"I always look for the same thing. Hope."

Wonder Woman: Futures End #1

By the time Eleven and Max manage to drag themselves out of bed and to the breakfast table, where they sit side-by-side like penguins huddled against the cold and wait for Eggos to spring out of the toaster, it has started raining again. The trailer is filled with a metallic pitter-patter that reminds Eleven of radio static.

Hopper is standing outside smoking a cigarette, sheltered from the rain by the awning hanging over the trailer door. From time to time, a gust of wind sweeps a cloud of smoke into the trailer and the smell tickles Max's nostrils and makes her sneeze. Eleven yells out for him to shut the door or to go somewhere else, but he chooses not to hear her. All of his attention is focused on an overgrown patch of grass in front of him and he remains unmoving except for the robotic motion of his hand taking his cigarette, giving it a light tap to discard the excess ash, and placing it back in his mouth.

When Eleven realizes that Hopper has no intention of complying, she turns her head to look at the door, reaches out her hand and, with a flick of her wrist, slams it shut.

"Hey!" she hears Hopper shout, his voice now muffled by the layer of aluminum dividing them.

Eleven holds her hand out in anticipation of the door flinging back open but she does not hear Hopper so much as stir outside. The toaster dings and Max walks over to it and fishes the Eggos out with her hands. Having underestimated how hot they would be, she tosses them in the direction of a nearby plate and blows on the tips of her fingers.

"What happened to not using your powers?" Max says.

Eleven shrugs. She smiles as she watches Max walk back to the breakfast table with the stack of waffles and as she sets the plate down she takes one with her fork. Max smiles back at her and for a moment they sit in silence, taking tentative bites so as not to burn the roofs of their mouths and listening to the sound of the rain. Just like that show, Eleven thinks. She feels as if she is acting out part of a routine that she and Max have always had and will always keep for the rest of their lives, just like the family she had seen on the television all those years ago.

"Ready for another eight hours of non-stop thrills?" Max says.

"I don't know if I can stand another minute of Dad's signing," Eleven says. She thinks back to the pitchless performances they have had to endure so far and grimaces.

"Why not? What's there not to like about it?"

"Everything."

"Maybe it'll be better now that Joyce is coming with us."

"No, I think Mom might be worse."

Max laughs. "Yeah, I guess it is a bit like – I don't know, two cats screaming at each other or something."

Eleven fiddles with the cuff of her shirt, unbuttoning it and rolling the sleeve up to her elbow before rolling it back down when she feels the cold air on her forearm. "I was thinking of maybe hanging out with Will," she says.

"Oh, okay. Nice of you to let me enjoy the concert all on my own."

Eleven detects a slight change in the tone of Max's voice and she sees her brows begin to furrow. There is immediately a falling feeling in her chest but it disappears as soon as she notices that Max is still wearing her smile and she realizes then that she is only teasing her.

"I meant we could hang out with him together!" she says. She gives Max a small shove and feels her lean back into her shoulder. For a moment neither of them make another noise and Eleven watches Max's attention drift to the half-eaten waffle sitting on her plate. Even in the feeble gray light that creeps through the window above the kitchenette and barely illuminates where they are sitting her eyes remain the same shade of cornflower blue that Eleven had been entranced by in the day she had walked down Cherry Lane and picked up the errant skateboard that rolled toward her feet.

"Actually," Max says. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to Robin about."

"What?" Eleven says.

"What?"

"What do you need to talk to her about?"

"Oh. Just – some music stuff, that's all."

"Music?"

"Yeah – like, you know how she was in a band?"

"You – want to join a band?"

"Yeah. I mean, maybe. When we get to California," Max says. She smiles but her gaze remains fixed on the waffle in front of her. "Besides, I wouldn't want to third-wheel your brother-sister time."

"Third wheel?"

"Yeah. You know, like, get in the way. Besides, we'll hang out tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

Again the silence descends upon them but now it is like a morning fog in which they both become lost, neither of them knowing what to say or do next. They sit and listen to each other breathe and the sound of the raindrops seems to Eleven to grow heavier, drumming against the roof of the trailer like fingers tapping against a tin can, seeming as if they might break through the thin sheet of metal separating them from the world outside at any moment. Eleven can feel it in her chest, the rhythm of the rain and the fluttering of her heartbeat seeming to synchronize and become one. Never mind, she wants to say. Never mind, let's just sit in the back of the car and we can just cover our ears and we can count the animals as we drive past and you can listen to the music on your tape player and even though it might get boring at least we'll be in it together. But when she looks back at Max she knows from the look on her face that she is already planning out a conversation in her mind and so she settles for enjoying the time they have left before Hopper finishes his cigarette and walks back through the door, and she has to listen to the strange, sing-song voice that possesses him when he is trying to make a serious point before he inevitably realizes that none of what he has said has sunk in and he tousles her hair because perhaps, in the end, it does not matter.


