I crouch beside a pile of scrap metal, fingers trembling slightly as I work to secure it against the side of the bus. The cold air bites at my skin, but it's nothing in comparison to my brother's cold shoulder.

"That's not going to hold," he says over my shoulder, walking past me to join Steve on the other end of the bus.

"You could help me," I mutter, using my foot as a base to bend the sheet metal so that it fits flatter against the bus.

"Ah, jeez," Dustin sighs, looking at a non-existent watch on his wrist. His voice rises an octave, putting his hand on his hip to mock me, "I'm just so busy with my boyfriend that I don't really care what happens to you."

I stand up, letting the sheet metal fall with a thud against the dirt. Dustin takes a few steps back, but his look is still hard, a little jaded. "I said I was sorry," I snap, tossing my gloves onto the ground in frustration, "and I'm here now. What else do you want from me?"

"I want you to go home!" Dustin yells, pointing towards my truck. "Steve and I can handle this! I don't even know why I told you."

I cross my arms over my chest, planting my feet in the dirt a little firmer. "I'm not going home," I say evenly, "I made a mistake. It won't happen again."

The wind picks up, rustling the nearby bushes to scrape against a few of the abandoned cars. A shiver runs down my spine, but I don't know if it's from the cold, the thought of what's out there, or my brother's clear disdain for me.

"We're running out of time," Steve says, stepping between us. He gives Dustin a pointed look. "Grab more supplies, we've got to reinforce this by sundown." Then he turns to me, his voice firm. "Lacy, help me with the heavier pieces. No one's going anywhere until this is done right."

Dustin waves me off, stomping to the other side of the junkyard to gather more supplies. I sigh, blowing out the air with a forceful huff. "Don't look at me that way," I mutter towards Steve.

"I'm not looking at you in any way, Lace." he says, walking over to help me secure the scrap metal from earlier. He holds it in place as I stack the heavier pieces around its base.

"You are," I argue, digging a brick a little deeper into the dirt so it can't move. "You can say you're mad at me too. It seems to be the trend of the day."

"What?" Steve asks, his voice dipping a little in humor, "Don't tell me things didn't work out with Billy."

"If you already know, why are you asking?" I snap, standing up to meet his gaze. Dustin approaches from behind, rolling a large metal barrel towards us.

"Because he's an asshole, Lacy." Dustin says, before Steve can respond. "You can't really believe a guy like that likes you."

The words sting more than I'll ever admit to Dustin. I know Billy's trouble, but does Dustin really think so little of me?

"Oh my god," I snap, looking at Dustin, "when I want my kid brother's opinion on my love life I'll ask you, okay?"

Steve smirks, leaning against the barrel as he and Dustin exchange looks. "I mean, it's not really my place, but come on, Lacy. You don't think you can do better than Billy Hargrove?"

I roll my eyes, bending down to adjust the brick again, trying to hide the heat rising in my cheeks, "I don't need your opinion either."

"It's not really an opinion, I'm just concerned," he says, dragging out the last word with an exaggerated sense of care. "You know, as a friend, I want you to make better choices."

"Oh I'm sorry. Should I have gone for you instead?" I quip, standing up straight to meet his teasing gaze.

Steve's grin widens. "I mean, you can't do worse. I'm smart, athletic, and I have a great head of hair. Clearly I'm the full package."

Dustin snorts, glancing between Steve and me. "He uses the Farrah Fawcett hairspray, Lacy."

"Hey!" Steve raises his hands in mock offense, tossing a glance at me. "I told you that in confidence."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to date my sister either," Dustin says with a concerned glance in my direction.

I shake my head, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from twitching upward. "Why Farrah Fawcett?"

Steve pushes off the barrel, waving Dustin away so he can shove it into place against the bus. I inch over to stand near Dustin, who doesn't flinch away from me this time but instead looks up with a small smirk.

"He says it's because of the volume," Dustin explains, shooting me a conspiratorial grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, giving the barrel a final push. "I like the two of you better when you're fighting," he mutters, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Before I can respond, the sound of a bike skidding to a halt cuts through the air. My head snaps up just as Lucas and Max climb off of his bike, breathing heavily from their ride.

