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[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

Who ya gonna call???

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

I never understood why Nancy crawled through it 😭 could never be me.

I took from my personal experience and from the book Lucas on the Line when I wrote that part. I went to prestigious schools in the city that are predominantly white and kinda had to figure it out on my own. I’m first generation so my mama don’t know and never grew up in white spaces to know, you know what I mean?

I bought Lucas on the Line online but I’m sure there’s a bootleg copy somewhere on Beyoncé’s internet if you don’t wanna buy it 😭

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This is a long one and based off certain scenes in Lucas on the Line. As a black person, I never realized I was other until it was pointed out to me and once I internalized it, I had questions I couldn't ask my parent(s) because it's not something discussed at length in the black community because trying to survive is hard enough. I honestly urge y'all to read Lucas on the Line because it's such a well written story about the Black Experience and how nuanced and difficult it is to navigate especially black kids who grew up in white neighbourhoods.

I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know too! 🤎

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4588

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

THE WOODS 

I squeal dropping the mallet on the ground at the sound of a gunshot. Nancy giggles waiting for me as I pick up my weapon in the shrubbery. I never thought I would be on my way to meet up with Jonathan Byers on the opposite side of town to learn how to shoot a gun. But then again, a lot more bizarre things have happened this week so I shouldn’t be surprised. Nancy and I trek up the small hill as Jonathan shoots repeatedly at the target of empty tin cans or at least attempts to. 

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” 

Jonathan looks over his shoulder smiling sheepishly. “No, actually you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.”  

“Sure.” Nancy answers, titling her head in amusement. She drops her backpack and baseball bat on the ground ready for practice. 

I don’t take off my backpack right away, taking in my surroundings. The wide-open space of dry leaves, weeds and shrubs. The tall pine trees encircling the space. The winter chill started to come in and I wish I wore a hat today to cover my ears, maybe even a heavier coat instead of a denim jacket. Jonathan opens the revolver to check how many bullets are in the cylinder before reaching in his pockets for more. 

“You ever shot a gun before?” 

“Absolutely not.” I answer. 

“Didn’t your dad fight in the Vietnam War?” I nod my head, shifting from side to side on my feet. My Dad would never let any of us touch a gun. There was no reason for us to. Jonathan shrugs.  “I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you how to shoot a gun,” he commented, directing his gaze to Nancy. “You?” 

Nancy scoffs. “Have you met my parents?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was nine. My dad took me hunting on my birthday.” I see the spark in his eyes dwindle to a low flame. “He made me kill a rabbit.” 

“A rabbit?” Nancy and I say at the same time.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something.” 

“Yes, because the world needs more men shooting guns.” I deadpan. 

Jonathan smirks, adding bullets to the cylinder. “I cried for a week.” 

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers. 

“I’m sorry.” I say to him. 

Jonathan didn’t say anything as he tried to drag emotion back under where he didn’t need to feel it. He snaps the revolver in place, the corners of his lips rise to a smirk again. “What? I’m a fan of Thumper.” 

“I meant your dad.” Nancy says. 

The detachment in his tone makes me uncomfortable. In seeing Jonathan’s dad for the first time today, the way he dressed and carried himself. There was something arrogant and insincere about him. When Will first went missing, I never heard Jonathan mention his dad, when Nancy and I found Jonathan at the funeral home, he was by himself picking caskets. Ms. Byers was at home grieving, but the whole town knew how adamant she was on finding Will, but where was his dad? The audacity to show up to the funeral of his youngest son, he did nothing to plan, to shake hands with the people who did care to find Will. Now with this story, it completed the picture. He was never in Jonathan and Will’s life and didn’t care to be. Only wanted to insert his toxic male dominance and masculinity onto the boys. 

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point...but I wasn’t around for that part.” 

Nancy gestures for the gun and Jonathan hands it to her. “Just point and shoot.” 

I walk behind Nancy to stand beside Jonathan, refusing to be anywhere near that sound. Nancy takes a deep breath aiming the gun at the can a few yards in front of her. 

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.” 

My eyebrows raise at the bold statement. “Nancy, you shouldn’t say that.” 

“I mean it.” she answers. 

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan states. 

“My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.” 

“Screw that.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah. Screw that.” 

Nancy closes one eye aiming for the beer can. I put my fingers in in ears just as Nancy pulls the trigger hitting the beer can. I chuckle in disbelief. From shot gunning to shooting them, anything involving beer cans, Nancy is a natural. I shrug off my backpack, placing the mallet on top. Despite the awe, I am uncomfortable with what Nancy said about her parents. Sure, Mr. Wheeler was a bit…impartial. I was around the family many times to know that, but to say her parents never loved each other? I don’t know. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Diana?” Jonathan asks, offering me the gun. I don’t move contemplating. “It’s not gonna bite.” He jokes. I make a face at Jonathan and he laughs as I cautiously take it from him with my gloved hand. 

“Just point and shoot?” 

“Just point and shoot.” 

I standing in front of a can, widening my stance so I don’t fall over. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a nuclear family.”  

“That’s easy for you to say,” Nancy voices. “Your family is perfect.” 

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. The contempt in her tone is shocking. “That’s not true.” 

“Diana,” Nancy chides, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You never argue with your parents and your parents never argue with each other. You are perfect. Your siblings are perfect. Everyone in your family is perfect.” 

I don’t miss Jonathan’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Having never seen us go back and forth with each other, I can tell he is surprised by this. What he doesn’t know is this topic of conversation isn’t new. Throughout our years of friendship, Nancy and Barb always made fun of me for being “perfect”; how I never make mistakes; I am always put together. I need at least eight-hours of “beauty” sleep. From the nickname “Lady Diana”, to my mom making me lunches because I refuse to each cafeteria food. At first it used to bother me, but I moved passed it until Tommy H and Carol picked up on it and started calling me “Anal Princess”. 

This may not be a new conversation, but the undertone certainly is and it’s why I am thrown off by it. It doesn’t sound like a joke anymore and there’s something deeper going on. I never thought Nancy envied me. I know I certainly envied Nancy for being strong enough to stand up for herself and say no. For being able to be defiant without feeling like its wrong. I lift my head high lifting the gun eye level. 

“I’m not perfect and my parents do argue, just not in front of us and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I begin. “You want to know why my dad never taught me how to fire a gun?” I refer to Jonathan’s comment earlier. “Because he never talks about the War unless it’s to teach us a lesson. I don’t know any stories of his time there. My family is seemingly perfect because we don’t talk about things, we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and try to live without feeling more of an outsider than we already are.”  I pull the trigger and the bullet hits the can knocking it off the tree stub. 

None of us react. The heaviness of what I said laying on thick. My family isn’t perfect. We are far from it. We are compliant and conforming because it’s the only way to not be seen as more of an outsider than we already are. I understand it to a certain extent, but sometimes I wish my parents would talk more about it. About being black in an all-white religious town. About their past and how they came to Hawkins. I know nothing and it’s something I push down to be the “perfect” daughter when deep down it bothers me. This is not something I can discuss with Lucas and Erica because they are happy in their bubble and I want to keep it that way for them. 

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks with a frown. “You’re not an outsider, Di.” 

“Never mind.” I say, handing Jonathan the gun, feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Nancy didn’t question me again and after shooting practice we decided to head through the forest looking for the mysterious animal. Dried leaves crunch under my boots as we all walked in silence. Jonathan and Nancy walked together giving me space to be alone for a while which I am grateful for because I didn’t feel like talking. My mind feels like it’s been jostled back and forth, buzzing with many thoughts. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’ve never talked about it because who do I talk about this with? Uncle Jack only comes to Hawkins once a year and when he does the environment is uncomfortable and stuffy because Dad doesn’t like Uncle Jack and doesn’t hide it. Long distance calls are expensive and I have no money to pay for it and if Dad finds out I’ve been talking to Uncle Jack he’d be furious. Maybe I should start journaling or writing letters I’ll never send. 

“You never said what I was saying?” Nancy speaks after a long period of silence. 

“What?” Jonathan says. 

The conversation about the photos began in the darkroom yesterday, but I interrupted when I saw the final development of the photo of the thing that took Will and Barb. It’s definitely been the great elephant in the room between the three of us and though the conversation in the darkroom was light in nature, it is a serious situation. 

“Yesterday, you said, I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.” I glance around not focusing on anything, while keeping my ears perked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. My guess…I saw this girl; you know trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone or you thought you were,” I cautiously peer at Nancy. She looks like she’s about to explode. “And, you know you could just be yourself.” 

I ground my teeth. Jonathan just opened up a huge can of worms. A few days ago, I would’ve agreed but after talking to Nancy, I don’t think she is trying to be someone else. She’s a young woman exploring and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, Jonathan isn’t close to Nancy to know who she is and who she isn’t. Nancy doesn’t respond right away, processing the soft insult. She stops clenching her hands into fists. 

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy fumes, glaring at Jonathan. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—” 

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.” 

My head retracts back. “So, you were intentional in taking those photos.” 

Jonathan’s head whips back. His brows shoot up in disbelief. “What?” 

“You said you thought it was a good picture which means you were intentional about taking it.” My voice hardens. “Taking all of it.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diana.” Jonathan mutters furiously under his breath, walking away. I march behind him trying to keep up with his long legs and quick strides.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth! Nancy asked you a question and your answer quite frankly, was bullshit. Because really? That’s what you were thinking when she was taking off her shirt?” It’s a cop out. A poor excuse to deflect from what he did. Jonathan scoffs. “Unbelievable.” I hiss, catching myself before I trip over a branch. “What about how Steve feels?” 

“Oh my god!” Jonathan throws his hands up in exasperation and I am filled with so much adrenaline I’m starting to shake. 

“I told you his privacy was violated too!” I snap. “As was mine, Tommy, Carol, and Barb!” 

Jonathan spins around, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “And I said I was sorry for taking the photos!” He shouts. I blink repeatedly taken aback by this attitude. No one has ever yelled at me like that and Jonathan was the last person I thought would. Nancy steps in scowling at him. 

“Don’t yell at her!” she shouts, pointing at him. Jonathan glares at her and keeps his mouth shut. I look down at my boots, done with the conversation. “Steve is actually a good guy. The whole camera situation. He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.” 

“Yeah.” Jonathan scoffs, walking away. “That’s one word for it.” 

“And what you did was okay?” Nancy barks, following after him. I stalk behind her keeping my distance. 

“I never said that.” 

“He had every right to be pissed—”

“Okay, all right.” Jonathan says, rolling his eyes, coming to a halt. “Does that mean I have to like him?” 

“No.” 

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.” 

This is why he’s being like this. Because he doesn’t like Steve and has some sort of animosity towards him. I never thought I would stick up for Steve, but after my encounter with him in my garage, I think he’s a good person and deserves a chance to be seen and heard outside his bubble. 

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy rages. 

“Yeah?” Jonathan challenges, eyes glowing with savage fire. 

“Yeah, I was thinking, ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’” 

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.’” His voice was stern with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. “’Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.’” 

