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tw: f slur
"What was Will saying?" Mike asked his group of friends.
They were now out of the school, retreated to Mike's basement to recuperate. Eleven was drained from using her powers earlier, so she was lying stomach down on Mike's couch, head to the side as she stared at nothing in particular. The rest of the Party (ie: Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin) were racking their brains, trying to piece together what the hell just happened.
"Like home...'" he repeated. "'Like home... but dark'?"
Lucas sighed shakily, adding, "And empty."
"And cold," continued Sam with an unstable nod.
Dustin, who was sat on the basement's stairs, furrowed his eyebrows. "Are we sure he said empty and cold? What does that even mean?"
"I don't know," Lucas shrugged sharply. "The stupid radio kept doing in and out."
"It's like riddles in the dark," Dustin muttered underneath his breath, unhelpfully. "Doesn't help that none of us could reach him."
Then — as if being remembered of something very important — Lucas, Mike, and Dustin straightened up at the same time. Knowing where this was going, Sam stiffened. Slowly (and creepily) they turned to face Sam in unison.
"Except for Sam," corrected Lucas, with an unreadable look on his face.
With a face slowly filling with knowing dread, Sam's face fell. "Don't look at me like that," she protested.
"You talked to him, Sam," Mike pointed out, with a tone that told Sam this topic was unarguable.
Stubbornly, Sam shook her head. "N-no I didn't, all right? I don't know why he would... Maybe the radio cut out? We had to have missed part of what he said. He wouldn't have said my name."
Somehow, they all made identical faces; raising their eyebrows, unamused.
"I didn't do anything," Sam spoke to them slowly, with a serious-slowly-getting-pissed-off face. She believed it with her whole heart. There was no way she somehow managed through to Will, who not even Eleven was able to speak to. That didn't make any sense.
"You spoke to him!" Mike repeated in a desperate manner, as if begging Sam to get that through her head. "How are you misinterpreting this?"
Sam's hands were slowly starting to shake, so she crossed her arms to hide that fact. She just shrugged with her shoulders, countering, "He was speaking to his mom. That's the important part. Did you hear what he was saying?"
Mike scoffed incredulously. "Yeah, we heard what he was saying! 'Like home.' Like his house?"
"Or maybe like Hawkins!" Lucas pointed out, sitting on a spare, wooden chair in the basement.
From the couch, Eleven spoke up in a quiet, tired voice, "Upside down."
"What'd she say?" Lucas's face screwed up judgmentally.
Heart dropping in her stomach by the minute, Sam swallowed, then said, "Upside down."
Out of nowhere, Sam blurted, 'Upside down.'
'What?' Lucas asked, thoroughly done with all the weirdness going on.
Sam shook her head, snapping out of it. She stammered, 'Sorry — um — I just... she... Eleven turned the board upside down. Why is it upside down?'
"Upside down," Sam repeated firmer, clearing her throat to rid her voice of the shakiness it held. She walked back over to the table they played D&D on. Sam sat down, grabbing the playing board and turning it right-side up, re-enacting Eleven's actions. "When Eleven showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember? And I... I said—"
"'Upside down,'" recalled Mike with now-wide eyes as Sam slammed the board face-down again. He had walked over to the table where Sam was with Lucas and Dustin, realizing that's two times now Sam had accidentally tied herself to all this mess. Referring to Will's words, he continued, "Dark. Empty."
"Do you understand what they're talking about?" Lucas asked Dustin, eyeing Sam and Mike judgmentally.
"No," responded Dustin responded.
Sam sighed, rolling her eyes under her lids while Mike argued enough for the both of them.
"Guys, come on. Just think about it," he urged. "When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?"
Raising a deadpan eyebrow, Lucas answered, "Yeah. And he wasn't there."
"But what if he was there?" Sam interjected quietly. She wasn't making eye contact, biting the nail of her thumb anxious. Finally, she met Lucas's stare, said, "What if we just couldn't see him? What... if he was on the other side?"
Mike nodded, on perfect track with Sam's train of thought. He picked up the board, flipping it over and pointing at the right side. "What if this is Hawkins and" — he turned the bottom back facing up — "this is where Will is?"
Ironically, it was Sam who finished with, "The Upside Down."
Dustin's eyes went wide, and Sam knew exactly how to tell when he was struck with a realization. Now would be one of those times.
"Like the Vale of Shadows," recalled Dustin within a gasp.
Sam's eyes enlarged, too.
"Exactly like the Vale of Shadows."
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Dustin grabbed Mike's personalized D&D playbook, slapping it down on their playing table. He began flipping through it with a destination in mind. Sam watched as he finally reached the pages of the binder he was looking for — she squinted to see a monochrome picture of a dark, eerie woods.
"'The Vale of Shadows,'" Dustin read verbatim, "'is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters. It is right next to you, and you don't even see it.'"
Sam felt a shiver run through her spine. That was almost too accurate for the place they were looking for — too accurate to Will's description on the Heathkit, earlier.
"An alternate dimension," Mike realized.
Now finally unable to deny anything, Lucas stammered, "But... h-how do... we get there?"
"You cast Shadow Walk," answered Dustin, following the D&D rulebook from his memory.
Kindly, Sam said, "I think he meant in real life, Dustin."
"Yeah, dummy," Lucas echoed.
Sam sent him an unpleasant stare, wordlessly telling him to be nice to Dustin. Afterall, he was the person who just figured out what Eleven and Will had been talking about this whole time. They now knew where Will was hiding.
"We can't shadow walk," started Dustin, nodding towards Sam and Eleven, "but... maybe they can."
Lucas, Mike, and Dustin turned the girls' ways.
"I said stop looking at me like that," pressed Sam, squeezing her fists so hard they began shaking. She moved them off the table and into her lap, staring back at the boys unwaveringly.
Dustin tilted his head in disagreement. "You could talk to Will. And there is a group called the Shadow Druids in the Shadow Realm."
"Creative," Lucas muttered under his breath sarcastically.
Sam's face screwed up in judgment. Exasperatedly, she reminded him, "I'm not actually a Druid, Dustin."
