun than sitting on my couch at home. I'm starting to think that El and Max are missing out.
As soon as the happy thought crosses my mind, pain shoots through my ankle, and I stumble. I try to get up and keep going, but my right foot won't budge. My friends notice my dilemma and gather around me in confusion. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Mike asks.
"No, but...I can't move."
I grit my teeth as I twist my foot in ways that it probably shouldn't bend, but it's no use. It feels like something sturdy is wrapped around my ankle. For one awful moment, I feel like I'm eleven again, stranded and alone, struggling against the tentacles ensnaring me as a faceless monster stalks toward me. I focus on my friends' faces to shoo away the nightmarish images, but the dose of shame that follows makes me feel even sicker.
Once again, I'm stuck. Damaged. Unwanted. Helpless.
But I'm not that scared little kid anymore, and beating myself up won't fix anything. Annoyance drowns out my misery as I continue tugging against whatever's trapping me. Why is it always me...?
"This is bad," Dustin mutters, pacing as the noise from the chainsaw grows louder.
"Just go," I urge them, defeated. "Maybe he won't see me."
"We're not leaving you like this," Mike argues as he crouches to get a better look at my predicament.
"We're screwed," Dustin mourns, throwing up his hands.
"No, we're not. Not yet," Jesse inserts stubbornly. He seems to be riding on an adrenaline high, because there's fire in his eyes when he looks at Mike. "Stay here and try not be seen. Also, give me that." Perplexed, Mike hands over his flashlight, and Jesse shoves it in his pocket so it casts a spotlight on everything above his waist. Then he unceremoniously whips the green baseball cap off his head and onto Dustin's. Our curly-haired friend yelps as Jesse takes him by the arm and sprints recklessly down a not-so-beaten path through the brush, shouting, "Come on, soldier! It's time to earn some medals!"
Catching on, I turn off my flashlight, and Mike and I hold our breath and wait. By some miracle, the distraction works. The next time the butcher revs his chainsaw, the sound is further away, following our friends' crashing footsteps and wild flashlights. I hear a laugh that must be Jesse's, because it comes in the midst of Dustin's increasingly frantic cries: "Oh, my god. Oh, my god! Shit! Why did you take me? What did I do to deserve this?"
Mike and I share a chuckle - until we remember the urgency of the situation. I turn on my flashlight and set it on the ground so it illuminates my pitfall. When I see what's trapping me, I almost laugh at my luck. "Wow," Mike marvels, shaking his head. My foot must have landed in the worst possible place, because it went clean through two thick tree roots, and my ankle is pinned underneath.
"I think I can get free if I take my shoe off..."
Mike watches as I work at the knot in my laces. "Are you okay?" He checks again.
"I'm fine, really," I answer without looking up. "I know what a twisted ankle feels like. This is nothing."
"No, I mean...with all this."
Puzzled, I pause to furrow my eyebrows at him. He almost looks guilty.
"I know you don't really like the dark, after...after everything," Mike goes on hesitantly. "And Halloween is so different now. I just want to make sure that you didn't only come to this because I asked you to."
Something squirms inside me as Mike lays out everything I've been feeling for the past few hours. I've always admired his affinity for picking up on other people's emotions. Nine times out of ten, he can read my mind just by looking at my face. (The tenth time is anything involving romantic feelings; he seems to be lacking in that area.)
"Nobody forced me to come out tonight," I tell him truthfully. "I agreed because I thought it seemed like fun, despite all that other stuff. I want to be here, Mike." I grimace as I try to wriggle my foot out of my sneaker. "Well, maybe not here, exactly..."
Mike returns my ironic smile as he holds my shoe steady. "You were right about Jesse, by the way," he brings up lightly. "He seems cool."
My heart does a weird little flip. It used to do that whenever somebody mentioned Mike - that is, while I was living three thousand miles away from him. I chose to ignore that thought, focusing instead on the genuine approval in his voice. "You think so?"
"Yeah, definitely," Mike assures. "I was thinking about inviting him to join our D&D club, if everyone else is fine with it. Does he play?"
