Chapter 25

The summer went by like a breeze. Maggie was still hanging out with Nancy, seeing the kids, and seeing El in her dreams. And this week was the first week back to school for junior year.

The high of freedom is still wearing off as Maggie slumps into her seat beside Nancy in their third period class, Social Studies, otherwise known as naptime with Mr. Gallagher.

Nancy looks as polished as ever, a fresh pen already poised above her open notebook, while Maggie drops her backpack with a thud and lays her head on the desk with a groan.

“This should be illegal,” Maggie mumbles into her crossed arms, “School. Mornings. Life.”

Nancy offers a small smirk without looking at her, “It’s 10:30.”

“Still counts as morning.”

Mr. Gallagher shuffles in a moment later, sleeves rolled, glasses crooked, and a stack of folders under his arm. He looks like he hadn’t enjoyed a single minute of summer and wants to make sure they didn’t either.

“Alright, juniors,” he says, “Today we’re kicking off your first major assignment of the year. Don’t panic. Yet.” 

Maggie lifts her head, “That sounds ominous.”

Nancy ignores her and flips a fresh page.

Gallagher drops the stack onto his desk with a heavy thud.,”You’re going to be job shadowing. You find an adult with a real, actual job. No, your brother’s garage band doesn’t count. And you follow them for a month. Then you write about what they do, how it impacts the community, what you learned, blah blah inspirational garbage.”

Maggie turns to Nancy, “Does haunting the halls count as a profession?”

Nancy raises a brow, “If it does, you’re already overqualified.”

Maggie grins, “Flattered.”

Gallagher hands the front row a stack of assignment sheets to pass back, “Due date’s in two months. Presentations the week after. If you don’t have a shadow picked by Monday, I’m picking one for you. And don’t test me, I once assigned a kid to shadow the guy who scrapes gum off the bowling alley carpet.”

“Legend,” Maggie whispers reverently.

Nancy scans the assignment sheet quickly, “You already know who you’re picking?”

Maggie twirls her pencil between her fingers, “Was thinking maybe Carla at the vet clinic, but then I remembered she made me hold a sedated iguana last year and I’ve never emotionally recovered.”

Nancy snorts, “Still better than my options. My mom’s just going to try and set me up with some lawyer friend of dad’s.”

Maggie mock-gasps, “A future in corporate hell? Nancy Wheeler, no. You’re meant for greater things.”

“I was thinking the paper,” Nancy says, quietly proud, “I talked to Mrs. Post. She said I could come in next week.”

Maggie pauses, eyeing her, “Look at you. Getting a head start on world domination.”

Nancy shrugs, but her cheeks pink slightly.

Then Maggie glances back at the form, chewing her pencil, and mutters, “I could ask Hopper.”

Nancy turns, “Seriously?”

“He said thanks when I helped him carry groceries last week,” Maggie says, “Pretty sure that’s an open invitation.”

“You’re going to follow Hopper around for a month?”

“Hey, better than scooping cat puke at the clinic. Plus, I dunno…” Maggie trails off, tapping her pencil, “I’ve been thinking about it lately. Police work. Like… maybe that’s something I could actually do.”

Nancy looks at her for a long moment, “You? A cop?”

Maggie straightens, feigning offense, “Why does everyone sound so shocked when I say that?”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“You said it like I’d accidentally kill someone.”

Nancy opens her mouth, but before she can argue, the bell rings.

“Think fast,” Maggie says, grabbing two job shadow forms and handing one to Nancy as they stand, “I’m going full deputy mode. Better start practicing my dramatic walk.”

Nancy tucks her form into her folder, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time, “Just don’t get arrested.”

Maggie tosses her a wink over her shoulder as they file into the hallway, “No promises.”

Later that afternoon, Maggie shows up at the Hawkins Police Department like she owns the place.

She pushes the front door open with one hip, a lollipop sticking out of her mouth and a crumpled permission form in her back pocket. She’s not technically supposed to be here without an appointment, or at least without calling ahead, but when has that ever stopped her?

The lobby is quiet. A few officers mill around, and one of them gives her a look that reads Shouldn’t you be at cheer practice or something?

She flashes them a peace sign and heads straight for the back offices.

Hopper’s door is cracked, and she hears the faint sound of country music playing from a radio. He’s sitting at his desk, feet up, eyes half-closed like he was hoping to nap through the next forty years.

