XLVII

When Henry sees Eleven arrive with teary eyes and a red nose, he drops everything he's doing to run up to her and grab her by the shoulders. "Eleven, what happened? Tell me."

However, what she needs right now is to be comforted. And that's why she wraps her arms around him and rests her head against his chest.

"Oh, dear," Henry murmurs, and from where she is, Eleven feels the words rather than hear them. "Come here."

As if she weighed nothing, he picks her up in his arms and carries her to the living room sofa, where he gently deposits her. He, for his part, is already pulling himself back up, when…

"No," Eleven protests, balling a fist around his white shirt. "Please…"

Henry laughs without really meaning it and relents wordlessly, sitting down next to her. Eleven rests her head against his shoulder, and he takes advantage of their position to put an arm behind her back, pulling her closer to him.

"I'm here, sweetheart," he assures her in a whisper. "Now tell me everything."

Once Eleven has finished her sorrowful tale, the two remain silent. Slowly, the girl places one of her hands against Henry's chest, feeling the relaxed way it rises and falls with each breath.

"What… are you thinking?" she asks him in a whisper.

"I'm thinking about what you've told me, of course," he says, extracting the arm encircling her to play with her curls. "I'm sorry about your friend's situation, but I think you cannot do much about it."

"There must be something," Eleven says stubbornly. "I don't want… I don't want him to hurt her… anymore…"

"Hm, well, a solution comes to mind," Henry ponders, "but I don't think you'll quite like it…"

"Not that," she rebuts instantly, a pout forming on her face before she can help it.

This does nothing but make him laugh softly. "You know my way of dealing with rabid dogs."

Eleven pulls away from him and looks at him with the accusation written in her gaze. "By… that logic… you murdered children," she reminds him. "And your… your family… Billy is… hurting Max. It's bad, yes, but it's not… the same."

If her words offend him, Henry doesn't show it. He just shrugs and explains: "Yes, of course, but what sets me apart from a rabid dog is precisely the fact that I did what I did to obtain something. Instead, what does this Billy gain by mistreating his younger sister or threatening to run over his classmates?"

Eleven reflects on his words. Beyond the justification that he gives to his actions—and she knows it would be useless to call him out once again concerning a subject that Henry, simply, has already considered settled—his words give her an interesting idea.

"Henry," she says to him then, "could I invite Max to spend the night this Friday?"

The next day, Eleven silently watches her friend. And, while anyone else would think that there is nothing out of the ordinary, she notices Max's dark circles and her somewhat languid posture.

"How was… yesterday?" she asks her as the two of them walk to PE class.

"Oh? Fine, normal. Boring, as always." She shrugs, then changes the subject: "By the way, did you finish your math homework? There's an exercise that I am not very sure about and…"

Eleven lets the topic slide and responds to her query.

She knows the right time will come.

Indeed, the opportunity arrives as soon as the bell that signals the recess rings.

"Max," she calls her, taking advantage of the fact that they have both been left alone in the classroom while they collect their school supplies. "I want to invite you… to sleep at my house. This Friday," she clarifies.

For a moment, her friend freezes; her red hair falls like a curtain that hides her expression. After a few moments, she pushes her locks away from her face and asks: "Are you inviting me to a sleepover, El?"

"Yes," she admits, smiling shyly at her. "I guess… so."

Max grins and gives her a playful smack on the shoulder. "Awesome."

Now that she's finally invited Max to her house, as she and her friends eat lunch in the cafeteria, Eleven realizes that there's one last loose end she has forgotten about.

"Hey," Max whispers in her ear when the boys are distracted, "is there something going on with you and Mike? He's been staring at you all day…"

The words of her friend bring her back to earth.

Ah.

There is still an issue to be resolved. Eleven is still weighing her options when she feels someone gently touch her on the shoulder.

Turning around, standing behind her—and when has he moved, exactly? She hadn't noticed—she sees Mike.

"Jane." Mike's smile displays his nervousness clearly. "Could I talk to you… alone?" he adds as he notices Max's watchful gaze.

Eleven nods, gets up, and follows him to the courtyard.

When they get far enough from the door that leads into the school, Mike stops and turns to look at her; Eleven instinctively looks down.

"I wanted… to talk about yesterday."

"Okay," she agrees, never taking her eyes off her shoes. "Let's talk."

She hears Mike's deep sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he says with a rueful tone. "It's just… I witnessed a similar scene, too. And I went straight to talk to Max, which almost led to an even more serious scene with her stepbrother.

"She got really upset with me," he continues, "and she made me promise not to meddle again and not to tell anyone."

Eleven listens quietly.

"So, I stopped you because I sensed that you were going to… Well, I thought the same thing that happened to me was going to happen to you." Eleven looks up just in time to see Mike swallow hard. "I couldn't tell you," he insists. "It was a promise and… well, now it doesn't matter anymore, because you already know. And it wasn't because I wanted to, I didn't want to hide it from you or from anyone, but…"

"But Max asked you to," Eleven repeats, feeling devastated at the thought of her friend keeping such a secret to herself.

"Yeah, exactly." Mike nods in agreement. "And I had to respect her privacy, you know? And that's why…"

She offers him a slight smile upon hearing the nervousness in his voice. Mike falls silent when he sees her expression.

"Jane…" he murmurs after a brief pause, and Eleven can hear the plea in his voice clearly.

"It's okay," she finally answers, deciding that enough is enough. "It's fine, I understand. And I'm sorry… for not listening to you."

"No problem," he assures her in turn, waving his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I understand you were shocked by what you saw and… And, well, that." He moves his hands forward and lets them fall in order to illustrate his uncertainty.

Eleven notices the boy in front of her, then, for the first time: his black eyes, his white skin, his upturned nose, and his freckles.

And she finds him adorable.

"Friends?" Mike finally asks, hand outstretched.

Eleven doesn't miss a beat: "Friends," she agrees as she shakes his hand.