Chapter 5

The Wheeler basement smells like popcorn, pre-teen socks, and a suspiciously chemical grape soda someone spilled behind the couch two weeks ago and never confessed to. Maggie flops onto the carpet like she’s been shot, one hand over her heart.

“Gentlemen,” she says, to the four boys crowded around a folding table, “It’s Friday. I demand entertainment.”

Dustin, never one to back down from theatrics, waves a foam sword in her direction, “You are in the presence of greatness, fair maiden. The realm is under siege. There are snacks on the table, dice in the dragon-shaped jar, and exactly one pair of clean socks between the four of us.”

Maggie raises a brow, “Are you trying to impress me, Henderson?”

Dustin flushes slightly, trying to play it cool, “Only if it’s working.”

Lucas points his pencil like a dagger, “You’re not even playing.”

“I’m moral support,” Maggie replies, “Also, I brought Twizzlers. That gives me diplomatic immunity.”

Mike looks up from his Dungeon Master notes, “If you’re gonna lurk, at least roll a character.”

“I’ve already got one,” she says, propping her feet on the couch, “Chaotic neutral with a glitter problem.”

Will snorts, and Maggie grins, pleased. He’s been quiet lately. Too many eyes on him in the halls, too much pressure to be normal. She recognizes the weight of it, the way people look at you sideways when they don’t understand what’s behind your eyes.

“Okay,” Dustin says, cracking his knuckles, chest puffed slightly, “We’re on the edge of the dark wood. The air is thick with danger. Something rustles in the undergrowth.”

Maggie mutters, “It’s always undergrowth. Nothing ever rustles in broad daylight next to a friendly lemonade stand.”

Lucas flicks a die at her.

The game flows, with interruptions for juice refills and arguments over initiative rolls, and Maggie watches the way the boys click together like old gears. Will perks up when he describes his spell. Mike gestures wildly with a half-eaten Rice Krispies treat. Lucas threatens a goblin with interpretive dance. It’s chaos as per usual. It’s homey.

Dustin occasionally glances over at Maggie, checking her reaction when he rolls a natural twenty, grinning when she smirks at one of his jokes, doing that subtle pre-teen thing where he straightens his hat and sits a little taller whenever she laughs.

But then something breaks the rhythm. Dustin leaps up from his seat, charging toward the snack table for dramatic effect during a battle declaration, and slips.

It happens fast. His foot slides on a rogue gummy worm, his legs go out from under him, and he crashes into the corner of the table with a sickening thud.

“Shit—Dustin!”

Mike and Lucas are on him instantly, helping him sit up. There’s a gash on his forehead, not deep, but bleeding more than it should.

“Jesus,” Mike breathes, “You okay?”

Dustin winces, clearly trying not to cry, “Y-yeah, I just—ow—god, that hurts—”

Maggie drops to her knees beside him, heart thudding. Her hands hover over his face like she wants to do something, but doesn’t know what.

Then it hits her.

Like being yanked underwater, cold and hard and sharp. Her stomach twists. Her skin goes hot. Her fingers graze Dustin’s temple, and the pain slams into her like a freight train.

She gasps, jerking back. Her vision wavers.

“Maggie?” Lucas says, frowning.

Dustin looks up, confused, “Wait… it doesn’t hurt anymore. Like, at all.”

Everyone turns to look at Maggie.

She’s still crouched, staring wide-eyed at her hands, which are trembling. Her veins, faintly glowing beneath the skin, pulse with a silvery-blue shimmer, just for a moment.

“Oh,” she says, “That’s new.”

Mike stares at her, “Uh… Maggie? Why are you glowing?”

She gapes, “I am?”

And then she looks down and there’s blood running down her own forehead.

The same spot. Same depth. Same pain. But Dustin’s is already scabbing over. His has stopped.

“You hit your head?” Will asks, confused.

“I didn’t—” Maggie cuts herself off, “No. That was him.”

The basement goes quiet.

Lucas looks between them, “Okay, what the hell just happened?”

Dustin gingerly presses his temple, “I swear it hurt like crazy a second ago, and now I feel fine. Like, totally fine. But you,” He points at Maggie, alarmed, “you’re bleeding! From my injury!”

