Christmas, 1975

"You're sure no one is home?"

"What did I already say, kid?"

"That the people who live here are out of town."

"Does that mean anyone is home?"

It means the family isn't here. It doesn't mean no one is here, is what Eddie thought.

"No," is what Eddie said. He'd leaned when to keep his mouth shut.

"No," his dad repeated, and pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket. "Now, see how your old man does it."

Eddie watched the metal head maneuvering around the latch until it popped, then closed his eyes and repeated the motion in his mind. When he opened his eyes, his dad was watching him.

"Remember how I did that?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good." He reached out and ruffled Eddie's hair. "You'll do the next one. Now," making a stirrup with his hands, "up you get."

The boost made it easy for Eddie to push the window open and then pull himself through it. He tried to get his feet down quietly, but let go of the ledge too soon. Unbalanced, he tipped forward and winced as his knees hit the floor with a thud.

"Too clumsy, kid," his dad whispered as he pulled himself through the window and stepped to the floor with ease. "We need to work on that."

Eddie nodded as he stood. His eyes watered from the sharp sting in his kneecaps, and he was glad it was too dark for his dad to notice. He blinked a few times as the room came into focus. A long couch and two high-backed chairs, a tall bookcase against the wall, a fireplace with a mantle, and, in the corner, a Christmas tree. It was a real tree. Eddie could smell it from halfway across the room. It was a sharp scent, but good.

"Alright," his dad spoke in a low voice. "You're my lookout, kid, so stay here, keep your eyes and ears peeled. If you see someone going by?"

"Stay low," Eddie whispered. "Keep quiet."

"Right. And if someone approaches the house?"

"I give the signal: one whistle."

"Then?"

"Then I get out and run like hell."

"Good boy," he grinned, a flash of teeth in the dark room. He slipped into the house's shadows, leaving only his voice. "I'll be quick."

Eddie crouched at the window, as small and quiet as he could make himself, and waited. He was supposed to be watching the road, and he did watch it, but he also looked around the room. He tried to imagine what it would be like to live in a house like this, to sit on furniture that didn't sag, walk on carpets soft to the touch. To have space and privacy, not have to smell what your neighbors cooked for dinner or hear strangers shouting through walls. It would probably be nice, he thought, until someone broke into your house to rob you while you were away. But that would just be a bad day. Most other days, he imagined, would probably be nice. More than nice.

And even though it had been several years since he stopped believing in any benevolent force that listened to your hopes, and even though he knew it was stupid to want things you could never have, Eddie wished, secretly, for a different life, a different home, and a different family. He turned his eyes back to the window and tried not to notice the comfortable room where he didn't belong.

Christmas, 1985

"Dude, you'd better know how to set all this up." Eddie glared at Dustin over the top of the stereo cabinet and tried to shift his hands into a more comfortable position. The weight of the wooden chest felt like it was pulling his arms out of joint, and its sharp corners bit into the skin of his hands. Dustin, holding the other end, only grunted in reply, and pointed with his chin towards an empty spot against the wall of his living room. The two of them shuffled over and put it down on the floor with a reverberating thud.

"It's already set up," Dustin wheezed. "I made it myself in shop class from old equipment and spare parts Mr. Clarkson helped me find. It works perfectly. I just need to plug it in." With that, he held up the cord and shoved the prongs into the outlet. "Aaand," he clicked a button and a little red light illuminated, "voila."

"Hmm," Eddie noised, looking skeptically at the turn table and tape deck connected through a nest of wires to the twin speakers on either side.

"I'll prove it to you. Just wait." Dustin rushed around a corner and Eddie heard the descending thuds of what he assumed were basement stairs.

Eddie stretched and rubbed his shoulders as he turned slowly in place. It was a nice house and would have been spacious if it weren't for all the Christmas decorations. The furniture was squeezed together to make room for a tree that looked like it might topple over from the weight of all the ornaments in its branches, and every flat surface was topped with a ceramic angel or plush snowman or wooden nutcrackers, or some combination of all three. It was too much, and it made Eddie smile.

At the click of a door latch, Eddie almost bolted from the house on instinct. He wasn't supposed to be there. The thudding of Dustin's feet on the stairs kept him in place as the front door swung open and a short woman with her arms full of grocery bags bustled in.

