Chapter 15

Static crackles through the air, slicing through the quiet of Maggie’s small room.

“Maggie? Maggie!” Mike Wheeler’s voice blares through the walkie-talkie.

A groan erupts from beneath a tangled nest of blankets. Maggie’s hair is a total disaster, frizzed and sticking out in chaotic angles. She slaps her hand across the nightstand, groping for the walkie.

She grabs it, presses the button, and snarls into it, “Michael it is five in the goddamn morning. What do you need at this ungodly hour?”

“Just come over before school. We’ve got to talk to you,”

Maggie groans louder, throwing herself back against her pillows. 

“Fine,” she mutters, voice muffled by sleep and frustration.

Fifteen minutes of barely-controlled chaos follows. It consists of rummaging through piles of clothes, smudging on eyeliner and mascara, tugging a sweater over her head while stumbling into her jeans. She snatches her canvas bag and jumps on her old, squeaky bike, muttering curses to herself the whole ride over.

By the time she barges into the Wheelers’ basement, she’s yawning and running a hand through her hair to keep it from blinding her.

“What’s up, nerds?” Maggie greets, flopping onto the worn couch.

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are hunched over the table in the center of the room, looking grave. El is curled up in the corner of the couch, her knees tucked to her chest, silently fiddling with one of the walkie-talkies. She peers up at Maggie like a wary animal.

“We might have a lead,” Dustin announces.

“A lead?” Maggie arches a brow, kicking her boots up onto the edge of the table.

Mike blurts out, “El has superpowers and she knows where Will is.“

Maggie stares at him like he just said the sky is made of cheese. For a moment, she short-circuits.

“Huh?”

“El saw a photo of Will yesterday,” Mike explains quickly, “She recognized him. Said he’s hiding. From a monster called the Demogorgon. We think it’s what you saw.”

“She also shut a door. With her mind,” Dustin adds helpfully, eyes wide with awe.

At the word Demogorgon, a cold chill skitters down Maggie’s spine. Her breath catches in her throat. The name sounds wrong and it makes her skin itch.

“Okay. Too much. Way too much for the morning,” she groans, massaging her temples, “So she’s weird like me, and there’s some freaky monster after Sunshine? The same one I saw in the woods?”

Mike and Dustin nod. Lucas groans and throws up his hands.

“The Demogorgon isn’t real,” Lucas mutters, “This is ridiculous.”

The others ignore him.

“We’ve got a plan,” Mike says, “The three of us tell our parents we have AV Club after school. That gives us a few hours for Operation Mirkwood.”

Maggie quirks a brow, “Operation Mirkwood?”

Dustin beams, “We’re looking for Will.“

Lucas scoffs, “You really think the weirdo knows where he is?”

“She shut a freaking door with her mind, man!” Dustin snaps.

Mike sighs, “You got supplies?”

Lucas starts digging through his bag, “Binoculars from ‘Nam. Army knife, also from ‘Nam. Hammer, camouflage bandana, and the wrist rocket.”

Maggie snorts, “You’re gonna take down a Demogorgon with a slingshot?”

“Wrist rocket,” Lucas corrects sharply, “And the Demogorgon isn’t real. It’s made up. But if there is something out there, I’m shooting it in the eye. And blinding it.”

He yanks the slingshot back dramatically, and Dustin ducks.

Mike sighs again, “Dustin? What did you bring?”

Dustin proudly dumps his bag on the table. A colorful avalanche of snacks spills out: Nutty Bars, Bazooka gum, Pez, Smarties, Pringles, Nilla Wafers, one apple, one banana, and a pack of trail mix.

Maggie lets out an appreciative whistle, “Now that’s what I’m talking about, Henderson. Priorities. Who needs weapons when you’ve got snacks?”

Dustin grins bashfully, “I figured you might get hungry. You know, like, if you have to use your powers and stuff.”

Lucas groans, “Seriously? We’re gonna survive on sugar while running from a made-up monster?”

“Why do we even need weapons?” Dustin asks, gesturing to El and then Maggie, “We’ve got them.”

“She shut one door!” Lucas argues.

“With her mind,” Dustin repeats, pointing emphatically.

Eager to prove it, Dustin grabs a toy Millennium Falcon and kneels in front of El, “Come on, El. Make this fly. Use your powers.”