Nancy and I watch Jonathan march away. We look at each other absolutely gobsmacked at what just happened. Nancy’s face is so red, the veins in her neck pulsates with pent-up fury as she clenches her fists. I wrap my arm around her shoulders guiding her along the path. 

I admire the colours of the sky as we trek through the forest. Shades of pink, orange, and yellow blending and oozing together. The sun was setting and we would soon need to use our flashlights to navigate through the forest. My back aches from carrying my backpack for so long and I want to tell Jonathan to stop so we can take a break but he was far ahead keeping his distance. All of us have been quiet since the argument though Nancy walked beside me, we haven’t spoken focusing on our surroundings, deep in thought. 

A lot of truth has been said today and it felt like it was shoved down all our throats. I’m not mad at Jonathan for yelling at me and I hope he’s not mad at me for calling him out. What he did was stupid and I know he knows that, but picking a fight with Nancy was something completely different. It felt more personal and I can’t quite put my finger on why it would be since Jonathan and Nancy aren’t close. If anything, they may be farther apart now after what he said to her. I doubt Jonathan wants that especially because of how far we’ve come. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quietly enough so Jonathan doesn’t hear. 

“Yes.” I respond automatically. Nancy looks at me and I drop the act. “No.” 

“Me neither.” she agrees, glaring at the back of Jonathan’s head. “I’m so sick of him and his holier than thou attitude.” 

“I can’t believe he yelled at me.” 

“I can’t believe that either!” she whispers hastily. “I didn’t like that.” 

“I know. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me and Steve.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

I debate on whether I should tell her he came to my house today, but decide it doesn’t matter and she probably already knew about it since he was in his way to see her anyways. 

“I can’t believe Princess Diana swore.” she teases, touching her chest in shock. 

“Oh, shut up.” I giggle, pushing her away. 

“Ou, again!” I roll my eyes. 

“I was just trying to understand why he took the photos.” 

“I honestly don’t even think he knows.” she says, looking at Jonathan again. There was no anger in her eyes, just curiosity.

“After that conversation, I think so too.” 

Nancy hums in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I was going to bring it up later but, what you did earlier today about being an outsider. What did you mean?” 

A ripple of anxiety went up my back while my stomach fell to my feet. I shrug my shoulders shaking me head. “I don’t know.” I deflect. 

“Diana, we’ve been friends for so long, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?” 

I do know that, but this conversation was not about a boy or anything menial like that. It was much deeper and something I’ve been pushing down for years. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when Nancy went on about my perfect day family, I snapped. This past week I feel like I’ve gone through the most significant changes which in turn has brought up subconscious thoughts, emotions and insecurities. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction, perfect daughter, perfect friend, Juilliard, Blackness, otherness. But who am I? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? 

“Diana.” Worry etched Nancy’s features. My silence makes her more anxious. I sigh, stepping over a branch. 

“Have you ever noticed there is no one who looks like me in our neighbourhood?” I mumble, uncomfortably. 

“No? What do you mean?” An expected answer. I close my eyes counting down from five. How do I go about this? 

“I mean, black.” I say, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. “My family…” I clear my throat. “My family is the only black family in the neighbourhood.” When Nancy doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I don’t remember when I noticed, but once I did, it’s hard not to. Even at school, I can count how many black people are there and majority are on the basketball team. Did you know that?” Nancy shakes her head. “I am the only black person in our classes, at dance. No matter where I go or what I do, who I am. I will always be the black one. Even in our friendship. That’s what I mean by outsider.” 

 “My mom and dad don’t talk about our blackness and I’m left to figure it out on my own. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s what I mean when I said we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and conform, but sometimes I don’t want to conform. Sometimes…” I sigh feeling exhausted. Mentally. “Sometimes, I want to ask those questions but then I’ll feel like I’m not…” 

“The perfect daughter.” Nancy finishes. 

“Yeah.” I twirl the mallet in my hand. There’s so much to say but this conversation is exhausting enough. Nancy looks at the ground, kicking a rock. 

“I-I don’t know what to say…” she says lowly. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.” 

“You know now and that’s the first step.” 

“Of course, but please don’t be afraid to tell me these things. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to feel like an outsider when you’re with me. What you said is something I need to know in order to change.” 

I nod my head and Nancy visibly relaxes, reaching to squeeze my hand. I rest my head on her shoulder feeling more relaxed than I did before the beginning of the conversation. It’s a conversation that could’ve easily gone south and I wouldn’t be prepared to handle it, especially after what happened hours before. Darkness quickly engulfs the sky and I am instantly aware of all the sounds in the forest. The wind slipping through leaves, the cracking undergrowth with each step Nancy and I make, the bugs crawling on trees. We all take out our flashlights to see and I notice Jonathan slows down to remain close, though still keeping his distance. I jerk at every unfamiliar sound making Nancy laugh again. 

“Do you remember Mei Wong?” I mutter, swatting away a fly.

“Yes. She auditioned for Juilliard!” 

“Well on Sunday at rehearsals, she told me…” I swallow to soothe the dryness in my throat. “She told me I should think about auditioning for Juilliard.” 

“Really? Wow!” 

I scrunch my nose. “I know.” 

“You definitely should. I meant what I said at Steve’s house. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you’re gonna go pro. I feel it.” I shake my head. Somehow Nancy sees it. 

“You are. I need you to be more confident in yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…what if I audition and I don’t get in—”

“We’re only in 10th grade, you have time to worry about the auditions.” Nancy assures me.  “Maybe Juilliard has a summer intensive you can take beforehand to give you an extra boost.” 

“My dad will never allow that.” 

“Have you talked to your mom about it?” 

I shake my head. “Not yet.” 

“I say after all this is done and we find Barb, we will both help you research and come up with a plan for you to go to Juilliard. Because you’re going to Juilliard.” 

We find Barb. That’s the most important thing. It’s why we’re here now. The sound of her laughter echoed through my mind. The last time I saw her; felt her at Steve’s house. I don’t want to believe that was the last time I saw her. I shiver, crossing my arms above my chest. It’s so cold I can barely feel my ears and nose. Jonathan keeps pace with Nancy and I. There is still tension between the three of us, but now is not the time to dwell on it, not when we were outside in the forest on our own looking for God knows what. At random, Nancy slows down looking back and forth, her expression tight with strain. I keep myself composed despite the fact my heart is racing. Did she see something? Hear anything? Was it here? I tighten my grip on the mallet, my eyes darting from tree to tree. 

“What are you tired?” Jonathan asks. 

“Shut up.” Nancy hisses, looking around. “I heard something.” 

I follow closely beside Jonathan as we follow Nancy through the forest. I don’t know what we’re looking for or what she’s heard until I hear something faint…a whining sound. I gasp at the sight of a deer whimpering in front of underbrush. We all rush to the deer dropping to our knees. My stomach is in knots at the blood dampening its fawn-coloured coat. It looked like it’s been punctured multiple times. It’s ragged breathing and slow movements indicated it was in pain and about to die. I’ve never seen a deer this close before and I’m sad it has to be like this. Images of Bambi flash through my mind and I cover my mouth muffling my sobs.   

“Oh, God. It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy whimpers, tears brimming her eyes. She looks at the gun in her hand and holds it up. “We can’t just leave it.” 

“Wait!” I exclaim, grabbing her arm. “There must be something else we can do!” 

“It’s in too much pain. We have to.” 

“I’ll do it.” Jonathan says, taking the gun. Nancy and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not nine anymore.” Jonathan assures us. 

I stagger up on my feet grabbing Nancy’s hand. Jonathan points the gun at the deer. Time slows down and I feel like the forest is closing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up just as Jonathan is about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the deer disappears into the underbrush. I jump back startled, mouth opening in a silent scream. 

“What was that? What was that?” Nancy shouts. 

I wring my hands jumping up and down. “Oh, my god. Oh my, god. I can’t. I can’t.” Panic shoots up my spine and I hold my chest struggling to catch my breath.

“There’s so much blood.” 

“Where did it go?” 

“I don’t know.” 

I quickly pick up the flashlight and mallet I dropped in my state of panic. My skin tingles and I shake my head trying to focus, aiming the light on the ground. Blood smears all over leaves and twigs. I proceed around with caution, shining my light on anything and everything in the forest, being cautious of not stepping on any gore. From the far distance I notice something dripping from a hollow tree stump. It looked like…sap. No, it’s too thick for it to be sap. I am vigilant taking calculated steps and kneel in front of the tree inspecting the foliage. It looked like the tree was creating mucus. Thick, slimy, runny mucus. There was no smell to it, but it was weird. I paid attention in biology last semester to know that this wasn’t right.

“Nancy.” I whisper. “This tree…there’s weird stuff falling.” 

Nancy joins me on my knees shining her light. She touches the tree stump, looking up. “Jonathan?” she shouts, looking around. I search as well thinking he was with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It would be unwise to leave Nancy here alone to look for him. We were better sticking together. When I turn back however, Nancy is taking off her backpack placing it beside her bat. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going in there!” 

“Watch my stuff.” 

“Are you crazy?” I snap. 

That mucus could be toxic or worse. There was no need to go inside the clearly rotting tree. Nancy ignores me crawling inside. I am lost for words because not only can she fit inside; her body completely disappears as if there was an opening on the other side. I blink, shaking my head, feeling disembodied. 

“Nancy?”

Adrenaline bursts through my veins to prepare myself to fight or flee. I feel like I am back in Steve’s backyard keeping watch while Nancy does something completely foolish like walk into the forest on her own or like now, crawling into a slime coated hollow stump. I curse colourful words under my breath that would shock my Dad. I can’t leave her alone. So, I take off my backpack and put the mallet on top; count down from five in my head and crawl through the hole holding my breath hopefully awaiting Nancy on the other side. 

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This is a long one and based off certain scenes in Lucas on the Line. As a black person, I never realized I was other until it was pointed out to me and once I internalized it, I had questions I couldn't ask my parent(s) because it's not something discussed at length in the black community because trying to survive is hard enough. I honestly urge y'all to read Lucas on the Line because it's such a well written story about the Black Experience and how nuanced and difficult it is to navigate especially black kids who grew up in white neighbourhoods.

I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know too! 🤎

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4588

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

THE WOODS 

I squeal dropping the mallet on the ground at the sound of a gunshot. Nancy giggles waiting for me as I pick up my weapon in the shrubbery. I never thought I would be on my way to meet up with Jonathan Byers on the opposite side of town to learn how to shoot a gun. But then again, a lot more bizarre things have happened this week so I shouldn’t be surprised. Nancy and I trek up the small hill as Jonathan shoots repeatedly at the target of empty tin cans or at least attempts to. 

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” 

Jonathan looks over his shoulder smiling sheepishly. “No, actually you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.”  

“Sure.” Nancy answers, titling her head in amusement. She drops her backpack and baseball bat on the ground ready for practice. 

