Chapter 51

y’all i’m so close to crashing out. i left for the aiport at 2 am to get there at 3:30 am for my 5:45 am flight and now i have a layover for four hours. and i was hoping to take a nap on the first flight but NO there was a toddler directly behind me who kept kicking my seat and screaming at the TOP of her lungs. i’m gonna be so sleep deprived, i havent slept since 9 am yesterday and probably wont get home from one of my family christmases until 10-11 at night. anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk enjoy the chapter LMAO 😭

Maggie groans, rolling onto her side as the California sun streams through the blinds.

“I hate this place,” she mutters.

She swings her legs off the bed, wincing as her leg twinges slightly from old injuries. California had its perks, beaches, sunshine, palm trees, but none of it made up for the absence of Hawkins. For the past six months, she’d held herself together with daily calls to Nancy, laughing and teasing to keep the homesickness at bay.

But now, spring break was close, and Maggie could finally let herself smile without guilt. Tomorrow, she’d be back in Hawkins, unbeknownst to Nancy, even if only for a week. She had called Karen a few weeks ago, just to confirm it was okay, and the woman was more than thrilled. Needless to say, she has been missed in Hawkins.

Sliding into fresh clothes, a loose hoodie and jeans, she heads to the kitchen. The smell of toast and scrambled eggs wafts from the small house. Jonathan is already awake, pouring cereal into a bowl, while El sits at the counter, hair still mussed from sleep, yawning with a hand over her mouth. Will shuffles in behind her, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” Maggie says from the counter, “You’re alive. That’s a good start.”

El looks up at her from the table, “Maggie?”

“Last time I checked,” Maggie replies, giving her a crooked smile, “You guys planning on moving, or are we all skipping together?”

El considers this, then slides off her chair.

Maggie crosses the room and crouches beside her, tying one loose shoe without comment.

“School day,” she adds lightly, “The world insists.”

Will shuffles past them, hair a mess, blinking like the lights are too loud. Maggie taps the doorframe as he passes.

“Bathroom’s that way, dude.”

“I know,” he mutters, but he goes.

Jonathan leans against the hallway wall, already dressed, camera bag half-zipped. Maggie catches his eye.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Mostly.”

“Mostly works,” she says, “Just don’t forget the thing you’d regret forgetting.”

He snorts and adjusts the strap.

The house moves into motion around her. Maggie hands El her jacket when she forgets it, flicks Will’s hood back when it gets stuck under his collar, and knocks Jonathan’s elbow when his bag tips over.

Will reappears, towel over his shoulder, “I’m ready. I think.”

Maggie gives him a look, “If you say so.”

He hesitates, then sighs and digs back into his backpack, “Okay, fine.”

Jonathan watches, amused, “You’re weirdly good at this.”

“At what?” Maggie asks.

“Keeping us moving without being annoying.”

She shrugs, “Low expectations.”

They bunch up near the door, still half-asleep.

Maggie grabs her own bag, “Alright. If something important’s missing, we’ll discover it dramatically later. Let’s go.”

They spill outside together, groggy and buzzing as a small, disorganized unit.

Maggie slings her backpack over her shoulder as the group crowds into Argyle’s van. Argyle’s already in the driver’s seat, classic rock thumping through the speakers as he nods along.

“Good morning, my fellow travelers,” he announces, one hand off the wheel, “Please enjoy today’s ride, sponsored by yours truly.”

Jonathan groans as he climbs in last and claims the window, “It’s seven in the morning, man.”

“And yet,” Argyle says solemnly, “we persist.”

Maggie drops into the passenger seat, buckling in, “You’ve been awake since five, haven’t you.”

Argyle grins, “Sleep is a suggestion.”

El and Will squeeze in behind them, knees knocking against backpacks. Will mutters something about needing coffee even though he very much does not drink coffee.

As the van pulls away, Maggie glances over at Argyle, “So what’s today’s soundtrack theme? Midlife crisis or existential road trip?”

Argyle considers this, “Track one says midlife crisis, but track three gets emotional.”

Jonathan snorts, “That checks out.”

Argyle points at him without looking, “See? He knows. We’ve been through things.”

“By things, he means getting lost on the way to the Surfer Boy and somehow ending up near the desert,” Jonathan says.

“That was one time,” Argyle protests, “Twice, maybe.”

Maggie laughs, resting her elbow on the door, “I respect the commitment.”

Jonathan leans forward slightly, “Don’t encourage him.”

“I’m past encouraging,” Maggie says, “I’ve accepted.”

Argyle nods, pleased, “Acceptance is the final stage.”

In the back, El watches the exchange, quiet but clearly entertained.

Will leans forward between the seats, “Are we… actually on the right road?”

Argyle glances at the windshield, “Define ‘right.'”

Jonathan reaches up and flicks the side of Argyle’s seat, “Yes or no, man.”

