CXXVIII

I guess I should explain myself better. Well, I know Henry could not be described as a "good person". He's done too much damage—and he's been damaged as well—for him to be one.

I understand that, and so far, I'm trying to accept it.

One more month of nothing happening: one more month of the other Henry showing no signs of life, one more month of Eleven keeping silent.

He's noticed that she's developed the habit of journaling, and he supposes it relieves her enough. If that's the case, he won't rebuke her—right now, anyway, there are far more pressing matters to deal with.

Henry doesn't say so, but part of him is happy that she doesn't feel she has to keep it from him.

They both know the diary exists.

They both know that—just as he respects the confines of her mind—he won't dare read, without a good reason, words she has decided to keep to herself.

"I've nothing to say to you. I'm sorry." She grimaces as she utters the last thing, knowing she has nothing to apologize for.

"Don't be like that, Chrissy," Jason pleads, slumping his shoulders and dropping his jaw as if he's dealing with a particularly stubborn toddler. "I'm even willing to forgive you."

A choked laugh leaves her lips, but she hastens to silence it. Forgive her? Jason, forgive her?

"I gotta go, Jason," she announces, closing the locker with a little more force than necessary. "Bye."

"Chrissy—!"

Jason's voice echoes down the hallway, but she just walks faster.

All she can think about is Eddie, whom she's meeting this afternoon…

She's already dodging parked cars and losing herself in the crowd of students with an umbrella to repel the fine drizzle that has begun to fall when a familiar profile catches her eye.

Again, it's the blond man, sitting behind the wheel of the black car that Chrissy remembers from that beautiful night with Eddie…

And Jane getting in to sit next to him.

Chrissy gulps. She can't ignore this any longer. First of all, Angela is missing. And even though she's supposedly moved schools… Is that the truth? She's been up most of the night, wondering about it.

"Jason, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Jason obviously has other ideas about her motives for talking to him after practice—or so his smile indicates—but Chrissy doesn't let him get a word in, asking instead: "You know anything about Angela?"

"About Angela?" The question surprises him, or so his frown indicates. "Why…?"

"Just answer me." And then she adds, because she's Chrissy: "Please."

"Uh…" Jason scratches his head as he shrugs. "Sinclair was her classmate… He said something about her switching schools because her dad got a new job…"

"But she didn't say anything to you?"

"No? It's not like I was going to miss her, either."

She wouldn't have reason to doubt such a story, would she? Angela has more than once shown herself to be a shallow person, capable of making and breaking ties without much thought.

However, she senses that there is something more to this story. Something strange. Something…

"But don't worry, babe," she pronounces the nickname Jason usually uses with her with all the vitriol she's capable of, "I'm not interested in your boyfriend anymore. I'm dating someone way hotter."

Hotter. And it's more than that, even: unlike Jason or his teammates, the stranger boasts a mature beauty; that of a man, as opposed to a teenage boy.

Also, he's on good terms with Angela—enough to visit her at home, at least—and Jane?

And… he's quite a bit older than both girls.

"Chrissy…?" In the distance, Jason calls out to her, as Chrissy has already left him to head for the girls' locker room. "Where are you going…?"

Could it be… a predator?

Even as naive as she knows she can be, Chrissy understands that it's not normal for a grown man to be hanging around teenage girls.

If that's the case… should I go to the police? she ponders as she showers.

But Chrissy has been here before, hasn't she? She's tried to help Jane before, and how did that go?

She won't make that mistake this time.

No, she decides as she wraps herself into her towel. Not this time.

"Jane? Do you have a moment?"

Eleven turns and smiles when she sees who it is. "Chrissy. Uhm, I was just leaving, but I guess I can stay a little longer?"

"Please." Chrissy makes that awkward smile that Eleven is extremely familiar with, though she's rarely seen it (she's felt it, that is). "It's… Uhm, maybe I'm exaggerating or something, but that's why I'd like to corroborate with you…"

"Yeah?"

Chrissy takes her hand and pulls on it gently. "Come with me. Let's talk in private."

Sitting at a wooden table in the grove behind Hawkins, the conversation is innocent enough at first. Apparently, Chrissy has seen her with Henry and doesn't known what to think.

"He's my cousin and tutor." She has practice mumbling this half-truth; by now she utters the words without hesitation. "Sometimes he comes to fetch me if it rains or snows." She shrugs.

"Oh." She notices the tension leaving Chrissy's shoulders. "That's a relief to know. I thought… Well, I don't know what I thought…"

Eleven nods and stands up, grabbing the strap of her backpack. "If that's all—"

"Uh, no, actually…" Chrissy stops her. "Actually, there's something else. You see, the last time I talked to Angela, she told me…"

Eleven listens quietly to her words.

"…And then, when I was passing by, I saw him… Henry… in front of her house…"

Suddenly, everything around her seems to take on a surreal tinge. Her muscles loosen.

"…with her."

Her blue backpack falls to the ground full of withered leaves with a dull thud.

But, whatever kind of person he is, whether I accept it or not, Henry is on my side.

Yes, I am sure of that: Henry is always on my side.