Chapter 39

Get ready for more gay, baguettes. and not just from magcy 😝

Summer has finally hit, and Maggie couldn’t be happier. The past few months have been the usual Hawkins cocktail: babysitting gremlins, slowburning herself into romantic oblivion with Nancy Wheeler, and causing enough chaos with Eddie Munson to qualify for a government watchlist.

Honestly, she’s thriving.

The sun’s out. School’s out. And Maggie woke up this morning with a terrible idea that Eddie immediately agreed to without hearing the details, which is how she knows he’s a reliable friend.

“Munson,” she declares, hands on her hips, “I have a plan.”

Eddie looks up from the couch, where he’s been doodling something that’s either a bat or a deeply confused chickens, “A plan?”

“A masterpiece,” she says, grabbing her worn sneakers, “Get up.”

“Is this the part where I ask for details, or the part where I blindly follow you into crime?”

“Second one.”

He shrugs, delighted, “Lead me, O Bad Idea Bringer.”

They sneak out before Joyce can ask questions, and ten minutes later they’re standing in front of the Hawkins High football bleachers with two cans of spray paint, a boombox, and the kind of reckless confidence that should honestly be illegal.

Eddie gestures at the supplies, “So. For the record. This was your idea.”

“Yes.”

“And we’re doing this because…?”

Maggie cracks open a paint can, “Because Jason Carver exists.”

Eddie gasps like she’s spoken poetry, “My god. She’s brilliant.”

They get to work immediately.

It starts small. A crude doodle beside the bleachers. A lovely exaggerated caricature of Jason’s permanently constipated expression. Then Eddie goes fully unhinged and starts crafting a fire-breathing dragon that looks suspiciously like it’s roasting a tiny football player mid-scream.

Maggie adds a crown to the dragon, “King of the freaks.”

Eddie clutches his chest, “I’m moved.”

So obviously, that’s when the cop car pulls up.

Officer Callahan rolls down the window, “Maggie, again? You kids can’t do that.”

Eddie freezes, “Sir, if you give us five minutes, I can explain why—”

Maggie elbows him, “No, you cannot.”

They’re politely escorted into the back of the police car. Eddie spends the entire ride whispering, “You should’ve tackled him. You absolutely should’ve tackled him.”

Maggie whispers back, “I’m not tackling Callahan!”

“Should’ve tried.”

They’re deposited at the station, and sitting at his desk is Hopper.

He looks up. He sees Eddie and then he sees Maggie.

His eye twitches.

“What,” he grinds out, “did you two do.”

Callahan hands over the report. Hopper reads it. His face goes from confused, to annoyed, to that very specific brand of resigned disappointment only Maggie can conjure from him.

“You graffiti’d the football bleachers?”

Eddie pipes up, “In our defense—”

“No,” Hopper puts up a hand, “Whatever you’re about to say, no.”

Maggie tries her sweetest smile, which is about as common as an eclipse, “It was a victimless crime?”

“Except my sanity,” Hopper mutters.

He sighs, sets the paper down, and points at the bench, “You’re not in trouble. But you’re not leaving until someone signs you out.”

Maggie and Eddie exchange a glance.

“Not Joyce,” Maggie whispers.

“Oh god no,” Eddie agrees.

“And not Nancy. She’ll kill me and then resurrect me, just so she can kill me again.”

Eddie nods, “Jonathan?”

“Jonathan.”

Jonathan picks up halfway through the second ring.

“Please tell me nobody’s hurt,” he says.

“Define ‘hurt,'” Maggie answers.

“Maggie.”

“Okay, okay, no one’s hurt. But I need you to pick me up.”

“Where?”

“Hypothetically? The police station.”

A long, suffering silence fills the line.

“What did you do.”

“Nothing major!” she insists, “Just… art.”

“Art.”

“Yes.”

“…I’m coming.”

She hangs up and slumps against the wall. Eddie flops down next to her.

