The house clock struck midnight as the library door was jimmied open, creaking loud in entry. Tatum, dressed down in a tank and sleep shorts with soft sleep in her eyes, flicked on the overhead light and cracked the door shut behind her.
She barely knew where to start.
Tatum took a seat in her father's overpriced rolling chair, taking in a deep breath before going over each drawer and unlocking them all. She left the nail files on the desk, opening the same drawer she had found the cocaine inside.
There wasn't much more than legal documents outlining their move to the US, including Elena's documentation as well as her and her father's dual citizenship forms.
In the second there were old manuscripts he couldn't bear to get rid of and if he did the same as he used to in England, would set them around his typewriter to remind him of his successes when he had writer's block. They looked untouched since being placed in the drawer.
In the bottom right, a smaller and more portable typewriter that he would take to cafes if in dire straits.
"Come on, Dad," she muttered, switching to the other set of drawers.
An unethical amount of unused notepads and pens.
A collection of mixtapes made to match each of his published novels, each filled with the ambiance songs used for pivotal moments.
A few, most prized awards given to him throughout the years.
And absolutely nothing unusual.
Tatum grudgingly relocked each of the desk drawers, running a flustered hand through her hair. "Where are you keeping your manuscript?"
"Does he make you wait until they're published?"
Tatum's head shot up, doing her best to casually set the nail files on the desk.
Standing in the doorway of the library, Billy wiped the sleep from his eyes the best he could, wearing nothing but his boxers and a loose silver chain around his neck.
"No," she replied as she stood from behind the desk. "It's a game. When my dad's working on a book and he leaves for a trip or meeting, he hides it around the house for me to find. I've been looking for it since they left earlier today. He's been doing it since I was a kid and it kind of stayed a tradition."
Billy smiled lightly. "That's sweet. Do you want me to help?"
"It's okay." Tatum looped her arms around his neck, kissing his collarbone. "I've got to do it by myself or it breaks tradition. Go back to bed."
"I think I might get in the pool, actually," he replied, hands tracing slowly up her back. "If you want to take a break from your hunt."
Tatum's brows quirked. "Did you bring a swimsuit?"
"Did I say anything about a swimsuit?"
Grinning as he let go of her waist, she unfortunately denied the offer. "I should keep looking for a little while longer."
"If you change your mind, you know where I'll be," Billy said with a wink, disappearing down the hall.
It wasn't long before a residual splash sounded, breaking her train of thought as she attempted to return to the poorly organized investigation.
The elephant in the room seemed to speak to her.
Tatum's attention turned to the bare, rolling corkboard situated to the left of the room, a board well-loved overtime, having brought him through half of his published works to connect plot points and characters.
Her lips pursed as she grabbed a corner of the board, flipping it around.
Every news article that had ever been released on Will Byers was haphazardly tacked up, red strings connecting from one to the next to show the progression of the timeline, it clearly faulty.
"Shit," she murmured, absently plucking the tightly strung cord. "Dad..."
But the photographs were layered.
A down to scale copy of a wanted poster held a sketch that looked insanely similar to El with her hair buzzed down. Her father's handwriting was scratched around the image, varying from 'Russian spy' to 'Hawkins lab', the first one crossed out.
Tatum flipped up a polaroid of Will taken not a month before, ignoring the blatant and disturbing fact that it was likely Jordan who took it. Her brows furrowed deep, find an older photograph of a white-haired man in a sleek suit. "Papa?"
A flash of Eleven's distressed face crossed over her, recognizing the man that had brought so much emotion from the child.
'Brenner' was scrawled above the man's head, written so deep it nearly punctured the photo.
"Tatum!"
Tatum let the polaroid of Will fall back over Brenner's face, turning over her shoulder as Billy's voice echoed from the backyard. "Coming!" she called, pinching the bridge of her nose before flipping the corkboard over. Grabbing the nail files on the way out of the library and locking the door, it didn't take her long to jump in the pool and shut out the nightmare of Hawkins that was only growing.
||
"When do your parents get back?"
Lingering in the open doorway with a late morning breeze blowing in, Tatum absently held onto the collar of Billy's jacket. "Already trying to have another sleepover?"
"It definitely wouldn't be the worst thing," he replied with a grin, flipping his car keys around his ring finger. "Are they coming back tonight?"
