°🌟10🌟°

🌟CHAPTER 10🌟~°MADMAX°~

*🌟Third Person's POV🌟*

Hailey couldn't believe how fast a year had almost gone by. On the surface, things seemed like they hadn't changed at all, and yet so much was different. The proof was in watching her little brother, Dustin, tear their house apart looking for a few bucks like a man possessed.

"Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!" he yelled; his voice muffled by the couch cushions he was buried in. He emerged, hair staticky and wild, before sprinting into the living room to continue his frantic search.

"Another stupid penny!" he groaned, flicking it away. It sailed through the air, narrowly missing his mom and their cat, Mews. "Dusty-bun, watch it! You almost hit your buddy," his mom scolded, not looking up from her magazine as she scratched Mews behind the ears.

"Can I please check under your cushions?" he begged; his voice tight with a desperation only a twelve-year-old on a mission could muster.

"Dusty," she groaned, the sound long-suffering.

"Mom, please? It's an emergency! It's a matter of life and death! Well, digital death, but still!"

His mom let out a sigh but finally got up. "Who's your buddy? Who's your buddy?" she cooed to the cat, abandoning her post. Hailey leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile playing on her lips. It was like watching a very predictable, very loud tornado.

"Love you, Mom, you're the best!" Dustin called out, already digging into the vacated spot and pocketing two pennies. He dashed past his sister, a whirlwind of plaid and excitement. "We're gonna be so rich!"

"Two cents richer, huh?" Hailey said, reaching out to ruffle his already-dishevelled hair. "Don't spend it all in one place."

He dodged her hand with a grunt. "Hey! Don't mess up the flow! I have a system!"

Hailey had given the boys five days to gather a few bucks, with the promise that if they did, she'd pay the rest for their game night. They'd been ecstatic, making elaborate plans. Of course, her brother had forgotten. She stood in his doorway now, arms crossed, watching him radio Lucas.

"Lucas, you copy? I've got four quarters. What's your haul?" Dustin asked, all business.

"Take your puny haul and multiply it by five," Lucas's voice crackled back, smugness evident even through the static.

The look of utter betrayal on Dustin's face was priceless. Hailey bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"How?" Dustin asked, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

"While you were scrounging around like a homeless bum, I mowed Old Man Humphrey's lawn," Lucas responded. Hailey felt a flicker of pride that at least one of them had put in some real effort.

"Old Man Humphrey's got that kinda cash?" Dustin pressed, incredulous.

"Just call Mike already," Lucas ordered.

"You call Mike."

"I have to go take a shower from doing real work, like a man. Over and out." The radio clicked off. Dustin stared at it, utterly defeated.

"I can't believe you," Hailey said, her voice laced with affectionate disappointment. "I saw you dump out your own piggy bank last week. You blew it all on Jawbreakers."

"I forgot, okay?" he whined, throwing his hands up. "It's a lot of pressure! The fate of the party rests on this!"

"It's ten dollars, dude. Not a kingdom." She shook her head, smiling. "Call Mike. Maybe he robbed Nancy's piggy bank."

It turned out the Wheeler boy was even more forgetful than her brother; he had nothing. "He said Nancy hid it this time," Dustin relayed, looking crushed.

The Henderson siblings biked to the arcade in a hurry, Dustin pedalling furiously ahead, afraid he'd be late. Will still hadn't arrived when they got there, only Mike and Lucas were waiting by the bikes, already arguing about strategy.

Mrs. Byers honked her horn when they arrived, waving Hailey over. The woman's eyes were tight with a worry that had never fully left her since last November. Seeing Hailey always seemed to ease it a little.

"Hey, Mrs. B! Hey, Will!" Hailey greeted, leaning down to the car window.

"Hey, honey. Okay. I'll pick him up in two hours. That's 9:00 on the dot," Mrs. Byers instructed, then turned to Will. Her hand went to his cheek. "If anything happens, if you need to come home, you have Hailey call me, okay? Don't—"

"Don't walk or bike home. I know, Mom," Will said, his voice soft but firm. He was eager to join his friends, to just be a kid at the arcade.