I don’t take off my backpack right away, taking in my surroundings. The wide-open space of dry leaves, weeds and shrubs. The tall pine trees encircling the space. The winter chill started to come in and I wish I wore a hat today to cover my ears, maybe even a heavier coat instead of a denim jacket. Jonathan opens the revolver to check how many bullets are in the cylinder before reaching in his pockets for more. 

“You ever shot a gun before?” 

“Absolutely not.” I answer. 

“Didn’t your dad fight in the Vietnam War?” I nod my head, shifting from side to side on my feet. My Dad would never let any of us touch a gun. There was no reason for us to. Jonathan shrugs.  “I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you how to shoot a gun,” he commented, directing his gaze to Nancy. “You?” 

Nancy scoffs. “Have you met my parents?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was nine. My dad took me hunting on my birthday.” I see the spark in his eyes dwindle to a low flame. “He made me kill a rabbit.” 

“A rabbit?” Nancy and I say at the same time.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something.” 

“Yes, because the world needs more men shooting guns.” I deadpan. 

Jonathan smirks, adding bullets to the cylinder. “I cried for a week.” 

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers. 

“I’m sorry.” I say to him. 

Jonathan didn’t say anything as he tried to drag emotion back under where he didn’t need to feel it. He snaps the revolver in place, the corners of his lips rise to a smirk again. “What? I’m a fan of Thumper.” 

“I meant your dad.” Nancy says. 

The detachment in his tone makes me uncomfortable. In seeing Jonathan’s dad for the first time today, the way he dressed and carried himself. There was something arrogant and insincere about him. When Will first went missing, I never heard Jonathan mention his dad, when Nancy and I found Jonathan at the funeral home, he was by himself picking caskets. Ms. Byers was at home grieving, but the whole town knew how adamant she was on finding Will, but where was his dad? The audacity to show up to the funeral of his youngest son, he did nothing to plan, to shake hands with the people who did care to find Will. Now with this story, it completed the picture. He was never in Jonathan and Will’s life and didn’t care to be. Only wanted to insert his toxic male dominance and masculinity onto the boys. 

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point...but I wasn’t around for that part.” 

Nancy gestures for the gun and Jonathan hands it to her. “Just point and shoot.” 

I walk behind Nancy to stand beside Jonathan, refusing to be anywhere near that sound. Nancy takes a deep breath aiming the gun at the can a few yards in front of her. 

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.” 

My eyebrows raise at the bold statement. “Nancy, you shouldn’t say that.” 

“I mean it.” she answers. 

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan states. 

“My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.” 

“Screw that.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah. Screw that.” 

Nancy closes one eye aiming for the beer can. I put my fingers in in ears just as Nancy pulls the trigger hitting the beer can. I chuckle in disbelief. From shot gunning to shooting them, anything involving beer cans, Nancy is a natural. I shrug off my backpack, placing the mallet on top. Despite the awe, I am uncomfortable with what Nancy said about her parents. Sure, Mr. Wheeler was a bit…impartial. I was around the family many times to know that, but to say her parents never loved each other? I don’t know. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Diana?” Jonathan asks, offering me the gun. I don’t move contemplating. “It’s not gonna bite.” He jokes. I make a face at Jonathan and he laughs as I cautiously take it from him with my gloved hand. 

“Just point and shoot?” 

“Just point and shoot.” 

I standing in front of a can, widening my stance so I don’t fall over. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a nuclear family.”  

“That’s easy for you to say,” Nancy voices. “Your family is perfect.” 

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. The contempt in her tone is shocking. “That’s not true.” 

“Diana,” Nancy chides, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You never argue with your parents and your parents never argue with each other. You are perfect. Your siblings are perfect. Everyone in your family is perfect.” 

I don’t miss Jonathan’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Having never seen us go back and forth with each other, I can tell he is surprised by this. What he doesn’t know is this topic of conversation isn’t new. Throughout our years of friendship, Nancy and Barb always made fun of me for being “perfect”; how I never make mistakes; I am always put together. I need at least eight-hours of “beauty” sleep. From the nickname “Lady Diana”, to my mom making me lunches because I refuse to each cafeteria food. At first it used to bother me, but I moved passed it until Tommy H and Carol picked up on it and started calling me “Anal Princess”. 

This may not be a new conversation, but the undertone certainly is and it’s why I am thrown off by it. It doesn’t sound like a joke anymore and there’s something deeper going on. I never thought Nancy envied me. I know I certainly envied Nancy for being strong enough to stand up for herself and say no. For being able to be defiant without feeling like its wrong. I lift my head high lifting the gun eye level. 

“I’m not perfect and my parents do argue, just not in front of us and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I begin. “You want to know why my dad never taught me how to fire a gun?” I refer to Jonathan’s comment earlier. “Because he never talks about the War unless it’s to teach us a lesson. I don’t know any stories of his time there. My family is seemingly perfect because we don’t talk about things, we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and try to live without feeling more of an outsider than we already are.”  I pull the trigger and the bullet hits the can knocking it off the tree stub. 

None of us react. The heaviness of what I said laying on thick. My family isn’t perfect. We are far from it. We are compliant and conforming because it’s the only way to not be seen as more of an outsider than we already are. I understand it to a certain extent, but sometimes I wish my parents would talk more about it. About being black in an all-white religious town. About their past and how they came to Hawkins. I know nothing and it’s something I push down to be the “perfect” daughter when deep down it bothers me. This is not something I can discuss with Lucas and Erica because they are happy in their bubble and I want to keep it that way for them. 

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks with a frown. “You’re not an outsider, Di.” 

“Never mind.” I say, handing Jonathan the gun, feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Nancy didn’t question me again and after shooting practice we decided to head through the forest looking for the mysterious animal. Dried leaves crunch under my boots as we all walked in silence. Jonathan and Nancy walked together giving me space to be alone for a while which I am grateful for because I didn’t feel like talking. My mind feels like it’s been jostled back and forth, buzzing with many thoughts. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’ve never talked about it because who do I talk about this with? Uncle Jack only comes to Hawkins once a year and when he does the environment is uncomfortable and stuffy because Dad doesn’t like Uncle Jack and doesn’t hide it. Long distance calls are expensive and I have no money to pay for it and if Dad finds out I’ve been talking to Uncle Jack he’d be furious. Maybe I should start journaling or writing letters I’ll never send. 

“You never said what I was saying?” Nancy speaks after a long period of silence. 

“What?” Jonathan says. 

The conversation about the photos began in the darkroom yesterday, but I interrupted when I saw the final development of the photo of the thing that took Will and Barb. It’s definitely been the great elephant in the room between the three of us and though the conversation in the darkroom was light in nature, it is a serious situation. 

“Yesterday, you said, I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.” I glance around not focusing on anything, while keeping my ears perked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. My guess…I saw this girl; you know trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone or you thought you were,” I cautiously peer at Nancy. She looks like she’s about to explode. “And, you know you could just be yourself.” 

I ground my teeth. Jonathan just opened up a huge can of worms. A few days ago, I would’ve agreed but after talking to Nancy, I don’t think she is trying to be someone else. She’s a young woman exploring and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, Jonathan isn’t close to Nancy to know who she is and who she isn’t. Nancy doesn’t respond right away, processing the soft insult. She stops clenching her hands into fists. 

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy fumes, glaring at Jonathan. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—” 

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.” 

My head retracts back. “So, you were intentional in taking those photos.” 

Jonathan’s head whips back. His brows shoot up in disbelief. “What?” 

“You said you thought it was a good picture which means you were intentional about taking it.” My voice hardens. “Taking all of it.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diana.” Jonathan mutters furiously under his breath, walking away. I march behind him trying to keep up with his long legs and quick strides.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth! Nancy asked you a question and your answer quite frankly, was bullshit. Because really? That’s what you were thinking when she was taking off her shirt?” It’s a cop out. A poor excuse to deflect from what he did. Jonathan scoffs. “Unbelievable.” I hiss, catching myself before I trip over a branch. “What about how Steve feels?” 

“Oh my god!” Jonathan throws his hands up in exasperation and I am filled with so much adrenaline I’m starting to shake. 

“I told you his privacy was violated too!” I snap. “As was mine, Tommy, Carol, and Barb!” 

Jonathan spins around, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “And I said I was sorry for taking the photos!” He shouts. I blink repeatedly taken aback by this attitude. No one has ever yelled at me like that and Jonathan was the last person I thought would. Nancy steps in scowling at him. 

“Don’t yell at her!” she shouts, pointing at him. Jonathan glares at her and keeps his mouth shut. I look down at my boots, done with the conversation. “Steve is actually a good guy. The whole camera situation. He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.” 

“Yeah.” Jonathan scoffs, walking away. “That’s one word for it.” 

“And what you did was okay?” Nancy barks, following after him. I stalk behind her keeping my distance. 

“I never said that.” 

“He had every right to be pissed—”

“Okay, all right.” Jonathan says, rolling his eyes, coming to a halt. “Does that mean I have to like him?” 

“No.” 

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.” 

This is why he’s being like this. Because he doesn’t like Steve and has some sort of animosity towards him. I never thought I would stick up for Steve, but after my encounter with him in my garage, I think he’s a good person and deserves a chance to be seen and heard outside his bubble. 

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy rages. 

“Yeah?” Jonathan challenges, eyes glowing with savage fire. 

“Yeah, I was thinking, ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’” 

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.’” His voice was stern with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. “’Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.’” 

Nancy and I watch Jonathan march away. We look at each other absolutely gobsmacked at what just happened. Nancy’s face is so red, the veins in her neck pulsates with pent-up fury as she clenches her fists. I wrap my arm around her shoulders guiding her along the path. 

I admire the colours of the sky as we trek through the forest. Shades of pink, orange, and yellow blending and oozing together. The sun was setting and we would soon need to use our flashlights to navigate through the forest. My back aches from carrying my backpack for so long and I want to tell Jonathan to stop so we can take a break but he was far ahead keeping his distance. All of us have been quiet since the argument though Nancy walked beside me, we haven’t spoken focusing on our surroundings, deep in thought. 

A lot of truth has been said today and it felt like it was shoved down all our throats. I’m not mad at Jonathan for yelling at me and I hope he’s not mad at me for calling him out. What he did was stupid and I know he knows that, but picking a fight with Nancy was something completely different. It felt more personal and I can’t quite put my finger on why it would be since Jonathan and Nancy aren’t close. If anything, they may be farther apart now after what he said to her. I doubt Jonathan wants that especially because of how far we’ve come. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quietly enough so Jonathan doesn’t hear. 

“Yes.” I respond automatically. Nancy looks at me and I drop the act. “No.” 

“Me neither.” she agrees, glaring at the back of Jonathan’s head. “I’m so sick of him and his holier than thou attitude.” 

“I can’t believe he yelled at me.” 

“I can’t believe that either!” she whispers hastily. “I didn’t like that.” 

“I know. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me and Steve.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

I debate on whether I should tell her he came to my house today, but decide it doesn’t matter and she probably already knew about it since he was in his way to see her anyways. 

