LIX
It's only a couple of days later that Eleven realizes she doesn't own any appropriate clothes for the dance.
She tells Henry as much.
"Maybe you could ask Joyce to go dress shopping with you?" he advises. "I'll cover the cost, of course, but as for the dress code…"
Eleven knows how difficult it is for Henry to even hint—let alone admit—that there are areas in which his knowledge is limited, so to speak—fashion being one of them—so she doesn't comment on it except to accept his advice.
With that in mind, that same afternoon she goes to Melvald's General Store. Luckily for her, the last customer of the day is about to leave with bag-loaded hands when she enters.
"Jane!" Joyce's smile is contagious. "Nice to see you! How can I help you? I'm about to close, but maybe I could be of help anyway…"
"Hello, Joyce," Eleven greets her. Then, she adds: "I need… a favor."
They agree to go shopping on Saturday morning. However, the search proves fruitless: none of Hawkins' only three youth clothing stores appear to stock appropriate attire.
"At least, not any tasteful ones," Joyce says ruefully as they rest a bit, sitting on a wooden bench in front of the last store they've visited.
Eleven looks down: she has no idea what is or isn't tasteful, but she trusts Joyce's judgement. Precisely, she has come with her so as not to end up buying any eyesore. And if there's nothing that seems right to her…
"Hey, Joyce."
They both look up at the approaching man. Eleven scrambles to her feet, instinctively on guard: after her experience in the lab, she doesn't trust any man who works for the government.
Not even Joyce's best friend.
"Hey, Hop." Joyce raises her hand in greeting as she abandons the bench.
"Shopping, huh?" comments "Hop" with both hands in his jacket's pockets.
"Oh, yes, this is Jane." Joyce nudges her to urge her to say hello; Eleven just nods and looks at the ground again, wary of attracting attention. "Henry's cousin, remember? They moved a few years ago to the mansion on the hill…"
The man's expression is comical, somewhere between amused and surprised.
"Ah, yes, how could I forget that…"—he seems to look without success for an adjective to describe her home—"house? Nice to meet you, Jane. Name's Jim Hopper."
He doesn't mention he is the local police chief; he doesn't need to, as his uniform and the gold insignia on his chest give him away.
"Nice to meet you…"
"The thing is," Joyce explains before Hopper can comment on her shyness, "this year will be Jane's first time attending the Snow Ball."
"They still doing that?" grumbles the sheriff.
Joyce playfully stabs him with her elbow and clicks her tongue: "Don't be like that!"
"Hey, just asking!"
"Mike… he said it's very cheesy," Eleven suddenly comments.
Joyce and Hopper go silent and fix their eyes on her. After a few moments, they break into laughter.
"Mike Wheeler? You going with him to the dance?" Hopper asks her; Eleven nods. "That kid is quite the character."
"I'm sure he doesn't hold a candle to young Hopper," Joyce teases, still laughing.
"No, I guess not," the officer admits with a sigh, removing a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "So… had any luck?"
As the policeman takes puff after puff on his cigarette, Joyce explains in detail their shopping spree and why absolutely none of the dresses they've found are suitable "for a girl of Jane's age".
"I mean, if I wanted to make her look like she's forty, alright, I guess she could take that yellow monstrosity." She nods toward the window of the last store they've visited. "But no one deserves that, not really."
Eleven is surprised at the patience with which Hopper listens to the whole story—he doesn't strike her as the type of man particularly interested in fashion; she assumes this is not because the account of their outings intrigues him, but rather out of sincere affection for Joyce.
Sort of like when Henry attentively listens to her talking about her favorite movies. Just like that, she likes Hopper a bit more than before.
"And what are you going to do?" the man finally asks, tossing his cigarette to the ground to stomp it out. "If the dance is just in a few days…"
"Ugh, don't remind me." Joyce pouts as she pushes a few brown locks out of her face. "I really have no idea: if there was time, I could maybe alter some of those awful things in there, but with the dance just around the corner…?"
"Well," Hopper mutters, staring straight ahead, "maybe I can offer a solution."