Chapter 37

IM ALIVE! Sorry its been a month😭. I’ve been BUSY. but here’s some more content for my little baguettes. the next couple chapters are probably gonna be some filler because i wanna build up relationships so ill try to get another chapter or two out tonight we will see what i can crank out lmao

The halls of Hawkins High smell like bleach and boredom.

Maggie Byers stands in the middle of it, backpack slung over one shoulder, already regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

She’s been back from the hospital for a few weeks, strong enough to walk, snark back, and apparently, strong enough to be thrown back into the meat grinder that is school.

“Try to behave,” Joyce had said that morning, fussing with her jacket.

“Define ‘behave,'” Maggie had replied.

Now, standing in the hallway as kids push past her, she mutters under her breath, “I already hate this.”

Will had promised to meet her before class, but he got pulled away by his friends, and honestly, she doesn’t blame him. He deserves normal. He deserves good days.

She’s just not sure she does yet.

By second period, Maggie’s already annoyed with the world.

By third, she’s really annoyed.

And by lunch, well, that’s when things go downhill.

It starts with some meathead jock making a joke about “Byers freak blood.” He’s not even subtle about it. It’s loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear and his friends are laughing like it’s the funniest thing since fire.

Maggie tries to ignore it. Really, she does.

But then he mentions Will and that’s it.

She doesn’t remember much after the words “that zombie kid’s crazy sister” leave his mouth, just that her fist connects with something that feels a lot like a jaw.

The cafeteria erupts. Lunch trays crash. Someone yells, “Holy shit!”

And that’s how Maggie Byers ends up in Principal Higgins’ office before the day’s even over.

Detention. First day back. A new personal record.

Maggie kicks the leg of her chair, slouched at her desk as the clock ticks with cruel slowness. The fluorescent lights hum overhead.

There are only three other people in the room, a freshman who looks like he cried his way here, a girl sleeping under her denim jacket, and a guy slouched in the back corner with ripped jeans, wild curls, and a leather jacket covered in pins.

He’s drumming on the desk with a pencil, humming something that definitely isn’t appropriate for school.

When Maggie looks over, he grins at her, like he’s been waiting his whole life for someone to make trouble with.

“Well, well, well,” he says, voice rich with amusement, “Didn’t think Hawkins High’s golden miracle girl would end up in here.”

Maggie raises a brow, “Golden what-now?”

“You know,” he waves the pencil, “The one who died and came back. Kind of hard not to hear the rumors.”

“Wow,” she deadpans, “Great to know my near-death experience makes good gossip.”

He chuckles, “Don’t take it personal. People love a freak show. Name’s Eddie, by the way.”

“Maggie.”

“I know,” he says with mock seriousness, leaning forward on his desk, “You’re infamous. Hawkins’ own phoenix. You punch people now?”

“Only when they deserve it.”

“Oh, you’re definitely gonna fit in.”

The teacher monitoring detention barely looks up from his newspaper. Maggie gets the feeling she could light something on fire and he wouldn’t notice.

Eddie leans over, whispering conspiratorially, “So what’d you do?”

She shrugs, “Punched a guy.”

Eddie’s grin widens, “See, I knew I liked you.”

“What about you?”

“Fight,” he says simply.

“Over what?”

“Technically? Over a missing D&D miniature. Emotionally? Over the principle of respect.”

Maggie stares, “You fought someone over a toy?”

“It’s not a toy,” he says, mock-offended, “It’s a collectible. Besides, the idiot called Hellfire ‘lame.’ That’s like insulting my religion.”

Maggie snorts, “Sounds like you started it.”

“Maybe,” he admits, “but I definitely finished it.”

She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips, “That’s insane.”

“Takes one to know one.”

An hour later, they’re both still talking.

Eddie tells her about his band, Corroded Coffin. About Hellfire Club, the D&D group he runs out of the drama room. About how Hawkins is “a town allergic to weirdos,” and how he’s made it his personal mission to piss off every normal person within a ten-mile radius.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, tapping the pencil again, “You ever get tired of trying to survive this place?”

Maggie smirks, “Constantly.”

“Then we’re gonna be good friends.”

By the time detention ends, the sun’s low and the halls are empty. Maggie stands by the exit, backpack slung over her shoulder again.

Eddie lingers beside her, spinning his keys around one finger, “So, Byers. You got plans this week?”

“Not unless you count trying not to get grounded again.”

“Perfect,” he says, “You’re officially invited to Hellfire.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It’s glorious. Thursday night. Dungeon, dragons, chaos. The usual.”

Maggie smirks, “I’ll think about it.”