“Yes,” Argyle says, “Mostly.”

Maggie laughs under her breath, “Comforting.”

They roll on, music loud, conversation drifting from nothing to everything and back again. For once, no one’s in a hurry to fill the silence. Maggie lets her head rest against the seat, listening to Jonathan and Argyle bicker.

The days drag by with a muted monotony. Every class bleeds into the next until Maggie can’t tell if it’s Tuesday or Thursday or some cursed in-between day that exists purely to test patience. Wake up, eat, sit, listen, eat again, pretend to care, go home, sleep, repeat. It’s like being trapped in a loop designed by someone who hates joy.

She loves being with her family. That part matters. But California feels hollow in places Hawkins never did. She misses the chaos. She misses knowing where she stands.

The final bell rings. Maggie shoves her books into her bag and heads for the door, spotting Will weaving through the crowd with his head down.

“Hey,” she says, falling into step beside him.

They make it outside just in time to see the problem.

El stands frozen, shoulders hunched, surrounded by a loose ring of kids. Her science project lies in pieces at her feet, cardboard crushed, paint smeared, small figures snapped clean off. A couple of the girls are laughing too loudly, nudging each other.

“Oh, motherfucker,” Maggie mutters, jaw locking.

She doesn’t hesitate. She cuts through the crowd just as El suddenly thrusts her arm forward, face twisting with panic and fury as she screams. Nothing happens, but the awful silence that follows is unbearably loud.

Maggie skids to a stop beside her and drags a hand down her face.

“I’m getting secondhand embarrassment,” she groans under her breath, mostly to keep herself from exploding.

Laughter ripples through the group. Maggie lifts her head slowly and locks eyes with Angela.

“I swear to God,” Maggie says, voice low and deadly, “I will skin you and keep your bones and use them for evil rituals to curse your soul.”

Angela lets out a brittle laugh, eyes wide, unsure if this is a joke or a warning.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here?”

The voice cuts through the noise. El’s teacher pushes her way forward, gaze sweeping from the mess on the ground to El’s pale face.

“Jane,” she says sharply, “did someone do this?”

El swallows and glances at Angela before dropping her eyes.

“I tripped,” she says quietly, “It was just an accident.”

Maggie has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from scoffing out loud.

The teacher exhales through her nose, “Alright. Angela. You come with me.”

The crowd instantly oohs.

“What? Why?” Angela protests, “I didn’t do anything!”

The teacher grips her arm,”Let’s go.”

Angela twists back toward El as she’s dragged away, “Tell her, Jane! Tell her!”

El doesn’t look up.

The crowd disperses, interest fading now that the show’s over. El’s face crumples the second they’re gone.

Maggie pulls her into a quick, fierce hug before they both drop to their knees, gathering broken pieces of cardboard and paint-streaked paper.

“Shit. El. El,” Will says, breathless as he reaches them.

Maggie picks up a small figurine, snapped clean at the base. Hopper. She swallows, forcing a sad smile as she hands it to El.

“We’ll fix it,” Will says gently, “Together. Okay?”

El presses the piece to her chest, a sob catching hard in her throat. She doesn’t answer.

The ride home is quiet in the worst way. Maggie, Jonathan, and Argyle talk too much, filling the space with nonsense because silence feels dangerous. Maggie laughs at the right moments, throws in a comment or two, keeps it light.

In the back, El stares out the window. Will sits beside her, small and folded in on himself.

When they get home, El doesn’t say a word. She slips out of her shoes by the door and disappears down the hall, her bedroom door clicking shut. Maggie gives it a minute, maybe two. Then she knocks lightly on the doorframe.

“Hey, kid,” she says, “Can I come in?”

She gets no answer. Maggie takes that as a soft yes and steps inside. El is curled up on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing in particular. Maggie leans against the door for a second, then crosses the room and sits beside her.

“Don’t let her get under your skin,” she says carefully, “Angela is just a raging bitch with way too much confidence for someone who looks like that.”

El huffs a small laugh. It’s barely there, but it’s something. Then her face falls again, eyes burning.

“I miss Max,” she whispers, “She made me feel… normal. Not weird.”

Maggie’s hand moves to her back automatically, rubbing slow, steady circles.

“I know. I know,” Her voice softens, “And if she had the money, she’d be on a plane yesterday. She’d kick down the door just to prove a point.”

El sniffs.

“Mike is coming. I’m happy about that,” She shrugs, small and helpless, “But it’s not the same. He’s not Max.”

Maggie exhales through her nose and brushes El’s hair back from her face.

“No. He’s not.” She pauses, choosing her words, “But he’s still your best friend. And sometimes you take the good thing you have instead of torturing yourself over the one you don’t.”

El nods slowly, “You do that?”

Maggie snorts quietly, “I try. I fail a lot.”

That earns a tiny smile.

“Thank you,” El murmurs.

