Brows raised in surprise, El gulps before breaking the tense silence, "Dad?"

"Hey, kid." Rolling up his sleeves with a sideways look down the hall, Hopper steps closer to his daughter. "Something you want to tell me?"

The color drains from the girl's face then, her cheeks turning a sickly white color. Her shoulders lift as she moves to cross her arms, "No." She shrugs, offering a casual, "It's nice to see you, though."

Hopper simply rolls his eyes, "Don't bullshit me, El. I've seen the papers."

El looks down and spots the corner of a bright yellow sheet of paper sticking out from his pocket then, "Right." She licks her lips, eyes widening as she goes to explain, "It's not... real."

"So you don't have a boyfriend?"

Just then, Jennifer Hayes breezes past her, speedily running out from the gymnasium. The blonde is heading straight for the girls' toilets (where Mike has yet to emerge from), and she mumbles a quick, "Duty calls," to El before she forces the door open.

The door was already slightly open (El notes) and, if she tried hard enough, El probably could have made out a flash of black hair emerging from passed the doorway.

But Jennifer seems to shove someone (definitely Mike) backward, and she kicks the door shut behind her.

(She's not entirely sure how Jennifer knew—that Mike was seconds away from giving himself up—but the girl is an actual angel.)

(Was she waiting nearby? Had she seen Mike coming out of the bathroom from all the way down the hall? Did she tell anybody?)

Attention snapping back to her dad, El frowns at the look of confusion on his face. He's staring at the space behind her, where Jennifer has just disappeared to. If he's curious, he doesn't say anything. But he looks suspicious, which...

"Well, I mean... That part is real but-"

Hopper sighs, and he pulls the paper from his front pocket to wave it in her face—if paper could laugh, it would be cackling. "Because your brother says you sent these."

El snags the sheet from his hand then, balling it up in her fist. "My step-brother is dead," she says through gritted teeth, a forced smile etched onto her face. "And he's unreliable."

"Just tell me why someone posted them, El. I'm not gonna ground you for having a boyfriend." He grumbles, "Jesus, give me more credit than that." Hopper eyes the yellow paper in her fist, thick eyebrows wiggling animatedly. "I thought I was kind of a cool dad, you know, but I guess... I guess you'd rather tell the whole school before your old man," he says, and she can just tell that he's being dramatic and looking for some kind of reassurance.

(Yeah, you're a cool dad. Don't worry, you're totally chill. Dad, you're the literal best.)

El just throws her head back, a groan slipping past her lips. "You know I would have told you first-" she cuts herself off, blinking, "It was out of my control."

"Whose control was it in then?"

She's never been one for ratting people out, and she's not going to start now—even if it means selling out the girl(s) who did this to her. She'd rather just deal with it herself than have her dad intervene. The last thing she needs right now is to be labeled a rat.

El purses her lips, looking down to her closed fist, "I have no idea." She scrunches the flyer up a little bit more and stuffs it into her back pocket. Brows raising up to her hairline, she offers her dad a slight smile, "Can we let it go?"

Hopper just stares down at his daughter, an authoritative look on his face, "No," he says, steadfast. "Did you forget that I'm a detective?"

"You're a small town police chief. The only thing you need to investigate is why our donuts all somehow taste like bread," El mocks him with a snicker.

Laying a hand on his daughter's shoulder, Hopper leans down to look her in the eye. "I'm detecting that you're full of shit, kiddo." He pats her upper arm, a grin half-hidden beneath his full mustache, "Come on, I've set up the gym."

(Wait.)

El's eyes almost bulge out of her head then, "Set it up for what?"

"I know we don't know each that well but," Jennifer moves to push her hair behind her ears then, head tilting thoughtfully, "you really need to just shut up and listen to me."

"Are you serious?" Mike's brows raise up his forehead, and he folds his arms over his chest disbelievingly, "You're gonna trap me in here?"

Shaking her head, Jennifer just presses her back against the door to the girls' toilets, a hand wrapping around the handle to make sure it doesn't budge, "I'm doing you a favor, Wheeler." She crosses her legs over each other, cheeks puffing out as she sucks in a breath.

Why?" Mike scowls, somewhat distrusting the girl's intentions. Sure, she hadn't sold him out before but... "Besides, I'm gonna have to leave at some point, you know," he points out as though it isn't obvious.