“Maggie Byers,” Eddie intones, “breaker of laws. Heart of chaos. Hero of the people.”

“Please shut up.”

Jonathan walks into the station looking like he aged five years on the drive over.

Hopper greets him with crossed arms, “Your sister and Munson here decided to vandalize school property.”

“It was tasteful vandalism,” Maggie argues.

Hopper rubs his forehead, “I’m letting them off with a warning. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Too late,” Eddie stage-whispers.

Jonathan shoots him a look, then turns to Maggie, “Get in the car.”

Maggie winces. Oof. The Big Brother Voice.

They shuffle out of the station like two kids being kicked out of a convenience store.

Jonathan doesn’t start the car. He just stares forward. Maggie prepares for the lecture.

But instead, Jonathan sighs, “I just need to know one thing.”

She braces herself.

“Was it at least good graffiti?”

A slow grin spreads across her face, “Oh, it was amazing.”

Eddie lights up in the back seat, “She drew a dragon!”

“With a crown,” Maggie adds proudly.

Jonathan nods once, “Alright. Cool. Just… don’t get arrested again. Please.”

“No promises,” Eddie says.

Jonathan groans, “Eddie, man, I swear—”

But then Maggie leans her head against the window, the warm summer air drifting through a crack, and feels herself grin.

Messy? Yes.

Chaotic? Always.

Trouble? Definitely.

But alive?

Absolutely.

And summer has only just begun.

They pull up to the Byers’ house just as dusk settles, the sky streaked in purple and orange. Jonathan unlocks the front door, tosses his keys down a little too aggressively, then turns to face both of them like an overworked single father.

“I’m traumatized,” he announces, “You two owe me.”

Maggie pats his shoulder, “We’ll make it up to you.”

Eddie nods solemnly, “Yeah, man. How do you feel about pizza rolls and possibly the worst movie you’ve ever seen?”

Jonathan gives them the look, “What movie?”

Maggie’s grin is downright villainous, “The Evil Dead.”

Jonathan pinches the bridge of his nose so hard he’s about to leave a dent, “Why do I even ask.”

He still goes to get blankets, because he’s soft like that. He still grabs snacks, because Maggie and Eddie would burn the kitchen down if left unsupervised. He even turns on the old TV in the living room without complaining, moving like a man performing the last rites.

By the time the opening credits roll, Maggie is half sprawled across the floor. Eddie has claimed the entire mustard-yellow beanbag from 1974, looking obscenely comfortable. Jonathan sinks into the couch.

Twenty minutes in, the first glorious explosion of gore happens.

Maggie shrieks and pelts Eddie with popcorn, full force.

Eddie shrieks louder, somehow higher pitched, and flings popcorn back in a hailstorm of buttery shrapnel.

Jonathan watches this in dead silence.

“Can you two chill?” he asks weakly.

“No,” they answer in perfect, unholy sync.

Halfway through, Maggie drags herself off the floor and scoots up next to the couch. She leans her head against Jonathan’s knee.

“Sorry for making you pick us up,” she says quietly.

Jonathan sighs, the tension melting out of his shoulders. He rests his hand on top of her head, thumb brushing her hair.

“Just… warn me next time?”

From the beanbag, Eddie snorts, “You really think she’s gonna do that?”

Jonathan shoots him a glare, “You’re not helping.”

Eddie grins, “I wasn’t trying to.”

Still, he slouches off the beanbag and slides onto the floor beside Maggie, shoulder bumping hers. He tosses her a gummy bear.

She tosses one back, hitting him square in the forehead.

Jonathan tries so hard not to smile.

By the end of the movie, the room looks like a blanket explosion site. Maggie is half-asleep with her cheek smushed against Jonathan’s sweater. Eddie is snoring on the carpet, limbs splayed. Jonathan lies there staring at the ceiling, contemplating every life decision that has led him to this exact moment.