"Okay, but, sweetie..."

"Mom. I'm okay. I promise." He gave her a small, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Have fun." Mrs. Byers's gaze flicked back to Hailey, a silent message passing between them.

"I've got him, Mrs. B. We'll all stick together," Hailey promised. She saw the woman's shoulders relax a fraction. "Call if you need anything. Anything at all."

Will practically launched himself out of the car. "Thanks, Mom! Bye!" He fell into step with Mike and Lucas, the three of them immediately launching into a debate about Dragon's Lair.

Hailey watched them for a moment, her eyes lingering on Will. He seemed lighter already, just being with his friends.

"To slay the dragon, use the magic sword!"

"Oh, come on! I'm in uncharted territory here, guys!" Dustin yelled at the screen. Hailey stood nearby, leaning against a Dig Dug machine and laughing.

"Down! Down! Down!" Lucas yelled, micromanaging from over Dustin's shoulder.

"I'm going! I'm going! I'm going!" Dustin shot back, jerking the joystick.

"Okay. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" Dustin yelled, swatting at Lucas without looking away from the screen. "I can't concentrate with your yapping in my ear!"

"No. No. No! No! No! No! I hate this overpriced bullshit! Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!" he cursed at the machine as his last life blinked out.

"Dustin," Hailey said, her voice a low, warning hum. He shot her a sheepish, immediate grimace.

"Sorry! Sorry. It's this stupid game." He kicked the cabinet lightly.

"You're not nimble enough," Lucas stated, smug as ever. "But you'll get there one day. Until then, Princess Daphne is still mine."

"Whatever," Dustin muttered, deflating. "I'm still tops on Centipede and Dig Dug."

"You sure about that?"

The voice made Hailey's good mood sour. Keith. Again.

"Sure, about what?" Dustin asked. His face morphed into horror. He didn't wait for an answer, bolting to the Dig Dug machine. "No. No, no, no, no, no," he chanted, weaving through the crowd. "Move! Move! No! No!" He stared, utterly defeated, at the screen. "My reign of terror... is over."

"751,300 points!" Will read aloud, his eyes wide.

"That's impossible," Mike breathed.

"Who is Mad Max?" Dustin demanded, turning to Keith, who had sidled up way too close to Hailey.

"Better than you," Keith sneered.

"Could it possibly be you?" Hailey asked, her voice flat and unimpressed.

"You know I despise Dig Dug," Keith said, as if she'd ever paid him a moment's attention.

"Then who is it?" Lucas pressed.

"Yeah, spill it, Keith," Dustin demanded.

The older boy stared them down. "You want information? Then I need something in return." The looks on their faces showed they knew his price.

Hailey moved before they could even think about it, stepping directly between Keith and the boys. "Listen, and listen good. Their answer is no. It will always be no. You can take your info and shove it. And these guys?" She jerked a thumb back at the Party. "They're smarter than you'll ever be. They'll figure it out themselves."

"Come on, Hailey," Dustin moaned from behind her. "It's for a good cause! It's for science!"

She turned her head just enough to pin him with a look. "Dustin. I said no." Her tone brooked no argument. It was the same voice that told him to eat his vegetables. He immediately snapped his mouth shut, looking down at his shoes.

"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, backtracking quickly. "He's just gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to my whole family."

"Acne isn't a rash and it isn't contagious, you prepubescent wastoid," Keith shot back, his face flushing.

Hailey took a final step forward, making Keith lean back. "Look, dweeb. My brother is not a wastoid. And the only thing you'll be spreading is regret if you don't walk away. Right. Now."

The boys held their breath. The stand-off was broken by a small, uncertain voice.

"Hey. Guys?"

It was Will. He wasn't looking at them. He was staring toward the entrance of the arcade, his face pale. The angry blush drained from Keith's face, replaced by confusion. The fight was forgotten.