That idea makes my chest swell with joy. "I don't know," I reply, grinning, "but I bet he'd make a good Rogue."
As soon as I manage to free my foot, we hear something barreling through the woods toward us. Our alarm morphs into relief as Lucas reappears. "I got it," he pants, brandishing the blue strip of fabric. He frowns when he notices my missing shoe - and our missing numbers. "Where-"
Before he can finish the question, a distant shriek from Dustin answers it. I quickly slip my shoe on as we race toward the sound. Lucas and Mike curse in unison as another voice cries out: "HA! Gotcha! You're so dead!"
When the three of us reunite with the others, we're met by a bizarre sight. Dustin is on the ground, and the bloodied chainsaw wielder is standing over him...doing a victory dance. "No," Dustin mutters, shocked. "Don't tell me..."
The four of us gape as Steve pulls off the butcher mask and pumps his fists in the air. "Hell yeah, Henderson! Surprised to see me?"
"You lying prick! You told me you were going to a party tonight!" Dustin yells at him.
"Yeah, I am - later. I thought it would be funny to scare the shit out of you first," Steve explains, crossing his arms smugly. "You know, they're pretty lax about who volunteers for these things. It's kind of concerning..."
"Hold on. You know this guy?"
I jump as a bewildered Jesse emerges from the nearby corn field to take in the scene. I guess he was right; his hair does match the husks.
Steve frowns at him and then directs his confusion at Dustin. "He's new," Dustin says shortly.
Our blond friend gives him a halfhearted wave. "Jesse Clarke."
Taken aback, Steve blurts, "The nerdy science teacher has a kid? I thought he was a virgin."
As Jesse facepalms and mutters something under his breath, Dustin informs Steve dryly, "They're not related, dumbass."
"I'm not the dumbass who tripped and got caught," Steve shoots back, revving the chainsaw again for good measure.
Then Lucas whistles over the ruckus and steps into the clearing. Jesse and Dustin beam as he proudly brandishes the last flag. "Congratulations, Steve - but you're too late," Lucas taunts, and the older boy lowers his weapon and pouts. "You almost caught the winning team."
I'm still in good spirits later that night, when Dustin's mom drops me off at my house. As I walk into the living room, I'm met with a heartwarming scene. Mom, Hopper, El, and Jonathan are all in comfy clothes and lounging under blankets. The room is dark apart from the TV screen and some purple and orange string lights on the walls.
Hopper stiffens a little when I walk in, probably because his arm's around my mom and she's nestled into his side. Between Jonathan, El, and me, I've had the toughest time coming to terms with their relationship, and we all know it. It's not that I don't want them to be happy; I'm just not used to seeing them act all corny and romantic. But tonight, Hopper's cautious gaze only reinforces my good mood. The tall, burly police chief almost looks intimidated by me. It's kind of funny when I think of it like that.
"Hey, sweetheart. How was the scavenger hunt?" Mom asks, surveying my face.
"It was really fun! We got to sneak around the woods, go through some corn mazes, outsmart some bad guys - oh, and we won!"
"That tracks," Hopper remarks. Most people would've interpreted that as indifference, but I've spent enough time around him to detect the pride in his voice.
In counterpart to his subtlety, Mom's face lights up and she exclaims, "That's wonderful! I want you to tell me all about it."
"Between movies?" El suggests gingerly from the opposite end of the couch, and Hopper smirks.
Mom settles down, relenting, "Well, I guess since it's only a few more minutes..."
"You have great timing," Jonathan tells me from his usual spot on the recliner. "We're just finishing The Thing."
"We're watching Ghostbusters next," El adds eagerly, moving her legs so there's space for me next to her. "That's your favorite, right? We saved it for you - if you're not too tired."
I return her enthusiasm in full. "That sounds awesome! I'll be right back."
As I head to my room to put my pajamas on, it feels like something cozy and warm is curling around my core. It was the same warmth that filled me earlier, when Mike invited Jesse to hang out with us again, and when the five of us celebrated our victory.
When I claim my spot next to El and hear that familiar theme song, the peaceful feeling grows, and a smile tugs at my lips.
Maybe Halloween doesn't have to be so different after all.