"You're something," Mike inferred, being totally unhelpful — seriously, Sam thought they were on the same side here, what the hell, Mike?
Sam shook her head, rolling her eyes stubbornly. "You guys are ridiculous," she commented. When her head went right, she didn't look away this time. Sam let her attention fall onto Eleven, lying on the couch. She asked, "Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?"
Eleven stared back, looking painstakingly exhausted.
She faintly shook her head no.
"Oh, my god," groaned Lucas, throwing his head back in annoyance.
Sam sighed, deflating a little at Eleven's answer. While it wasn't Eleven's fault, it was still disappointing they were about as near finding Will as they were before.
Nowhere fucking near, in other words.
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Sam's gone through a lot in these past five days (yeah, because it's only been five, even though it's felt like five months). She's had the entire trajectory of her life changed about twenty times so far, and each piece of information has been more unusual than the last.
But, for some reason, the weirdest thing she's done so far, was get ready for William Byers's funeral.
Correction, fake funeral.
They've already confirmed that Will was not dead, and Sam knew that, and her friends knew that, but they couldn't tell anyone they knew that. Because of this, they had to attend a funeral for a fake body meant to act in place as Will.
So yeah. It was really fucking weird.
Actually, it was so "fucking weird" that when Aunt Kat woke Sam up to get ready for the funeral, Sam accidentally snorted in laughter. Aunt Kat looked at Sam as if she were crazy, but it was nothing Sam wasn't used to anymore.
Sam's family knew she was acting weird, and Sam knew they knew she was acting weird, but she was pointedly avoiding any conversation of the topic as much as she could. She was really milking the whole "mourning my dead best friend" thing to get out of any discussion she could.
Corey hadn't ratted out Sam for being seen at school yesterday — not yet at least (she doesn't even want to imagine how much of a nerd she seemed like for sneaking out just to go to school). They hadn't even talked since Will "died" about two days ago. Every time they crossed paths now, they just made odd eye contact for a few seconds before Sam would scurry away when Corey gained the courage to speak.
The battle of avoiding any and all confrontation with your family who has never given you a second glance until now (conventionally the worst time, but Sam's luck was always foul) was proving to be quite hard.
But the war of getting your hair done by your sister was much, much harder.
"You burned me!"
"I did not burn you!" Stephanie snapped right back at her. "Sam, will you please stop moving?!"
Sam squirmed away from the flat iron, hand whipping up to rub at her ear dramatically. "You fucking burned me, Steph! Get that torture device away from me!"
"It is called a straightening iron, and I can't stop when I'm almost done!" argued Stephanie. She gripped Sam's head and harshly forced her sister back in the chair to reach her. "And stop moving!"
Stephanie made the unilateral decision that instead of letting Sam wear her hair naturally (a mix of waves, a few curls, and frizz), they would be straightening her hair; because they were going to a funeral, and Sam had to look nice. Sam couldn't even protest this notion, because Stephanie didn't know any better. She had given Sam a lot of leeway in the past couple of days in her behavior, because of the whole "mourning my dead best friend" thing, but it seemed that even the subject of death wasn't monumental enough to stop the bickering between siblings.
"I look like an idiot!" Sam complained, staring at herself in the mirror. "I look weird! I look like you!"
Stephanie "accidentally" yanked a piece of Sam's hair to hard, ignoring Sam's yelp and anger. "Calm down for five seconds and let me finish. I have one section left!"
"Die," Sam grumbled in a totally not childish manner. She glared at Stephanie through the mirror, slouching in the chair with crossed arms. That was, until Stephanie shoved Sam in the back and forced her to sit up straight again.
Sam saw in Stephanie's expression that she wanted to retaliate further, at her patience's end with Sam. But then Sam also watched as Stephanie really looked at her sister — the slit in her eyebrow, her broken glasses, the circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin — and deflated a little.
When she finished straightening the last section of Sam's hair, she set the straightener down and turned it off. She played with Sam's hair with her hands, still just watching her through the mirror. Then, Stephanie's hands came to a stop on Sam's shoulders.
"Look, I know you don't want to do this," started Stephanie, and — oh, yeah, Sam was supposed to be acting upset about Will's death and shit — tried sending Sam a tense smile, "but it's just something you've gotta get through. Only for a few hours, all right? You've gone through a lot more for a lot longer than this."
Sam snorted. Tell me about it, she wanted to say.
The corner of Stephanie's mouth quirked up a little, under the impression she got Sam happy for an entirely different reason.
"Thanks, Steph," Sam said, because she had to pretend like her sister's motivational speech was actually motivational. Usually, she could insult Stephanie on her horrible, failed attempts, but — again — there was the whole "pretending to mourn Will" thing.
"Yeah, whatever," Stephanie rolled her eyes playfully, not wanting to be too emotional with her sister. She stepped away from being so near Sam, giving Sam space to get up from the chair and look closer in the mirror, "Now—"
"If you think for a second I'm going, Kathryn, you're delusional!" a voice was yelling from the living room.
It was Uncle Dan.
Sam automatically tensed, because it was a reflex response at this point. She shared fearful eye contact with Stephanie through the mirror, before turning around to actually meet her sister's eyes this time. Stephanie was stiff, too.
"It is a funeral!" Aunt Kat shouted back. "For one of Sam's friends! We are going!"
"Samantha is a fucked up bitch who only hangs around boys like a slut! I'm not surprised it's one of her little friends who were dumb enough to fuck around in the Quarry! Especially that Byers kid!"
Sam's fists clenched. Now, she couldn't find it in herself to look at Stephanie, let alone anything. It felt like Sam was dissociating around her but could still hear the yelling in her ears.
"That boy died, Daniel! He was only twelve-years-old!"
"He was a fag is what he was! I'm not attending a funeral for any of those queers!"
"Sam!" a voice snapped Sam out of it, and Sam's head whipped up to meet Stephanie's concerned, wide eyes. She was forcing Sam's hands out of fists, and Sam dumbly looked down to find she had clenched her fists so hard that she broke skin. Splotchy blood was now wet in her palms, coming out of the crescent shapes her fingernails indented.