It is, and the way the cheerleader just mimics him with a roll of her eyes just confirms it, "I know that. But your secret girlfriend's dad, who just so happens to be the chief of police is right outside, so unless you want castrating in the middle of the school hallway, you should probably give it five minutes." Jennifer leans back against the door, thick ponytail pressed into the wood almost painfully, "Trust me."

Breathing a heavy sigh, Mike just lets his shoulders slump. His hands fall to his sides, palms swiping against the outside of the thighs as he shakes his head, mumbling, "This is a joke."

The blonde quirks a brow, "What is?"

"This," and Mike gestures a hand about then, face twisting in irritation, "This whole... thing. It's so pointless."

Jennifer watches as he backs up to the other side of the room, sliding down the wall until he's sat on the floor. Mike stretches his legs out in front of him, ankles crossing as his hands fall to his lap, fingers fidgety.

(Maybe it's not her place, but...)

"Not to say 'I told you so' because, well, I've never really told you anything, and vice-versa... but maybe you should have just been open with your relationship." She approaches him with small steps then, hands politely (and tentatively) clasped behind her back. Her ponytail sways as she walks, and her sneakers squelch as she twists and turns to sit down beside him on the floor.

Jennifer pulls the skirt of her outfit down her thighs, tucking it between her legs as she crosses them, comfortably resting her elbows on the insides of her knees. She tilts her head to the side, eyeing the boy in curiosity.

"We weren't not." Mike finally says after a moment, and his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, "We just were, and now other people are getting involved and it's just weird."

The blonde nods, thoughtfully gnawing at her bottom lip for a second. Then her lips smack together and apart, and she scrunches her nose, "Stacey thinks you're hot."

Mike snorts at that, and he rests his head back against chipped tiles. His eyes close, and Jennifer can tell he's trying to contain his laughter because a weird hiccup escapes his past his lips and he shakes black hair into his face.

She nudges his arm with her shoulder then, offering a simple, "Well, she thinks you sound hot, at least."

Mike shrugs, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eye, "That's not helping, you know."

"You should take it as a compliment," she suggests, eyes widening in amusement, "Not many guys can pull off what you did,"

The tall boy frowns, "Cowardice?"

"I don't think you're a coward for not wanting people to meddle in your relationship. That's human. It's just, you know, that a lot of people like being defined by their personal lives, especially people our age." A pause, "There's nothing wrong with not wanting everyone to know your business."

"But it's kind of strange, right?" Mike's brows furrow softly, and his voice lowers (hesitantly), "that we're not openly affectionate or whatever."

The girl hums, "I mean... I don't think so, for whatever that's worth. It's just not what we the youth of today tend to do," she explains with a grin. "Practically all the guys on the basketball team do is flaunt their so-called conquests so, believe me, it's refreshing how you don't want people knowing every little sordid detail of your sex life."

"Jesus," Mike sighs, but there's a small smile threatening to take over his features and Jennifer kind of wants it to—if only so she can feel proud at having gotten it out of him. "Sex life. Because apparently, I have one of those." He smooths the sides of his hands along his thighs, looking over at the girl to find her smirking to herself now, "Does everyone think we're, like, doing it like rabbits or-"

"No!" The cheerleader cuts him off quickly, a hand flying about to stop him from finishing his sentence, "God, no. Just... Well, I now get the impression we might have taken some of your conversations out of context."

The corners of Mike's mouth pull up then, almost smugly, "The downside of being an outsider to someone else's life."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing." She reasons, "I mean, no offense, but I'd rather not know what you guys get up to," Mike just shrugs, understanding, "And, besides, you got, like half the student body to fall in love with you because of what you wrote, whether it was intentionally suggestive or not. That's something."

He shrugs, "I mean... If you say so."

"I do," Jennifer says, confident, "and you made the captain of the cheer squad jealous of your girlfriend. That's pretty funny to think about."

Mike snickers, countering, "Because I'm such a loser? I'll try not to be too insulted, but thanks."

"Because she's up on her high-horse thinking she's better than everyone when really all she wants is someone to want her. And knowing who you are would just make her crazy—if she can't even get Mike Wheeler, then... I mean, she's my friend and all, but she could do with being knocked down a peg or two. No offense."

"Max would knock her down five pegs if you'd let her."

