Dove's bedroom was a mess of almosts and maybes—a space caught between who she was and who she thought she could be, if only Hawkins didn't feel so small. An old beanbag slumped in the corner beneath a mountain of clothes she'd meant to put away. On her dresser sat a small stack of travel books, mostly borrowed from the library, with bookmarks poking out from places she dreamed of visiting: the Pacific coast, the Arizona desert, maybe even New York. Next to the books was a scuffed Polaroid camera, a compass she'd picked up on a family camping trip, and a few rocks she'd collected from different spots around town, each one a reminder of her plans to go farther someday.
Above her desk, a corkboard was dotted with scattered snapshots and a list she'd scribbled in bright red marker at the start of summer, each item a hope that this summer would be different:
Try something new
Get out of Hawkins for a day
Finish a book that isn't for school
Do something bold
The goals stared back at her now, making her feel like they were mocking her. She'd meant for this summer to be different. She wanted to be different. Instead, she'd spent the summer nose-deep in her schoolwork, reading about adventures instead of living them, rehearsing answers to questions no one was asking yet.
From the kitchen, her mom's voice broke through the quiet. "Dove, honey! Don't forget to pick up groceries!"
Groceries. Again. Dove tucked the list from the kitchen counter into her pocket and headed out the door. She walked past the same little houses, each one almost identical, the same neighbors out mowing lawns or waving hello, the same kids zooming by on bikes. The whole town felt like it was stuck on repeat, and she couldn't shake the feeling that, if she stayed here, she'd be stuck on the same loop forever too.
At the grocery store, she moved on autopilot, tossing milk, eggs, and bread into the cart. As she passed the magazine rack, though, she grabbed a cheap travel magazine, flipping to a random page that featured a bright spread of New Orleans. On a whim, she tossed it into the cart along with a Three Musketeers bar for Dustin, knowing he'd be expecting one when she got home. Maybe these small choices weren't much, but they felt like little acts of rebellion, tiny steps toward something she hoped was waiting just beyond the limits of Hawkins.
Back home, Dustin was at the kitchen table, rambling on about a new project he and his friends were working on. Dove half-listened as she unloaded the groceries, letting his enthusiasm wash over her. Dustin always seemed to have some exciting plan, some new scheme that made Hawkins feel just a bit more alive. She envied that, the way he was always diving into something. She thought she knew her purpose, had her path, but lately, it felt too straight, too predictable. She was hungry for something different.
"Dusty, can you help your sister with the groceries, please?" their mom called from the living room, eyes still on the TV.
Dustin jumped up without missing a beat, grabbing bags from the counter. As he passed, Dove handed him the Three Musketeers she'd picked up for him, like she did every week.
"Thanks," he said, unwrapping it with an easy grin. "You know, this is the highlight of grocery day for me." As he took a bite, he looked at her curiously. "You should come hang out with us sometime. We're working on something way cooler than grocery duty."
Dove managed a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
Maybe. It lingered between them, a word that sounded like a promise she'd never keep. She wasn't part of Dustin's world, and maybe she wasn't meant to be. But part of her couldn't help but wonder if there was a world out there she belonged to, one where she could feel that same thrill, that same buzz of excitement Dustin seemed to carry with him everywhere.
Later that night, Dove lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, the fan spinning lazily above her. The familiar creaks and hums of the house drifted around her, comforting yet heavy, like they were pinning her in place. The list on her corkboard seemed to mock her from across the room.
She had been waiting all summer for something to happen, for something to break the monotony, but nothing had come. She was sick of waiting, sick of feeling like a side character in her own story.
As the last light of the day slipped away, casting shadows that stretched across her room, Dove made herself a quiet promise. She wasn't sure what it would be, but something was going to change. She couldn't keep watching the world go by, couldn't keep waiting for life to happen to her.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would try to do something different. Something exciting. Maybe she'd go somewhere new, try something she hadn't before. She couldn't keep living this way, waiting for life to happen to her.
Her chance came sooner than she expected.
The walk home from the grocery store was as uneventful as ever. Dove moved along the same cracked sidewalks, past the same quiet houses, the rhythm so familiar she didn't even need to look. Sunlight beat down on her shoulders, and the air buzzed with the relentless hum of cicadas, thick and heavy with summer heat. The grocery bags cut into her fingers, sending a dull ache up her arms, but she barely noticed anymore. It was just part of the routine—like everything else in Hawkins.
A deep, rumbling engine pulled her out of her thoughts. The sound was out of place here—too loud, too reckless. Dove glanced over her shoulder, curious, and froze when she saw the sleek, black Camaro rolling up beside her. Its paint gleamed in the sunlight, catching her off guard. A car like that didn't belong in Hawkins.