As summer goes on, Hawkins stays humid and sticky as expected. Maggie would complain, but she’s too distracted by the horrifying news she receives the moment she steps through the Wheeler’s front door.

Dustin Henderson stands in the living room wearing a visor, a fanny pack, and the exact expression of someone who is about to ruin her day.

“Maggie,” he says dramatically, “I regret to inform you that you will be losing the best man in your life for… an entire month.”

She stares at him, “No. No, you’re not.”

“I am,” he replies, puffing out his chest, “Summer camp awaits. Camp Know Where. For smart people.”

“Then why are they letting you in?”

Dustin clutches his heart, “Cruel. Beautiful, but cruel.”

The door behind her swings open and the herd arrives: Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max. They shuffle in, each holding some kind of sad attempt at a going-away present.

Mike offers a crumpled drawing of a robot. Lucas has a comic book he “found.” Will hands Dustin a mixtape with a shy smile. Max tosses him a pack of Sour Patch Kids.

Dustin steps forward, already doing his “I’m the main character” grin, “Come on, Mags. You’re gonna miss me.”

“Obviously,” she says, “You’re my favorite annoying child.”

He beams smugly, “Say it again.”

“No.”

He leans closer, “Say it.”

“Dust-in,” she warns.

“Just once.”

She flicks his visor, “Get in the car before I cry.”

A little awkward silence follows that.

Mike shifts uncomfortably, “So, uh… group hug?”

Max, traitor that she is, immediately goes, “Nope.”

Which is hilarious, because she’s not fast enough to stop Lucas and Mike from grabbing her and dragging her into the huddle anyway. Will joins gently.

Maggie grabs Dustin last, yanking him forward by the backpack straps.

“Don’t get eaten by bears,” she mutters into his shoulder.

“I’ll try,” he murmurs, then adds just loudly enough for the others to hear, “I’d stay home if you begged.”

She shoves him away, “Absolutely not. Go. Leave. Be smart somewhere else.”

He salutes and starts toward the curb, where his mom is honking like a dying goose.

Max drifts over to stand beside Maggie, arms crossed, watching Dustin load his ridiculous amount of luggage into his mom’s car.

The boys are buzzing around him like anxious bees. Will keeps adjusting Dustin’s backpack straps. Mike is lecturing him about staying in touch. Lucas is pretending he doesn’t care, but is hovering closer than usual.

Maggie sighs dramatically, “How am I supposed to babysit this entire town without him?”

Max smirks, “You’ll manage.”

Maggie side-eyes her. “Wow.”

Max shrugs, kicking at a pebble, “He’s coming back.”

“Yeah, but he’s still abandoning me,” Maggie says, “I’m allowed to be dramatic.”

They watch Dustin pause mid–goodbye speech to blow her a kiss.

Maggie flips him off.

He giggles like this is proof he still has game.

Then, as everything settles for a second, Will brings up Ele­ven, “She said she and Hopper are doing a cabin day later,” he says quietly, “Like… just the two of them.”

Lucas nods, “Yeah, we haven’t really seen her much lately.”

“Would be cool to hang out with her again,” Max says, casual but not casual at all, “She seems… I don’t know. Cool.”

Maggie nudges her with a slow grin, “You wanna get to know her?”

Max stiffens, “Maybe. I mean, yeah. She seemed nice.”

“And you two only met for like five seconds,” Maggie says, “You want a proper intro?”

Max raises her chin like she’s pretending she’s not nervous, “If she wants that.”

“She will,” Maggie says without hesitation, “I’ll take you over to meet her this week.”

Max tries not to smile, “Okay. Yeah. I’d… like that.”

Before Maggie can tease her, Dustin leans halfway out the car window.

“Maggie! Don’t fall in love while I’m gone!”

She doesn’t hesitate, “Too late!”

The kids snort. Dustin gasps like he’s been shot in the heart.