Stupidly, in a raw, shaky voice, Sam just said, "Oh."
Her eyes were still on her hands, face not really showing any emotion. She heard Stephanie sigh sadly.
"Don't listen to what he says, all right?" attempted Stephanie. "You know he's a load of shit."
Trying to seem unphased by it all, even if it was a little too late, Sam tried straightening up and wiping her hands on her black dress. "Yeah, I—" her voice got caught in her throat for a second, "I know that. Of course I know that." She laughed, and it was so clearly forced. "It's just the whole funeral thing getting to me," Sam lied. "I'll be fine, Steph."
"Sam—"
"I should finish getting ready," interjected Sam, turning her back on Stephanie and pretending to pick up things around her room. "Make sure Corey's ready, because I'll kill him if we're late and then we'll be scheduling a funeral for him, too."
Sam knew Stephanie had that very said look on her face. Stephanie's voice broke, "Sam."
"Well, of-fucking-course she hangs around with them! If she wants to cry like a little baby at her flamer friend's funeral, she can be my guest!"
"Daniel!"
Sam sighed, refusing to meet Stephanie's eyes, anymore.
"Just... Just please go."
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Only Sam, Stephanie, Corey, and Aunt Kat were in attendance to Will's funeral — on the Hughes/Gray side, that is. If anyone were to ask where Daniel Gray was, they were to cover it up with him being "busy" or "sick." Sam was used to excusing him like that, so she didn't have any difficulties finding what words to say.
For the most part, no one was really asking Sam about Uncle Dan. If they came up to her (which most people did not), they just began expressing to Sam how sorry they were that she lost her best friend.
I'm sorry for your loss, Samantha. Your mother and father were wonderful people...
Sam knew how to act; knew exactly how people wanted her to respond. She's been through this before. She's lived out this scenario.
"'Fear not, for I am with you,'" the priest read a scripture from the Bible. "'Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous hand—'"
Sam wasn't really listening to the priest's mumbled scriptures and Bible quotes — she had never been one for religion. She fiddled with the half-sleeve of her black dress that was a little too uncomfortable around her arm as she stood in front of Will Byers's casket.
The Party members stood in the order Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Sam, with all of their family members behind them. Sam was the closest to the casket, and unfortunately her eyesight wasn't that bad, because she could actually see it.
We are gathered here today to mourn the losses of two, beautiful souls from right here in Hawkins. Diane and Anthony Hughes were lights to the lives of anyone they touched...
Lucas nudged her slightly, and Sam blinked rapidly out of her thoughts. She looked at the boy in question, to which he whispered, "Look."
We are so tragically despaired that they were taken from us so soon. It is a shame what the effects of reckless driving can be. I hope this can be a reminder of us all to be mindful of our surroundings, because we never know whose lives we can be affecting...
The four kids turned to look in the direction Lucas was pointing in, redirecting their attention to another blonde girl on the other side of the grave with tears running down her pale cheeks.
Diane and Anthony were more than citizens of Hawkins. They were a mother and a father, a son and daughter, an aunt and an uncle, a brother and a sister, incredible friends to us all...
"Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral," Dustin giggled quietly, the two boys on either side of him chuckling in agreement. Sam's face didn't show any reaction, whatsoever.
We pray to Saint Christopher, the patron saint of safe driving. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit — Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...
A few minutes later after the priest finished his mindless gospel-quoting and Lonnie gave a "heartfelt" eulogy that didn't fool any of the Party for a second, Sam stood in front of the open grave in front of her with a yellow rose clutched tightly in her hand, tight enough to draw blood from her palms.
Samantha Hughes was spending her tenth birthday attending her parents' funeral.
"Why yellow and pink?" a ten-year-old Will asked, leading Sam through a pass of trees.
He had sort of kidnapped Sam, somewhat. Will took one look at Sam once the burial ceremony for her parents started and decided neither of them should stay any longer.
Sam didn't really feel like she was presently there in the moment, so she didn't really process what she was doing when she responded, "It's okay," to whatever Will had said to her. She had been assuming it was, 'I'm so sorry for your loss,' but then he was grabbing Sam's wrist, so that must not have been it. Now, they were on the trek to Will's house; or, the back of Will's house, Sam inferred.
Castle Byers.
"Mom hated red roses," ten-year-old Sam replied in a broken voice, "so Dad never bought her any. One time, for her birthday, he got her this huge bouquet of yellow and pink roses that my mom preserved and framed up in the house."
Somehow, that answer came easy to her. For these past few days, Sam hasn't been able to speak to anyone about anything. Not even Stephanie, or anyone else in the Party. But it was Will, and talking to him was a reflex easy as breathing. He didn't even care that her eyes were bloodshot, or her face was puffy from crying, or her voice was so raw and broken that Sam couldn't speak louder than a whisper.
When they reached Castle Byers, Will lifted up the blanketed entrance for Sam to enter through while he trailed in after her. Sam looked around in awe — Castle Byers would never fail to amaze her on how awesome it was. She wished she could have something like this for herself. Sam even remembered begging her dad one day to—
Oh, yeah. Her dad.
"I really liked the yellow flowers," Will spoke, as if able to tell Sam was growing more and more unstable by the second. "I think they might be my favorite."
Sam turned to face him, because she had previously been staring at picture of Sam, Lucas, Mike, Will, and Dustin where the four boys were lifted Sam up in the middle as they all laughed hysterically.
"Really?" asked Sam, because she was always interested in hearing new things about her friends, whether she was mourning her dead parents, or not. Every time she did, Sam placed the information in a file cabinet in her brain labeled 'STUFF ABOUT THE PEOPLE I LOVE.'
"Yeah," Will nodded, seemingly pleased Sam was conversing with him. "If someone got a bouquet of yellow roses for me, I'd be so happy!"
She shrugged, tilted her head in a thinking manner, and said, "Yellow roses are nice, but irises are my favorite."
"Those are the purple-y ones, right?"