He points at her, backing away down the hall, “That’s not a no!”

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop the smile creeping across her face.

As she steps outside into the cool Hawkins air, she takes a deep breath. Maybe this whole “normal life” thing won’t be so bad after all.

That night, at dinner, Joyce gives her the look.

“First day back, and you already got detention?”

Maggie shrugs, spooning soup, “It’s character development.”

Jonathan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Please tell me you didn’t hit anyone.”

“I didn’t,” she lies, “Technically.”

Will tries not to laugh and fails spectacularly.

Joyce mutters something about grounding her, but when Maggie looks up, her mother’s smiling just a little. It’s hard to be mad when the girl who almost died is laughing again.

Maggie is halfway through stealing Jonathan’s last granola bar when the phone rings in that way phones have when they know they’re about to ruin someone’s night.

She freezes. Jonathan watches her with that resigned, older-brother energy only a Byers can radiate.

“You gonna get that?” he asks.

“Depends,” Maggie mutters, “If it’s Hawkins High calling to tell me I’m suspended for dishonoring their precious football team… I’m busy.”

“It’s probably Nancy,” Jonathan says.

Maggie flinches, “Oh. Great. Even worse.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows, “Didn’t you two… talk? Thought things were good.”

“You mean the heart-stopping, universe-tilting, slightly confusing mutual ‘maybe-I-kinda-like-you-maybe’ conversation? Yeah,” Maggie sighs, “But to be fair, that was before I rearranged Chad McDumbface’s jaw.”

Jonathan just hands her the phone. He looks tired. Probably because she’s been living here only a little over a year and he’s already aged ten years.

Maggie takes the phone into the hall for privacy.

She answers.

“Hi, Nancy,” she says gently, because she has a soft spot the size of Jupiter for this girl…and also a desire not to be yelled at.

Nancy’s voice should be classified as a weapon with how sharp it comes through the line, “Maggie. What. Happened. Today?”

“Oh, look at that,” Maggie whispers to herself, “She already knows.”

Nancy continues, “Why did I hear from Mike of all people that you punched a football player? At school? In the cafeteria?”

Maggie winces, “Okay, in my defense, he started it.”

“He started it? What did he do, Maggie? Steal your pencil? Look at you wrong? Was he breathing too loudly?”

“To be fair,” Maggie says, rubbing her forehead, “he breathes like a lawnmower with asthma. But no. He was saying shit about the family. He brought Will into it. So I responded…artistically.”

There’s a moment of silence. Nancy isn’t angry now. She’s trying not to sound impressed.

“Maggie,” she finally says, voice quieting, “You can’t just… punch people at school.”

“I know,” Maggie says, “I do. Truly. Believe me, my knuckles know.”

Nancy sighs, exasperated, “You could get suspended.”

“Yeah, well… I already got detention.”

“And?”

“And,” Maggie says, brightening a little, “I made a new friend.”

Nancy sounds horrified, “In detention?”

“Yes! And you’ll never guess who. Actually you wouldn’t guess because you have absolutely zero idea who he is. So I’ll just tell you. Eddie Munson.”

There’s a silence on the other end.

“…Who?” Nancy finally says.

Maggie snorts, “Metalhead. Senior. Big hair. Kind of looks like someone shoved a rockstar into a thrift store and told him to figure it out.”

Nancy tries again, “I… don’t think I’ve ever talked to him.”

“Yeah, no one normal has. Which is why he’s great,” Maggie says, kicking her feet up, “He thinks this town is allergic to weirdos, and he’s sworn some kind of dramatic oath to annoy every boring person within ten miles.”

Nancy lets out a small, disbelieving breath, “That sounds exactly like someone you’d befriend.”

“It’s because we have similar hobbies,” Maggie says, “Chaos and never shutting up.”

Nancy lets out a breath that’s half-groan, half-laugh. “I just… worry, okay? About you getting in trouble. Or hurt. Or making everything harder for yourself.”

The soft note in her voice hits Maggie square in the ribs. That conversation from the aftermath of her coma sits between them like a lightbulb that refuses to die.

“I know you worry,” Maggie says, quiet too now, “And I know it’s because you… care. Which is still weird to think about, but also kind of… nice.”

Eventually Nancy says, “Just… try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

Maggie smirks, “You’re asking the impossible, Wheeler.”

“Maggie…”

“Fine, fine. I’ll try,” She chews her lip, “And… I like talking to you. Even when you’re yelling at me.”

Nancy laughs under her breath, “I wasn’t yelling.”

“You were Nancy Wheeler–ing at me. Same thing.”

“Goodnight, Maggie.”

“Night, Nancy.”