Maggie knocks once and sticks her head in, “Sheriff Dadbod. Got a minute?”

Hopper groans, “Christ, what do you want?”

“I come bearing paperwork,” she says, slipping in and holding up the crumpled form.

He lifts one eyebrow, “You get arrested or something?”

“Tempting, but no,” Maggie flops down into the chair across from him, spinning once before slapping the form on his desk, “I need an adult to follow around for a month. Preferably one with a badge and a grumpy disposition.”

He looks at the paper, “Job shadowing?”

“Bingo.”

Hopper leans back, arms crossed, eyeing her with the suspicion of a man who’s seen far too many teenagers attempt chaos under the guise of “school projects.”
“You serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Maggie says, “Come on. You’re the coolest adult I know. Which, frankly, says more about my social circle than it does about you, but let’s not unpack that.”

“You realize being a cop isn’t like it is on TV, right?” Hopper says, “It’s paperwork. Long hours. Angry people yelling about lawn disputes. It’s not Starsky and Hutch.”

“I don’t know what that is, and I don’t care,” Maggie says, already grabbing a pen off his desk, “Can I write your name here or what?”

Hopper stares at her for a long beat. 

Then he sighs, rubs a hand down his face, and mutters, “God help me.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

Maggie leans back, victorious, and grins, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He signs the form grudgingly, and hands it back to her, “You follow my rules. You do what I say. You stay out of anything dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” she repeats, feigning innocence, “Who, me?”

“I mean it, Maggie.”

“I also mean it,” she says, tucking the form into her backpack, “I’m gonna be the best shadow you’ve ever had. Like Peter Pan’s.”

“You know Pan cut his shadow off, right?”

She pauses, “…Symbolism is a scam.”

Hopper chuckles, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Show up here Saturday. Seven sharp.”

“Seven in the morning? On a weekend?”

“You want the full experience or not?”

Maggie groans but salutes, “I’ll be here. Possibly asleep, but present.”

She hops up from the chair and heads for the door, tossing a lazy “Thanks, Hop!” over her shoulder.

He watches her go, then glances at the signed form still faintly smelling like bubblegum.

“God help me,” he mutters again.

That night, the Wheeler basement smells like popcorn and nerd sweat.

Maggie sprawls across the tan sofa, legs draped over one armrest, head tilted upside-down off the other, a comic book dangling above her face. 

“This is how I die,” she announces, “rotting in a basement surrounded by boys who won’t stop arguing about Fireball damage dice.”

“We’re not arguing,” Mike says without looking up from his Dungeon Master notes, “We’re discussing.”

Lucas throws a handful of popcorn at him, “You screamed at me about initiative rolls like two minutes ago.”

“That was passion,” Mike mutters.

Dustin plops down next to Maggie, sitting a little closer than necessary, and casually (not casually) steals the comic from her hands. 

“First of all, don’t disrespect The Infinity Gauntlet. Second…” he leans in slightly, “…you look nice today. Did you do something different with your hair?”

Maggie narrows her eyes at him, amused, “I washed it.”

Dustin nods solemnly, “Well. It’s working.”

Will snorts. Lucas groans.

“Someone stop him,” Lucas mutters, “He’s doing the thing again.”

“I am observing, thank you,” Dustin says, straightening up with faux maturity, “Besides, Maggie appreciates a gentleman.”

“True,” Maggie says, “I love a man who compliments me like a grandma at church.”

Dustin beams, “See? She gets it.”

“Mmhm,” She sits up suddenly, finger pointing at Will, “And you—you’re just jealous I beat you at Mario Kart last night.”

“You drove off the edge on purpose.”

“For the drama, Will. Where’s your sense of narrative arc?”

Lucas, cross-legged on the floor, rolls his eyes, “Why do we let you hang out with us again?”

“Because you love me,” Maggie says, batting her lashes, “Also because I give everyone nicknames.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lucas groans.

“Speaking of!” She points again, “Lucas, you’re now Lieutenant Sassafras. Congratulations on the promotion.”

Mike leans over the table, “So are you really job shadowing Chief Hopper?”

“Yep,” Maggie tosses a gummy worm into her mouth and chews exaggeratedly, “Starting Saturday. Gonna be a real cop and everything. Gonna write people tickets for looking at me weird.”

Dustin leans closer, dropping his voice a little, “I bet you’ll look hot in a badge.”

Will coughs loudly into his hand.