Sam nodded.
Will nudged her, sending Sam a smile that she was supposed to mirror back at him. "Then I'll get you a bouquet of irises to cheer you up, how about that?"
For the first time in a matter of long days, Samantha Hughes almost smiled. If it was anyone else from the Party, she would remind him that nothing would cheer her up because her parents were quite literally dead. But it was Will, and Will was special, so she didn't.
"One day, I'll give you all the yellow roses in the world, Byers."
Someone nudged Sam from behind, and she turned around to see Stephanie staring at Sam knowingly. There was guilt and understanding and pity in her eyes, and Sam ultimately knew Stephanie was in the same place as her right now.
"Sammy, you're holding up the line," she whispered gently, trying to move Sam along.
Sam gulped harshly and looked back at the closed casket for a long moment before relaxing her grip on the stem of the rose. If you're really gone — if the past few days were all a fever dream, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Will. She took a shaky breath before letting the flower fall from her hands and land on the smooth wood of the casket where her friend's body lay, the thorns stained red with the blood of her own hands.
She couldn't give him all the yellow roses in the world. This was all she had.
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After the funeral ceremony, many of the attenders were helping themselves to refreshments inside as they discussed their forced grief over Will. Aunt Kat was with all the annoying moms Sam couldn't stand, Stephanie was with Gina (who was the only one out of their friend group besides Stephanie who could make it to the funeral), and Corey was sulking in the corner like he usually did. Mike was right back in his ceremony at school — they were all fakers. No one in this town gave Will a second glance before this; and if they did, it was not a kind one.
Sam was feeling much more emotional about this whole "funeral" ordeal than she should be. Of course, Sam knew why this was, but had been forcing herself not to come to terms with it the whole day. They were here for Will. They needed to find Will. Sam was not going to hinder Operation Mirkwood because she broke down like a little baby again. She was friends with all boys, and it was much too embarrassing.
Trying to put her emotions behind her, Sam joined the boys in their next phase of the plan. Now that they discovered Will was hiding in the "Upside Down," they needed to discover how he even would've been able to get there. People don't just randomly get zapped to an alternate dimension on the casual Sunday.
So, they figured, maybe their beloved science teacher would know something about the subject.
"Mr. Clarke?" asked Mike, leading the group of four as they found Mr. Clarke near a table of food.
He turned around, startled for a moment before he realized it was just his students. "Oh! Hey, there. How you kids holding up?"
There was Dustin, who had already started carelessly munching on food, Lucas, who was glaring at him, Mike, who was looking as blank as ever, and Sam, who was always just there.
Lucas turned his head back towards Mr. Clarke. "We're — in — mourning," he said in a robotic tone that had Sam closing her eyes and exhaling tiredly.
Mike nodded rapidly in agreement with Lucas, as the two of them and Sam wore the sad expressions they had on at school yesterday.
"Sam, I know another funeral must be really hard for you," said Mr. Clarke sympathetically, frowning down at the blonde girl. Her heart dropped at being addressed on that certain topic. "I hope you're doing as well as you can be."
"Oh, I-I'm great!" Sam attempted lying, because her instinct to cover up all negative emotions was practically a reflect at this point. Then, with a sinking realization (under the pointed stares of Lucas and Mike), Sam remembered she wasn't supposed to be doing great. She began rambling, "I mean! Obviously, I'm not great. I'm the opposite of great. Really sad stuff. Mourning my dead best friend. I just — you know — I meant, I'm totally not sad about my parents being dead! I'm not thinking about them at all, Mr. Clarke, don't you worry!"
For a few seconds, Sam, Lucas, Mike, and Mr. Clarke kind of just stared at each other awkwardly.
"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers," Dustin commented in distaste, not even paying attention to the conversation before him.
Mike sighed, shaking his head at Dustin and turning back to Mr. Clarke. "We were wondering if you had time to talk?"
"We have some questions," Lucas elaborated.
Sam nodded, "A lot of questions," while she simultaneously tried to forget about the embarrassing interaction she just had. She hit Dustin's shoulder repeatedly and jerked her head in Mr. Clarke's direction. "Dus — ahem — Dustin."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tons of questions, really need answering," Dustin rushed out as they led Mr. Clarke to a vacant table in the corner of the room.
"So, you know how in Cosmos, Carl Sagan talks about other dimensions? Like, beyond our world?" Mike asked quickly, his grieving act long gone.
Mr. Clarke shrugged kindly. "Yeah, sure. Theoretically."
"Right. Theoretically."
"So, theoretically," Sam added, unsure how they were going to get through this conversation without being totally obvious, "how do we travel there?"
"You guys have been thinking about Hugh Everett's Many-Worlds Interpretation, haven't you?" Mr. Clarke questioned knowingly, his confidence faltering when the dour friends looked at each other with confused frowns. "Well, basically, there are parallel universes — just like our world, but just infinite variations of it. Which means there's a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened."
There's a world out there where Diane and Anthony Hughes never died.
"Yeah," Lucas cut in immediately, not emotional like Sam, "that's not what we're talking about..."
"Oh."
Dustin added, "We were thinking of more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of Shadows." He pointed at Mr. Clarke after a quick beat of silence. "You know the Vale of Shadows?"
"An echo of the Material Plan, where necrotic and shadow magic—"
"Yeah, exactly," Mike cut him off impatiently, contrary to how Dustin was nodding back at him in excitement. "If that did exist — a place like the Vale of Shadows — how would we travel there?"
"Theoretically," chimed in Lucas.
"Well..." Mr. Clarke pulled a paper plate from the stack in front of them and took a pen from his blazer pocket, drawing a diagram as he spoke. "Picture... an acrobat... standing on a tightrope. Now, the tightrope is our dimension, and our dimension has rules. You can move forwards, or backwards... But, what if, right next to our acrobat, there is a flea? Now, the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Right?"
"Right."
Mr. Clarke continued on, "Here's where things get really interesting... The flea can also travel this way — along the side of the rope. He can even go... underneath the rope."
With wide eyes, the Party chorused, "Upside down."