“I can’t believe Princess Diana swore.” she teases, touching her chest in shock. 

“Oh, shut up.” I giggle, pushing her away. 

“Ou, again!” I roll my eyes. 

“I was just trying to understand why he took the photos.” 

“I honestly don’t even think he knows.” she says, looking at Jonathan again. There was no anger in her eyes, just curiosity.

“After that conversation, I think so too.” 

Nancy hums in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I was going to bring it up later but, what you did earlier today about being an outsider. What did you mean?” 

A ripple of anxiety went up my back while my stomach fell to my feet. I shrug my shoulders shaking me head. “I don’t know.” I deflect. 

“Diana, we’ve been friends for so long, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?” 

I do know that, but this conversation was not about a boy or anything menial like that. It was much deeper and something I’ve been pushing down for years. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when Nancy went on about my perfect day family, I snapped. This past week I feel like I’ve gone through the most significant changes which in turn has brought up subconscious thoughts, emotions and insecurities. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction, perfect daughter, perfect friend, Juilliard, Blackness, otherness. But who am I? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? 

“Diana.” Worry etched Nancy’s features. My silence makes her more anxious. I sigh, stepping over a branch. 

“Have you ever noticed there is no one who looks like me in our neighbourhood?” I mumble, uncomfortably. 

“No? What do you mean?” An expected answer. I close my eyes counting down from five. How do I go about this? 

“I mean, black.” I say, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. “My family…” I clear my throat. “My family is the only black family in the neighbourhood.” When Nancy doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I don’t remember when I noticed, but once I did, it’s hard not to. Even at school, I can count how many black people are there and majority are on the basketball team. Did you know that?” Nancy shakes her head. “I am the only black person in our classes, at dance. No matter where I go or what I do, who I am. I will always be the black one. Even in our friendship. That’s what I mean by outsider.” 

 “My mom and dad don’t talk about our blackness and I’m left to figure it out on my own. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s what I mean when I said we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and conform, but sometimes I don’t want to conform. Sometimes…” I sigh feeling exhausted. Mentally. “Sometimes, I want to ask those questions but then I’ll feel like I’m not…” 

“The perfect daughter.” Nancy finishes. 

“Yeah.” I twirl the mallet in my hand. There’s so much to say but this conversation is exhausting enough. Nancy looks at the ground, kicking a rock. 

“I-I don’t know what to say…” she says lowly. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.” 

“You know now and that’s the first step.” 

“Of course, but please don’t be afraid to tell me these things. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to feel like an outsider when you’re with me. What you said is something I need to know in order to change.” 

I nod my head and Nancy visibly relaxes, reaching to squeeze my hand. I rest my head on her shoulder feeling more relaxed than I did before the beginning of the conversation. It’s a conversation that could’ve easily gone south and I wouldn’t be prepared to handle it, especially after what happened hours before. Darkness quickly engulfs the sky and I am instantly aware of all the sounds in the forest. The wind slipping through leaves, the cracking undergrowth with each step Nancy and I make, the bugs crawling on trees. We all take out our flashlights to see and I notice Jonathan slows down to remain close, though still keeping his distance. I jerk at every unfamiliar sound making Nancy laugh again. 

“Do you remember Mei Wong?” I mutter, swatting away a fly.

“Yes. She auditioned for Juilliard!” 

“Well on Sunday at rehearsals, she told me…” I swallow to soothe the dryness in my throat. “She told me I should think about auditioning for Juilliard.” 

“Really? Wow!” 

I scrunch my nose. “I know.” 

“You definitely should. I meant what I said at Steve’s house. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you’re gonna go pro. I feel it.” I shake my head. Somehow Nancy sees it. 

“You are. I need you to be more confident in yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…what if I audition and I don’t get in—”

“We’re only in 10th grade, you have time to worry about the auditions.” Nancy assures me.  “Maybe Juilliard has a summer intensive you can take beforehand to give you an extra boost.” 

“My dad will never allow that.” 

“Have you talked to your mom about it?” 

I shake my head. “Not yet.” 

“I say after all this is done and we find Barb, we will both help you research and come up with a plan for you to go to Juilliard. Because you’re going to Juilliard.” 

We find Barb. That’s the most important thing. It’s why we’re here now. The sound of her laughter echoed through my mind. The last time I saw her; felt her at Steve’s house. I don’t want to believe that was the last time I saw her. I shiver, crossing my arms above my chest. It’s so cold I can barely feel my ears and nose. Jonathan keeps pace with Nancy and I. There is still tension between the three of us, but now is not the time to dwell on it, not when we were outside in the forest on our own looking for God knows what. At random, Nancy slows down looking back and forth, her expression tight with strain. I keep myself composed despite the fact my heart is racing. Did she see something? Hear anything? Was it here? I tighten my grip on the mallet, my eyes darting from tree to tree. 

“What are you tired?” Jonathan asks. 

“Shut up.” Nancy hisses, looking around. “I heard something.” 

I follow closely beside Jonathan as we follow Nancy through the forest. I don’t know what we’re looking for or what she’s heard until I hear something faint…a whining sound. I gasp at the sight of a deer whimpering in front of underbrush. We all rush to the deer dropping to our knees. My stomach is in knots at the blood dampening its fawn-coloured coat. It looked like it’s been punctured multiple times. It’s ragged breathing and slow movements indicated it was in pain and about to die. I’ve never seen a deer this close before and I’m sad it has to be like this. Images of Bambi flash through my mind and I cover my mouth muffling my sobs.   

“Oh, God. It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy whimpers, tears brimming her eyes. She looks at the gun in her hand and holds it up. “We can’t just leave it.” 

“Wait!” I exclaim, grabbing her arm. “There must be something else we can do!” 

“It’s in too much pain. We have to.” 

“I’ll do it.” Jonathan says, taking the gun. Nancy and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not nine anymore.” Jonathan assures us. 

I stagger up on my feet grabbing Nancy’s hand. Jonathan points the gun at the deer. Time slows down and I feel like the forest is closing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up just as Jonathan is about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the deer disappears into the underbrush. I jump back startled, mouth opening in a silent scream. 

“What was that? What was that?” Nancy shouts. 

I wring my hands jumping up and down. “Oh, my god. Oh my, god. I can’t. I can’t.” Panic shoots up my spine and I hold my chest struggling to catch my breath.

“There’s so much blood.” 

“Where did it go?” 

“I don’t know.” 

I quickly pick up the flashlight and mallet I dropped in my state of panic. My skin tingles and I shake my head trying to focus, aiming the light on the ground. Blood smears all over leaves and twigs. I proceed around with caution, shining my light on anything and everything in the forest, being cautious of not stepping on any gore. From the far distance I notice something dripping from a hollow tree stump. It looked like…sap. No, it’s too thick for it to be sap. I am vigilant taking calculated steps and kneel in front of the tree inspecting the foliage. It looked like the tree was creating mucus. Thick, slimy, runny mucus. There was no smell to it, but it was weird. I paid attention in biology last semester to know that this wasn’t right.

“Nancy.” I whisper. “This tree…there’s weird stuff falling.” 

Nancy joins me on my knees shining her light. She touches the tree stump, looking up. “Jonathan?” she shouts, looking around. I search as well thinking he was with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It would be unwise to leave Nancy here alone to look for him. We were better sticking together. When I turn back however, Nancy is taking off her backpack placing it beside her bat. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going in there!” 

“Watch my stuff.” 

“Are you crazy?” I snap. 

That mucus could be toxic or worse. There was no need to go inside the clearly rotting tree. Nancy ignores me crawling inside. I am lost for words because not only can she fit inside; her body completely disappears as if there was an opening on the other side. I blink, shaking my head, feeling disembodied. 

“Nancy?”

Adrenaline bursts through my veins to prepare myself to fight or flee. I feel like I am back in Steve’s backyard keeping watch while Nancy does something completely foolish like walk into the forest on her own or like now, crawling into a slime coated hollow stump. I curse colourful words under my breath that would shock my Dad. I can’t leave her alone. So, I take off my backpack and put the mallet on top; count down from five in my head and crawl through the hole holding my breath hopefully awaiting Nancy on the other side. 

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I picture Eddie not being able to express himself through his words so he uses song lyrics. In my head he always had a strong connection to music because of his mother (this was before I read FOI). Finally an Erica/Diana scene! What do y'all think of Steve and Diana?

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2440

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE 

It’s mid-afternoon when we arrive back home from the funeral. Dad stops the car in front of our house to let Mom, Erica and I out before he drives over to the Wheeler’s house to drop Lucas off to hang out with the boys. I follow behind Mom and Erica thinking about what to wear later today for when Nancy and I meet up with Jonathan. I bump into Erica, who frowns at me for stepping on her, and I immediately apologize for not watching where I was going. I look ahead wondering why we stopped when Mom picks up a bouquet of wildflowers and a note laying in front the door. 

“Candy Girl? Who’s Candy Girl?” 

Erica grunts in annoyance as I push pass her to snatch the flowers and note from Mom. Sure, enough the note said Candy Girl. My face burns and I bite my lip trying my best to hide my smile. Mom’s brows shoot up in surprise at my hastiness and I smile sheepishly at her, apologizing for my behaviour. Her gaze sweeps over me. 

“Hm.” She grunts, pursing her lips and guides Erica in front of me to not get trampled on again. 

As soon as I step inside the house, I take off my jacket and heels, pushing my sunglasses over my head and rush upstairs to my room. My heart is hammering against my ribcage as I close the door behind me. I admire the array of blue, purple, pink, and white wildflowers tied together with a piece of string. Some petals of the flowers are flat and squished but I think they’re pretty nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I put the bouquet on my dresser to give my full attention to the note. My hands are practically shaking as I open it.

If the sky that we look upon, should tumble and fall.

Or the mountains should crumble to the sea. 

I won’t cry, I won’t cry. No, I won’t shed a tear 

Just as long as you stand by me. – Ben E. King 

I reread the words three times before flopping down on my bed. A smile lingers on my lips at the gesture. Will’s funeral is of public knowledge, shaking up the entire town. I haven’t seen or spoken to Eddie since we had lunch together two days ago and I know he wouldn’t attend the funeral because despite it being of public knowledge, it was still an intimate event, but I never thought he would do this. Something so simple and thoughtful for me. This doesn’t help my case with Mom and I’m sure this raised more suspicion about Eddie, but I can’t stop smiling. I wonder if I should write a note back. What would I say? How will I even give it to him? We don’t have school tomorrow and I don’t know where he lived to even thank him for being so kind. My thoughts are so scrambled I have to force myself back to earth and the task at hand. 

I hide the note in my desk drawer and change into more comfortable clothing settling on a pair of jeans, t-shirt and zip up sweater. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and fixed my bangs in the mirror satisfied with my appearance. Back at the wake, Nancy, Jonathan and I agreed to meet at 5pm and it was now, 2:00pm. Nancy would be here in fifteen minutes and I needed to find a weapon. I can’t go out in the woods to find a wild animal without one. Even though Jonathan had a gun, I’m not sure if he knows how to use it. 