Maggie hangs up, hand lingering on the receiver.

Jonathan shouts from the living room, “Did she ground you through the telephone?”

“No,” Maggie calls back, “But I think she likes me more than she’s mad at me.”

“Tragic,” he deadpans.

Maggie flops onto the couch, staring at the ceiling, grinning like a lovesick idiot. Which she absolutely isn’t.

Probably.

By the next morning, Maggie’s already infamous.

Apparently, coming back from a coma and immediately punching a football player earns you a new level of notoriety. Hawkins High loves a dramatic arc.

She feels the eyes on her the second she steps into the hallway. Small town logic: you can survive monsters and shadow beasts and still get taken out by gossip.

By third period, she’s collected an entire rumor bingo card:

Maggie Byers joined a cult.

Maggie Byers was in juvie.

Maggie Byers is dating a twenty-five-year-old biker.
(That one, she assumes, started because someone saw her leaving detention with Eddie Munson.)

When she drops into her desk in English, Jason Carver and his loyal band of polo-clad clones stare at her like she’s a raccoon that wandered into the building.

“Nice punch yesterday, Byers,” Jason mutters, not bothering to look up.

“Thanks,” she says sweetly, “You’d look good with a black eye too.”

The room goes dead silent before laughter breaks out at the edges. Jason goes tomato-red. Maggie leans back, smug, and honestly? It feels kind of great to be alive enough to get in trouble again.

At lunch, she spots Eddie holding court at the back cafeteria table, the unofficial Kingdom of the Freaks. Dice, fantasy maps, and a crumb-covered notebook take up every inch of space.

She drifts over.

Eddie sees her instantly, “Oh look! Byers lives. And she avoided suspension. A Hawkins miracle.”

“Barely,” She drops onto the bench across from him, “This place needs a warning label.”

“What, the soul-sucking conformity didn’t tip you off?” Eddie pops a chip into his mouth.

“I must’ve missed that brochure.”

He laughs, loud enough to get dirty looks from three tables over. He flips someone off without breaking eye contact with Maggie.

She snorts, “You’re, like… aggressively unbothered.”

“Hawkins hates weirdos,” he says, spinning a pencil, “So I decided to go pro.”

“That might be the most accurate thing anyone’s ever said in this cafeteria.”

“You can borrow it. But only if you commit to annoying at least three normal people a day.”

“Only three?”

Eddie grins, “Alright, overachiever.”

After lunch, she opens her locker to find a doodle waiting inside. It’s a stick figure with wild curls (obviously Eddie) standing next to another labeled Firefox the Rogue.
Under it:

Thursday night. Don’t chicken out.

She rolls her eyes and smirks. Into the bag it goes.

That night, she’s sprawled on her bed pretending to do homework when Will peeks in.

“You’re smiling,” he accuses.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are,” He steps inside, grinning like the little menace he is, “Did something happen? Did someone happen?”

She hurls a pillow, “Leave now.”

He dodges, barely, “Is this about that guy you had detention with?”

“Eddie?” Maggie snorts, “Mom told you?”

Will lifts a brow, “She said he looks like the kind of guy who keeps a raccoon as a pet.”

Maggie bursts out laughing.,”Honestly? Probably true. But he’s cool.”

Will crosses his arms, mock stern, “Define ‘cool.'”

“He’s just… himself. Everyone at Hawkins High is desperate to fit in, and he’s allergic to pretending. It’s kinda refreshing.”

Will softens, quiet and honest in that way he always is, “Sounds like you.”

Maggie pauses, caught off guard.

“Thanks, nerd,” she mutters, tossing another pillow, “Get out before I start crying.”

He backs away, smirking, “You’re totally going to that club.”

“OUT.”

Thursday comes way too fast.

She stands outside the drama room, listening through the cracked door.

“THE KINGDOM OF VARETH IS UNDER SIEGE!” Eddie bellows, “AND YOU FOOLS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO LOST THE MAP!”

Dice clatter. Someone yells. Someone else dies dramatically.

Feels about right. She pushes the door open. The whole table looks up.

Eddie’s grin spreads wide, “Told you she wouldn’t chicken out.”

There are whoops, cheers, a dramatic gasp.

Someone shouts, “New recruit!”

Maggie crosses her arms, “So who do I have to stab for a spot?”

Eddie claps once, “Ladies and degenerates, our rogue has arrived.”

The table erupts.

The drama room looks like someone declared war on organization. There are snack bags exploded across the table, rulebooks stacked like unstable architecture, and Eddie Munson standing at the head of it all with the manic energy of a wizard fueled entirely by caffeine and spite.