El stares at him, unimpressed.

“Okay. Concentrate.”

He drops the toy. It hits the floor with a clunk.

“Dustin, she’s not a dog,” Maggie sighs.

He tries again, and again the ship clatters to the carpet. El’s expression doesn’t change.

Before he can make a third attempt, Karen Wheeler’s voice rings out from upstairs.

“Boys! Maggie! Time for school!”

Chaos erupts. Lucas and Dustin grab their bags. Maggie mutters something under her breath about capitalism and runs up the stairs behind them.

They all burst out the front door like a small, caffeinated tornado, bikes already rolling as Mike shouts, “Meet us at the flagpole after school! Then we’ll meet up with El.”

Maggie salutes, “Yes, sir, Dungeon Master!”

She veers off at the corner, the wind catching her hair as she speeds toward her school.

Somewhere deep in her gut, she feels it again. A weird, buzzing sense of doom. Sunshine is still out there. And a storm is coming fast.

Maggie rounds the corner of the hallway just in time to catch Steve Harrington leaning in to press a kiss to Nancy Wheeler’s lips. Maggie slows her steps, masking the sting that crawls up her spine with a wide, playful grin.

“Well, hello, lovebirds. No good morning kiss for me?” she drawls with a raised brow, voice lilting with fake offense.

Steve glances over his shoulder at her, already smirking as he pulls away from Nancy. 

“Good morning, Maggie,” he says with an eye roll and a smirk that’s almost fond, “I’ll see you later, Nance.”

Nancy gives him a parting smile before turning back to her locker, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Maggie watches Steve walk off for a moment, jaw clenching just slightly before she pastes the smirk back on and leans casually against the locker beside Nancy’s. She crosses her arms, pretending not to be hyper-aware of the churning pit in her stomach.

“Barb here yet?” Maggie asks, voice casual.

Nancy furrows her brow, glancing down the hallway, “No, I haven’t seen her. Must’ve gone straight to class early. That’s not unusual for her.”

Maggie forces a tight-lipped smile and nods, trying not to let her face crack.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

But her voice wavers ever so slightly and Nancy notices. She tilts her head, her brows drawing in with concern.

“Everything okay?”

Before Maggie can answer, the bell shrieks through the hallway like a slap, echoing off the lockers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just a bad feeling. You know me, I’m dramatic. I’ll see you at lunch, alright?”

Nancy doesn’t look entirely convinced, but Maggie is already walking off, waving over her shoulder with a too-easy grin.

Maggie slumps into her usual desk in English class, a seat near the window with a decent view of the fading autumn leaves outside. The breeze rustles them just enough to make her want to crawl out of her skin.

She glances sideways out of habit. Barb’s desk is empty.

The space beside her feels like a missing tooth. The absence is loud, louder than anything the teacher is saying up front. Maggie’s leg bounces beneath the desk, her fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the tabletop.

Her mind spirals fast. Was it because of her? Had she scared Barb away with the kiss?

She bites the inside of her cheek, the guilt building like pressure behind her ribs. She tries to convince herself Barb just had a cold, or stayed home, or maybe just really didn’t want to deal with the drama from last night. But the quiet part of her mind whispers something else.

That maybe Barb had made a decision. And that decision was distance.

Maggie swallows hard, looking down at the blank page in her notebook. For the first time in a long time, she doesn’t have anything clever to write in the margins. Just a dull ache where her spark usually lived.

The bell rings. And Barb still hasn’t shown.

When lunch rolls around, Maggie spots Nancy at their usual table and slips into the seat beside her just as Carol throws one leg up onto the tabletop like she owns the place.

“It’s totally frostbite,” Carol announces, poking at her sock-covered toes.

Across from her, Steve grimaces mid-chew, “I don’t care what it is, it’s totally disgusting. We’re trying to eat here, Carol.”

With an eye roll, Carol swings her foot back down and pouts as if she’s just been wronged.

Maggie barely registers it. Her gaze is scanning the room. Her fingers tap an uneasy rhythm on the plastic tray in front of her. She glances to Nancy, who’s stirring her lunch without really eating it.

“Have you guys seen Barb at all today?” Maggie finally asks, trying to keep her voice light, but the weight behind the words slips through.