"Exactly," Mr. Clarke confirmed, oblivious to the meaning behind their statement.
"But," Sam started, as she quickly found an issue, "we're not the flea, we're the acrobat."
Mr. Clarke nodded, "In this metaphor, yes, we're the acrobat."
"So... we can't go upside down?" Mike asked for clarification, sort of devastated at the thought.
"No."
Lucas exhaled heavily, muttering, "Might as well kill myself," which only Sam could hear. Somehow, she snorted, even though they were literally at a funeral.
"Is there any way for the acrobat to get to the Upside Down?" asked Dustin, not immediately resorting to suicidal thoughts like Lucas did.
"Well," Mr. Clarke's face screwed up as he thought about it, "you'd have to create a massive amount of energy — more than humans are currently capable of creating, mind you — to open up some kind of tear in time and space. And then," he picked up the paper plate again, this time folding it in half along the line where he drew the tightrope. Mr. Clarke stabbed the tip of the pen right into the paper plate, the stationary tearing through both folded halves. "You create a doorway."
"Like a gate?" said Lucas.
"Sure. Like a gate," accepted Mr. Clarke. Then, "But again, this is all—"
"Theoretical," Lucas nodded, his face falling once again.
Mike sighed, a pondering look on his face. "But... But what if this gate already existed?"
"Well, if it did, I... I think we'd know," Mr. Clarke answered. "It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole."
All the kids shared way looks.
Mr. Clarke surveyed them, finishing up with, "Science is neat... but I'm afraid it's not very forgiving."
"Thanks, Mr. Clarke. You're the best," Sam compliment, although she wanted to say, 'Yeah, no shit.'
Where the hell are you, Will?
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Now that the funeral ended, Sam was still in her black, half-sleeve dress, but had since put her hair into a high, messy ponytail, because she hated the look of it being down while it was straight. Strands and baby hairs were starting to fall out of their own accord, but it was what Sam had to work with right now. It's not like she had time to go back home only to wash her hair so it would un-straighten, then come back to Mike's and discuss this interdimensional space portal. Speaking of—
Mike punched a hole through the folded piece of paper with the thin, lead pencil he used to plan their D&D campaigns, causing Eleven to startle slightly. He was recounting everything Mr. Clarke had told them to Eleven, in hopes she could somehow lead them out of their cluelessness.
"It would take a lot of energy to build a gate like this," he explained, "but that's gotta be what happened. Otherwise, how'd Will get there, right?"
Eleven gulped, nodding her head with frightened and slightly intimidated eyes. She rasped, "R-Right."
"What we wanna know is — do you know where the Gate is?" Lucas cut to the chase, eyes boring into the girl's soul as if he was trying to carve the answer from the back of her mind.
Eleven shook her head, too rushed and instinctive for even Sam — who was always the most trusting of the group — to believe she was telling the truth.
"Then how do you know about the Upside Down?!" Lucas deflated, the fabric of his dress shirt bunched around his elbows as his hands dropped to his sides in exasperation.
Of course, Eleven would give him no response. She looked down into her lap, still wearing the blonde wig and pink dress from the day prior.
Sam was getting really tired of Lucas and Eleven's beef with each other, so she zoned out of their conversation. Her attention was quickly brought to Dustin near the fort. He was pacing back and forth like a mad-man, waving something around wildly in his hands.
Eyebrows furrowing, Sam asked, "Hey, Dustin, what are you doing?"
Sam's question caught the attention of Lucas, Mike, and Eleven, who looked to see Dustin's odd(er than usual) behavior, as well.
"Yeah, Dustin, what?" questioned Mike, sounding exasperated.
Dustin acted almost as if he couldn't hear the two. He kept his eyes seriously trained on whatever object was in his hands, still pacing.
"Dustin!" shouted Lucas.
Dustin whipped around to face them, looking disoriented. They all stared back at him with expectant faces, all believing there was something seriously wrong with their friend.
"I — I need to see your compasses," Dustin said in a rush.
"What?"
"Your compasses," he answered hastily, still giving no explanation. "All of your compasses, right now!"
"Dustin, no one just carries around compasses with th—" Sam immediately trailed off as Lucas and Mike reached into their pockets, the two of them staring at Sam for a long moment before slowly pulling the metal instruments from their pants. Sam shook her head and exhaled, shifting closer to Eleven as the two boys rushed around the room to gather all the compasses they could. "I give up on them, Eleven. I really do."
Eleven blinked at Sam, not understanding the situation or even comprehending what a compass was, and Sam just shook her head. She pulled Eleven from the couch and brought her over to the table where the boys were now stood at.
"What is this?" Sam judged again, upon seeing seven (yes, seven) compasses laid out on their D&D table. "Bring-Your-Compass-To-Funeral-Day? Why do you all own multiple compasses?"
They ignored her.
Mike eyed the compasses that Dustin flipped all face-up for them to look at. He deadpanned "What's exciting about this?"
"Well, they're all facing north, right?" Dustin began.
Lucas nodded slowly but shrugged. "Yeah. So?"
"Well, that's not True North," stated Dustin, his face falling at the fact that they weren't on the same page as him. When did his friends become so oblivious?
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I just said — that's not True North," he repeated, as if that would make them see.
Lucas and Mike turned to Sam in unison.
"What?" Sam asked suspiciously, arms crossed defensively.
"You're the science geek," Lucas motioned to her, as if expecting something. "You explain what he means."
Sam just shrugged with her shoulder back at him cluelessly. She didn't know whether to be offended that he tried ordering her around like that, or complimented that he believed she knew the most about science between them. It's been so many years being their friend that Sam felt it best not to say anything at all.
Dustin blew out an agitated breath through his nose. "Are you all seriously this dense? The sun rises in the east, and it sets in the west, right?"
"Well, yeah, Dustin. That's basic meteorology," Sam nodded, waiting for him to reach the point.
So then, Dustin pointed towards the staircase of the basement, saying, "Which means that's True North."
"So what you're saying is the compasses are broken?" Mike quizzed.