"Dusty," she called, "there's a van in our driveway. Do you know-"

"Mom!" Dustin appeared from around the corner just in time. "I didn't think you'd be home yet. Surprise!" He tried to gesture at the stereo cabinet, but he was holding a box of vinyls in his hands, so he used his elbow. "Merry Christmas, Mom!"

"Oh, Dusty," she hurriedly placed the grocery bags on the floor and stepped closer to the cabinet, staring. "But what did this cost?"

"Almost nothing, Mom, I promise. I made it. And it works. Watch this." Dustin placed the box on the floor and, from a dusty cardboard cover with a picture of a smiling blonde lady, pulled out a record. In a few seconds he had placed the vinyl on the turntable, set it spinning, and dropped the needle in to place. Sure enough, the speakers crackled to life, and Dustin's creation played music. The song was orchestral and old-fashioned, but the sound was clear as a bell.

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be? Will I be pretty, will I be rich? Here's what she said to me…

"See," Dustin said, "now you can finally play all your old records that have just been sitting in the basement!" He smiled that unusual smile, with his eyes nearly closed behind his apple cheeks.

Dustin's mother grabbed her own cheeks for a moment, then reached for her son's, kissing his face. "Oh, my sweet little pumpkin! Aren't you the smartest, most thoughtful and wonderful boy in the world. This is the best Christmas present I've ever had."

…The future's not ours to see, que sera, sera. What will be, will be…

Something knocked against Eddie's ankle. He jumped and bit back a curse. Looking down, he saw a cat winding between his feet. When he looked up, Eddie realized his movement had shifted Mrs. Henderson's attention away from Dustin on to him.

"Mom, this is Eddie," Dustin's smile was still in place while he talked. "He drove the stereo cabinet here in his van and helped me set it up."

"Oh," her voice faded into a whisper as her eyes swept from Eddie's unkempt hair over his leather jacket to his torn jeans and then back up again. "Well, then." A tightness that had started pulling down the corners of her mouth relaxed as her eyes lingered on his face. "I've heard a lot about you, Eddie. Any friend of Dustin's is welcome here."

"It's no problem," Eddie shrugged, working hard to keep his eyes from straying to the door. He didn't belong here.

…When I grew up and fell in love, I asked my sweetheart, what lies ahead?…

Mrs. Henderson stepped closer to him. "What are they feeding you? You're nothing but skin and bones." To Eddie's horror, she reached up and grabbed the skin of his cheek between her thumb and fingers. "We need to fatten you up," she added, patting the side of his face she had pinched.

"Mom," Dustin groaned, "he's not a turkey."

Mrs. Henderson clicked her tongue and made a shooing gesture at Dustin before turning around and picking up the groceries.

"You boys go wash up while I make you a snack."

Eddie's keys were already in his hand and he stepped towards the door, ready to apologize and get out of there, but he hesitated.

…tell them tenderly, que sera sera, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see…

Mrs. Henderson was already in the kitchen and Dustin was still smiling, and the house looked and smelled like Christmas, and it was hard to leave. So he stayed.

Over an hour later, full of sandwiches and cookies, Eddie stepped in to his trailer. It was quiet and dark, and he felt restless. Wayne had brought home a poinsettia which was now in the middle of the kitchen table. It was nice, but Eddie wanted more. It took some digging, but he finally found a cardboard box marked XMAS squashed in the back of a closet. The cracked ornaments weren't really good without a tree, but the tangled strings of Christmas lights still worked, and that was enough.

When Wayne stepped in the door, he found Eddie quietly (for once) practicing his guitar in the living room instead of in his bedroom. Strands of lights stretched across the ceiling, and the warm glow of their colors made everything look nice and warm against the cold dark night outside.

"D'you do all this?" he asked his nephew.

Eddie didn't stop playing his guitar, but shrugged and nodded at the same time.

"Well," Wayne took off his cap and tapped Eddie on the shoulder with it as he walked in. "Merry Christmas, kid."

Eddie didn't answer, but he smiled.