"No, they're not."
Billy leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her neck. "Should I come back?"
Tatum grinned, letting go of his jacket. "Sure. But I'll be out with Nancy for a while, so I won't be home until late."
"Okay," he said, "I'll see you then." He tilted her chin up, kissing her warmly before leaving her on the porch and heading to his car. "What's up, Harrington?"
Tatum's eyes wandered across the street, the less than kind greeting sent to Steve as he seemed to be loading the trunk with cleaning supplies. Although she shut the front door to play it off, she ran upstairs to grab a prepacked backpack, cricket bat and her leather jacket before bounding back outside.
Steve shut his trunk with a huff, an unsettling smell coming from it. "So, he stayed the night."
"Steve."
"Dustin's been calling all morning, is what I mean. He's antsy to start." Steve climbed into the driver's seat, not needing to invite Tatum to join him. "I was going to get you earlier, but his car was still there."
Tatum shut the car door, buckling herself in with a sigh. "Sorry. I didn't know how to subtly ask him to leave."
"You could've just told him to."
"Steve."
Steve held up a cursory hand as he wheeled out of the driveway and headed down their street. "I'm just saying." He ran a hand absently through his hair. "Have you heard from Nancy?"
"Yeah, she's alright. I was going to talk to her later today, that is, if we don't die."
Steve's eyes widened, glancing over to her. "Are you worried we're going die today? Oh my God."
"Did you see the hole it made in the cellar? Are you really thinking we're going to get off easy? We have no plan for this."
"That's what Dustin's going to tell us about."
"You're trusting a monster mission with a middle schooler?"
Steve's lips pursed lightly. "Fair point. Look, we'll figure it out together. We all have to be okay with the plan before we start. We know we're at least going to lure it somewhere. That's why we have all the meat. He likely won't come out until dark, so we have time to do it right."
Tatum leaned back in her seat, sighing. "Do you care if I smoke?"
"No, you're good," he replied, hitting a button to roll down the front windows. "Could I actually get one off of you?"
Retrieving a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her backpack, she held one out to Steve before lighting her own. "I didn't know you smoked," she said, giving the lighter to him.
"I don't very often," Steve told her, handing the lighter back and taking a deep puff. "Nancy wasn't a fan of it, but I guess that doesn't matter anymore."
"Are we going to tell her about all of this? About Dart?"
"If we can contain it tonight, I don't think we need to, but you can. She knows everything else so it wouldn't be an issue."
Tatum tapped off the end of her cigarette out the window. "If we survive."
"Jesus, Tatum."
She held up a defensive hand as they wheeled into Dustin's driveway. "Sorry, I'm British. I'm a pessimist by nature."
Dustin burst through the front door, armed with his headset and backpack. He climbed into the backseat without question, practically slamming the door. "You two took your sweet time getting here."
"We got a late start to the day," Steve defended. "Now, where are we going?"
"Head west of town. I'm thinking we start out there and trail into the junkyard at the edge of town. It's somewhat lit and there are old cars we can hide behind or inside."
Tatum's brows perked. "Not a bad idea. Are any of the other boys coming with us?"
As the car sped out of Dustin's neighborhood, he shook his head. "I've been trying to contact them all of yesterday and today, but nothing. Lucas' little sister yelled at me yesterday. I guess he left his radio on while he was out." Dustin poked through the front seats. "Did you guys get the meat?"
"Yeah, it's stinking up my trunk."
"He likes bologna. Did you get bologna?"
Steve's face scrunched lightly. "No, I didn't get bologna. It's just a bunch of raw meat. It was the cheapest thing I could get. There's three whole buckets of it."
"We'll have to be sparing with our trail then. We don't want to waste it all." Dustin glanced between the two teens. "You guys look like douchebags."
"Oi, back off," Tatum replied, tapping the end of her cigarette out the window. "And put your seatbelt on."
Dustin scoffed. "Nobody wears seatbelts in the back."
"America is a nightmare, truly."
"Pull over here!" Dustin said, jabbing a finger toward the windshield. "We can get to the train tracks and follow them to the junkyard."
Steve pulled over, popping the trunk before killing the engine. "Let's get this grossness out of my car before the smell becomes permanent."