Robin hears a knock on the door. At first she thinks it is Steve, but then she peers over her shoulder and sees him already sitting in the driver's seat, pretending to adjust the rear-view mirror while he makes sure there is not a hair on his head that is out of place. Then she thinks it must be Vickie, but she realizes that she is still sitting next to her, as she had been the entire morning. And so, having run out of people to whom to ascribe the light tap-tap-tapping, she pulls herself out of the den she has created for herself out of cushions and sweaters on the sofa, nearly falling over and knocking Vickie's half-drunk mug of coffee off the armrest as she struggles to find her balance, and stumbles toward the door. She opens it to find a short, hoodie-wearing creature, with a head of red hair made slightly frizzy by the humidity outside.

"Hey," Max says.

"Uh, hey," Robin says. "Shouldn't you be with Hopper or something?"

"Actually, I was wondering if I could hang with you guys for a while."

Robin hears something stir behind her. She turns her head and sees Vickie on her feet, tiptoeing closer to the door while trying to remain out of view. She reminds Robin of a mouse cautiously approaching a piece of cheese, conscious of the danger but unable to resist temptation all the same.

"Wait," Robin says. "Is El okay? Is this because you and El are fighting? Did you have an argument or something?"

"What?" Max says, frowning. She squints and Robin cannot tell if she has struck a nerve or if she genuinely has no idea what she is talking about.

"You and El. Are you, like –"

Robin feels Vickie nudge her and when she ignores her she is met with an elbow to her side. She looks back and Vickie mouths something to her under her breath that she cannot understand because come on Vick, it's not like I can read lips, and she is not sure that she would listen even if she could.

"El's just hanging out with Will and I didn't want to, you know. Get in the way."

"Oh, okay," Robin says. She gestures for Max to enter and so she does, slinging her backpack to one side and kicking her feet against the outside of the motorhome to shake off the mud and loose blades of grass stuck to the soles of her shoes. For a moment, she stands in the doorway, rubbing the back of one hand with the other.

"Why don't you sit in the back with Robin," Vickie says. She emerges from her hiding spot and shuffles over to the front seat next to Steve. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to annoy this guy, anyway."

Max makes her way over to the table in the back of the motorhome and takes the seat by the window. It is another half hour before they are finally back on the road, Steve doing his best to keep up with Hopper while marveling at his ability to weave between lanes while towing a trailer. Robin sits next to Max, desperately trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary has happened and she is not there and there is no conversation she needs to have.

"So," Max finally says. "I see Vick's nose is still intact."

"What?" Robin says.

"You were going to break her nose."

"For what?"

"For not liking the Breakfast Club. Remember?"

"Oh," Robin says. She is desperately trying to recall what she had said in the moment when she had looked over and seen Max looking at her, her arm around her girlfriend's waist, and she had felt as if her entire world had fallen apart. The memory remains just out of reach and she can do nothing but continually grasp at it, like a puppy standing on its hind legs trying to reach a steak that has been left on a kitchen counter. "Yeah, I didn't want to get arrested. You know, since Hopper's a cop and all," she says. It is all that she is able to come up with.

"I guess," Max says.

What do we tell her? Robin had said. We have to tell her the truth, Vickie had said. She's not an idiot. What remains of her memories of that day are like a thousand pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that she has no hope of assembling and all she can do is pick up the individual pieces in the vain hope that she might be able to glean from them some part of the whole picture. She forces a small laugh out of her throat, hoping that it will distract Max from the trainwreck that is occurring in slow motion in her head and that she is sure is visible in her eyes.

"Can you keep a secret?" Robin hears Vickie say. But what if she goes and tells – I don't know, everyone?

"Let me guess," Max says. "You weren't really arguing about movies, were you?" She won't, Vickie had said.

"Oh, we were. And Robin is wrong, but that's not the secret." What if she's – what if she isn't cool about it? What if she's just like – I don't know, Mike's dad?

"So – what is it then?" You and I both know she isn't like that, Vickie had said.

Robin looks up at Vickie through the rear-view mirror and catches her eye. And Vickie had looked up at her with those pools of cerulean blue and in that moment Robin had known that it would all be okay. And now she sees those same eyes looking back at her, reflecting the world as it passes by outside.

"Vick and I," Robin says. "We're – kind of more than friends."

"Like – girlfriends?" Max says.

"Yeah," Robin says. She becomes conscious of her heartbeat and the feeling makes her uneasy and the unease only makes her heart race faster and faster and she feels a fluttering in her chest like the wingbeats of a hummingbird. Thoughts drift in and out of her head, and by the time she has made sense of one it disappears and is replaced by a thousand others. Oh God, she thinks. Oh God, oh God, I knew this would happen. They sit in what Robin knows is silence only because she cannot hear anything other than the humming of the engine and the voice in her head screaming, oh God how could you be so stupid now she hates you and your life is over and you might as well go live in the wilderness and never talk to another human being again

"Yeah, I kind of figured," Max says.

"You did?" Robin says.

"Yeah. I mean, I was sitting there for a while."