In another home in Hawkins, by a Christmas tree, Chrissy sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by her presents. There were two jewelry boxes, one with a pair of pearl earrings from her father, and the other with a gold pendant of the number 86 from Jason. Cody had given her a picture of the two of them as children in a frame he'd made. She could't remember when the picture had been taken, but they both looked happy in it. From Mom, there was a green silk dress bought from a shop in Indianapolis. It was a prom dress. Never mind that Chrissy had already set her heart on a dress she had tried on at the department store and was planning to buy for herself. That dress was rose pink with a silver belt and a skirt that flared out like a ballerina's. It had a scattering of little silver rhinestones worked into the tulle so that the whole dress shimmered when she moved in it. Chrissy thought the pink dress was fun and sweet. Her mother said that the color didn't do her any favors and that the silhouette was a little too girlish for a prom dress. The green dress was stunning, no one could argue that. The fabric was smooth and shiny, the color deep and beautiful. The green would bring out her eyes and set off her hair. It was a mermaid cut, so it would be tight all the way down to her knees and leave almost nothing of her figure to the imagination. Chrissy ran her fingers over the beautiful green dress, and allowed herself a sigh over the silly pink one that she had no reason to buy now. Just one sigh, then she decided to stop thinking about it. There wasn't any point in being sad over a dress. It was just prom, after all.

"Sweetie," Mom called, "why don't you try on that dress and see how it fits."

Chrissy ran her fingers around the lining until she found the tag and turned it over to look at the size. Her stomach clenched as she blinked at the number, and when she kept blinking she said that she'd been looking at the tree too long and the lights were making her eyes water. Moving to a darker corner, she checked the clock and counted the minutes until she could go to her room. She just wanted to be alone.

Spring, 1986

Eddie thought only about keeping out of sight, and nothing else. Not what had just happened at the lake, not what would happen if he met Jason again, nothing except not getting caught. He ran deeper in to the woods until he could no longer hear Jason's screams. Just when he started to feel winded and slowed down, he heard sirens, and kept running. Even when he lost track of the sirens, there were still noises everywhere around him - rustling, slithering, trilling sounds of animals that all sounded like threats. Eventually he found himself stumbling more than running, and knew he had to stop. He felt his way into a dense copse and sat on the roots of a tree, leaning back against its trunk. He listened to the blood rushing in his ears and his own breathing for a while. Everything was wet with lake water and sweat and tears. He peeled off his jacket, shook out his hair like a dog, and wondered how people caught pneumonia as he sat shivering and rubbing his arms.

What next? He considered leaving, thought about getting as far away as possible on whatever he could steal or beg. Too late. That's probably what he should have done days ago. He might even have gotten away with it then, but it felt impossible now. Not because he would have to live rough, but because it would mean knowingly leaving Vecna to terrorize and kill a bunch of kids and maybe all of Hawkins, and Eddie couldn't do that.

That meant staying, which meant he needed help, which meant he needed to somehow find the only people who could help him. He couldn't go looking for them, so he needed to tell them where he was. Which meant he had to think of a plan. Thinking turned into fitful dozing until the animal noises around him changed. The shift in tone brought Eddie out of his half-sleep, and he saw the first orange light of dawn filtering through the trees. Even though he couldn't remember exactly how he had come up with it, he woke up with a plan. As the sun rose, Eddie wandered and listened until he heard cars. Staying well back from the road, he walked parallel to it towards the direction of town until he heard people and machines. Following his ears to a construction site, he thanked his first piece of good luck. All he had to do was stay low and keep quiet. When the opportunity came, he crept to an abandoned belt, grabbed its walkie, and ran like hell. He had to go somewhere recognizable but hidden, and had already decided on the place.

By the time he reached Skull Rock, the adrenaline that had carried him through the triumph of his early morning theft was wearing off, leaving him drained and shaky. Hoping that his little bit of luck would hold out, he scanned the radio frequencies, stopping at intervals to call out the names he hoped would answer.

"Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?"

"Eddie! Holy shit, are you okay?"

At the sound of Henderson's voice, Eddie could have wept with relief.

"Nah man," he laughed to keep from crying, "pretty goddamn far from okay." Still shaking, he told them where he was, and they promised to come find him.

Breathing deep to settle his nerves, he rubbed his hands over his face. His plan had worked. For once, he'd done something right. Eddie wouldn't be alone for long. He just had to wait.