The trio geared up with gloves before retrieving the three metal buckets of raw meat, dropping them to the ground to grab the rest of their equipment.
A hum came muffled through Dustin's headset, Lucas' voice ringing out as Dustin set a can of gasoline next to the meat.
"Dustin. This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?"
"Well, well, well," Dustin smugly said, parting from the car and letting the teenagers take care of the rest, "look who is it."
"Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off."
"Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped and I'm pretty sure he's a baby Demogorgon."
"Wait, what?"
"I'll explain later. Meet me, Steve and Tatum at the old junkyard."
"Steve and Tatum? How does she know about this?"
Ignoring Lucas entirely, Dustin said, "And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket."
As Tatum and Steve swung on their packed backpacks, Tatum confusedly mouth 'wrist rocket' while adjusting her yellow rubber gloves.
Steve sighed, stashing his modified baseball bat in the side of his backpack before shutting the trunk. "Alright, let's go."
"Just be there, stat. Over and out."
Each of them grabbed a bucket, heading fatefully into the woods to initiate a plan that would likely get them killed.
They reached the train tracks without fail, following them in silence before Steve could barely stand it.
Although mildly spread out, Tatum was in tow and definitely not throwing meat on the tracks, instead avoiding the pieces already dropped.
"Alright, let me get this straight," Steve finally said, Dustin a few feet ahead of him. "You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl...who you just met?"
"Alright, that's gross oversimplifying things," Dustin countered.
Steve's nose scrunched. "I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?"
Dustin nearly laughed. "An interdimensional slug? Because it's awesome."
"Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn't, I...I just...I don't know. I just feel like you're trying way too hard."
"Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?"
Steve scoffed lightly. "It's not about the hair, man. The key with girls is just...just acting like you don't care."
"Lord," Tatum mumbled.
"Even if you do?" Dustin asked, glancing back to Steve.
"Yeah, exactly," he replied. "It drives them nuts."
"Then what?"
Steve shrugged. "You just wait until, uh..."
"I would love to hear this," Tatum said from the back.
Steve shot back a dirty look to Tatum. "Until you feel it."
"Feel what?"
Nearly gaining step with Dustin and leaving Tatum behind, most likely to escape her quiet laughing, he went on with his love advice. "It's like before it's gonna storm, you know? You can't see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh...electricity, you know?"
"Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere-"
"No, no, no, no," Steve interrupted. "Like a...like a sexual electricity."
"Please tell me you two aren't about to have the talk," Tatum groaned.
Steve gave her yet another dirty look, a seemingly common occurrence. "You feel that and then you make your move."
"So that's when you kiss her?" Dustin asked.
Tatum rolled her eyes. "Look what you've done, Harrington."
"No, whoa, whoa," Steve countered, ignoring Tatum. "Slow down, Romeo."
"Sorry."
"Sure, okay, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a...I don't know, like a lion."
"You really don't know," Tatum said as she cracked a grin.
"Tatum, the commentary, seriously," Steve snapped before returning to Dustin. "Others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a...like a ninja."
"Jesus Christ."
But the boys had ultimately tuned Tatum out.
"What type is Nancy?' Dustin asked.
"Nancy's different," Steve said after a pause. "She's different than the other girls."
"God."
Dustin sighed. "Yeah, she seemed pretty special, I guess."
"Yeah, yeah she is."
Dustin glanced over his shoulder, spotting Tatum absently swinging her cricket bat. "What type are you?"
"I will definitely not be revealing that answer to you."
Shrugging and expecting nothing less, he carried on. "This girl's special, too, you know. It's just, like, something about her."
Steve stopped them short, causing Tatum to nearly run into them.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Steve said. "Hey, hey, hey."
Dustin's brows furrowed. "What?"
"You're not falling in love with this girl, are you?"
"Uh no, no," he replied.
Steve narrowed his eyes lightly before letting them continue down the train tracks. "Okay, good. Don't."
"I won't," Dustin quickly said.
"She's only gonna break your heart, and you're way too young for that shit."
Tatum's brows lifted, able to keep her words to herself in the moment.
After a short silence, Steve tossed a hunk of meat with a sigh. "Fabergé."
"What?" asked Dustin.
