Mike turned up the radio as he turned the corner down Maple Street, "I Ran" by Flock Of Seagulls blasting through the speakers as he sang along and slapped his hands on the steering wheel. It was halfway through spring break and he'd spent most of it with Max. Wayne had taken his daughter on a camping trip for the week so Max was manning Spin City Records all by herself, which she didn't even mind because it just meant she was making more money and she didn't have to be at home.
Mike had been expecting her to radio him over the weekend but she didn't, and when he hadn't heard from her by noon on Monday he'd started to get a little worried, so he just drove to the record store of his own accord. He'd wondered if she was mad at him over something he'd done at the party, wracking his brain for any transgression he may have unknowingly committed. But then as soon as he walked into the store and her gaze landed on him she'd flashed him one of her rare, genuine smiles that reached her eyes and he knew he'd been worried for nothing, any feelings of doubt firmly ejected from his mind.
There was a small tv in the office/storage room at the back of the store and Mike would spend his days there watching The Young and the Restless or As the World Turns or any of the other dozen ridiculous soap operas that aired during the afternoon (and honestly getting a little invested in the storylines by the third day) while working his way through a box of Fruit Roll-Ups. Max would join him when she could and they'd make fun of the insane plot twists and over-the-top acting, laughing until their sides ached and tears were streaming down their cheeks. They'd smoke a joint in the back alley at some point during the afternoon, finding it made the monotonous days much more tolerable. Mike knew deep down that wasn't the only reason, though.
The whole town was buzzing after the death of Chrissy Cunningham on Saturday, and if that wasn't enough another boy, Fred Benson, who Mike knew was on the school paper with Nancy, was found dead on Sunday, the cause of death unknown in both cases. He and Max seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to discuss it at all, both content to bury their heads in the sand and remain willfully ignorant of any new details that were emerging; preferring instead to get stoned and watch their silly tv shows or listen to the new records coming into the shop. They'd had enough loss and tragedy in the past couple of years to last a lifetime and ignoring the local news altogether felt like a distinctly protective mechanism.
Now it was Wednesday evening and he'd just dropped Max off at her place. He'd steadfastly avoided looking at the Munson's trailer across the street, abandoned and cordoned off with yellow police tape. Poor Eddie, Mike thought to himself, disturbed by the thought that the Hellfire leader could have committed such a violent act. He shook the grim thoughts out of his head and went back to singing along to the radio, pulling the station wagon into his driveway a minute later.
He took off the aviator sunglasses that had been sitting on top of his head and clipped them to the sun visor before getting out, still whistling the tune from the car as he made his way up to his front door, freezing in his tracks when his eyes landed on the familiar bicycle leaning up against the garage.
"Well, well, well," Dustin's unmistakable voice drawled from where he was seated on the front steps of the house. Mike cringed internally and plastered a fake smile on his face as he walked up to his friend, hands jammed nervously in the pockets of his windbreaker.
"Hey man, what's up?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Dustin raised his eyebrows so high they disappeared behind the wide brim of his baseball cap.
"What's up?" he repeated as if it had been an absurd question. "What's up is I came here over an hour ago asking for you and your mom told me you've been at Lucas's all day, which I know for a fact can't be true because Lucas has been running around town with the basketball team since Friday and I haven't even been able to get a hold of him." Mike ran a hand through his hair and looked at his shoes, unable to meet Dustin's concerned eyes.
"What are you doing here, Dustin?" he asked, glancing up at his friend. Dustin furrowed his brow.
"Nuh-uh, I'm the one asking questions here." He leaned in and peered intently at Mike's eyes before moving even closer and inhaling deeply. "Marijuana?" he whispered incredulously as he took a step back, looking at Mike like he didn't even recognize him. "You've been getting high? With who?" Mike slumped his shoulders and leaned against the side of his house, already exhausted from this confrontation.
"Nobody," he lied, "I was uh, I was by myself." Dustin looked at him with a mixture of pity and concern that made Mike want to scream.