Sam might be lost in Dustin's little thing right now, but she knew enough to send Mike a screwed up face of judgment at his question. Before she could comment on his cluelessness, Dustin beat Sam to it.
"Do you even understand how a compass works?" Dustin asked Mike in a condescending tone, picking one of the compasses up and twirling it around before his eyes. "Do you see a battery pack on this?"
Mike gritted his teeth, not pleased with the way Dustin was speaking to him. He grumbled, "No."
"No, you don't. Because it doesn't need one," informed Dustin, filling Mike in on what Sam already knew. "The Earth has an iron core that's part liquid and part solid crystal, due to gravitational pressure. The movement in that liquid, outer core is what produces Earth's magnetic field. Compasses are made to detect the Earth's natural magnetic fields and respond to them."
Lucas and Mike blinked silently.
Lucas and Mike looked to Sam in unison, having no clue what Dustin just said.
Sam met their gazes, then sighed exasperatedly.
"He's saying the needles of all compasses are naturally drawn to the Earth's magnetic North Pole," Sam explained in simpler terms for them.
"Thank you, Sam," said Mike, pointedly shooting Dustin a glare for his complications.
Lucas looked confused again, and asked, "So what's wrong with them?"
"Well, that's what I couldn't figure out, but then I remembered — you can change the direction of a compass with a magnet. If there's a presence of a more powerful, magnetic field, the needle deflects that power," Dustin rambled.
"Oh, my god!" exclaimed Sam, who finally figured out the point to Dustin's story. "What Mr. Clarke said! The Gate would have so much power that it would disrupt the magnetic field!"
"Exactly, Specks!" Dustin nodded, clapping his hands together. "I'm glad someone else here has a brain."
Lucas slowly caught on with, "Meaning, if we follow the compasses north..."
"They should lead us to the Gate," finished Mike with the most optimistic look her wore in days. Sam was glad they were all on the same page.
They were going to find Will.
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The Party all rushed back to their prospective homes, changing into better fit clothes and grabbing all the equipment they thought they'd need. Sam kept her hair in its messy ponytail, but was grateful to take the black dress off. Instead, she wore an old band t-shirt that either belonged to Stephanie, Corey, or her dad (all Sam could remember was that she stole it), an open, oversized cardigan that was patterned with muted blue and red squares, and mom jeans she was certain belonged to Stephanie when she was Sam's age.
When Sam was one step away from climbing out her window as she usually did, a voice caught her in the act.
"Where the hell do you keep going?"
Sam immediately stiffened, feet planted on her desk, one leg halfway out the open window, already. She tensely turned her head to see Corey standing in her doorway, unamused.
"Somewhere," she answered much too quickly. "Nowhere."
Corey crossed his arms, raising a judgmental eyebrow. "Somewhere or nowhere?"
"Nowhere," Sam pressed, getting annoyed with her cousin faster than usual. She shifted her bag that kept falling in front of Sam with the way she was positioned; she tried flinging it behind her back again. "I just —" she startled herself with the volume of her voice, immediately adjusting to hiss in a whisper. "Can you lower your voice? My friends and I—"
"You mean you, the nerdy boys who are weird as fuck, and that new, random blonde girl who I've never seen before and is also weird as fuck?"
Sam wanted to clock him.
But she just exhaled through her nose, said, "Yes. Them." Stealing a page from Lucas's book, Sam looked down sadly. "We're... mourning."
Corey scoffed, because he either didn't believe Sam or didn't care too much about it.
"I know you're doing someth—"
"What was that, Corey? I didn't hear you!" cut in the voice of Sam, who had since turned around and continued climbing out her window.
Corey stopped in his tracks, offended. "If you keep this up, I'm—"
"Okay, perfect!" Sam was clearly not listening to a word he was saying, judging by the way she was now fully out of her window. As she closed the window again, she cheered, "Byeeee!"
So that was how Sam "snuck" out of her house. Again.
Now, she was walking along the train tracks with Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Eleven. Each of them were given one of the million compasses the Party had on hand, following the needle pointing north so they would find the Gate.
Honestly, Sam was beginning to prefer talking to Corey. So far, the whole walk had been Mike and Eleven being sus in the back while Lucas nagged to Sam and Dustin in the front.
"How much further?" Lucas basically whined as he breathed out tiredly.
"Sorry, let me just—" started Sam sarcastically, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, pretending to act as a psychic about the tell the future. "Oh, look! I'm getting a vision!" But when Sam opened her eyes, her arms dropped to her sides with a certain face directed at Lucas. "It says compasses only tell direction, not distance."
Lucas glared, "A simple, 'I don't know,' would have sufficed."
Sam smiled back at him unapologetically.
Dustin sighed, although he was watching the two of them fondly. For Lucas, he said, "We don't know." Then — "You really need to learn more about compasses."
"I'm just saying," Lucas groaned, feeling very attacked by the two, "how do we know when we get to the Gate?"
Annoyingly, Dustin condescended, "Uh, I think a portal to another dimension is gonna be pretty obvious."
But Sam shrugged. "I don't know."
"You don't know if an interdimensional portal will stick out like a sore thumb?" asked Dustin, speaking to Sam as if she were dumb.
"Yeah, I don't know!" Sam defended herself. "If it was so huge and obvious, then someone would have definitely found it already. Or — actually. Someone probably already has, but if they found it and didn't tell anyone, then that means they're hiding something, so we're probably heading towards even more danger than we originally thought—"
"Do you think she's acting weird?" Lucas questioned, cutting Sam off.
Dustin scoffed in a humored manner, nodding dramatically towards Sam.
"Definitely," he answered.
While Sam gaped at both boys in offense, Lucas rolled his eyes and corrected his statement.
"Not Sam. Eleven," he clarified. "Do you think she's acting weird?"
In a very-inconspicuous-and-not-suspicious-at-all approach, all of Sam's, Lucas's, and Dustin's heads turned in perfect synchronization behind them to scrutinize Eleven many feet away. Sam could barely make out her figure, but she could tell Mike was conversing with her closely.