“Okay, everyone chill,” Maggie says, standing, wobbling slightly, “This is fine. I mean, not fine, obviously, because ow, but like… interesting.”

“Are you saying you, what, took his pain?” Mike asks, stunned.

“I think…” She winces, touching her temple, “…maybe? I mean, it felt like it jumped into me. Like a horrible psychic game of hot potato.”

Will steps closer, cautious, “Does this… happen a lot?”

“No,” Maggie says slowly, “I mean…no. Not like that. I’ve had… weird things happen. Feelings that aren’t mine. Headaches when people cry. Stomach aches when someone’s scared. I didn’t think anything of it. But never this. This is new. This is… a full freakin’ upgrade.”

The boys stare at her like she’s just announced she’s secretly part toaster.

“You’re like, what?” Lucas says, “A pain sponge?”

“Great. Love that branding,” Maggie mutters, “Very chic.”

Dustin, still sitting on the couch, stares at her with wide eyes, “You saved me.”

Maggie shrugs, but the pain still flickers in her expression, “I didn’t really try to—”

“No, seriously,” Dustin says, and there’s this awe in his voice that’s too much for someone who just stopped bleeding, “That was… amazing.”

Maggie furrows her brows, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just—” He pauses, looking almost dazed, “You’re like a superhero.”

Mike snorts, “You okay, Romeo?”

“Shut up,” Dustin mumbles, cheeks going red.

Will leans toward Mike, “He’s definitely gonna write poetry about this later.”

Maggie arches a brow, “Should I be worried?”

Dustin straightens his hat, “No! I mean. Maybe. But like, not in a scary way. More in a ‘wow-you’re-really-cool-and-mysterious’ kind of way.”

Lucas facepalms, “Oh god, it’s happening. Henderson’s in love.”

“Am not!”

Maggie laughs, wincing a little as the motion tugs at her still-bleeding head, “Okay, okay, before this turns into a Shakespearean tragedy, someone hand me a towel?”

Mike throws her a dishrag from the laundry pile, “So what now?”

Maggie presses it to her forehead, watching her fingers tremble. Dustin, meanwhile, is still staring at her like she’s a goddess.

Saturday morning in Hawkins is usually quiet, birdsong, lawn mowers, some dad yelling at a grill, but inside the Wheeler basement, chaos reigns.

Maggie sits cross-legged on the carpet with a fresh Band-Aid on her forehead and a slowly melting popsicle in one hand. Across from her, the boys have formed what can only be described as a science tribunal. There are three notebooks, one suspiciously sticky graphing calculator, and a shoebox labeled “EMERGENCY THEORIES” in Sharpie.

“Okay,” Mike says, slapping a spiral-bound pad onto the floor, “Let’s start from the top. What exactly did you feel right before Dustin’s injury became yours?”

Maggie takes a long slurp from the popsicle, “Besides a deeply spiritual level of regret for hanging out with middle schoolers?”

Lucas throws another die at her. She catches it, unfazed.

“Fine. It was like… my skin got hot, but my stomach went cold. Like vertigo mixed with caffeine overdose. But psychic. And then bam, your boy’s face wound became my face wound.”

Dustin, seated far too close to her for it to be casual, nods solemnly, “And I felt it leave. Like, one second my skull’s on fire, and the next it’s like… nothing. Just gone.”

“Like a relay race but horrifying,” Will mumbles.

Lucas, ever the skeptic, frowns, “So she’s a human pain sponge. Or… wait, no. Reverse-healer?”

“Pain vampire,” Mike offers, “She feeds on agony.”

“That is so metal,” Dustin whispers.

Maggie groans, leaning back on her elbows, “Can we not turn my mystery medical condition into a Marvel pitch? I’m already having an identity crisis.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Will says, flipping a page in his notebook, “You said this wasn’t the first time you’ve felt weird stuff, right?”

“Right,” Maggie says, rubbing the back of her neck, “I’ve always felt other people’s emotions. Not like a psychic, more like… sympathetic side effects? I get stomachaches when someone’s nervous. Migraines when someone’s grieving. Once, I got a full-blown nosebleed when a kid near me broke his ankle during gym class.”