"Is this because of the breakup?" Dustin asked. "Because drugs are not a healthy coping mechanism. After his wife left him my mom's cousin's brother-in-law started smoking marijuana and then he tried crack and then that eventually-"
"Dustin!" Mike exclaimed, cutting off his lecture. "I'm fine. I just, I dunno, wanted to see what it was like."
Dustin crossed his arms and squinted his eyes. "So this was the first time?"
"Yup…" Mike mumbled in reply, looking down again, the lie leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Dustin nodded his head somberly.
"Well, okay, as long as it was the first and only time… they call it a gateway drug for a reason, you know." He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Mike's shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "Promise me that next time you get a craving, you'll Just Say No, Mike." Mike gave him a resolute nod while inwardly rolling his eyes at the familiar campaign slogan.
"So what's actually up?" he asked Dustin after a second, remembering he was probably there for a reason.
Dustin took his hat off, running a hand through his curly hair before placing it back on his head. "Eddie needs our help."
"Eddie Munson?" Mike asked stupidly. Dustin rolled his eyes.
"No, Eddie Murphy" he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course Eddie Munson!" Mike stayed silent, feeling his heart rate pick up a little at the topic of their mutual friend. "Jesus Christ, have you been on some kind of drug-fueled bender since Friday? Don't you know what the whole town's been saying?" Dustin asked, giving Mike a disturbed look.
"I've honestly been avoiding it," he mumbled, scuffing his Converse on the concrete of the paving stones.
Dustin sighed in exasperation. "Well, Eddie's the only suspect they have right now, but Mike, what if it's the Upside Down?" Mike felt a jolt of terror run through him at Dustin's words.
He shook his head emphatically and looked up at his friend. "Joyce said they closed the gate under the mall, right? It's gotta be unrelated."
"You don't know that!" Dustin exclaimed. "We have to track down Eddie and clear his name!"
Mike swallowed hard and shook his head again. "Um, I don't- I don't think I can…" Dustin looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head.
"What is going on with you, Mike?" he cried, throwing his hands in the air. "If this is still because El dumped you… I mean, I love you dude, but it's been two months. It's time to start moving on." Mike scoffed. "I barely see you anymore," Dustin continued. "You don't eat lunch with us, you don't come to Hellfire, you've been doing drugs, I don't know where the hell you spend your weekends… Like, did I do something wrong?"
It broke Mike's heart a little to hear Dustin say that, but he wasn't ready to tell him what he'd really been doing, clinging desperately to the private world in which he and Max had ensconced themselves.
"Look I just- I need some space okay?" Mike wrapped his arms tightly around himself and looked up at the moths swirling around the porch light that had just turned on, tirelessly throwing themselves at the dim bulb. "I mean we don't have to be so fucking... codependent all the time," he blurted out, borrowing Max's word and then immediately feeling bad about his outburst.
Dustin looked like he'd been slapped for a second before the fiercely determined look returned to his face. He ignored Mike's harsh words and launched into some convoluted story about the peculiar nature of the deaths, and Eddie going on the run, and satanic rituals, and then somehow Steve and Robin had also become involved…
Mike felt himself starting to shut down, reflexively tuning out Dustin's voice to avoid feeling completely overwhelmed as his heart thundered in his tightening chest. What could they even do now that they didn't have El? She was thousands of miles away and without her they were just regular kids. He couldn't go through this again,he decided. It wasn't healthy. His thoughts immediately leapt to Max and how traumatized she was after Starcourt and the terrifying panic attacks he'd witnessed firsthand.
"-so Jason and his numbskull basketball buddies, which apparently includes Lucas now, have been going around saying Hellfire is some kind of satan-worshipping cult and that Eddie was our leader. That's why we have to go to Lover's Lake to see if he's hiding there and get his side of the story… Mike?" Dustin was looking at him expectantly, apparently having finished his explanation.
Mike pulled himself from his thoughts and sighed, steeling himself for the backlash that was sure to follow. "I can't deal with this right now, Dustin. I'm sorry."