Mrs. Henderson honks again, and Dustin waves wildly as the car pulls away. He keeps waving until they’re too far to see… and then he’s gone.

The street goes strangely quiet.

The remaining five stand there like someone unplugged them.

Max exhales, “He’s definitely coming back more annoying.”

“Obviously,” Maggie says, “And you’re all gonna pretend you didn’t cry about it.”

Mike, Lucas, and Will share matching offended looks.

Maggie claps her hands once, “C’mon. I’m buying ice cream. If any of you tell Joyce or Nancy I did something wholesome, I’ll lie.”

Mike beams, “We love you too.”

She wrinkles her nose, “Revolting.”

But she starts walking, and the kids fall into step with her, bickering, nudging each other, and pretending everything is totally fine.

Maggie misses Dustin already.

Not that she’ll ever admit it to his face.

Maggie Byers marches back into the Wheeler house with a bright, beaming, mischievous smile. She charges to Nancy’s bedroom door. Nancy opens the door before Maggie can even knock twice.

“Hey, what are you—”

“I’ve made a decision,” Maggie says, stepping inside, “A morally questionable one.”

Nancy sighs, “This is never good.”

Maggie drops onto her bed, “I’m setting up Max and El.”

Nancy’s breath hitches. She closes the door slowly, like she needs to process this while containing all signs of judgment.

“You’re doing what?”

“They’re into each other,” Maggie says, waving her hand, “Well, Max is into El. El is… El. She’s sweet and weird and stares into your soul like she knows your middle name and your darkest sin.”

Nancy’s ears go a little pink, “Uh-huh. And what makes you think Max likes her?”

“Oh please,” Maggie scoffs, “You should’ve seen her. We brought up El for two seconds and Max practically short-circuited. She did the whole ‘I don’t care but I actually care so much I might explode’ thing.”

Nancy sits down across from her, folding her legs, “And what exactly is your plan?”

“Introduce them properly,” Maggie says, “Let them hang out. Casual. Chill. Very ‘two friends bonding,’ except not casual and not chill, because I’m absolutely going to lock them in a room together like some sort of queer Victorian matchmaker.”

Nancy tries, tries so hard, not to smile. But Maggie can see it tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Maggie…”

“What?”

“This is insane.”

“Thank you.”

Nancy groans, burying her face in her hands for one long, suffering second. Then she peeks through her fingers.

“And you’re doing this… why?”

Maggie shrugs, looking anywhere except Nancy’s eyes, “Because everyone deserves something good. Something that makes them smile like idiots.”

Nancy’s expression softens, “You’re such a liar. You’re doing it because you like helping people.”

“Okay, relax,” Maggie says, flicking a pillow at her, “My image can only take so much kindness.”

Nancy catches the pillow, holding it in her lap, “So you’re really doing this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Maggie leans back smugly, “Max is going to panic. El is going to stare at her with those giant traumatized fairy eyes. It’s going to be adorable.”

Nancy shakes her head, “I’m pretty sure you’re meddling.”

“Correct.”

“And this could backfire.”

“Incredible.”

“And Hopper will blame me.”

“Yes,” Maggie says, smirking, “but he’ll forgive you faster than he’ll forgive me, so it balances out.”

Nancy gives her a look that says she knows Maggie’s right and hates that she’s right.

Then, quietly, Nancy says, “You’re good at this. You know… taking care of people.”

Maggie’s heart stumbles in her chest.

She forces her voice steady, “Well. Someone’s gotta do it.”

Nancy stares at her for a second too long.

Maggie clears her throat loudly, “Anyway. Back to the matchmaking. I’m creating history, Nancy. Sparks. Love. Drama. Hawkins won’t know what hit it.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, “Just promise you won’t traumatize them.”

Maggie gives her a solemn nod, “I promise absolutely nothing.”

Nancy tosses the pillow back at her.

Maggie thinks, not for the first time, that maybe falling in love is the stupidest, scariest, most wonderful thing in the entire world.