Behind the wheel was a guy she didn't recognize—probably her age, maybe a little older. His blond hair was a tousled mess, and he leaned out the window with an easy, self-assured smirk that was somehow both cocky and magnetic. He looked like he knew he didn't fit in here, and he didn't care.
"Need a ride?" he called out, his voice smooth, tinged with an amusement that didn't quite match the quiet streets.
Dove stopped, clutching the grocery bags a little tighter as she looked at him. She'd never seen him before, and in a town like Hawkins, that meant something. Everyone knew everyone here. So who was this guy?
The car idled beside her, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer.
"C'mon," he said, nodding to the empty seat. "It's way too hot to be hauling those bags. Let me give you a lift."
Her heart was pounding, but not entirely out of fear. There was something thrilling about this moment. She'd spent all summer waiting for a chance to shake things up, to feel like something, anything, was different. And here he was, a stranger in a black Camaro, like he'd been conjured up by her restless mind.
Still, her instincts told her to be careful. She didn't know him, and the last thing she wanted was to get in over her head. But he looked at her with a mix of humor and curiosity that made her hesitate.
"Don't tell me you're scared," he teased, his smirk widening. "I don't bite."
Dove took a steadying breath, her mind racing through all the reasons she should just say no, keep walking, ignore the tug of curiosity. But wasn't this what she'd been wanting—something unexpected?
Without giving herself a chance to second-guess it, she replied, "Sure."
She tossed the bags into the backseat, slid into the passenger side, and closed the door with a soft click. The interior of the car was surprisingly cool, carrying a faint scent of cigarette smoke mixed with a sharper, musky cologne. The radio hummed low in the background with a rock song she didn't recognize.
The guy gave her a quick grin as he eased the car back onto the road. "I'm Billy, by the way. Just moved here," he said, tossing her a glance that felt easy, like they'd known each other for years.
"I'm Dove," she replied, a bit shyly. The way he looked at her made her feel unsteady, like the simplest words might come out wrong.
"Dove," he repeated, his mouth curling into a lopsided smile. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."
A flush crept up her cheeks as she looked out the window, trying to play it cool. She could feel his eyes on her, sizing her up with a kind of confidence that was both intimidating and magnetic.
"So, you always haul the groceries home alone?" he asked casually, glancing back at the bags in the backseat. "No boyfriend to help you out?"
Dove blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Boyfriend?" she echoed, feeling a slight thrill at the implication. "No, no boyfriend. Just me. I was running errands for my mom."
Billy smirked, nodding as if he'd expected that answer. "Didn't think so," he said, his tone teasing, with just enough warmth to make her heart race a little. "You seem like the independent type."
She bit her lip to keep from smiling too much, her face warming at the compliment. She wasn't used to guys paying her this kind of attention, especially someone like him—confident, good-looking, a complete mystery.
They turned onto her street, and her house came into view far sooner than she'd expected. For a brief moment, she wished the ride had been just a little longer. Billy, though, didn't look in a hurry to let her go. He eased the car to a stop in front of her house but leaned back in his seat, one arm draped over the steering wheel as he looked at her with that same amused, curious glint.
"You know," he started, tilting his head slightly. "I could use someone to show me around town. If you're not too busy running errands, that is."
Her pulse quickened, and she felt a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You sure Hawkins has anything worth seeing?" she teased, trying to play it cool, even though the thought of spending more time with him made her heart race.
Billy shrugged, his grin widening. "I have a feeling you'd make it interesting."
Trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, Dove grabbed a pen from her bag and scribbled her number on the back of the grocery receipt, handing it to him with a steady hand. "I'll think of something," she said, her voice warm with a hint of excitement.
He took the receipt, tucking it into his pocket with a satisfied look. "I'll be waiting," he replied, his voice carrying the same quiet thrill she felt buzzing in her chest.
Dove grabbed the grocery bags from the backseat, her pulse still racing as her feet hit the pavement. The sun was still beating down, but it felt different now, like the air around her had shifted, charged with a kind of energy she couldn't quite name.
She watched Billy's Camaro rumble down the street, the sound of the engine lingering in her ears even after he disappeared around the corner. The knot of unease was still there, but it was tangled with something else—an excitement that sparked and flickered inside her, a feeling she hadn't felt all summer.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this was exactly what she'd been hoping for: something new. Something unpredictable.
For a moment, Dove just stood there, grocery bags in hand, feeling the weight of her decision settle over her. She had no idea what might come next, or if she was ready for it. But right now, that didn't matter.
With one last glance down the empty street, she turned and walked up the front steps, her mind still buzzing. Inside, her mom's voice floated out from the kitchen, and she could hear Dustin's laughter somewhere in the house. Home was just as she'd left it.
But as Dove opened the door, she couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change.