Dustin frowned. "Can't deal? Why are you pushing me away, Mike? After everything we've been through? Don't we owe it to Eddie to figure out what really happ-"
"No, Dustin," Mike cut him off, taking a step backwards. "I'm sick of disappearances, and freaky, unexplained deaths, an-and monsters from parallel fucking dimensions! Okay? I'm done. You're going to have to go on your little quest without me," he finished quietly. He stepped around Dustin and quickly slipped through the front door, locking it behind him.
"Mike!" he heard Dustin calling from outside. "Are you fucking serious?" He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes, a guilty feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He'd gotten so comfortable in his little bubble of being a regular teenager with Max. It was nice. It was safe. It didn't make him feel like monsters were lurking around every corner, ready to drag him down into the darkness; his biggest concerns were his Spanish quizzes and his parents refusing to extend his eleven o'clock curfew.
That's why later that night he radioed her and told her they were going bowling tomorrow once she was done with work.
"Bowling?" Max laughed. "I don't think I've gone bowling since I was like, eight. I'm down though. Yet another game I can kick your ass at, Wheeler." Mike felt like a weight lifted off his chest at the sound of her laugh, and he found he'd never felt so grateful to be on the receiving end of her smart-mouthed remarks.
The next evening he was sitting in the station wagon, parked in front of the record store while he waited for Max to finish her shift and lock up before heading to the Bowl-o-Rama on Third Avenue. The days were getting noticeably longer now and the sun had set about half an hour ago, twilight painting the sky above a deep, murky blue, a handful of stars just becoming visible as the last light of the sun disappeared below the horizon.
Then the car door flew open abruptly, and Mike was startled out of his daydream as Max threw herself onto the seat with uncharacteristic exuberance.
"Mike, oh my god!" she exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes wide with excitement.
"What?" he asked, taken aback by her enthusiasm.
Max grinned and shoved a large, glossy piece of paper into his hands. "Look at this poster that came in today."
Mike felt his jaw drop as he took in the large font at the top of the page. "The Jesus and Mary Chain? Live in concert? Holy shit!"
Her smile widened even further as she jabbed her finger partway down the poster. "Keep reading."
"Saturday, April 12th at Razz-Ma-Tazz, Indianapol- they're coming to Indianapolis ?!" Mike exclaimed in disbelief as he looked up at Max. She kept grinning and nodded her head.
"I know, I can't believe it," she said, her smile fading slightly. "Only problem is, that's a nightclub, so we'd need fake IDs and it's super short notice."
Mike leaned his head back against the headrest and groaned. "Shit, normally I'd ask Eddie but…"
"Yeah…" she looked out the window and wrapped her headphone cord around her index finger. "Not an option."
"Fuck." Mike ran a hand through his hair, wracking his brain for any other low-stakes delinquents he might know. "Let me think about it, maybe one of those guys from the party knows someone." Max grabbed the poster out of his hands and hugged it to her chest.
"Ugh, I would seriously kill to go," she groaned. Mike reached over and rifled through the glove compartment, finding his Psychocandy tape and popping it into the stereo, dramatically lip-syncing to the song that started playing as he pulled away from the curb while Max laughed and shoved him affectionately before joining in. Yeah, the bubble was nice.
As it turned out, Max did not kick his ass at bowling. In fact, she was pretty terrible at it.
"God fucking damn it!" she cried out as her purple ball barely knocked over one pin before disappearing behind the pin deck, causing an older lady in a league bowling shirt to frown at Max's language from the next lane. Mike pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. "Shut up, Wheeler," she hissed as she threw herself down in the brightly patterned seat next to his.
"I didn't say anything!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender.
She shot him a glare and crossed her arms. "Whatever, it's your turn." Mike stood up and ruffled her hair like she was a small child, making her scowl deepen as she slapped his hand away, and this time he couldn't hold back his laugh.
They'd shared a joint before coming in, rolling down the windows of the station wagon and listening to JAMC as they brainstormed potential sources for fake IDs. Max had gone so far as to suggest Reefer Rick, but Mike vaguely recalled Dustin mentioning his name during his explanation of the Eddie debacle and quickly shot that down, deciding that when school started again Mike would ask Phil and Max would ask Rachel Switzer. Now Mike was feeling laidback and oddly giggly, finding Max's despair at her lack of bowling prowess endlessly amusing.