Nancy looks up quickly, worry flickering behind her eyes, “Yeah, she didn’t turn up to class. Not one. She never misses. I’m getting kinda freaked out.”

“Who?” Tommy H asks, mouth half full of tater tots.

Maggie stares at him like he just grew a third eye, “Barbara. Red hair? Glasses?”

“I seriously don’t know who you’re talking about,” Tommy says with a laugh, leaning back smugly like it’s all a joke.

“Come on, don’t be an ass, man,” Steve says, swatting Tommy on the shoulder, “You know Barb.”

Tommy shrugs, unbothered, “She was gone when we left last night. That’s all I remember.”

Nancy turns to Maggie, “Did she take you home?”

Maggie’s stomach twists. Her throat tightens like it’s trying to trap the truth inside. She shakes her head. 

“No. She was gone when I went to find her after I got dressed.”

Steve waves a hand in the air, brushing it off, “Look. I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just, like, skipped or something.”

“Yeah. Probably,” Nancy echoes, but her voice sounds hollow. 

Her spoon clinks against the tray, forgotten. Both girls exchange a glance. There’s no hiding the unease now. Barb never skips school. Never misses class. It’s not just strange, it’s wrong. Maggie’s stomach is doing somersaults.

The final bell rings and students scatter out into the afternoon light, laughing, yelling, shoving each other playfully. But Nancy and Maggie are outside the school at the rotary phone on the side of the building.

“Anything?” Maggie asks, her voice quieter than usual, almost like she’s afraid of the answer.

Nancy shakes her head, “No. Barb hasn’t been home. Her mom said she didn’t come home last night or this morning.”

The cold hits Maggie like a slap. Her pulse skips and then doubles. A chill creeps up the back of her neck, sinking into her bones like water. She wraps her arms around herself.

“Hey…” Nancy starts, hesitant, “Did anything happen? Last night, I mean. Before everyone left?”

Maggie shifts, suddenly way too aware of the weight of her limbs, the heat in her cheeks. She hesitates just a second too long.

Nancy narrows her eyes, “Maggie… what is it?”

Maggie shrinks under her gaze, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the pavement, “I, uh, I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

“Maggie,” Nancy presses, her voice a little firmer now, “what happened with Barb?”

A hand lands gently on her arm. Maggie doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t look up either.

Her voice is low, almost inaudible, “…I kissed Barb last night.”

Nancy freezes.

“It was just… it was a moment, you know? She cut her hand and I helped her clean it up and it was stupid and impulsive and now I don’t know if she’s avoiding everyone or just me and—” Maggie exhales harshly, her voice breaking, “And I’m terrified I messed everything up.”

She finally lifts her eyes to meet Nancy’s, searching for disgust or judgment or anything that might give her a reason to run. But Nancy just stares at her, wide-eyed, lips parted.

“You kissed her?”

Maggie nods stiffly, arms crossed, every muscle locked up tight.

“I didn’t mean to screw everything up,” she mutters, “She’s my friend. Or… she was. Now she’s just gone.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then she gently touches Maggie’s arm again, softer this time. 

“You didn’t screw anything up.”

Maggie gives her a doubtful look.

“I don’t know where she is either,” Nancy adds, voice quiet, shaken, “But whatever happened last night, it doesn’t mean this is your fault.”

Still, the anxiety coils in Maggie’s gut like barbed wire.

They step out into the hazy golden light of the afternoon, Maggie heading toward her bike when a familiar laugh cuts through the air like a knife. She pauses mid-step, narrowing her eyes at the group gathered by the side of the school.

Tommy. Carol. Steve. And to Maggie’s surprise, Jonathan.

Nancy squints, just as confused, “What’s going on?”

The two girls approach as Steve flips through what looks like photographs, Jonathan standing stiff as a board, his hands clenched into fists. He shoots Maggie a quick glance, but his eyes are already filled with guilt. He can’t hold it, and looks away just as fast.

“Ah, ladies,” Tommy drawls, turning toward them with a wide smirk, “Just in time for the show.”

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol snaps, snatching one of the photos from Steve’s hand and shoving it toward Nancy.

Maggie furrows her brows, “Wait, what?”

Carol doesn’t wait, she hands Nancy the photo. It’s a grainy shot of her pulling off her shirt in Steve’s room. Nancy’s face flushes in disbelief.