"You're asking if the weirdo is acting weird?" Dustin said, turning his head back towards Sam and Lucas' direction.
"I mean, weirder than normal," Lucas elaborated.
Sam sighed. "She's not that weird, guys. She's actually pretty cool. She just has weird powers."
"Whatever you say, Specks," Dustin dismissed her input, addressing Lucas again. "And — I don't know. Who cares?"
"I care!" expressed Lucas. "Especially if she's going to hinder us finding Will!"
Sam pinned him with an unamused stare. "I think she's helping, not hindering."
Again, Lucas rolled his eyes, shaking his head up to the sky as if Sam was some lost cause. He did this often, and most of the time, Sam didn't even understand what weird thing she said to cause this kind of reaction.
"You're just saying all this because you want another girl in the Party."
Sam threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly and dramatically before they fell back to her sides. "Well, why wouldn't I?! I'm totally outnumbered here, and you guys are gross."
"Yeah, well you like to play dress up instead of finding weapons for a significantly dangerous operation we need weapons for!"
"That was one time!"
◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦
Sam didn't understand why, but when they arrived at an abandoned junkyard littered with scrapped cars, vehicles, and rusted mechanic's tools, she began to feel slightly on edge.
Dustin's feeble, "Oh no," certainly didn't help the situation.
"'Oh no'?" Sam repeated, slightly fearful because of the anxiety creeping up her skin. Something was wrong, and Dustin was being too ominous. "What's 'oh no'?"
"We're headed back home," Dustin finally realized, after — like — miles of walking.
Incredulously, Mike said, "What?"
"Are you sure?" came Lucas's annoyed voice.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Dustin answered, pointing up at the sky. "Setting sun, right there. We looped right back around."
Sam threw her head back, wondered, "Can one thing go right for us?"
"Dustin, how are you just realizing this now?!" Lucas asked, sounding as if he were on his last straw.
Dustin's face screwed up at Lucas's accusatory tone. He looked around as if hoping Lucas was attacking someone else, but when he realized Lucas wasn't, he snapped, "Why is this all on me?"
"Because you're the compass genius!" Lucas gestured to him wildly. "And Sam c—"
"Don't you drag me into this," Sam cut him off before he could even start.
Dustin breathed out, really fucking tired with everything but especially the arguing the Party has been doing. He nodded at his friends and asked, "What do your compasses say?"
Sam, Lucas, and Mike checked their compasses again. When they looked back up at Dustin, in unison, they distastefully chimed, "North."
"Makes no damn sense," muttered Dustin, shaking his head in annoyance.
They looked around the junkyard, wondering what hell could be going on. Sam really saw nothing out here except for — well — junk, but maybe that was the shitty eyesight.
"Maybe the Gate moved?" theorized Mike, even if it wasn't very plausible.
Biting the nail of her thumb, Sam said, "No, I don't think it's the Gate. I... I think it's something else screwing with the compasses."
Still turning in circles surveying the junkyard, Mike said, "Maybe it's something here?"
"Nah," Dustin agreed with Sam, "it would have to be like a super magnet."
Lucas was peering around the junkyard, too. Instead of focusing on rusted metal, his eyes fell upon Eleven secluding herself from the conversation.
"It's not a magnet," Lucas pointed at her venomously. "She's been acting weirder than normal! If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass!"
Defensively, Mike asked, "Why would she do that?"
"Because she's trying to sabotage our mission! Because she's a traitor!" Lucas accused.
Sam watched as Lucas began walking towards Eleven, who had previously been keeping herself a few feet away.
"Lucas, what are you doing?" Sam asked tentatively, because she didn't have a good feeling about this. She, Mike, and Dustin followed Lucas, staying close to the chaos in fear of what was going down.
Lucas was glaring at Eleven, inches away, when he realized, "You did it, didn't you? You don't want us to reach the gate. You don't want us to find Will!"
"Lucas, come on, seriously," Mike tried interjecting. "Just leave her alone—!"
"Admit it," Lucas ignored Mike, angry eyes focused on Eleven.
Eleven shook her head, trying to say, "No—"
"Admit it!" Lucas yelled, causing Eleven to flinch back. He shot his arm out, taking a hold of Eleven's and forcing the girl to show her jacket sleeve.
Sam was surprised — and a little nauseated — to find that there was blood stained there.
Lucas threw Eleven's arm down harshly. "Fresh blood! I knew it."
"Lucas, come on!" Mike tried.
"I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks!" argued Lucas. "She was using her powers!"
"Bull! That's old blood. Right, El?" Mike defended, addressing Eleven now.
But Eleven just stared back at him.
"Right, El?" reiterated Mike, more begging than anything.
Eleven shook her head, seeming as if she were about to cry. Sam could tell she was unstable by her demeanor and the way she started, "It's... not... It's not safe."
"What do you mean it's not safe?" Sam asked, holding in her anger as best as she could. She despised raising her voice (in her head, her mother said, People shout when they don't have the vocabulary to whisper), and she knew yelling would make everything worse, but she was annoyed. If Eleven knew it wasn't safe or knew something, she should've told them and not let them walk around for hours in the wrong direction.
"I... I—"
"What did I tell you?" Lucas interjected as he turned to face Mike. "She's been playing us from the beginning!"
Arguing back, Mike shook his head, "That's not true. She helped us find Will!"
"'Find Will'?" Lucas huffed, but there was no humor in the sound. "'Find Will'?" He pretended to look all around the junkyard. "Where is he, then? Huh? I don't see him!"
"Yeah, you know what I mean!" said Mike, because Lucas was being difficult on purpose.
Marching up to Mike, Lucas continued, "No, I actually don't! Just think about it, Mike! She could've just told us where the Upside Down was right away, but she didn't! She just made us run around like headless chickens!"
"All right!" Dustin said, attempting to stop the argument as he approached Lucas and Mike. "Calm down—!"
"No!" Lucas shouted, his anger boiling. "She used us, all of us!"
"I'm mad, too," Sam spoke as she approached the boys, pushing Lucas and Mike away from each other and hitting them both with a motherly stare. "But this is getting us nowhere and I'm sure Eleven has an explanation."