Robin looks at Max and to her surprise, she sees her looking back at her with an expression not of anger or disgust or fear or hatred or any of the other million negative emotions that she had imagined in the few seconds that had passed since she had finally told her the truth, but of what she can only describe as curiosity, as if she were some species of rare bird. "Please," she says. "Please, whatever you do, don't tell anyone –"

"I wasn't going to."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Promise."

Robin feels her heartbeat begin to settle back into the semblance of a regular rhythm.

"How long have you been dating?" Max says.

"I don't really know," Robin stutters.

"You don't really know?"

"It just kind of happened," Vickie says. "I mean, we haven't really even dated, unless you count hanging out in the Upside Down. Haven't had time to go to the movies or the mall or anything, you know?"

"So you don't even have like, an anniversary or anything? That's kind of lame."

"I guess we just figured if the world was going to explode and burn in a giant pit of hellfire anyway, then we might as well face it together. Didn't really think about the logistics of it," Robin says. She watches Max twirl a few strands of her hair around her fingers before brushing them back over her shoulder. Through the window, she sees a billboard in the distance. On it there is a man sitting at the breakfast table and a woman holding up a plate of pancakes and a bottle of syrup and they are both wearing enormous smiles, their white teeth standing against the shades of gray in the sky behind them.

"How did you know?" Max says after what feels to Robin like an eon has passed.

"Know what?" Robin says.

"That you were – you know –"

"Lesbian?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I guess you always kind of know, you know?"

"Yeah. I mean – not really, I guess."

"I mean, like, I always knew I was different from other girls because when I would hang out with my friends and they would spend all their time gawking at pictures of like, Rob Lowe or whoever, I would just pretend to be into it because, I don't know, I thought what's what I was supposed to be doing, you know? And I thought that was what everyone did," Robin says, seeing Max nod.

"Like, all your life you're supposed to live out this fairytale that's already been written for you, and you're trying to play the part of this princess who has flowing locks of blonde hair and skin as white as ivory or whatever and all you have is this horrible perm that your Mom told you would be a good idea and pimples on your face and instead of some castle you're just hanging around middle school feeling like, I don't know, like you're a ghost or something."

The words stream out of her mouth before she can even begin to think about them. For a moment she hesitates, but she knows it is no use – she is a runaway train and now there is no hope of stopping herself until she has either run out of momentum or completely derailed.

"And you have these stupid feelings – well, they feel like stupid feelings – because you think you're supposed to like all these stupid boys and pretend to like basketball or whatever just so they'll notice you, but all you can do is sit in the back of the classroom staring at this girl in front of you and wish that she would just turn around and look at you with that look in her eyes that you know you have for her but she's, you know, busy falling in love with some douchebag, just living out her fairytale life just like everyone else."

"Hey, not my fault I'm a big hit with the Muppet crowd," Steve says.

Robin does not hear him. "I don't know," she says. "I guess sometimes it felt like even though I knew the truth I could never believe it because everyone around me, my friends, my parents, my teachers, the people I saw wandering around on the street, they were all living these normal lives that had been planned out for them since they were born and I thought there must have been some plan that I had to stick to, too. But then one day you meet someone and the moment you see them the truth washes over you like a wave and even though you struggle against it all you can do is let yourself be carried out on the tide, away from the shores of your life and everything you've known and into this great blue ocean. And when that happens, I don't know – I guess it feels like nothing matters, even though the world is ending around you and some guy is trying to invade Earth from an alternate dimension and life as you know it is basically over, it feels like in the grand scheme of things none of that matters, and all that is important, all that is good and beautiful and all that is worth fighting for about life is right there in front of you, even if all she is doing is standing next to you in band at some God-awful pep rally and you don't know if she even likes you as a friend let alone if she is stuck there, in that great big ocean with you. And in that moment, it's like the truth twists up your insides and it bubbles up from within you and you can't stop it no matter how hard you try, like for the last seventeen years of your life you've been stuck behind museum glass watching other people milling about and living their lives and there is some piece of your soul that you have finally found, some missing piece of your own puzzle that you've just realized has been under the couch the whole time and when you find it, when you find it – it feels like you're – I don't know – alive –"

Robin looks over at Vickie's reflection in the rear-view mirror. Those cerulean blue pools. Now she can see the ripples forming across their surfaces as they begin to overflow. She realizes that she has barely taken a breath since she started talking and so she pauses, taking in a few gasps of air.

"I don't know, Max. I think when you know, you just know," she says.

The word catches in her throat and she looks back at Max. She has turned away and in her reflection in the window Robin can see the wrinkles at the bridge of her nose and her biting down softly on her lower lip. It is as if Robin is staring into her own reflection, just as she had all those years ago, sitting in the back of her parents' car, the same expression on her face, feeling the afternoon sun against her cheeks on the drive home. You've seen the way they look at each other, Vickie had said. She asks Max whether she is okay and sees her reflection nod silently, just as her own would when her father would ask her if she had managed to learn anything at school.