Maggie grabs a few photos from the stack Steve is holding. Her fingers tighten when her eyes fall on one in particular, her and Nancy, in the pool, faces close, grinning at each other like there was no one else in the world. Maggie’s stomach flips.

“Jon,” she says gently, voice low and trembling as she holds up the photos, “what is this?”

Jonathan still won’t look at her. His jaw twitches, and he stares at the pavement.

“See?” Steve scoffs, puffing his chest out, “You can tell he knows it was wrong. But man, that’s the thing about perverts, it’s hardwired into ’em. They just can’t help themselves.”

“Steve,” Maggie warns, voice clipped.

But he’s not listening. 

“So…” he continues as he slaps the camera in his hand, “we’ll just have to take away his toy.”

“Don’t,” Maggie says sharply, stepping forward as Tommy starts to shove Jonathan back, chest-to-chest, “Back off.”

Steve glances over at her, eyebrows raised, “You’re seriously gonna defend this creep?”

“No,” Maggie says, folding her arms tightly, “But that doesn’t mean you get to play vigilante and act like you’re better than him. You don’t need to break his stuff to prove a point. Just give the camera back.”

Steve smirks and dangles the camera in front of Jonathan, “Okay. Here you go, man.”

Jonathan hesitates, reaching. Then Steve drops it. The camera shatters on the pavement with a sickening crunch of plastic and metal. Jonathan flinches. Maggie stares at the broken pieces in silence.

“Oops,” Steve says, shrugging as if it’s nothing.

“Real classy,” Maggie mutters.

Nancy looks between them all, speechless, before stooping to pick up a single photo from the concrete. She slides it into her jacket pocket and trails silently after the group, glancing back at Maggie and Jonathan only once, with a conflicted expression.

Once the others are gone, Jonathan kneels and begins scooping up the pieces of his camera with trembling hands. Maggie crouches beside him, gathering up some of the torn photos.

“What were you thinking, Jonathan?” she asks, not unkindly, but firmly.

He swallows hard, “I—I wasn’t trying to be weird. I swear. I was out looking for Will and I heard laughing and I saw the lights, and I saw you and Nancy in the pool and I just…” He trails off, rubbing his face, “I just wanted to capture something good. Something normal. Something real. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

Maggie’s heart aches, part anger, part pity, “What you did wasn’t okay. It’s invasive. You took moments that didn’t belong to you.”

He nods quickly, shame flooding his expression, “I know. I know.”

She lets out a breath, standing up, “But Steve had no right to break your camera either. Look, just… be careful, okay? Think. Before you act. I know I’m not always the best example, but the world’s already a mess. Don’t make it worse.”

Jonathan nods, eyes glistening slightly, “I’m sorry. Really.”

“I know,” she says softly, “I’ve gotta go, but please be careful. I’ll see you at home, alright?”

He gives her a quiet goodbye and watches as she walks away.

Maggie slings her bag onto her shoulder, grabs her bike, and pedals to the flagpole out front where Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are already waiting.

“Where have you been?” Mike asks immediately, scanning her face for clues.

“Sorry,” she says with a half-hearted smile, “Just… messy business. Let’s not keep El waiting.”

The boys nod and they all ride to the tree line near Mike’s backyard, where El waits behind the fence, her small frame silhouetted by sunlight filtering through the trees. She climbs onto the back of Mike’s bike without a word, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist, and they head toward the woods.

Soon, they’re walking their bikes along the trail into the forest, Operation Mirkwood in full swing. The air is damp and full of pine and dirt, birds chirping overhead.

Mike and El walk a few paces ahead, shoulder to shoulder, speaking in hushed tones. Behind them, Maggie trails with Dustin and Lucas, her boots crunching over loose stones as she pushes her bike alongside theirs. Her thoughts swirl, Jonathan’s camera, Barb’s disappearance, but she’s doing her best to bury them beneath her usual smirk.

“You look like you’re trying to do math in your head,” Dustin says as he bumps her shoulder lightly with his, “You good?”

Maggie lifts an eyebrow at him, “I am doing math in my head, actually. Trying to calculate how many Pringles I’d need to throw at you before you stop talking.”