"I said medium-well!" Lucas yells, stepping over the pile of hamburger meat that Steve and Dustin have laid out in the middle of the junkyard.

"Who's that?" Steve asks, eyeing Max curiously. Dustin doesn't respond, but I notice the way my brother's shoulders slump, and Steve seems to too. "That's the girl, huh?" Steve asks, his voice lowering as Max and Lucas approach.

"What do you mean?" I ask, now studying Max and then Lucas a little closer.

"Don't worry about it," Dustin mutters, walking away from us and pulling Lucas off to the side. "We'll be right back," he says over his shoulder, ignoring Max completely.

I exchange a look with Steve, who shakes his head subtly, a promise to fill me in later. Max comes a little closer, keeping her hands jammed into her pocket as she looks around the junkyard. "What are you guys doing?" she asks, glancing towards our beginning barricade against the bus.

Steve looks at me, but I shrug my shoulders, unsure of how much Max might know. A jolt of anxiety twists in my stomach when Max locks eyes with me. Does she know I spent the night at her house? Slept in Billy's bed? About our argument this morning?

Her gaze lingers a moment too long, and my heart races. She has to know. I swallow hard, but before I can figure out what to say, Max speaks again,

"I know," she says, her voice surprisingly calm.

I flinch, my mind racing. Does she mean Billy? But she continues, her expression softening before adding, "Lucas told me everything about the Upside Down."

I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Oh," I swallow, nervously playing with the hem of my sweatshirt. "Right."

"Well," Steve clears his throat, "why don't you help Lacy finish over here? I'll bring some more stuff over."

Max watches Steve walk off before stepping closer, tugging her hands out of her pockets. "What exactly are we supposed to be doing?" she asks, eyeing the stack of scrap metal.

I offer a small smile, squatting back down to adjust the pile I've been working on. "Just trying to make sure nothing is able to get under the bus."

"You really believe this story?" Max snorts, dropping beside me to help anyway.

"I wouldn't," I admit, as Max hands me a well-used oil drip pan. She makes a face, wiping the residue off on her jeans. "But one of those things killed the family cat," I say, propping the pan into place, "so yeah, I believe them."

For a moment, we work in silence. She holds a piece of plywood into place while I shove a few more bricks underneath it to keep it stable.

"So…" Max finally says, her voice low enough that it doesn't carry to where the others are. "What's the deal with you and Billy?"

I freeze for a second, fingers pausing over the brick. I wasn't expecting her to ask so directly, but then again she is Billy Hargrove's step-sister. "Why?" I ask cautiously, glancing over at her. "Did he say something?"

Max shakes her head, her expression unreadable as she focuses on the task at hand. "No, he didn't say anything. He doesn't talk about stuff like that with me… but he never brings his dates to the house, even in California."

"Oh," I swallow, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again. "Can you roll that over here?" I ask, pointing towards one of the tires Steve has rolled down the hill.

Max does what I ask, but I can tell she's not done talking. There's a thin line between her brows, like she's trying to figure me out. "He looks at you differently, like you don't bug him."

I laugh, standing up to help her position the tire into place. "I don't know about that," I admit quietly. "We argue a lot. It's kind of messy."

Max raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, he's always been … kind of a dick. But it's worse now, since we moved, he's just angry."

"Did you two ever get along?" I ask, trying not to meet her gaze.

"We did," she sighs, glancing at Dustin, "not like you and Dustin, but we did in the beginning."

"So, he wasn't always like this?" I ask, putting my hands on my lips and finally studying Max's face a little closer.

"No," says, kicking at the tire, "When we first met, he tried at least, but well –" Max sighs, meeting my gaze, "he should probably tell you what happened."

I laugh in spite of the situation, "I don't think he will. I don't think I'll ever figure him out to that point."

"Yeah," Max shrugs, but there's a slight smile on her face, "you're not the only one."