Steve pointed to her hair. "It's Fabergé Organics."
"That's what my stepmum uses."
Rolling his eyes, Steve went on to say, "Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair's damp...it's not wet, okay? When it's damp-"
"Damp," Dustin repeated.
"You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray."
"Oh my God," Tatum expressed as a lightbulb went off in her head. "That's why you were so bothered when I said you looked like a Charlie's Angel. I uncovered a secret without even knowing it."
Steve groaned. "I'm regretting bringing you in on this, for real."
"No you're not," she countered in a sing song voice. "Who else would provide excellent commentary?"
"If either of you tell anyone about it, your ass is grass," Steve said, stopping short and pointing an accusing gloved finger at both of them as he held a chunk of meat. "You're dead. I mean it. Do you understand?" Receiving nods from them, he threw down the meat and continued walking. "Okay."
"Farrah Fawcett, really?" Dustin asked quietly, staying next to Steve as Tatum trailed behind.
"I mean, she's hot," Steve replied.
Dustin nodded. "Yeah."
Even if Tatum had noticed the yellow flag sticking out of the ground next to a rotting tree, it wouldn't have done them any good.
"Tatum, have you thrown a single piece of meat?"
Pausing mid swing of her bat, her brows perked at Dustin's voice. "Uh? Oh, yeah, I'm not touching this stuff. I'm just holding an extra bucket for when either of you run out."
Dustin groaned. "What are you here for?"
"Like I said earlier, the commentary." Tatum let the bat rest over her shoulder. "And I can be very tactical. I can break into most cars and rooms. Plus, I have a mean swing, so if we get attacked, I'm here for that."
"Since your gloves aren't gross yet, will you get my sunglasses out of my backpack?" Steve asked.
Tatum set down her entirely full bucket, following Steve's instructions on what pocket to reach into and retrieved the sunglasses. Propping them open, she slid them on for him before the trio continued walking down the tracks.
"Are you really not going to tell us what kind of girl you are?"
Tatum shot the middle schooler a look, confused at his sudden boldness. "No, I won't try to define myself by Steve's flawed logic. It's clear he knows very little about women."
"I'm right here, Tate."
Dustin scoffed lightly. "Well if you know so much about women-"
"Because I am one," Tatum interrupted.
"Then tell us your thoughts."
Tatum let out a huff, letting her cricket bat absently rattle against the worn tracks. "There aren't just two types of girls. It's not like you're assigned a preference from birth. Sometimes you want fast, and other times you don't. It depends on the person and the type of relationship you have with them. But that's also something you should be able to sense. Steve wasn't wrong about the electricity, though."
"Point Steve."
"Steve, now you're referring to yourself like you're not here," Tatum groaned. "And there isn't a point system. And, Dustin, you're still young. Don't feel like you have to rush into anything. The last thing you need to do it ruin your childhood."
Dustin's brows lifted lightly. "We're luring a literal monster into a trap. You get that most of my childhood is already ruined, right?"
"Then you don't need to ruin the rest of your childhood," Tatum adjusted. "Relationships can be messy."
"Amen to that," said Steve. Reaching back, he offered out the empty bucket. "Trade me."
Trading off the buckets with ease, Tatum continued on. "Emotions are complex. You could think it's the right person and it's not, or you could entirely miss something that could've happened. All I'm saying is that whoever it is, take it slow. Be friends first. You really are too young for heartbreak."
"Point Steve."
Both Tatum and Dustin rolled their eyes, giving out matching sighs as they diverged from the train tracks off toward a clearing.
Stopping just shy of the junkyard, still able to scope out their location in the daylight, Steve nodded agreeably. "Oh yeah. Yeah, this will do." Adjusting his sunglasses while forgetting they were covered in raw meat juice, he headed into the field of scrap metal and old cars. "This will do just fine."
"Good call, dude," Dustin said, continuing to lay a track of meat as they walked.
Tatum could tell from the moment they had all teamed up that Dustin idolized Steve, and she wasn't convinced that it was a bad thing.
"Let's dump the rest here," Steve told them, prompting all three to dump what was left in the buckets into a large pile.
"I said medium well!" a voice called from the distance, the sound of heavy bike pedals coming in close.
Lucas and Max hopped off of his bike, Lucas giving a welcoming wave as they made their way to the group from the edge of the junkyard.