Lucas snorts, “I’m guessing the number’s in the triple digits.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t catch the Pringles,” Dustin retorts, puffing out his chest a little.

Maggie laughs and ruffles his curls, which only makes Dustin trip over his own feet a little and blush redder than his hat, “Relax, curly fries. You’d probably catch one and then eat it before you remembered what the plan was.”

Lucas grins, “That sounds about right.”

Dustin grumbles but can’t stop grinning, “Whatever. You guys are just jealous you don’t have snack-based survival instincts.”

“Oh yeah,” Maggie says dramatically, tossing her head back, “the ultimate superpower. Snack sniping. How could I ever compete?”

Dustin pushes up his sleeves with mock pride, “Don’t worry, Maggie. If we run into the Demogorgon, I’ll protect you.”

Maggie stops walking, puts a hand over her heart, and gasps, “My hero! You’d throw your life on the line for me?”

“I mean,” Dustin shrugs, “I guess.“

“Wow,” Lucas says dryly, “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. Be still, my heart.”

Maggie laughs again, softer this time, “Well, if I ever need someone to hurl Nutty Bars at a monster’s face, I know who to call.”

Dustin beams. They walk a little farther, the trees thickening around them, the golden afternoon light shifting to a cooler hue. Mike and El pause at a fork in the trail up ahead, waiting for the others to catch up.

Maggie’s laughter fades a bit as she looks into the dense woods around them. The smiles she’d worn like armor start to slip. Her gaze flicks from tree to tree, then up to the canopy.

“Hey,” Dustin says more quietly now, sensing the shift, “Seriously. Are you okay?”

Maggie’s smile returns, this time a little more real, if a little more tired, “Yeah, Dust. Just no sign of Barb. It’s freaking me out.”

Lucas glances toward the trail, “She probably just ditched. Got tired of your late-night knife tricks.”

Maggie nudges him with her shoulder, “Hilarious. Thanks for the comfort, Sinclair.”

“I try.”

The boys chuckle, but Maggie lingers behind for a moment longer, looking off into the woods.

She whispers to herself, too quietly for them to hear, “Where the hell are you, Barb?”

Then she tightens her grip on her handlebars and jogs a few steps to catch up, falling back in beside the boys.

“Alright, soldiers,” she says, mustering her grin again, “let’s go find our wizard.”

And with that, Operation Mirkwood marches deeper into the trees. Night falls quicker than the kids expected. El is marching ahead with determination.

“Here,” El says suddenly, stopping in her tracks and turning to the others.

The kids skid to a halt behind her, Maggie dragging her bike beside her.

“This is my house,” Maggie says, glancing around in confusion, “Like… literally. Right there. My bedroom window.”

“Hiding,” El replies softly, pointing toward it.

Maggie furrows her brows, “No, no, this can’t be right.”

Mike steps forward quickly, shaking his head, “This is where Will lives. He’s missing from here. Understand?”

Lucas throws his bike to the ground with a metallic clatter, “What are we even doing here?”

“She said he’s hiding here,” Mike insists, frustrated but clinging to hope.

“Um, no!” Lucas exclaims, like Mike’s completely lost it.

Dustin glares at the house like it might reveal something if he just squints hard enough, “I swear, if we walked all the way out here for nothing…”

Maggie gives him a sideways grin despite the tension, “Henderson, you could do with some cardio now and then.”

Lucas throws up a hand, “I told you she didn’t know what she was talking about!”

Mike turns toward El again, “Why did you bring us here?”

“Mike, don’t waste your time with her,” Lucas snaps, “She doesn’t know anything.”

Mike rounds on him, “What do you want to do then?

“Call the cops, like we should’ve done yesterday.”

Maggie’s had enough, “Sinclair, sometimes I wonder if you have rocks rattling around in that skull instead of a brain.”

“Excuse me?” Lucas barks.

The three launch into an overlapping chorus of bickering voices, tension crackling between them. Dustin stands off to the side, arms stretched out to stop the shouting.

“Guys!” he shouts, his voice high and panicked.

They fall silent and follow his gaze just in time to hear sirens in the distance. A chorus of them, growing louder. Red and blue lights flash between the trees.

An ambulance. Three cop cars. All racing down the road.

“Will…” Mike breathes, his voice catching in his throat.