Hailey was at Will's side in an instant. "Will? You okay?"

He didn't answer, just started walking toward the doors, his eyes fixed on something outside. Whatever he was seeing, Hailey couldn't see it, and a cold dread trickled down her spine. She followed him out, the cacophony of the arcade fading into a dull roar behind them.

The cool night air hit them. Will was standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, his breathing a little too quick.

"Will?" Hailey said softly, coming to stand beside him. She didn't touch him right away. "Hey. What's up?"

He flinched, then blinked, seeming to remember where he was. He looked at her, his eyes wide and scared for a second before he recognized her.

"Hailey. I... I thought I saw..." He trailed off, shaking his head as if to clear it. He looked embarrassed.

"You thought you saw something," she finished for him, her voice gentle. She finally placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. "It's okay. This place is a sensory overload. Lucas's yelling is enough to make anyone see things."

She kept her tone light, offering him an easy out, a way to save face. She knew he hated it when people fussed.

He took a deep, shuddery breath and nodded, not meeting her eyes. "Yeah. Sensory overload."

"Tell me about it," she said, matching his quiet tone. She jerked her head back toward the arcade. "Come on. I think your party needs you. We've got a mysterious griefer to track down. Mad Max isn't going to expose themselves."

She saw the gratitude flash in his eyes. No panic, no interrogation, just a quiet understanding and a mission. He nodded again, more firmly this time.

"Yeah. Okay."

As they walked back in, she kept her pace slow, matching his. She didn't look at him like he was broken. She just walked beside him, a steady presence, and for Will, that was everything.

*~*🌟*~*

Steve sat slumped in the passenger seat of his own car, parked in the school lot. Nancy was in the driver's seat, holding his college admission essay like it was a piece of evidence. He would have rather given it to Hailey. She would have been kinder about it, maybe found something, anything, to praise before gently pointing out the flaws. But Nancy had insisted.

"It's crap, I know," Steve said, staring out the window, scanning the parking lot for a glimpse of curly hair and a familiar walk—any excuse to get out of this tense, deflating situation.

"No, it's not crap," Nancy said simply, her brow furrowed in concentration as she scanned the lines.

"It's not good," Steve pressed, wanting her to just be honest and stop the polite charade. He could take it. "It's going to be," Nancy said, looking up from the paper with an expression of determined optimism that somehow made him feel worse. "Just... It needs some reorganizing. Can I mark on it?" she asked, already uncapping her pen.

This was exactly why he'd wanted to ask Hailey. Hailey would have talked to him. Nancy was talking at the paper.

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered.

Nancy began, her finger tracing the lines. "So, in the first paragraph, you used the basketball game versus Northern as a metaphor for your life, which is great. But then, around here, you start talking about your granddad's experiences in the war, and I... I don't see how they're connected." She looked up at him, her gaze analytical.

"It connects because... because, you know, we both won," Steve tried to explain, the thread that had seemed so clear in his head now feeling flimsy under her logical scrutiny. Her lack of a response was answer enough. "Do you think I should start from scratch?" he asked, the defeat already creeping into his voice.

"No. I mean..." Nancy trailed off, diplomatically avoiding the truth.

"When's the deadline?" she asked instead.

"It's tomorrow for early application. Can you come and help me tonight?" Steve asked, a last flicker of hope in his chest.

"We have our dinner tonight, remember?" Nancy reminded him, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Oh, my God," he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest.

"We already cancelled last week," she said firmly. "You don't have to go. Just work on this."

"No, no, no. What's the point?" Steve asked, the frustration boiling over. He snatched the paper from her hands and crumpled it into a tight ball.

"Hey, calm down."

"I'm calm. I'm calm," he said, though his jaw was tight. "I'll end up working for my dad anyway." The words tasted like surrender.

"That's not true."

"I don't know, Nance. Is that such a bad thing?" he asked, a new edge to his voice. "There's insurance and benefits and all that adult stuff, and if I took it, you know, I could be around for your senior year." The thought was a small comfort. Staying meant not losing Nancy. It also, a treacherous part of his mind whispered, meant staying near Hailey.