I open my door and sneak across the hall to Lucas’s room. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his wrist-rocket for a few hours. I try to be as discreet as I can going through his drawers, closet, even checking under his pillow and I can’t find anything, not even his headband. I frown, pursing my lips in thought. Where could he have put it? Then it hit me. Under his bed. I drop to my knees pushing my arm under his bed to feel for anything. All I find are dirty socks and comic books. I blow my bangs away from my face to get a better look and—

“What are you doing?” 

I jump hitting my shoulder against the top of the bedframe. “Ow!” I whimper, holding my arm in pain, praying I don’t develop a bruise. I stand up feeling my lower back seize. Erica is standing on the other side of the bed arching her brow in suspicion. I ignore the pain in my arm, feigning nonchalance. 

“I’m just cleaning, Lucas’s room.” 

Erica frowns. “His room is always clean.” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be cleaner now does it?” 

Erica shrugs, not caring about my poor excuse for why I’m in Lucas’s room even though I know she doesn’t believe me. She’s always been a skeptic. Her first word was “no”. She lingers, tilting her head to the side, toying with a loose thread on the duvet. 

“Who sent you the flowers?” 

“A friend of mine.” I respond simply, though my heart picks up speed. Erica smiles slowly and now I feel uneasy. It’s one of the many different smiles she has. This one isn’t as…devious. That smile is only reserved for Lucas. No, this smile is like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. 

“An admirer.” It’s not a question. 

“A friend, Erica.” I repeat, albeit tense. 

Erica lies down on the bed, holding her chin with her hands. Any other moment she would’ve looked cute in her bubbles and pigtails, but again, this smile held a hint of mischief. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

I shift from side to side. “No…” I squint. “What makes you say that?” 

Tired of the innocent act, Erica’s smile vanishes. “No boy just leaves a bouquet of flowers on your front step with a note unless its an admirer or a boyfriend.” 

“That’s not true.” I disagree, sitting on the bed. 

Erica gives me a pointed look, pursing her lips just like Mom. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” 

My body grows tense under her fierce stare. There are times I wonder if I’m related to Erica. Our personalities are so different. Erica is outspoken and bulldozes her way through life while I’m quiet, awkward and shy.  

“I—” I start, then close my mouth. I have no experience with boys to even know where to start about relationships. 

“Exactly.” Erica confirms, kicking her feet. The conspicuous grin returns as she continues. “You have a boyfriend.” 

“No, I don’t.” I reply quickly. My face is burning. 

“Well, you sure were eager to take the bouquet of flowers and note away from Mom. You nearly knocked me into the bushes to get it which means…” she wiggles her eyebrows. 

“Erica.” I plead. I do not want to talk to my little sister about boys, especially Eddie. I don’t know what to think when it comes to him. I just know how I feel and I was definitely not going to try to explain to an intrusive eight-year-old girl like my sister, plus Nancy will be here soon and I needed to get Erica away so I can leave without another interrogation. Erica sighs, rolling her eyes and sits up tucking her knees under her.  

“I won’t tell Mom or Dad if you have a boyfriend,” she says, leaning forward putting her hands on my shoulders. “By the looks of it, Mom is already suspicious of you, but she won’t say anything unless you bring it up. Your just lucky Dad had to drive Lucas to the Wheelers because if he saw those flowers and note on the doorstep,” Erica eyes widen slightly. “He’d lock you in your room forever and hunt all over town for this boy.” Erica isn’t wrong. Dad is extremely protective. It’s why I’m glad Mom hasn’t told him about Steve’s house. 

I stand up, combing my fingers through my thick hair in its ponytail. “You don’t have to tell Mom and Dad anything, okay. Eddie is just a friend.” Any close friend of Eddie’s is a close friend of mine. That’s what Ronnie said. Erica lights up. 

“Eddie, huh?” She grins, satisfied that she at least got a name. 

 “I don’t have an admirer or a boyfriend.” 

Erica ignores the sharpness in my voice. “But you like him.” I glare at her, a warning to stop pushing. “Fine,” she sighs, rolling her eyes again. She rolls off the bed strolling to the door. “I’ll leave you alone to clean.” There’s a cheeky little grin on her face as she lingers and it tells me all I needed to know. Erica isn’t going to drop this. She found something new and shiny to play with and will until she gets bored. 

“Candy Girl.” 

My jaw drops. Erica runs to her room, closing the door behind her before I can gather up my thoughts. 

Oddly enough, I didn’t find anything in Lucas’s room which is why I am scrounging around Dad’s tools in the garage. Screwdriver? No. Wrench. Maybe. I pull out a rubber mallet from one of the toolboxes. It’s thick and has a bit of weight to it. It’s no gun but it’s the best I can do right now. I take a few steps back and practice swings trying to get a feel of the weapon. Part of me cannot believe I’m doing this right now; risk going into the forest to find some animal I have never seen before nor, understand to find Barb and Will. I lift the mallet way over my head not calculating my strength because I lose my balance stumbling back on my feet. 

“Whoa! What the—” I drop the mallet and the person behind me yelps. I’m ready to bolt into my house when I hear my name. I whip around, my heart beating a mile a minute. There he was, hair and all his glory standing in front of me. He’s the last person I’d expect to be at my house. The last time I’ve seen him was in the parking lot at school confronting Jonathan about the photos in front of Tommy H and Carol ending with smashing his camera on the ground. 

“Steve?” 

“Hi,” he waves, sheepishly. 

I blink, shaking my head. “How do you know where I live?” 

Steve stiffens at the question. “Uh,” he stammers, combing his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t—I don’t,” he corrects, clearing his throat. I raise my eyebrows expectantly eying the pink in his cheeks. Was Steve “The Hair” Harrington blushing? “I was driving to Nancy’s and saw you and just…” he takes a deep breath. “Wanted to say hi.” 

I squint. “To me?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles dryly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why wouldn’t I?” Because we’re not friends. I want to say. When I don't respond Steve swallows, rubbing his lips together. "I actually wanted to...apologize."

I pick up the mallet holding it over my shoulder. “For?” His gaze flickers to the mallet then me and I rub my lips together trying to hide my smile. He deserves to squirm a little. Now he knows how it feels when his friends make me feel uncomfortable. 

“Being an asshole.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sure Nancy told you about our last conversation,” Steve continues, looking down at his New Balance sneakers. “And you both deserve an apology for the way I acted.” 

I blinked in confusion for a moment and then remembered when Nancy came into my room to show me the photos and I mentioned what Steve thought about everything. A momentary look of discomfort crosses Steve’s face when he finally looks at me. Part of me believes the apology wasn’t only for his talk with Nancy or about Barb, but for the way he handled things in the parking lot. I remember the look of sorrow in his eyes before he stormed away. I meant it when I told Jonathan I don’t think Steve needed to break his camera but it was justified. Steve’s privacy was invaded too. What I picked up on that day in the parking lot is that Steve isn’t this aggressive, mean, bully like Tommy H and Carol are. It’s not in him to be that kind of person and it pained him to break Jonathan’s camera. He knows I noticed his shift in demeanour. I oddly notice a lot about Steve. His contradictions, his mannerisms. What he doesn’t do.  Steve tilts his head waiting for a response. 

“Um…” My brows twitch. “Apology accepted.” I say softly, taking a step back. Steve doesn’t respond and I don’t think anything of it. Thank you seems awkward to say right now. 

“Um,” he scratches his nose. “Have you heard from Barb?”  

“No, the police think she ran away, but I know that’s not true. Barb wouldn’t do that.” Steve nods his head shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I haven’t known Barb for long, but she definitely doesn’t seem like the type to do that.” Another comment that doesn’t need much of a response. 

I fiddle with the mallet letting the awkwardness settle in. Surprisingly it’s not from me, but Steve. Steve, the most popular boy in school who exudes such confidence walking down the hallway, who turns every head without trying…is being awkward. It’s hard to wrap my head around it. Steve takes a step towards me but decides against it. I tilt my head, wondering what was going on in his head. Maybe he’s having a mental breakdown. 

“I heard about the funeral. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you,” I answer, taken aback by his sincerity. “He was my little brother’s best friend.” 

“Give your little brother a hug for me.” He winced, regretting his words. I smile. Steve laughs and combs his fingers through his hair. His face is bright red now. “I’ll uh, leave you to…” he gestures to the mallet. “Whatever you’re doing.” I nod my head, grinning. “Bye.” He says, waving awkwardly. I wave back amused by his mannerisms. 

I watch Steve walk out my garage his brown hair flopping lusciously through the wind. “Steve?” I call out. He turns around startled. “Thank you.” I see his gaze soften, instantly knowing I’m thanking him for apologizing and he smiles nodding his head before walking to his car. When Steve drives down the street towards Nancy’s I swing the mallet again chuckling softly to myself. 

“What a dork.”

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I try to include Erica as much as I can.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2053

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III

ROANE CEMETERY

Dad didn’t say anything to me when I came downstairs wearing lipstick, but I didn’t miss the look he gave Mom or the warning look Mom gave him back. Me wearing lipstick was the least of our troubles when we have a funeral to attend. The drive to the cemetery was quiet once again. Lucas hadn’t uttered much of a word since we left the house and Erica was unusually quiet as well. It must be difficult to navigate how to move when your two older siblings both lost their best friends at the same time. I reach for Erica’s hand kissing her knuckles before entwining our fingers to show that I’m here, even when my world is crumbling beneath my feet. I’m here. Erica leans on me in acceptance and I sigh contently knowing she doesn’t feel like I’ve neglected her. Erica, Lucas and I are all hyperaware of each other’s feelings without having to ask. Call it sibling telepathy or what not, but our relationship though sometimes rough around the edges, especially between Lucas and Erica, but when it comes down to it, we are always there for each other, no matter what. 

When we get to the cemetery, I am surprised at how many people are already there in support of the Byers. There had to be 40 people here at maximum. Most of them I assume are fellow classmates showing their regards to the loss. I’m warmed by the outpour of support from everyone who showed up today to pay their respects. Over the past few days, the town has come together to find Will, even though the search came to a tragic end, the love still showed. I follow closely behind Lucas who still hasn’t spoken much of a word. All of us are still following Dad’s rule of leaving Lucas alone to grieve and process. He’ll come to us when he wants to. 

The air is brisk yet refreshing and the sun shines weakly in the sky. Brown leaves rustle in the wind, swirling around us in haste. I brush my hair away from my face and look down at the uneven ground under my black sunglasses in effort not to trip and fall in the damp grass. We approach the group, sending small smiles. I immediately notice Nancy standing beside Mrs. Wheeler. She is dressed similar to me in a black dress, nylons and kitten heels. Her black trench coat is open despite the mild winter chill. I wave at her before I am handed a white rose and walk down the row towards her and the Wheeler and Henderson Family. Mike and Dustin look at me; Mike sending a small wave in my direction. Dustin smiles a toothless grin at me but it quickly fades to a scowl when Lucas elbows him in the side. I scrunch my nose to hide my smile, happy to know my brother isn’t completely gone.