"Just watch and learn, Mayfield," he called back over his shoulder, seeing her flip him off out of the corner of his eye before he turned back towards the lane and picked up a mesmerizingly marbled turquoise ball. I wonder who gets to pick out bowling ball colours? That would be a cool job, Mike's cloudy mind pondered as he stepped up to the line.
He took a deep breath and stared down the pins, lunging forward with his right foot as he swung the ball back with his left hand before letting it go, sending it rolling down the lane in an almost perfectly straight line. He leaned to the side as he watched its path, pumping his fist when it sent all but two pins clattering down, and then he spun around and flashed Max a cocky grin, laughing again at her exaggerated eye roll. On his second roll, he knocked down the remaining two pins with ease, earning himself another spare.
"Nice shot," Max grumbled as he sat down next to her, crossing his rented bowling shoe over his denim-clad knee. He peered at the small monitor in front of them, watching his score go up by ten points.
"We've each bowled five frames now, midpoint snack break?" he suggested, jerking his head towards the concession stands. The artificial butter smell emanating from the popcorn machine had been making his munchies go crazy for the past half hour. Max nodded as she retied her half-red, half-blue leather shoes and stood.
"Get ready, because once I get my blood sugar up the ass-kicking will commence," she said in a determined voice, pointing her finger at his chest. Mike snorted.
"Yeah okay, I'll be sure to watch my back," he replied sarcastically, grinning as she stuck her tongue out at him.
A few minutes later they were seated at the round Formica table behind their lane, Mike with his hand buried in his popcorn bag and Max tearing off pieces of her salted pretzel as they watched the other bowlers. Most of the lanes were occupied by some sort of seniors league, teams of elderly people with grey hair and matching bowling shirts standing in groups and raptly watching their competitors throw strike after strike.
"Damn," Max said through a mouthful of pretzel. "Those old ladies sure know how to handle balls." Mike choked on a kernel of popcorn as Max laughed, leaning forward to take a sip of her blue raspberry slushie.
"Hey, let me have some of that," he said once he'd recovered, nodding at her cup. Max furrowed her brow.
"No way, Wheeler. Get your own." She took another sip through the plastic red straw and let out an exaggerated "ah" after swallowing, rubbing in her enjoyment of the drink. Mike felt his already dry mouth become even more parched.
"Come on, Max," he whined. "I didn't bring enough cash."
Max raised her eyebrows and grinned. "Oh wow, so this is what it feels like to be the rich friend, huh?" She leaned back and crossed her legs. "Hm, you know, it feels pretty damn good. But not as good as this sweet, refreshing slushie," she added as she took another long slurp. Mike nudged her calf with the toe of his shoe.
"Come on dude, lend me a dollar then," he begged, his thirst quickly becoming overwhelming.
"Fuck off," she laughed. "That's my hard-earned money. You should have asked mommy and daddy for more allowance." Mike leaned forward on the table and clasped his hands together in a begging position.
"Pleeeease Max," he tried again. "Just let me have one sip of yours." He widened his eyes and pouted in what he hoped was a sympathy-inducing expression.
Max rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Fine, Wheeler. One sip." A grin spread over Mike's face as he leaned over towards the straw, slurping the sweet frozen beverage for several seconds before Max snatched it away. "I said one sip Mike!" she cried as she lifted the plastic lid and peeked at how much was left.
"That was one sip!" he exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at her. Max tried to glare at him but the corner of her mouth twitched up in a smile.
"It was enough to turn your tongue bright blue," she shot back. Mike flashed her an exaggerated smile before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
"Here, you can have some of this as payment," he said, holding up a kernel to toss at her. Max smiled as she leaned back and opened her mouth, easily catching the popcorn and crunching down on it before going back for more. This time she had to stand up to catch his higher toss but still managed to get it, grinning victoriously as Mike cheered.