"Steve..." Nancy's voice was soft, warning.

"Just to look after you a little bit. Make sure you don't forget about this pretty face," he said, trying to inject some of his old charm into the moment. When she just gave him a patient look, he dropped the act. "Nance, I'm serious. I love you." He leaned in and kissed her, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"I love you, too," she said with a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

The moment was broken by the sound of a rumbling engine. A car they'd never seen before, a beat-up sedan, pulled into the parking lot. Curiosity pulled them out of the BMW to get a closer look. Just then, Hailey appeared as if summoned by Steve's earlier thoughts, leaning against a nearby car and shamelessly appraising the stranger who climbed out.

"Well, would you look at that," Hailey muttered, more to herself than anyone, her eyes tracking the new guy's movement.

Steve followed her gaze, and a hot, irrational spike of jealousy flared in his chest. He didn't like the way she was looking at him. Not one bit.

Hailey turned to them, a picture of innocence. "Hey guys. I guess I'll see you tonight at the dinner." She gave a little wave and walked away, leaving Steve staring after her, the crumpled essay forgotten in his fist.

Later, Hailey and Jonathan were making their way out of class when they were intercepted by Tina, who was handing out flyers for a Halloween party.

"Hey. Be there," Tina said, thrusting flyers at them. Neither was interested.

"Hey, Nancy." Tina brightened, giving the Wheeler girl a flyer.

"Hey! Thanks."

Nancy looked at the flyer, then turned back to Tina. "Oh, could I get two more?" she asked. Tina handed them over without question.

Hailey and Jonathan exchanged a look of pure confusion as Nancy turned and presented them each with a flyer. "You two are coming to this," she declared.

Hailey just rolled her eyes so hard she saw her own brain.

"Come and get sheet-faced? No, I'm not," Jonathan declined flatly, already crumpling the paper.

"I can't let you sit all alone on Halloween, and let Hailey hang out with a bunch of middle schoolers. That's just not acceptable," Nancy stated, her resolve iron-clad.

"Well, you can relax. I'm not gonna be alone. I'm going trick-or-treating with Will," Jonathan said.

Hailey's head snapped toward him. "Wait, you're going to be there too?" The prospect of having an ally at the Wheelers' made the night slightly more bearable.

"Yeah."

"All night?" Nancy asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yeah."

"No, no way," Nancy argued, pointing a finger at Jonathan. "You're gonna be home by 8:00, listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something." Her attention then shifted to Hailey. "And you will be hanging out in my basement with all our brothers, doing God knows what until you have to go home."

Hailey just shrugged. It still sounded infinitely better than a party full of drunken peers. "Sounds like a nice night," she echoed Jonathan.

"Jonathan, Hailey, just come. I mean, who knows, you guys might even, like, meet someone," Nancy said, her voice laced with a hopefulness that was completely misplaced.

And there it was. Hailey finally saw the well-meaning but utterly misguided plan. Nancy was playing matchmaker. The irony was so thick Hailey almost laughed out loud.

Steve appeared out of nowhere, sweeping Nancy up into a hug from behind and spinning her around. "Oh, my God! Take those stupid things off," Nancy laughed, referring to his sunglasses. He complied, grinning.

"I missed you," he said, nuzzling her neck.

"It's been like an hour," Nancy pointed out, still laughing.

"Tell me about it," Steve said, as if it had been an eternity. He pulled her into a deep kiss, a performative display of coupledom.

Jonathan gave Hailey a gentle nudge, nodding down the hall. With one last, shared glance of understanding—a look that spoke volumes of their mutual, unrequited mess—the two turned and walked away, their hearts a little heavier than before.

Nancy and Steve broke apart, watching them go. A silence fell between them, heavy with things unsaid. For a moment, the only sound was the distant slam of a locker. They were together, but their hearts were quietly, stubbornly, pining for other people.