"If she did, we wouldn't be here!" yelled Lucas. "She used us, all of us! She helped just enough so she could get what she wants — food and a bed. She's like a stray dog."
"Screw you, Lucas!" Mike exclaimed at him.
Lucas pointed aggressively, getting all up in Mike's face saying, "No! Screw you, Mike! You're blind — blind because a girl other than Sam isn't grossed out by you! But wake up, man! Wake the hell up!" He inched back slightly to gesture Eleven again. "She knows where Will is, and now she's just letting him die in the Upside Down."
"Shut up!"
"For all we know, it's her fault."
"Shut up!"
"We're looking for some stupid monster," Lucas continued, shoving Mike with his index finger, "but did you ever stop to think that maybe she's the monster?"
They all turned to look at Eleven, who was watching the argument with that same, terrified and doe-eyed face. Sam was staring at Eleven for too long that she missed the next sound that came from behind her.
"I said shut up!"
Sam whipped her head around, and next thing she saw, Mike was launching himself towards Lucas. Lucas made a grunting yell as he was thrown to the ground harshly.
"Stop!" Eleven yelled.
"Guys, break it up, already!" requested Sam, growing worried about the boys' safety.
"Knock it off, you idiots!" Dustin added.
Neither Lucas nor Mike listened. Instead, they kept shoving each other the ground. They were groaning and growling as they fought one another.
"Quit being stupid before you get hurt!" shouted Sam, desperate for it to stop.
"Mike, get off!" tried Dustin, too.
"Stop it!" Eleven yelled again.
But the two boys were too invested in their brawl. Lucas flipped their bodies over so he was over Mike, able to force him deeper into the grass.
Eleven let out an ear-piecing shriek which echoed through the area. Sam winced at it and covered her ears, but her hands dropped the minute she saw Lucas flying off of Mike. Sam's mouth fell in shock, watching her friend be flung through the air and landed harshly to the ground against one of the scrapped pieces of metal.
"Lucas!" Sam exclaimed his name, worry filling her eyes as she, Mike, and Dustin hurried toward him.
"Jesus!" remarked Dustin.
Sam was first to reach Lucas, quickly followed by Mike and Dustin. She crouched down beside him, and it was evident that when he knocked his head on the metal, he became unconscious.
"Lucas! Lucas!" Mike called his name as he and Dustin crouched on either side of Sam. The three began shaking Lucas, hoping it would wake him up. "Lucas, are you all right? Lucas!"
"Come on, Sinclair. Wake up," Sam begged as she shook Lucas's arm. She felt her eyes prickling. Sam hated crying in front of people, but she was too worried about Lucas to care.
Desperately, Dustin urged, "Lucas, say something!"
"Lucas, wake up!" tried Mike. "Lucas."
"Come on, Lucas!"
While Sam and Dustin tried getting Lucas up, Mike turned, his rage-filled gaze now on Eleven.
"Why would you do that?!" he berated her. "What's wrong with you?! What is wrong with you?!"
Sam ignored the yelling behind her, along with the burning of her eyes, as she begged Lucas to wake up. "Th-This isn't funny, Lucas, please!" yelled Sam, and her voice came out all wrong and choked up. "Please, Lucas! Get up!"
"Come on, wake up, man!" Dustin was shrieking, trying to hit Lucas awake. Mike had whipped away from Eleven, all his focus now on getting his best friend up. "Come on!"
Mike grabbed Lucas's shoulders, rocking him back and forth rapidly. "Lucas... Lucas, come on!"
We already lost Will, Sam. I'm not... I can't lose anyone else.
Sam couldn't lose anyone else, either.
"LUCAS!" begged Sam—
This time, as if being shocked awake by some sort of lightning force, Lucas shot up with a gasp, feeling the zapping pain of electricity.
A wave of relief washed over Sam as she, Mike, and Dustin let out relieved pants and chuckles.
"You're not dead!" Sam beamed as Lucas sat up against the pile of metal scraps.
"Lucas... Lucas, you okay?" Mike hesitantly asked.
"Lucas..." Dustin held up three fingers. "Lucas, how many fingers am I holding up? Lucas, how many fingers?!"
Lucas looked terrible disoriented, hand slowly rising up to rub the top of his head. They all noticed this, but Mike was the first to act upon it.
Reaching for the back of Lucas's head, Mike said, "Let me see your head—"
"Get off of me!" Lucas snapped out of it, slapping Mike's arm away with a newfound anger. He began rising off the ground, looking at and addressing no one.
"Just..." Mike trailed off guiltily, trying to find the words to say. "Lucas, just let me see."
He had brought up his arm again, outstretched to try and check on his best friend. The three Party members were trying to stand along with Lucas, but he was faster than them. He hit Mike away, pushing through them.
"Get off of me!" he tried yelling in anger, but Sam heard how choked up he was, tears threatening to fall at any second.
They watched Lucas walk away. Sam knew he was mad, but she didn't want him to go home injured or alone.
"Lucas, you can't go home like this," Sam insisted, empathetically feeling her eyes get wet again, too. For a second, it looked as if Lucas stopped in his tracks, but that wasn't the case because he continued walking.
Mike tried following him, pleading, "Lucas, come on—"
Dustin grabbed Mike's arm, yanking him to stay back with himself and Sam.
"Let him go," Dustin advised smartly. Lucas continued marching without turning his back. "Man, let him go..."
A beat of silence.
Mike looked around the area.
"Where's El?"
Dustin gazed around the junkyard while Sam still couldn't pull her eyes away from where Lucas left. There were scraps and piles of metal, but no Eleven.
"She's gone."
◦☆＊★ ━━━━━━ ★＊☆◦
i'm in like a deep pjo phase rn (i'm watching the series and im obsessed) and its got me wondering what sam's godly parent would be
ik you guys don't know her too well yet but my votes are zeus (unfortunately), apollo, or maybe even aphrodite
corey is definitely a son of hephaestus y'all will see eventually
what'd you think?