Suddenly, a loud clang echoes across the junkyard, sending Max stumbling back. Instinct kicks in before I even realize it. My hands grip her jacket sleeve, pulling her behind me. My body tenses as I scan the area, eyes darting between the twisted heaps of metal, searching for any moment.

"Relax," Steve's voice cuts through the tension as he swings a folding chair, slamming it into a broken-down car. Lucas and Dustin are behind him, lightly bickering with Steve as they follow him across the clearing. I exhale sharply, shaking my head at Steve, my heart still racing.

Max tugs her sleeve from my grip, giving me a small nod. "Thanks," she mumbles, her eyes lingering on mine, and for a split second, there's a shift of understanding between us.

I nod back, swallowing the lump in my throat. "We should finish this," she says, turning her gaze toward Steve, Dustin, and Lucas.

Steve plots the folding chair onto the ground with a grunt. "Let's wrap this up. Sun's going down fast, and we need to be ready before it gets dark."

I glance at the sky, streaks of pink and orange are already fading into deep purples and blues. The temperature has dropped sharply, and with it, an unshakable sense of dread settles in my stomach.

Steve pulls a gas canister from the back of the bus, handing it to me. "We'll pour it around the bait," he says, pointing a trail through the clearing. "When they come through, we'll light them up."

I nod, setting the gas can down carefully. Max moves closer to me, her attention fixed on the boys who are busy securing the rest of the perimeter. "You really think this is gonna work?" Max's voice wavers slightly, her eyes darting between the barricade and the raw meat bair. She wraps her arms tight around herself, as if the cold air isn't the only thing chilling her.

I shrug, nudging her with my elbow and motioning for her to help me secure a piece of plywood. "It has to," I mutter, more to myself than Max. "We don't have much of a choice."

The next hour blurs into a frantic scramble as we pull together the last pieces of our makeshift barricade. Max is quiet beside me, her earlier curiosity about Billy replaced with a steely focus. I feel her tension – everyone's on edge.

Dustin and Steve work together to pour the gasoline in a ring around the pile of raw meat they've set out as bait. Lucas drops a match into the first, testing it with a flicker of flame before quickly snuffing it out with his boot.

"Alright, that's solid enough," Steve says, kicking a few points of the barricade with his shoe to test its strength. He steps back, scanning the perimeter, eyes narrowing as he takes in their work. "Lucas, get on top of the bus. If anything moves, shout immediately – don't wait."

The last traces of daylight vanish as we climb into the bus, and the temperature plummets further. Steve settles onto the floor of the bus, nodding his head for me to take the place next to him. I glance toward the sky again – darker now, the stars barely visible. A heavy silence falls over the junkyard, broke only by the occasional clang of metal in the wind.

I sit next to Steve, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to shake the feeling that something's coming. "So you really fought one of these things before?" Max asks, breaking the silence.

Steve exchanges a look with me, before nodding, flipping his lighter open and closed with a flick of his wrist. "And you're, like, totally 100% sure it wasn't a bear?" Max continues, crossing her arms over her chest.

I try to share a sympathetic grin with her, knowing that she probably feels like all of us are in on some elaborate joke against her. I wouldn't believe them either had I not seen Dart with my own two eyes.

"Shit." Dustin interrupts, "Don't be an idiot, okay? It wasn't a bear."

"Dustin," I warn, shooting my brother a look. He jams his hands into his pockets, kicking aimlessly at one of the torn seats of the bus.

"No, why are you even here if you don't believe us?" Dustin asks, ignoring me. I shoot Steve a look, but he's watching closely, studying both Max and Dustin.

"Is it past your bedtime?" Max asks, lifting her brows with a challenging glare. For a moment, she reminds me of Billy. Her tone is even, her body language is calm, but there seems to be a blaze behind her eyes – daring Dustin to continue.

We sit in tense silence, before Max finally stands up, brushing past Dustin without so much of another glance. She climbs up the ladder that leads to the roof of the bus where Lucas waits.