The day dragged on agonizingly slow for Hailey, but eventually, it was time for the monthly dinner at the Holland house. She arrived just as Steve and Nancy did, and the three of them paused on the sidewalk, staring at the new "For Sale" sign planted defiantly in the perfect lawn.

"Okay, ready?" Steve asked, his voice uncharacteristically sombre. He reached out and rang the doorbell.

The Holland house was always warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the cold truth they harboured. Mrs. Holland greeted them with a hug that felt a little tighter each time.

"I'm so sorry I didn't get to cook. I was gonna make that baked ziti you guys like so much, but I just forgot about the time, and before you know it, 'Oh, my God, it's five o'clock,'" Mrs. Holland fretted, gesturing to the bucket of KFC on the table.

"It's fine. It's great," Nancy said immediately.

"Right. I love KFC," Steve chimed in with forced cheer.

Hailey just gave the woman a warm, sympathetic smile. Mrs. Holland was used to the girl's quiet presence and seemed to appreciate it.

"So, I noticed a 'For Sale' sign out in your yard. Is that the neighbours', or..." Nancy ventured carefully once they were seated?

"You wanna tell them?" Mrs. Holland asked her husband softly.

"Go ahead."

"We hired a man named Murray Bauman. Have any of you heard of him?" Mrs. Holland asked, her eyes alight with a hope that was painful to witness.

"No," Nancy said, shaking her head.

"No, I don't think so," Steve added.

"Never heard of the guy," Hailey murmured, her appetite vanishing.

"He was an investigative journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times," Mrs. Holland informed them.

"He's pretty well known," Mr. Holland added, handing over the man's business card. It meant nothing to them. "Anyway, he's freelanced now, and he agreed to take the case."

Mrs. Holland's smile was radiant, and it shattered Hailey's heart into a million pieces. "That's... That's great. No, that's really... That's great, right?" Steve stammered, trying to latch onto the right thing to say and failing miserably.

"Um, what exactly does that mean?" Nancy asked, her voice small.

"Means he's gonna do what that lazy son of a bitch Jim Hop—" Mr. Holland cut himself off as his wife placed a calming hand on his arm.

"Sorry." He took a steadying breath. "What the Hawkins police haven't been capable of doing. It means we have a real detective on the case."

"It means..." Mrs. Holland said, her eyes shining with tears of pure, devastating hope, "...we're going to find our Barb."

"If anyone can find her, it's this man. He already has leads. By God, he's worth every last penny," Mr. Holland said, his voice thick with conviction.

"Is that why you're selling the house?" Nancy asked, her gaze fixed on her lap, unable to look them in the eye.

"Don't worry about us, sweetie. We're fine. More than fine." Mrs. Holland reached across the table and squeezed her husband's hand. "For the first time in a long time, we're hopeful."

Those words hung in the air, suffocating and cruel. Hailey felt the guilt like a physical weight on her chest. She wished more than anything she could tear the truth from her throat and give them the peace they deserved, but the secret was a monster itself, and letting it out would only put more people in danger.

"Excuse me. I'll be right back," Nancy whispered, her voice choked. She pushed away from the table and hurried out of the room.

Steve stared awkwardly at Hailey; his eyes wide with a "what do we do now?" panic. He grabbed a piece of chicken just to have something to do with his hands.

"It's finger-lickin' good," he said, the words absurd and hollow in the heavy silence. But he said it with such earnest, awkward desperation that it broke the tension just enough. Mr. Holland managed a weak chuckle. Mrs. Holland offered a watery smile.

Hailey looked at Steve then, truly looked at him. In his clumsy, stupid way, he was trying to bear this unbearable thing with them. He held her gaze for a second, and in that moment, they weren't Steve-and-Nancy and Hailey-the-third-wheel. They were just three kids, trapped in a lie, sharing a pain too big for any of them to hold alone. And for a fleeting second, that felt like its own kind of awful, necessary intimacy.

*~🌟~*