"Excuse me," a voice from behind them interjected. They turned to see an elderly man from the bowling league standing behind them and smiling fondly. "I just wanted to say what a lovely couple you two make." Mike jerked his head back in surprise and looked at Max, both of them with bewildered expressions on their faces.
"Oh no, we're not-" Mike started.
"It's so nice to see young people having such wholesome fun," the man continued, cutting him off. "Everything is all reefer and alcohol with the youths these days!" Mike made eye contact with Max again, rubbing a hand over his mouth to keep himself from bursting into laughter.
Max plastered a sickly sweet grin on her face as she looked up at the old man. "Oh no, sir, we would never partake in such… deplorable activities." Mike faked a cough into his elbow, desperately trying to contain the laugh that was threatening to escape. The man smiled warmly at them again, reaching into his pocket and putting a folded dollar bill on the table.
"Why don't you two go get a chocolate milkshake after this on me?" They looked down at the bill in surprise before Max covered it with her hand and slid it toward herself.
"Thank you, sir. You are too sweet," she replied as the old man patted her on the shoulder and made his way back to his group. Mike and Max looked at each other in silence for a second before erupting into giggles, putting their heads down on the table as their shoulders shook with laughter.
"Oh man," Mike gasped as he lifted his head, wiping away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. "I thought I was going to lose it at the fake little girl voice you put on, what the hell was that?"
Max grinned as she took a final sip of her slushie and shrugged. "It was worth a dollar, is what the hell it was."
"You know you owe me half of that," Mike said, raising his eyebrows. She furrowed her brow in confusion as she stood and headed back to their lane.
"What do you mean? We're gonna time travel back to the 1950s and get a one-dollar milkshake at the malt shop after this," she winked at him as she went to pick a ball, rolling up the sleeves of her denim shirt.
Mike watched as his second throw knocked down every pin except one, groaning at the missed opportunity for a spare.
"Oh, gimme a break," Max muttered as she walked over to grab a ball. "At least yours don't end up in the gutter half the time." He gave her an apologetic smile, coming to stand beside her as she stepped up to the line and glared at the pins setting themselves up at the end of the lane.
"Dude, try it like this," he said, stepping his legs wide apart and miming throwing a ball from between them with straightened arms.
Max gave him a mortified look. "No way, that's so embarrassing." Mike stood up and crossed his arms.
"No one's looking, Max," he said, glancing back at the intensely focused senior bowlers. "Come on, it's your last turn. I know you want a strike." Max bit her lip and peered around before looking back down the lane where the triangle of gleaming white pins was taunting her. Mike stepped behind her and leaned in over her shoulder so he was right next to her face.
"Imagine how good it's gonna feel when all those little fuckers go toppling to the ground," he murmured, knowing she was on the verge of giving in to her fiercely competitive urges. He felt her body stiffen as she turned her head imperceptibly towards him. Then he felt her breath tickle his face, quickly backing up a few steps when he realized how much he'd invaded her personal space and feeling bad for making her uncomfortable.
Max didn't say anything about the odd moment, she just shook her head and redid her ponytail, glancing back at him with an unreadable expression on her face before turning back to face the pins.
She stepped her feet out wider than shoulder-width apart, lining herself up carefully with the center of the lane before bending forward at the hips. Taking a deep breath, she swung the ball back with both hands like a pendulum and gently released it, immediately crouching down to watch its journey.
Time felt like it was moving in slow motion as the purple ball rolled in a straight line down the middle of the lane. Mike chewed on his thumbnail as it approached the triangle of pins at what felt like a snail's pace. It looked like it was going to be a good shot, the ball just barely drifting to the right of center as it reached the middle pin, making contact and sending pins clattering in every direction. They both held their breath as the last pin on the left side bobbled back and forth for what felt like an eternity before finally tilting over and rolling into the pit behind the lane.