Steve's brows furrowed, looking to the redhead before Dustin. "Who's that?"
It didn't take much of Dustin's silence for the teenagers to realize the situation.
Dustin cleared his throat, waving Lucas over. "Give me a minute," he said quietly to Tatum and Steve before dragging Lucas behind a beat-up red car.
"What's up, Max," Tatum greeted. "I see Lucas dragged you into this."
The redhead unfolded her arms, stopping short of the teens. "Don't tell me you believe in all of this, too."
Steve glanced between the girls before motioning a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna start getting scraps to board up the bus."
Tatum's lips pursed slightly as she shedded her yellow gloves, leaving them among the empty buckets. "I know it all sounds insane, but it is real."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Fair enough," Tatum replied with a nod. "You up to finding scrap sheets until you get to see something?"
Max shrugged her shoulders, joining the brunette in the search. As she piled up a few large pieces at the front of the bus, it wasn't subtle that her eyes kept going to Tatum.
"What's on your mind?" asked Tatum, walking over a hefty sheet of metal.
"Were you with Billy last night?"
Tatum's brows furrowed lightly. "For a bit. Why?"
Max's face scrunched, hauling another piece of metal to the pile. "He was in a good mood when I saw him this morning. Well, for a little bit. He's just rarely in a good mood, is all. It was like that the other night, too, after you guys left when I ran into you outside of our house."
"Oh."
Steve banging a chair on the back of the car Dustin and Lucas were crouched behind, his voice carrying to the girls. "Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are Tatum and this random girl? We lose light in forty minutes. Let's go." He waved an exuberant hand. "Let's go, I said!"
"Alright, asshole!" Dustin declared as he came out from behind the car.
In a scramble to keep up with the sun that was threatening to set, the five of them spread out among the junkyard, doing their best to bring in whatever they thought could help barricade their excuse of a safe house.
"So, you know this other kid?" Steve asked as he and Tatum met up in the same part of the yard, Tatum prying a large piece of scrap off of the side of a VW bus.
"She's Billy's stepsister," she answered, heading for the pile they formed outside of the bus that was only growing.
Steve shook his head lightly. "Aw, you and Dustin can be related."
"Don't think I'm above hitting you with this, and it will hurt."
"Damn, alright," Steve replied. "You're touchy about the boyfriend, I get it."
"He's not my boyfriend, Steve."
Steve hummed lightly. "So, you're just sleeping with him."
Tatum set the sheet of metal down, stopping in her tracks. "And you're so perfect? I get it, you were with Nancy for a year, but that doesn't mean that I haven't heard what you were like before that. From what I gathered, there were plenty of girls that would come over to your house while your parents were on work trips that you would never speak to again, so I don't need to hear this from you. I really don't."
Steve clicked his tongue, nodding softly. "Alright, fair. I'm sorry. I just really hate that guy. He's a total douche."
"I really hate that I know that information about you, not because it changes how I see you, clearly. But because of how nosy small towns are. It kills me, genuinely. "
Steve laughed, the two making their way to the bus and dropping their scraps into the pile. "You get used to it."
"I don't think I'll ever get used to this place," she said with a sigh.
"Let's get the barrels!" Dustin called from across the yard, waving them over.
Max and Lucas jumped out of the bus, linking up with Steve and Tatum to retrieving empty metal barrels. There was one for each of them, the five swiftly rolling them back to the bus.
"Tatum, hand me the gasoline," Steve directed, soon given the canister and soaking the pile of meat before trailing a line all the way up to the beat-up bus as Max hoisted an old ladder from the scraps and brought it into the bus to create a lookout.
"What if it comes before the sun sets?" Tatum asked, eyes angling up toward the sky as she shielded her face.
"Then we're screwed!" Lucas called, head poking out the top of the bus. "Start throwing the tires!"
Within no time, a two-stack fortress had been made surrounding the top of the bus, both Tatum and Steve tossing tires up hoping that they wouldn't accidentally take out one of the kids they were trying to protect.
The sun was getting low on the horizon, but it seemed they had managed the make the bus worthy of presumed safety, all five of them piling in before the daylight could fully disappear.
"What do we do now?" Max asked.
"We wait."