Mike stares at her, “That’s… terrifying.”

“And incredibly inconvenient,” Maggie says, “You try surviving high school when your body acts like a secondhand trauma detector.”

Lucas flips a page, “Okay. So what if your brain is, like, an empathy amplifier? But it goes too far. It doesn’t just feel people’s pain, it steals it.”

“I’m not sure I like the word ‘steals,'” Maggie mutters, “Makes me sound like a sadistic fairy.”

“You glow when it happens, too,” Will adds, thoughtful, “Just your veins. Blue-silvery. Like… your body’s conducting something.”

“Electricity?” Mike asks.

“Magic?” Dustin adds, hopeful.

“Repressed rage,” Maggie says, wiggling her fingers dramatically, “Beware, for I am the patron saint of secondhand trauma.”

Dustin beams like she just told him he won a Nobel Prize, “You’re so cool.”

Lucas groans, “Oh my god. Henderson, down boy.”

“I’m just saying!” Dustin shoots back, “She’s like if Rogue from X-Men was into glitter.”

Maggie smirks, “Rogue’s the hot one with trauma, right? Yeah, I’ll take that.”

Mike taps his pencil, “So what triggered it this time? Because if this happens when someone gets hurt—”

“—Then it should’ve happened before,” Lucas finishes, “Like the time Mike tripped and faceplanted into the locker last week.”

“That was one time!”

Maggie shrugs, “I think the difference is contact. I touched Dustin. Skin-to-skin. That might be the key.”

Dustin immediately extends a hand, “For science.”

She eyes him, “Are you trying to flirt with me and get supernaturally injured at the same time?”

“No! I mean—unless… no. I mean—science! Only science.”

Will hides a laugh behind his notebook, “You’re gonna pass out if she even breathes on you.”

Mike, meanwhile, has drawn a diagram of what he’s calling “The Maggie Effect” on the whiteboard. It includes arrows, a cartoon heart, and a questionable stick figure labeled “Pain Goblin.”

“I’m going to need that framed,” Maggie says, “Right above my bed.”

“Focus!” Mike snaps, “This is serious. If you can absorb pain, that means you could also rechannel it. Maybe even weaponize it.”

Maggie’s grin grows sharp, “Now that sounds promising.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had glow-veins.”

“Still sounds like an anime,” Dustin mumbles dreamily.

Will leans in, scribbling furiously, “So… what if the reason you can’t remember anything is because you absorbed someone else’s trauma so big, so terrible, your own brain just… reset?”

The room goes quiet and Maggie’s smile falters. 

“That’s a theory,” she says softly.

“Sorry,” Will murmurs, “I just thought—”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, twirling the popsicle stick between her fingers, “I’ve wondered. I mean, one minute I’m falling through a ceiling, and the next I’m shacking up with the Byers. I don’t know who I was before. But maybe I was… someone who needed to forget.”

Dustin says, “Okay, but even if you were like, a trauma ninja or something, you’re still you now. With us.”

Maggie glances at him, surprised.

“And you’re awesome,” he adds, a little red.

“Dustin,” Lucas says, “You are not imprinting on her.”

“I am so!”

“I’m not a duckling,” Maggie interjects, “I’m more of a weird, emotionally complex hawk.”

Mike sighs, “Look. We don’t have to solve it today. But we do need to keep track. Every time it happens. Every symptom. Every glow.”

“I’m making a spreadsheet,” Will says, already drawing boxes, “With a glow-scale from ‘Twilight Vampire’ to ‘Light-Up Skeletor.'”

Maggie leans back, feeling the Band-Aid on her forehead shift slightly. Her skin is still warm. The faint echo of Dustin’s pain lingers, but it’s manageable now, like an old bruise.

She lifts her hand and watches as a shimmer traces across the veins of her wrist, glowing gently for half a second before vanishing again.

It doesn’t scare her this time. It just feels like her.

A/N: Don’t worry, everyone, maggie is about to meet nancy in the next chapter :)))))