"I'm the monster," she cried. She nearly fainted, and now lay prostrate in the dirt.
"No. No, El, you're not the monster. You saved me! Do you understand? You saved me."
The tickling in her ear and under her nose hinted at the bleeding. But, she cared not at all. Because…
She hugged Mike, and Mike hugged her, and Dustin hugged them both. She sensed Mike's hand warm on her side over the blue jacket and dusty yellow dress. Dustin patted her shoulder, and stress melted away with each second that passed. Their eyes unfocused and they breathed, savoring the feeling of…belonging. It was as if a weight lifted from Eleven's head. The fight was over and the boys were safe.
Defeating the bullies glued them together and joined the three like nothing else could. A long moment germinated, without vanity or self-consciousness, without self judgment, and filled with a growing and profound appreciation for good friends.
As she stood, El took in the view. The water below reflected the blue sky above and the trees as they looked over the edge of the quarry. Dustin and Mike gave El a side-hugs, and they looked at the distant water below, where Mike should have perished. The bullies had beat a retreat as fast as they could—no sign of them could be found.
—:—:
The citizens of Hawkins past by them as they rode bikes home. People most likely engaged in their stress-ridden lives, worried about taxes, the Russians, and high mortgage rates of around thirteen percent. Although the Sting Ray bike riders enjoyed maneuverability in cul-de-sacs and around bundled newspapers, the boy's off brand bikes did well too.
But for these three twelve-year-olds, feelings of friendship soared higher on the scale of importance than Russians or money.
"I feel good," said Eleven.
"Me too, El," Mike said. "I feel happy for the first time in days."
"I'm just happy to be with my friends," said Dustin. "El the superhero. That was so f*cking awesome!" He smiled.
"I'm so sorry, El," Mike said back over his shoulder, "about, you know. How I behaved. Sometimes I get confused."
El held onto Mike quietly, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm sorry too." But her sorrow faded. She sniffled and put her head on his warm back. What was it? That feeling?
They rode together in the afternoon sunlight. Leaves of orange and yellow scattered the ground and crunched under the tires. She affirmed in his ear, "It's okay, Mike. It's all okay now."
They arrived at the Wheeler's basement door, went inside, and Dustin dusted off a psychology book, while Mike went upstairs.
"Quiz tomorrow," Dustin said. It was true, but he needed to look something up. He flipped through pages.
Mike came back with a box labeled Pizza One and three Pepsis.
"Sorry," Mike apologized. "My dad buys Pepsi."
Dustin read.
"It says here," he read it to them as they ate pizza, "It is well established that when your caregivers don't respond to your experiences of suffering or you are ridiculed, then you feel as if you have no value…"
El used the toilet, then came out still dirty, and sat down. She sat cross-legged in her blanket fort.
Mike drooped in his chair, half-turned away from Dustin, and asked, "Who would you rather be: Steve Bartkowski or Dan Fouts?"
Dustin shook his head, "Dave Krieg."
El unfolded herself and walked over to him. Her creased brow loomed over her gaze.
"Why don't you want to be you?" she asked. She sat in a chair and leaned closer.
He shrugged. "I get tired of being me. If I was Fouts, maybe people would treat me better. They wouldn't make him walk off a cliff."
"Who?" she asked.
"People. He's a football player. My dad—he never does anything with me. My mom is too busy with Holly. My sister is chasing boys."
"I like you," El said. "I want…"
Dustin looked up from his book. Mike looked at El, tilting his head.
"Um…What?" he asked.
El pinched her lips together, then looked into his big brown eyes. "I…" she stammered.
Mike nodded impatiently. "You…what, El?"
She looked into his eyes, then reached out and touched his hand. Her hand warmed his hand and sent tingles up his arm, and he smiled. "I…want you to be happy about…"
Mike waited, savoring the feeling of her warm hand on his. But she let go to stand up, shook her head, and stomped her foot.
"Words!" she said. "I need more words."
Then, her body deflating, she walked over to the brown old couch and sat down roughly. She rubbed her forehead. Her eyes shined in the basement lamp's light as she frowned.
"You want me to be happy with who I am?" Mike volunteered.
El lifted her head and stood up.
"Yes!" She faced him squarely. She walked over to him again, standing close, as he looked up at her. "Can I…have another hug?"
Mike stood up, and she fell into his chest as they embraced. "Hugs " she said, "feel good."
"I'll hug you whenever you want, El," he said. He glanced at Dustin, who tilted his head to the side and blinked.
She rested her head on his shoulder. She breathed softly in his arms and a sensation came over him. He could sense his body getting lighter. It also seemed to him the room faded away around them like they were the exact center of the universe, and everything else was irrelevant. Everything.
"El," he whispered in her ear, "you make me a whole person."
She looked up into his eyes, his full lips…
"I'm good at hugs too," interrupted Dustin.
El shyly smiled at Dustin. Mike squinted.
"If it's okay," Dustin said, shrugging and spreading his hands.
El took a deep breath and smiled, whispering something in Mike's ear. Then they chuckled.
"Come here Dustin," she said.
Dustin walked over slowly, his eyes watching Mike. Abruptly, El and Mike jumped him in a big group hug, laughing. They made a Dustin sandwich.
"What the hell?" Dustin said.
"I care about you too, Dustin," she said. But then when the hug ended, El stayed with Mike and sat with him on the couch. Dustin looked at his feet, rocking his weight on alternating feet.
"Mike, you are perfect just like you are," El said, and nuzzled into his shoulder. The words deeply affected him for no seeming reason, making him take a breath and flooding his eyes. The trust she placed in him warmed his soul like hot chicken soup on a cold night. Mike gazed at her smooth skin. What was that funny feeling in his chest…?
Dustin's smile faded and moisture came to his eyes. He covered his heart with his hand, his jaw loosened. Then he turned to his book. A sentence jumped out at him.
——
…Benevolent people have empathy, and suffering in others they meet with compassion…
——
He bit his lip. It was so clear. Mike deserved her, he really did. She was clearly becoming attached to him and Mike seemed to understand—but glanced at Dustin with a look. It was the look of "am I ready for this?"
El felt her cheek. Abruptly she sat up, saying "I'll be right back." She scampered off to the bathroom. Mike heard the water running. He followed her and watched her wash her face, and went in to help her, and wiped her chin.
"That's better…"
El turned to look in the mirror and patted her head where the wig had been.
"You don't need it," he said. She didn't.
El asked, "Still pretty?"
"Yeah!" He affirmed. "Pretty…Really pretty."
She looked in the mirror and a quick smile flashed across her face.
He thought for a moment, reaching down deep inside for his feelings. He felt something pulling at his heart—something he had to say. "El?"
She turned to him, "Yes?"
"Um…I'm happy you're home."
"Me, too," she smiled.
They moved toward each other. It seemed something was drawing them together like magnets. The door opened…and the moment was gone.
Dustin was talking about a new threat.