Maggie turns, lips twitching into a smirk, “Dustin, are you hitting on me again?”

“No?” he says, “Yes? Maybe. Legally, I decline to answer.”

Mike doesn’t even look up, “He’s been watching Magnum P.I. again.”

“It’s called research,” Dustin mutters, cheeks a little pink now.

“Relax, Casanova,” Maggie says, patting his shoulder, “You’re three years too young and six inches too short. But I respect the hustle.”

“She respects the hustle,” Dustin repeats under his breath, dazed.

Lucas facepalms, “Unbelievable.”

Will perks up, “Wait—like riding in the car and stuff?”

“I better. If he sticks me behind a desk all day, I will die. Tell my story.”

“You’ll probably have to file paperwork.”

“Oh, I will riot.”

“You’re gonna get fired before you even start,” Lucas says.

“Fired? Fired implies I’m getting paid,” Maggie says, “I’m working for free here. This is indentured servitude for an A-minus in government class.”

Dustin’s still watching her, “If you need backup out there, I’m available. I’ve seen all of Knight Rider.”

“Oh, great,” she says, “You can be my partner. Officer Henderson and Deputy Byers, keeping Hawkins weird.”

Lucas mutters something that sounds like I hate it here.

There’s a beat of silence where they all just kind of exist—Mike still scribbling campaign notes, Lucas eating popcorn off the floor like a raccoon, Will sketching quietly, and Dustin now trying to balance a D20 on Maggie’s knee while she pretends not to notice how hard he’s focusing.

“So,” Maggie says, grinning suddenly, “what if I get a pair of aviators and pretend to be a rookie with a tragic backstory?”

Mike doesn’t even look up, “You already act like that.”

“I know. It’s called method.“

The D&D game is in full swing. Will’s sketching out the map in precise little lines, Lucas is building a barricade out of pretzel sticks, and Mike is reading aloud from the campaign notes.

Maggie’s flopped sideways on the couch, watching them with her cheek smushed into a cushion. She’s chewing a Twizzler and looking vaguely amused.

Dustin sits cross-legged on the carpet nearby, “You know, you could actually play instead of just heckling us.”

“I’m providing moral support,” Maggie says, “And looking good while doing it.”

“She’s right,” Will says without looking up, “Our last campaign, she saved Mike from a panic spiral just by breathing near him.”

“Yeah,” Mike mutters, “And then she accidentally took my nosebleed.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Maggie protests, lifting her head, “You were freaking out, I panicked, and the next thing I know I’m bleeding on your math homework.”

“You’re a walking mood sponge,” Lucas says, grinning.

Maggie smirks, sits up halfway, and reaches for the bag of sour candy on the floor, “Well, at least I’m cute.”

Just as she leans down, Dustin pokes her side with his pencil, “Don’t steal all the sour worms.”

She jerks in surprise and slams her bare foot directly into the coffee table leg.

“OW, son of a bitch!” she shouts, cradling her pinky toe, “Okay. Nope. That’s it. I’m dying. Get a coffin.”

Lucas starts laughing, “Karma.”

But then, Dustin lets out a sharp yelp. Everyone freezes.

He’s suddenly grabbing his left foot, wide-eyed, “OW—what the hell?!”

Maggie, still wincing, lowers her hands, “What?”

“My toe—same one. It feels like I kicked a wall!”

They all stare.

“No way,” Will says slowly.

“Did you hit something?” Mike asks Dustin.

“No!” Dustin hobbles backward, “It just lit up! Like someone jabbed a nerve.”

Maggie gapes, “That’s… not supposed to happen.”

Lucas leans forward, “Maggie. Did you—?”

“I didn’t mean to!” she says, alarmed, “I’ve never done that before. I always take stuff. Never like thrown it back.”

Mike looks at her, “Wait. Could you always do that and just didn’t know?”

“I doubt it,” Maggie mutters, “It felt different.”

Dustin is still rubbing his foot, “Okay, but ow? If this is your new thing, please stick to paper cuts.”

Will tilts his head, “This could be important. If you can give back pain now…”

“Maybe it’s not just giving it back,” Lucas says, “Maybe it’s sharing it. Like redirecting.”

Mike looks fascinated, “What if you could choose where it goes?”

Maggie stares down at her toe, then glances at Dustin’s, “Sorry. You were just the closest annoying target.”

Dustin grins, “Guess I’m honored to be your first victim.”

She throws a Sour Patch Kid at his head.