Mike let out a cheer as Max leapt to her feet, whirling around with an ecstatic expression on her face as she ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck. Mike stumbled backwards at the unexpected force, hesitating for a split second before wrapping his arms around her and spinning them both in a circle as they laughed. He brought them to a stop and lowered Max back down to her feet, both of them still holding each other as she grinned up at him with that familiar old sparkle back in her blue eyes.
They were snapped out of their reverie by the sound of the two teams in the lane next to them bursting into applause and cheering for Max's successful strike, both of them simultaneously whipping their heads toward the source of the commotion.
Suddenly, Max dropped her arms and stepped out of his grasp as if she'd been burned, her gaze dropping down to the floor and her cheeks flushing bright red. Mike cleared his throat and stepped backwards as well, realizing that was the first time they'd ever hugged each other intentionally. There's no reason for it to be weird, he thought to himself. Friends hug each other, it's fine. He looked down at Max who was running her fingers through the end of her ponytail and studiously avoiding his gaze as she seemed to look everywhere but at Mike.
"I'm uh, gonna go get in the shoe return line before it gets busy," she mumbled before practically sprinting for the counter towards the entrance. Mike sighed as he picked up a ball and went to take his last shot, knowing that casual physical contact was a big deal for someone as guarded as Max and feeling slightly disappointed that it meant her walls would probably go back up again for a short time. It made him sad that a simple hug between friends was enough to literally send her running.
He took a few steps to wind up and then released the ball, watching it fly down the lacquered wood and easily knock all the pins over in another strike. Mike turned around and saw Max watching him from the shoe rental counter, sharply looking away when they made eye contact. He glanced down at the screen as he walked by and saw the final score:
MEM: 91
MDW: 134
Nancy came back from California the Saturday before school started again.
Mike was lying on his bed, reading his history textbook and listening to a tape Max had lent him that she'd said was one of her all-time favourites. He heard the faint commotion of the front door banging open, followed by Nancy's suitcase bumping against the wall as their dad carried it upstairs, and the shrill voices of Holly and their mom as they welcomed her back, immediately demanding details of the trip. A while later there was a soft knock on his bedroom door.
"Come in," he called, lowering his headphones and sitting up as Nancy peeked her head into his room, giving him a nervous smile. "Welcome back," he said as she stepped fully through the door and took a seat on his desk chair, rolling it closer to the bed.
"Thanks," she replied.
Mike folded down the corner of the page he was on and tossed the book on his nightstand before turning his attention back toward his sister. "How was the trip?"
Nancy grinned and bit her lip, twirling a tendril of permed hair around her finger absentmindedly. "It was… really good." Her smile widened. "I'm so glad I got to see Jonathan, I really missed him. And we talked through some important things… Joyce was on some 'business trip' so I didn't get to see her, unfortunately," she added, putting air quotes around "business trip" as if she didn't believe that's where Joyce had really been. "Oh, and Will says hi, he told me to tell you he misses you. Well, the whole Party."
Mike nodded and pulled at a loose thread on his comforter, not wanting to acknowledge the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.
Nancy took a deep breath before holding out an envelope he hadn't noticed she'd had. "El asked me to give you this." He felt his stomach drop as he looked down at the slim, white rectangle. Nancy watched him with concern on her face as he slowly reached out and took the letter from her, his hand trembling slightly. "Mom says dinner's ready in ten minutes," she said quietly as she stood and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Mike stared at his name scrawled across the envelope in the familiar, slightly childish handwriting that he'd previously found so endearing. Now he found he barely felt anything at all. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it anxiously until he tasted the metallic tang of blood. He was torn between desperately wanting to know how El was doing and what she had to say, and not wanting to reopen a wound that had just barely scabbed over. He tapped the corner of the envelope against his knee while Kate Bush continued to sing faintly through the headphones around his neck.
He thought of Nancy's advice from several weeks ago about how wallowing would just make it harder to move on, and he realized she was right. It was time to leave the past in the past. Mike stood and walked across his room, looking at the unopened envelope one more time and letting out a deep breath as he tossed it into the trashcan under his desk. Then he pivoted on his heel and headed downstairs for dinner, closing the door firmly behind him before he could change his mind.