“Alright, heathens,” he announces when Maggie walks in, “the rogue has returned.”

“Was I supposed to bring an offering?” Maggie asks, sliding into the empty seat Eddie drags beside him.

“No,” he says, “But bribes are encouraged.”

Someone across the table (Gareth? She’s still learning names) lifts a Mountain Dew.

“We take these.”

“Noted,” she says, “I’ll bring tribute next time.”

Eddie slaps a character sheet onto the table, “Behold. Firefox.”

“Please tell me you didn’t name my character that,” Maggie groans.

“I absolutely did,” Eddie looks proud of himself, “Chaotic neutral. Good with knives. Terrible with authority.”

He taps the page, “Basically you, but with pointier ears.”

Maggie squints, “I do like knives.”

A chorus of “SAME” echoes across the table. Perfect. She’s been here three minutes and already found her people.

The campaign begins.

Eddie leans over his DM screen, eyes gleaming.

“You stand at the edge of a ravine. Below, fire and shadow churn. Above, a wyvern circles. Your cleric is out of spell slots. Your bard is unconscious. And your paladin…” He sighs deeply, “Your paladin has decided God wants him to jump.”

“God does,” Jeff says without apologizing at all.

“No,” Eddie hisses, “He really doesn’t.”

Maggie raises a hand, “Question.”

“Yes, new child?”

“Can I just… push him?”

Jeff gasps, “You WOULDN’T.”

“I absolutely would. You’re screaming about destiny and you ruined the map to draw a smiling sun.”

“It was thematic!”

“It was an abomination.”

Eddie beams like a proud parent, “You fit in disgustingly well here.”

He gestures dramatically, “Roll for shoving divine disappointment into the ravine.”

Maggie rolls. The die clacks across the table and lands on…

A natural 20.

The room explodes.

“PALADIN YEETED,” Gareth screeches.

Jeff is on the floor in genuine despair.

Eddie slams his fist on the table, “Incredible. Beautiful. A masterpiece. You hurl him like a sack of holy potatoes. He is gone.”

Maggie bows, “Thank you, thank you. I accept all applause.”

Two hours in, she’s somehow stealing treasure, arguing with a wizard, setting a trap that works way too well, and asking Eddie way too many worldbuilding questions.

“Wait,” she says, pointing, “Why does this kingdom worship a giant chicken?”

“They don’t,” Eddie snaps, “They worship the avatar of the Chicken God, which is very different.”

“Do they get eggs on holidays?”

He stares at her hard and dead-eyed.

“Everyone shut up. She’s the only one thinking critically.”

The boys groan. Maggie eats it up.

Three hours in, they’re deep in the finale of the one-shot. A cursed forest, a glowing artifact, and a monster.

Maggie’s rogue is dangling from a collapsing bridge while a demon roars behind her.

“I cast Vicious Mockery!” someone yells.

“You’re a wizard,” Eddie snaps, “You can’t.”

“I INSULT HIM WITH MAGIC.”

“You cannot insult a demon with magic!”

Maggie blows hair out of her face, “Guys. I’m literally dying here.”

Eddie slams his palms down, “Everyone shut up. The rogue is making a dramatic speech.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Do it,” he orders.

So she does because why not.

Firefox, Rogue of Vareth, looks into the abyss and says, “You’re all idiots. And if I survive this, I’m buying myself a castle where none of you are allowed except for snacking privileges.”

The demon snarls. Maggie rolls. Eddie holds his breath.

“Seventeen,” she says.

Eddie beams, slams the table, and shouts, “SHE LIVES!”

The table goes feral and Maggie cheers.

After the session, with the campaign wrapped and the group dispersing, Eddie packs up his papers and gives Maggie a look like he’s evaluating a rare creature.

“So,” he says, “how was your first descent into nerd hell?”

She slings her backpack over her shoulder, “Honestly? Ten out of ten. Would fight a demon again.”

“You’re in,” he says immediately, not even pretending it’s a question.

“In… the club?”

“In the cult,” he corrects, “Welcome to Hellfire, Byers.”

Maggie grins.

“Feels like home.”

Eddie nods, pleased, “Oh, it’s home, alright. A very dysfunctional one, but we have food.”

She bumps his shoulder, “I’ll bring better snacks next week.”

He freezes, “Better? You’re saying our snacks aren’t perfect?”

“They’re half stale.”

He clutches his chest, “Blasphemy!”

She’s still laughing when they walk out of the drama room together.

as you can tell i have introduced eddie in early ! he will not be a part of the season 3 madness at all but i couldn’t pass up the opportunity of a completely choatic friendship between eddie and maggie. I NEEDED IT.