“Always,” Maggie says, “I’ll be here. Maybe not physically for the next week, but spiritually. I’ll be haunting you. Knocking things over. Making weird noises.”

El finally giggles, “Have you packed?”

Maggie freezes and her eyes widen, “Shit. Uh. No.”

El sits up a little, “Your flight is tomorrow morning.”

Maggie springs off the bed, “Yes. Yes, it is. I’m on it.”

She bolts down the hall, launching into a chaotic blur of drawers yanked open and clothes flung in no particular order. Nothing gets folded at all. She shoves, sits on the suitcase, zips it halfway, reopens it, shoves again.

Eventually she stands back, hands on her hips, breathing hard.

“I’m forgetting something,” she mutters, staring at the bag.

Her eyes widen suddenly, “Holy shit.”

She dives into her dresser, rummaging until her fingers close around a small box. She opens it carefully. Inside sits a delicate ring, a small round diamond catching the light. It’s simple, but in Maggie’s mind it’s perfect.

It’s not a proposal yet, but it is a promise.

“This is turning into the most expensive trip of my life,” Maggie sighs.

But she smiles anyway as she tucks the box safely into her bag, careful this time.

Morning comes too fast, like it always does when something actually matters.

The house is dim and quiet. Joyce pads around the kitchen with a travel mug, already dressed, already worried out of habit. Maggie drags her suitcase down the hall, the wheels bumping softly over the threshold.

Will appears first, hair sticking up, sweater half-zipped. Jonathan follows, yawning, keys already in hand. El lingers in the doorway, hugging her jacket around herself.

The drive to the airport is calm. Joyce keeps glancing in the rearview mirror like she’s memorizing Maggie’s face, even though she absolutely does not need to.

“You got everything?” Joyce asks for the third time.

Maggie taps her bag, “Wallet, ticket, bag, questionable life choices.”

Joyce exhales, “Good.”

At the curb, Maggie hops out and pulls her suitcase free. The airport is already alive around them.

Will steps forward first.

“Don’t forget us,” he says, like it’s a joke but also not.

“As if I could,” Maggie replies, pulling him into a quick hug, “I’ll be back before you can finish a full painting.”

Jonathan hugs her next, “Call when you land.”

“I always do.”

He smirks, “You forget once and mom will charter a plane.”

Joyce pulls her into a tight embrace, “Be careful. Call me when you get there. And don’t eat airport sushi.”

“I respect myself more than that,” Maggie says, hugging her back.

El hangs back for a moment, then steps forward.

“Just a week,” Maggie says softly, “I’ll be back before you can miss me too much.”

El nods, then reaches into her pocket and presses something small into Maggie’s hand. A folded note. Maggie doesn’t open it, just closes her fingers around it.

“Okay,” El says. “But come back.”

“I will,” Maggie promises, “That part’s non-negotiable.”

El wraps her arms around Maggie’s neck, tight and fierce. Maggie hugs her back just as hard, then pulls away.

“Alright,” Maggie says, straightening, “If I don’t go now, I’ll miss my flight and then Joyce will murder me.”

Joyce snorts, “Accurate.”

Maggie wheels her suitcase toward the entrance, pausing once to look back. Four familiar faces.

She lifts a hand in a casual salute and disappears into the crowd.

El watches until she’s gone, then exhales.

“A week,” she says to herself.

“Yeah,” Will agrees, “She’ll be back.”

The airport smells like coffee that’s been sitting too long and the despair of people who woke up at four in the morning. Maggie drags her suitcase through through the metal detector, boarding pass clenched between her fingers. She makes it through without incident, which honestly feels suspicious.

At the gate, she drops into a plastic chair and finally exhales. The adrenaline from goodbyes drains out of her all at once. She pulls her jacket tighter around herself and stares out at the plane through the window, about to take her straight back into the middle of everything she’s been missing.

She checks the time. Still early.

Maggie digs into her pocket and unfolds El’s note.

Be safe. Don’t forget us. I’ll be brave while you’re gone.

Maggie swallows and folds it back up carefully, slipping it into her wallet.

“Flight to Indianapolis now boarding, Group Three.”

She stands, slinging her backpack over one shoulder, and joins the slow-moving line. Everyone looks half-awake and mildly irritated, united in silent suffering. Maggie fits right in.

When it’s her turn, she hands over her pass, steps onto the plane, and immediately gets hit with recycled air.

She finds her seat by the window. Of course she picked the window. She stows her bag, buckles in, and rests her forehead against the cool glass as the plane taxis. The ground crew shrinks away. The terminal fades back into the blur of routine life.

As the engines roar to life, Maggie closes her eyes and lets herself smile.

Hawkins is waiting. Nancy. The others. Everything unfinished and complicated and stupidly important.

The plane lifts off, California dropping away beneath her, and Maggie doesn’t look back.