"What the hell was that about?" I ask, catching Dustin by his arm.

"Good job," Steve praises at the same time, "show her you don't care."

I shoot Steve a glare, feeling my jaw drop slightly at his advice. "Don't teach him that," I argue, flicking at him.

"Why?" Steve asks, flicking me back, "Isn't that why you like Hargrove? He pretends like he doesn't care."

I roll my eyes, pulling my knees a little closer to my chest. "He doesn't care," I mutter, looking at Steve and then Dustin, "which is why you shouldn't be an asshole like that."

"Oh come on," Steve teases, leaning back with a smirk. "Admit it, girls like the bad boys."

I roll my eyes, giving him a playful shove. "It's more complicated than that," I mutter, but I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"Complicated, right," Steve grins, flipping the lighter closed again. "You sure he's not just –"

"Can we not?" I interrupt. The last thing I need is more jabs about Billy right now. "Dustin doesn't need to treat girls like crap for them to like him."

My brother lets out a huff, clearly still bothered by Max, but says nothing as he sits down beside me, glancing up at the rood of the bus like he's waiting for a sign.

The air around us grows heavier with each passing minute, the darkness completely taking over the junkyard. The silence stretches out, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the bus swaying in the wind.

I sit up, peeking out the window at the pile of raw meat in the distance. "Do you think they're coming?" I whisper, feeling Dustin shift to look out with me. His shoulder brushes against mine briefly and I feel myself leaning in closer to my brother, searching for comfort in his presence.

"They're coming," Steve says, his voice steady, but there's a tension in his posture now, one hand now on his bat, "we just need to stay patient."

As if on cue, a distant growl echoes through the junkyard. It's faint at first, but it grows louder with a methodical ticking, a deep guttural sound that makes my skin crawl.

"Do you see him?" Steve asks, joining at the window, nudging me slightly to get a better look.

"No," Dustin and I mutter at the same time. The fog has rolled around us, creating a heavy haze in the distance that makes it hard to see past a few feet.

"Ten o'clock!" Lucas yells down from the roof of the best, and we shift, searching in the haze.

"He's not taking the bait," Dustin observes, pointing towards a figure looming in the darkness. "Why? Why wouldn't he take the bait."

"Not hungry?" I shrug, watching as Steve reaches for his bat. The motion is so slow, so deliberate that I know that Steve has come to a conclusion before Dustin or I have.

"He's sick of cow," Steve mutters, backing away from us and towards the door.

"You're not going out there," I argue, following him to the doors, but Steve holds up a hand, holding out the lighter for me.

For a second, I just stare at it, the small cold object suddenly feeling too heavy in my hand. I glance at Steve, his jaw clenched, eyes searching for any sign of movement outside, the grip on his bat tightening with the tension.

"Lacy, get by the door and be ready," Steve says, his grip firm on my sleeve. His voice leaves no room for hesitation. "I'll lure them in. You light it up – no delay."

As he steps toward the door, the air thickens. A low growl ripping through the clearing in the distance, sending chills up my spine. My heart pounds against my ribs, but Steve's calm certainty brings me back. "No second chances, Lacy. You can do this."

"Steve," I start, feeling my lips press together with uncertainty.

"Lacy," he interrupts, "I'll be right out there, but we have to get this done."

My fingers tighten around the lighter, my thumbs hovering over the flint. For a moment, I consider handing the lighter back to Steve. A cold shiver running down my spine, and my mind races with thoughts I don't want to entertain.

I glance at Dustin beside me, watching the haze roll in closer, his eyes wide with focus as he tracks the demodog through the fog. I wonder if he's scared. I wonder if he knows I'm terrified.

It hits me – he's grown up, ready to face monsters without hesitation. My little brother, but not a child anymore. The realization steadies me. There's no more second chances. I grip the lighter tighter, meeting Steve's gaze with a firm nod.

"Fuck it," I sigh, following Steve down the steps of the bus . He glances at me, a small smirk appearing on his face as he rolls his shoulders back, "Let's see how good you really are with this bat, Harrington."