Only a few minutes pass before the Byers approach the cemetery. Jonathan guides Ms. Byers to her seat and is followed by a man I haven’t seen in a while and who I can only assume is Jonathan’s dad. He looks done up in what looks to be an expensive suit meanwhile, Jonathan and Ms. Byers look plain. I notice Jonathan’s dad has a tie on but Jonathan doesn’t and I think about Dad teaching Lucas how to tie a tie in the mirror. I am aware of Jonathan and Will’s home life. Living with a single mom proved itself to be difficult especially in a religious town like Hawkins. I purse my lips thinking about everything and it occurs to me that Jonathan has not once mentioned his dad in any of this which makes me wonder if his dad cared at all about Will and if so, why did it take so long for him to care about his own child. 

I stare at Ms. Byers. When I briefly saw her yesterday at her home when Nancy and I were looking for Jonathan, she looked how I expect any parent who has a child missing; worse for wear. I didn’t pry or stare at all the Christmas lights strung up on the ceilings and walls or even the alphabet written across the far end of the wall. If I learned anything at all this week is that people grieve in their own way. She looks more presentable today, though she moved slowly, barely aware of her own movements. Ms. Byers didn’t look at anyone or even smiled. Just sat down on the chair in front of the casket. Jonathan told us yesterday that she didn’t believe Will’s body was real and now she has to sit through a funeral she deems unnecessary. 

Pastor Charles approaches the front of the casket and begins his sermon. Not too long after the ceremony is filled with silent tears, muffled nose blowing and soft sniffles. My hand is on Lucas’s shoulder for the entire time. He doesn’t cry which surprises me a little bit because he was bawling his eyes out when news about Will’s body being found in the Quarry broke out. Maybe he was numb to everything now. 

“Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God.” Pastor Charles says. “I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous hand. It’s times like these that our faith is challenged. How, if he is truly benevolent could God take from us someone so young, so innocent? It would be easy to turn away from God but we must remember than nothing, not even tragedy, can separate us from His love.” 

The sermon ends and it’s time for everyone to throw their flowers onto the grave site. One by one we all let go of our flowers. Mom and Dad approach Jonathan’s dad who is nothing but smiles and charm thanking us for coming. I send him a tight-lipped smile, feeling slightly put off by him and his mannerisms. I look over her shoulder and see Ms. Byers frowning and shaking her head. I want to pay my respects to her, but she doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for any interaction. Her eyes were empty, lacking any hint of emotion, though with just enough focus to know she was still there. 

Nancy is waiting for me outside the crowd. I excuse myself and I hug her tight hooking my arm with hers. 

“You look like a movie star with your sunglasses,” she teases. I lay my head on her shoulder as we walk to a more secluded area. “Also, I can’t believe you’re wearing lipstick right now.” 

“I know I can’t believe it either. My mom gave me one of hers to wear today.” 

“Have you told her anything? Y’know about…” 

I lift my head, shaking it. “No, I haven’t. Have you told your mom?” 

“Definitely not. Things have been…” she exhales. “Tense between us since the whole Steve thing. She still brings him up. Even after our talk with the cops, she never once asked about Barb.” Nancy scoffs rolling her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “If it makes you feel any better, things between my mom and I were…different to say the least yesterday too.” Nancy’s eyebrows raise to her forehead. I nod my head rubbing my lips together. “Yeah, the lies caught up with me, I guess. From going to Steve’s to getting a ride home—” 

“You got a ride home?” Nancy interrupts. “By whom?” 

I wince forgetting I haven’t told Nancy about Eddie yet. I open my mouth to speak but thankfully, I am distracted by Jonathan standing on the far end of the cemetery. He raises his hand to let me know he wants to talk to us about something. I wave back and glance at Nancy who looks at me pupils twinkling under the bleak sun and pat her hand. “I’ll tell you about it later.” 

The three of us sit on the ground behind a wrought iron fence in the cemetery. Jonathan holds out a makeshift map with red x’s making a triangle. I lean in close pushing my sunglasses over my bangs to see clearly. Jonathan points to the map. “This is where we know for sure it’s been.” 

Nancy furrows her brows, pointing an x the farthest to the left. “So, that’s…” 

“Steve’s house.” Jonathan confirms. He moves his finger to an open space on the paper. “And that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and…that’s my house.” 

“It’s all so close.” I say, hugging my jacket closer to my body. 

“Exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.” 

I study Jonathan, squinting against the sun. His newfound eagerness was suspicious especially because of what was happening right now. He buried his little brother today and his family dynamic seemed way more intense than usual. I sit up straighter twisting my body. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan perks up as if he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to be doing. “We may not find anything.” 

“We found something.” Nancy chimes in. “And if we do see it…then what?” 

“We kill it.” 

My eyes pop out of my head. “Kill it? How are we going to do that?” 

Jonathan stands up dusting dead grass off his pants. He looks determined and a little crazed. I blinked with incredulity. “Follow me.” He says marching to the parking lot. I look at Nancy wondering what’s going on. He leads us to an expensive looking sports car. He opens the door not before telling us to keep look out. I cross my arms above my chest shifting from side to side on my feet. My eyes dart back and forth around the cemetery. Everyone was walking back to the church for the reception. Mine and Nancy’s parents are talking to each other while Mike, Dustin and Lucas huddled in a circle. I tilt my head to the side wondering what they were talking about. 

“Just give me a second.” Jonathan says, pulling out a pocket knife from his jacket pocket. My eyes again pop out of my head. 

“Are you serious?” Nancy exclaims. 

“No, absolutely not!” I shout, watching him wiggle the end of his knife into the lock of the glove compartment. I can only hope and assume this car is his dad’s and even though his dad gave me bad vibes, I still do not approve of stealing. I am already on the police’s radar for Barb, I don’t need to add theft to my list. 

“What?” Jonathan snaps, opening the glove compartment. He sifts through taking out a gun. My mouth falls open. “You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?” 

“No, but…” 

“This is a terrible idea.” Nancy intercepts. 

“Yeah, well, it’s the best we’ve got.” Jonathan tucks the gun in his back pocket before closing the car door. “What? You can tell someone but they’re not going to believe you. You know that.” 

That was true and I wasn’t going to tell my parents anything, but Ms. Byers believed something was happening before Nancy and I knew Barb was missing. Hell, she doesn’t think Will’s body is real. It made sense to tell her about what was happening. Maybe she can help us somehow. 

“Your mom would.” I point out.

Jonathan takes a deep breath. I see how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes deepening in colour. There’s a hint a sadness in his eyes that disappears as soon as I see it. “She’s been through enough.” 

“She deserves to know.” Nancy adds.

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” He says with finality. It’s enough for me and Nancy not to push anymore. 

I think about Barb and the looks on Officer Callahan and Powell’s faces when I told them about what I saw in Steve’s backyard. I pull my sunglasses down tucking my hair behind my ear. Determination bubbles in my body. If Jonathan is certain about this, I’m in through and through. Like I said. My brother and I deserve to have our best friend’s back. 

“When do we start?” 

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: Chapter 4 is such a filler episode and I didn't like how I wrote it after I posted, but in rereading it after Chapter 3, it really does flow together and I can tweak loose ends in this present chapter! (See? Glass half full). Enjoy another mother-daughter moment between Diana and Sue!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1021

Masterlist

PART I || PART II

Friday, November 11, 1983 - SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

The house is quiet this morning as everyone gets dressed for Will’s funeral. I stand in front of my full-length mirror staring at my reflection. After finding evidence of the thing that took Barb, neither Jonathan, Nancy and I had any idea on what to do with the information. How are we going to find it? Are we going to find it? As a group we decided not to tell the police because they already believe Nancy, Ms. Byers and I are crazy for suggesting that Barb and Will were taken by an animal with no face. This is something we would have to handle ourselves. If my parents found out about anything, they would probably move us out of town, far away from this insidious madness. Part of me wouldn’t blame them but, if there was even an inkling of hope in finding and bringing back Will and Barb, I was going to take that chance. The glimmer of hope in finding them burned deep in my gut. Lucas and I deserve to have our best friends back. 

I run my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t sleep and woke up early to take a hot comb to it in the kitchen. It took two hours and my arms burned from the arduous task, but the ease in repetition calmed the spiralling thoughts in my head. I even trimmed my ends a little. With my natural curls, my hair was at my waist, but after straightening it and trimming the ends, it fell past my bottom. Way too long for my liking and heavy. My neck aches. I lean forward making sure the lack of sleep didn’t show on my face. I can’t attend the funeral looking like I am half dead myself. I clear my throat smoothening out any wrinkles in my modest black dress. It seems like everyday something new happens in Hawkins and none of it has been good. Today my little brother was burying his best friend. Despite the glimmer of hope inside me, it is going to be a tough day to get through. 

“Diana, are you ready?” I hear mom from the other side of my door. 

“Come in,” I say. 

Mom enters my room. She’s wearing a simple black dress, her freshly styled hair combed neatly in a bob cut. She looks very pretty. Mom smiles softly eying me from head to toe. I shift side to side on my feet, wiggling my toes against my nylons. 

“You look pretty.” Mom says, walking to me. She stands behind me, combing her fingers through my hair through the mirror. “I knew I smelled hair product in the kitchen this morning.” 

Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “I couldn’t sleep.” I admit. 

Mom sighs, parting pieces of my hair to lay over my shoulder. She gently places her hands on my arms swiping away any lint on the long sleeves of my dress before squeezing them. Her eyes soften as she looks at me through the mirror. The voice in my head screams for me to tell Mom about the photo, but I ignore it leaning into her touch. 

“I know the past couple of days have been hard on you and I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

“It’s okay,” I shrug, flaring my nostrils to satiate the burn in them. I don’t want to cry, not now.

Mom looks at me, shaking her head. “No, it’s not.” 

Tears immediately swim in my eyes and quickly wipe them away with my fingers before they fall down my cheeks. It’s too early to cry. I clear my throat, sniffing and fix my dress again. “Can you help me pick a shoe? Should I wear flats or heels?”

Mom stares at me for a moment and I know she wants to talk about everything, but decided against it, thankfully. I’m not sure I have the words to express how I’m feeling at the moment or have been the past couple of days. 

“Heels.” she responds. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay, put on your heels and I’ll be right back.” 

I nod my head and go to my closet rummaging around until I found my only pair of black kitten heels. I’ve only worn them for special occasions like Dad’s company dinners. Never for a funeral. I slide my feet into the shoes and walk out my closet just in time for Mom to walk back into my room. She’s holding a little black tube between her manicured fingers. A tube of lipstick. I blink in awe, feeling a jolt of surprise. Mom and Dad had a strict rule about not being able to wear makeup until I was 16. It was the one rule, I hated and begrudgingly followed. Yet here Mom was holding a tube of lipstick for me. I only ever worn lipstick for performances. Mom smiles at my reaction. 

“I think this will complete your look today.” 

I take the lipstick out of her hand, cherishing it like a delicate flower. I open the tube and stare at the wine-coloured lipstick. This was different than the colour I used for performances, darker and more elegant. I walk to my mirror and neatly apply the lipstick on my lips, opening my mouth to get the sides. I rub my lips together melting the wax between them and clean the edges of my mouth with my finger. I take a step back to look at my work. I already look more mature and womanlier, like Mom. Short stature and flat chest be damned. I smile, genuine and true. I smile so much my eyes disappear into my cheeks. Mom chuckles softly behind me and I can’t help but giggle at my reaction. 

“Thank you, Mommy.” I gush, turning to give the lipstick back to her. Mom shakes her head, closing my fingers. Her gold wedding band twinkles. 

“Keep it.” 

My eyes widen. “Really?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re almost 16.” 

I squeal happily thrusting my body onto hers and hug her tight around her neck. Mom laughs, her rumbles vibrating against my stomach. 

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This is a long one and based off certain scenes in Lucas on the Line. As a black person, I never realized I was other until it was pointed out to me and once I internalized it, I had questions I couldn't ask my parent(s) because it's not something discussed at length in the black community because trying to survive is hard enough. I honestly urge y'all to read Lucas on the Line because it's such a well written story about the Black Experience and how nuanced and difficult it is to navigate especially black kids who grew up in white neighbourhoods.

I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know too! 🤎

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4588

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

THE WOODS 

I squeal dropping the mallet on the ground at the sound of a gunshot. Nancy giggles waiting for me as I pick up my weapon in the shrubbery. I never thought I would be on my way to meet up with Jonathan Byers on the opposite side of town to learn how to shoot a gun. But then again, a lot more bizarre things have happened this week so I shouldn’t be surprised. Nancy and I trek up the small hill as Jonathan shoots repeatedly at the target of empty tin cans or at least attempts to. 

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” 

Jonathan looks over his shoulder smiling sheepishly. “No, actually you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.”  

“Sure.” Nancy answers, titling her head in amusement. She drops her backpack and baseball bat on the ground ready for practice. 

I don’t take off my backpack right away, taking in my surroundings. The wide-open space of dry leaves, weeds and shrubs. The tall pine trees encircling the space. The winter chill started to come in and I wish I wore a hat today to cover my ears, maybe even a heavier coat instead of a denim jacket. Jonathan opens the revolver to check how many bullets are in the cylinder before reaching in his pockets for more. 

“You ever shot a gun before?” 

“Absolutely not.” I answer. 

“Didn’t your dad fight in the Vietnam War?” I nod my head, shifting from side to side on my feet. My Dad would never let any of us touch a gun. There was no reason for us to. Jonathan shrugs.  “I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you how to shoot a gun,” he commented, directing his gaze to Nancy. “You?” 

Nancy scoffs. “Have you met my parents?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was nine. My dad took me hunting on my birthday.” I see the spark in his eyes dwindle to a low flame. “He made me kill a rabbit.” 

“A rabbit?” Nancy and I say at the same time.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something.” 

“Yes, because the world needs more men shooting guns.” I deadpan. 

Jonathan smirks, adding bullets to the cylinder. “I cried for a week.” 

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers. 

“I’m sorry.” I say to him. 

Jonathan didn’t say anything as he tried to drag emotion back under where he didn’t need to feel it. He snaps the revolver in place, the corners of his lips rise to a smirk again. “What? I’m a fan of Thumper.” 

“I meant your dad.” Nancy says. 

The detachment in his tone makes me uncomfortable. In seeing Jonathan’s dad for the first time today, the way he dressed and carried himself. There was something arrogant and insincere about him. When Will first went missing, I never heard Jonathan mention his dad, when Nancy and I found Jonathan at the funeral home, he was by himself picking caskets. Ms. Byers was at home grieving, but the whole town knew how adamant she was on finding Will, but where was his dad? The audacity to show up to the funeral of his youngest son, he did nothing to plan, to shake hands with the people who did care to find Will. Now with this story, it completed the picture. He was never in Jonathan and Will’s life and didn’t care to be. Only wanted to insert his toxic male dominance and masculinity onto the boys. 

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point...but I wasn’t around for that part.” 

Nancy gestures for the gun and Jonathan hands it to her. “Just point and shoot.” 

I walk behind Nancy to stand beside Jonathan, refusing to be anywhere near that sound. Nancy takes a deep breath aiming the gun at the can a few yards in front of her. 

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.” 

My eyebrows raise at the bold statement. “Nancy, you shouldn’t say that.” 

“I mean it.” she answers. 

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan states. 

“My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.” 

“Screw that.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah. Screw that.” 

Nancy closes one eye aiming for the beer can. I put my fingers in in ears just as Nancy pulls the trigger hitting the beer can. I chuckle in disbelief. From shot gunning to shooting them, anything involving beer cans, Nancy is a natural. I shrug off my backpack, placing the mallet on top. Despite the awe, I am uncomfortable with what Nancy said about her parents. Sure, Mr. Wheeler was a bit…impartial. I was around the family many times to know that, but to say her parents never loved each other? I don’t know. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Diana?” Jonathan asks, offering me the gun. I don’t move contemplating. “It’s not gonna bite.” He jokes. I make a face at Jonathan and he laughs as I cautiously take it from him with my gloved hand. 

“Just point and shoot?” 

“Just point and shoot.” 

I standing in front of a can, widening my stance so I don’t fall over. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a nuclear family.”  

“That’s easy for you to say,” Nancy voices. “Your family is perfect.” 

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. The contempt in her tone is shocking. “That’s not true.” 

“Diana,” Nancy chides, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You never argue with your parents and your parents never argue with each other. You are perfect. Your siblings are perfect. Everyone in your family is perfect.” 

I don’t miss Jonathan’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Having never seen us go back and forth with each other, I can tell he is surprised by this. What he doesn’t know is this topic of conversation isn’t new. Throughout our years of friendship, Nancy and Barb always made fun of me for being “perfect”; how I never make mistakes; I am always put together. I need at least eight-hours of “beauty” sleep. From the nickname “Lady Diana”, to my mom making me lunches because I refuse to each cafeteria food. At first it used to bother me, but I moved passed it until Tommy H and Carol picked up on it and started calling me “Anal Princess”. 

This may not be a new conversation, but the undertone certainly is and it’s why I am thrown off by it. It doesn’t sound like a joke anymore and there’s something deeper going on. I never thought Nancy envied me. I know I certainly envied Nancy for being strong enough to stand up for herself and say no. For being able to be defiant without feeling like its wrong. I lift my head high lifting the gun eye level. 

“I’m not perfect and my parents do argue, just not in front of us and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I begin. “You want to know why my dad never taught me how to fire a gun?” I refer to Jonathan’s comment earlier. “Because he never talks about the War unless it’s to teach us a lesson. I don’t know any stories of his time there. My family is seemingly perfect because we don’t talk about things, we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and try to live without feeling more of an outsider than we already are.”  I pull the trigger and the bullet hits the can knocking it off the tree stub. 

None of us react. The heaviness of what I said laying on thick. My family isn’t perfect. We are far from it. We are compliant and conforming because it’s the only way to not be seen as more of an outsider than we already are. I understand it to a certain extent, but sometimes I wish my parents would talk more about it. About being black in an all-white religious town. About their past and how they came to Hawkins. I know nothing and it’s something I push down to be the “perfect” daughter when deep down it bothers me. This is not something I can discuss with Lucas and Erica because they are happy in their bubble and I want to keep it that way for them. 

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks with a frown. “You’re not an outsider, Di.” 

“Never mind.” I say, handing Jonathan the gun, feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Nancy didn’t question me again and after shooting practice we decided to head through the forest looking for the mysterious animal. Dried leaves crunch under my boots as we all walked in silence. Jonathan and Nancy walked together giving me space to be alone for a while which I am grateful for because I didn’t feel like talking. My mind feels like it’s been jostled back and forth, buzzing with many thoughts. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’ve never talked about it because who do I talk about this with? Uncle Jack only comes to Hawkins once a year and when he does the environment is uncomfortable and stuffy because Dad doesn’t like Uncle Jack and doesn’t hide it. Long distance calls are expensive and I have no money to pay for it and if Dad finds out I’ve been talking to Uncle Jack he’d be furious. Maybe I should start journaling or writing letters I’ll never send. 

“You never said what I was saying?” Nancy speaks after a long period of silence. 

“What?” Jonathan says. 

The conversation about the photos began in the darkroom yesterday, but I interrupted when I saw the final development of the photo of the thing that took Will and Barb. It’s definitely been the great elephant in the room between the three of us and though the conversation in the darkroom was light in nature, it is a serious situation. 

“Yesterday, you said, I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.” I glance around not focusing on anything, while keeping my ears perked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. My guess…I saw this girl; you know trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone or you thought you were,” I cautiously peer at Nancy. She looks like she’s about to explode. “And, you know you could just be yourself.” 

I ground my teeth. Jonathan just opened up a huge can of worms. A few days ago, I would’ve agreed but after talking to Nancy, I don’t think she is trying to be someone else. She’s a young woman exploring and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, Jonathan isn’t close to Nancy to know who she is and who she isn’t. Nancy doesn’t respond right away, processing the soft insult. She stops clenching her hands into fists. 

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy fumes, glaring at Jonathan. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—” 

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.” 

My head retracts back. “So, you were intentional in taking those photos.” 

Jonathan’s head whips back. His brows shoot up in disbelief. “What?” 

“You said you thought it was a good picture which means you were intentional about taking it.” My voice hardens. “Taking all of it.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diana.” Jonathan mutters furiously under his breath, walking away. I march behind him trying to keep up with his long legs and quick strides.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth! Nancy asked you a question and your answer quite frankly, was bullshit. Because really? That’s what you were thinking when she was taking off her shirt?” It’s a cop out. A poor excuse to deflect from what he did. Jonathan scoffs. “Unbelievable.” I hiss, catching myself before I trip over a branch. “What about how Steve feels?” 

“Oh my god!” Jonathan throws his hands up in exasperation and I am filled with so much adrenaline I’m starting to shake. 

“I told you his privacy was violated too!” I snap. “As was mine, Tommy, Carol, and Barb!” 

Jonathan spins around, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “And I said I was sorry for taking the photos!” He shouts. I blink repeatedly taken aback by this attitude. No one has ever yelled at me like that and Jonathan was the last person I thought would. Nancy steps in scowling at him. 

“Don’t yell at her!” she shouts, pointing at him. Jonathan glares at her and keeps his mouth shut. I look down at my boots, done with the conversation. “Steve is actually a good guy. The whole camera situation. He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.” 

“Yeah.” Jonathan scoffs, walking away. “That’s one word for it.” 

“And what you did was okay?” Nancy barks, following after him. I stalk behind her keeping my distance. 

“I never said that.” 

“He had every right to be pissed—”

“Okay, all right.” Jonathan says, rolling his eyes, coming to a halt. “Does that mean I have to like him?” 

“No.” 

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.” 

This is why he’s being like this. Because he doesn’t like Steve and has some sort of animosity towards him. I never thought I would stick up for Steve, but after my encounter with him in my garage, I think he’s a good person and deserves a chance to be seen and heard outside his bubble. 

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy rages. 

“Yeah?” Jonathan challenges, eyes glowing with savage fire. 

“Yeah, I was thinking, ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’” 

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.’” His voice was stern with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. “’Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.’” 

Nancy and I watch Jonathan march away. We look at each other absolutely gobsmacked at what just happened. Nancy’s face is so red, the veins in her neck pulsates with pent-up fury as she clenches her fists. I wrap my arm around her shoulders guiding her along the path. 

I admire the colours of the sky as we trek through the forest. Shades of pink, orange, and yellow blending and oozing together. The sun was setting and we would soon need to use our flashlights to navigate through the forest. My back aches from carrying my backpack for so long and I want to tell Jonathan to stop so we can take a break but he was far ahead keeping his distance. All of us have been quiet since the argument though Nancy walked beside me, we haven’t spoken focusing on our surroundings, deep in thought. 

A lot of truth has been said today and it felt like it was shoved down all our throats. I’m not mad at Jonathan for yelling at me and I hope he’s not mad at me for calling him out. What he did was stupid and I know he knows that, but picking a fight with Nancy was something completely different. It felt more personal and I can’t quite put my finger on why it would be since Jonathan and Nancy aren’t close. If anything, they may be farther apart now after what he said to her. I doubt Jonathan wants that especially because of how far we’ve come. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quietly enough so Jonathan doesn’t hear. 

“Yes.” I respond automatically. Nancy looks at me and I drop the act. “No.” 

“Me neither.” she agrees, glaring at the back of Jonathan’s head. “I’m so sick of him and his holier than thou attitude.” 

“I can’t believe he yelled at me.” 

“I can’t believe that either!” she whispers hastily. “I didn’t like that.” 

“I know. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me and Steve.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

I debate on whether I should tell her he came to my house today, but decide it doesn’t matter and she probably already knew about it since he was in his way to see her anyways. 

“I can’t believe Princess Diana swore.” she teases, touching her chest in shock. 

“Oh, shut up.” I giggle, pushing her away. 

“Ou, again!” I roll my eyes. 

“I was just trying to understand why he took the photos.” 

“I honestly don’t even think he knows.” she says, looking at Jonathan again. There was no anger in her eyes, just curiosity.

“After that conversation, I think so too.” 

Nancy hums in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I was going to bring it up later but, what you did earlier today about being an outsider. What did you mean?” 

A ripple of anxiety went up my back while my stomach fell to my feet. I shrug my shoulders shaking me head. “I don’t know.” I deflect. 

“Diana, we’ve been friends for so long, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?” 

I do know that, but this conversation was not about a boy or anything menial like that. It was much deeper and something I’ve been pushing down for years. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when Nancy went on about my perfect day family, I snapped. This past week I feel like I’ve gone through the most significant changes which in turn has brought up subconscious thoughts, emotions and insecurities. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction, perfect daughter, perfect friend, Juilliard, Blackness, otherness. But who am I? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? 

“Diana.” Worry etched Nancy’s features. My silence makes her more anxious. I sigh, stepping over a branch. 

“Have you ever noticed there is no one who looks like me in our neighbourhood?” I mumble, uncomfortably. 

“No? What do you mean?” An expected answer. I close my eyes counting down from five. How do I go about this? 

“I mean, black.” I say, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. “My family…” I clear my throat. “My family is the only black family in the neighbourhood.” When Nancy doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I don’t remember when I noticed, but once I did, it’s hard not to. Even at school, I can count how many black people are there and majority are on the basketball team. Did you know that?” Nancy shakes her head. “I am the only black person in our classes, at dance. No matter where I go or what I do, who I am. I will always be the black one. Even in our friendship. That’s what I mean by outsider.” 

 “My mom and dad don’t talk about our blackness and I’m left to figure it out on my own. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s what I mean when I said we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and conform, but sometimes I don’t want to conform. Sometimes…” I sigh feeling exhausted. Mentally. “Sometimes, I want to ask those questions but then I’ll feel like I’m not…” 

“The perfect daughter.” Nancy finishes. 

“Yeah.” I twirl the mallet in my hand. There’s so much to say but this conversation is exhausting enough. Nancy looks at the ground, kicking a rock. 

“I-I don’t know what to say…” she says lowly. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.” 

“You know now and that’s the first step.” 

“Of course, but please don’t be afraid to tell me these things. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to feel like an outsider when you’re with me. What you said is something I need to know in order to change.” 

I nod my head and Nancy visibly relaxes, reaching to squeeze my hand. I rest my head on her shoulder feeling more relaxed than I did before the beginning of the conversation. It’s a conversation that could’ve easily gone south and I wouldn’t be prepared to handle it, especially after what happened hours before. Darkness quickly engulfs the sky and I am instantly aware of all the sounds in the forest. The wind slipping through leaves, the cracking undergrowth with each step Nancy and I make, the bugs crawling on trees. We all take out our flashlights to see and I notice Jonathan slows down to remain close, though still keeping his distance. I jerk at every unfamiliar sound making Nancy laugh again. 

“Do you remember Mei Wong?” I mutter, swatting away a fly.

“Yes. She auditioned for Juilliard!” 

“Well on Sunday at rehearsals, she told me…” I swallow to soothe the dryness in my throat. “She told me I should think about auditioning for Juilliard.” 

“Really? Wow!” 

I scrunch my nose. “I know.” 

“You definitely should. I meant what I said at Steve’s house. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you’re gonna go pro. I feel it.” I shake my head. Somehow Nancy sees it. 

“You are. I need you to be more confident in yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…what if I audition and I don’t get in—”

“We’re only in 10th grade, you have time to worry about the auditions.” Nancy assures me.  “Maybe Juilliard has a summer intensive you can take beforehand to give you an extra boost.” 

“My dad will never allow that.” 

“Have you talked to your mom about it?” 

I shake my head. “Not yet.” 

“I say after all this is done and we find Barb, we will both help you research and come up with a plan for you to go to Juilliard. Because you’re going to Juilliard.” 

We find Barb. That’s the most important thing. It’s why we’re here now. The sound of her laughter echoed through my mind. The last time I saw her; felt her at Steve’s house. I don’t want to believe that was the last time I saw her. I shiver, crossing my arms above my chest. It’s so cold I can barely feel my ears and nose. Jonathan keeps pace with Nancy and I. There is still tension between the three of us, but now is not the time to dwell on it, not when we were outside in the forest on our own looking for God knows what. At random, Nancy slows down looking back and forth, her expression tight with strain. I keep myself composed despite the fact my heart is racing. Did she see something? Hear anything? Was it here? I tighten my grip on the mallet, my eyes darting from tree to tree. 

“What are you tired?” Jonathan asks. 

“Shut up.” Nancy hisses, looking around. “I heard something.” 

I follow closely beside Jonathan as we follow Nancy through the forest. I don’t know what we’re looking for or what she’s heard until I hear something faint…a whining sound. I gasp at the sight of a deer whimpering in front of underbrush. We all rush to the deer dropping to our knees. My stomach is in knots at the blood dampening its fawn-coloured coat. It looked like it’s been punctured multiple times. It’s ragged breathing and slow movements indicated it was in pain and about to die. I’ve never seen a deer this close before and I’m sad it has to be like this. Images of Bambi flash through my mind and I cover my mouth muffling my sobs.   

“Oh, God. It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy whimpers, tears brimming her eyes. She looks at the gun in her hand and holds it up. “We can’t just leave it.” 

“Wait!” I exclaim, grabbing her arm. “There must be something else we can do!” 

“It’s in too much pain. We have to.” 

“I’ll do it.” Jonathan says, taking the gun. Nancy and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not nine anymore.” Jonathan assures us. 

I stagger up on my feet grabbing Nancy’s hand. Jonathan points the gun at the deer. Time slows down and I feel like the forest is closing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up just as Jonathan is about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the deer disappears into the underbrush. I jump back startled, mouth opening in a silent scream. 

“What was that? What was that?” Nancy shouts. 

I wring my hands jumping up and down. “Oh, my god. Oh my, god. I can’t. I can’t.” Panic shoots up my spine and I hold my chest struggling to catch my breath.

“There’s so much blood.” 

“Where did it go?” 

“I don’t know.” 

I quickly pick up the flashlight and mallet I dropped in my state of panic. My skin tingles and I shake my head trying to focus, aiming the light on the ground. Blood smears all over leaves and twigs. I proceed around with caution, shining my light on anything and everything in the forest, being cautious of not stepping on any gore. From the far distance I notice something dripping from a hollow tree stump. It looked like…sap. No, it’s too thick for it to be sap. I am vigilant taking calculated steps and kneel in front of the tree inspecting the foliage. It looked like the tree was creating mucus. Thick, slimy, runny mucus. There was no smell to it, but it was weird. I paid attention in biology last semester to know that this wasn’t right.

“Nancy.” I whisper. “This tree…there’s weird stuff falling.” 

Nancy joins me on my knees shining her light. She touches the tree stump, looking up. “Jonathan?” she shouts, looking around. I search as well thinking he was with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It would be unwise to leave Nancy here alone to look for him. We were better sticking together. When I turn back however, Nancy is taking off her backpack placing it beside her bat. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going in there!” 

“Watch my stuff.” 

“Are you crazy?” I snap. 

That mucus could be toxic or worse. There was no need to go inside the clearly rotting tree. Nancy ignores me crawling inside. I am lost for words because not only can she fit inside; her body completely disappears as if there was an opening on the other side. I blink, shaking my head, feeling disembodied. 

“Nancy?”

Adrenaline bursts through my veins to prepare myself to fight or flee. I feel like I am back in Steve’s backyard keeping watch while Nancy does something completely foolish like walk into the forest on her own or like now, crawling into a slime coated hollow stump. I curse colourful words under my breath that would shock my Dad. I can’t leave her alone. So, I take off my backpack and put the mallet on top; count down from five in my head and crawl through the hole holding my breath hopefully awaiting Nancy on the other side. 

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

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The Best of the Kids [3/5]: Lucas Sinclair

An easy step-by-step guide on why he is amazing.  ( requested by anons )

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LUCAS!!! LOOK AT MY BOY!!! THAT IS HIS TROPHY!!!

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PART IV UPDATE!

I know it's been a week since I last posted, life has not been lifeing. I only have two more scenes to write though then it should be posted on Wednesday!

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Some Sinclair sibling doodles I don’t think I ever posted??

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I Don’t Think We Are in 1986 Anymore?

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Different angle...same gentleman

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SWEET ★ HONEY ★ BUCKIIN’

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I started writing Part IV y'all and I feel like it's gonna be long asf.

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congrats on getting your degree! you won’t finish paying off your loans until you’re 40 btw 💓 xoxoxo satan

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