"I'm sure she would." Jennifer smiles, cheeks puffing out once again as she sighs longingly. After a beat, she whispers, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

Mike clears his throat, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping long arms around them. His sleeves bunch around his elbows as he eyes the girl in curiosity, "I mean, I'd say we've got another five minutes to spare and you've helped me in a way, so... yeah." He offers the girl a smile, kind and grateful, "What is it?"

"It's about your friend," suddenly her cheeks are two shades redder and she's avoiding his gaze, "Henderson?"

"This has gotta be, like, a criminal offense or something," Max says, pulling on the straps of her backpack. The bag tightens around her front, the zip sitting just past her exposed collarbones. "Right? Like, what kind of cop holds a bunch of kids against their will?"

"The shady kind."

"One with a kid himself?" Lucas quips.

"It's not like it would matter anyway," Dustin shrugs, "He's like... the Chief, you know?" He squints, as though he's unsure his point got across.

"Yeah, I got it." Max glares over at him, peering around Lucas. Her boyfriend is sat between them both, and she nuzzles rests her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "Idiot."

Feeling her breath against his neck, Lucas peers down at the grumbling redhead. She's got her arms folded over her chest (so, over her backpack), and there's a perpetual frown on her face. Lucas grins, pulling an earbud from his ear to offer it to her. "Daily mix?"

Glancing up, Max plucks the earbud from his long fingers with a smile and the smallest of nods. She holds it up to her right ear, nuzzling unto her boyfriend's side.

"Hey, where is Will anyway?" Lucas digs his elbows into his jeans then, leaning forward to get a better view of the crowd.

"I don't know," Max purses her lips, brows furrowing in confusion, "I haven't seen him since earlier."

"He was with Brett before we came in here," Dustin tells them, "I didn't see them come in though."

"They're probably just ditching. I don't blame them." The girl says. She blinks, forcing out a loud, fake yawn, "Anyway... was me up if someone dies or something, Hendy."

Dustin just mumbles something below his breath, and he kicks his legs out in front of him. Only, he stretches just a little bit too far, and the front of his Converse are pressing into the back of a bigger, wider, stronger teen, and the boy is now looking back at Dustin with a scowl and a half. "Shit."

Quickly bringing his legs back into his own space, the curly-haired teen holds both hands up apologetically. He wiggles his fingers, eyes blowing wide as his bottom lip puckers out like a child, "Sorry, man."

Max feigns a cough then, fist clenched around her mouth, smug, "Loser."

"Go screw a snowman, ice queen!"

Max gasps; half in mock surprise, half in disbelief that he'd even think such a lame jab would win him the argument. "How dare you?"

"Dude, can you watch your damn mouth?" Lucas interjects.

"Can I watch my mouth?" Dustin mocks, "You're not my mom."

"If he was, maybe you wouldn't be such a pussy!"

"I'm not a pussy! I just haven't had my shot yet—"

Max cackles at that, hands fidgeting with the cable hanging from her ear, "Your shot?"

"Yes! You know I need to take my meds with lunch!"

Max grins, and the little smile on her friend's face doesn't go unnoticed, "You sound like a crazy person!"

"Well, it takes one to know one, Mayfield!"

"Fuck you, Curly Fry!"

Reaching over Lucas, Dustin aims for the girl's arm. He presses his thumb and forefinger together, set on pinching her bicep. But the slightly taller boy between them cuts him off, back of his hand landing flat against Dustin's chest with a slightest of thumps.

"Dude, just sit still and quit causing shit," Lucas scolds him, full glare in tow when the other boy just scoffs, accidentally elbowing him in the process, "Jesus!"

"What?"

Max groans, throwing her head back, "Shut up, the both of you!"

"Hey!"

Realizing the voice doesn't belong to any of them, the trio turn their attention to the middle of the room.

Hopper's stood with his hands on his hips, uninformed and authoritative. His brows are raised, right up to his hairline—balding from stress, Max notes—and his five o'clock shadow is somehow looking pretty frazzled.

The teens watch as he taps his fingers against the thighs of his trousers, clicking his tongue as he stares up at them, impatient. "Are you done?"

Lucas nods, Dustin shrugs, and Max can't help but smirk. It's not because of the Chief though. No, she's smirking because right there in the middle of the high school is one Jane Ives Hopper, sat on a stool like a modern day, virgin Hester Prynne.

(Is she the only one that knows El and Mike's sex life is actually virtually non-existent? Probably.)

And it's the irony that makes Max smirk (and, well, she also kind of chuckles until she gets a thump in her side from her boyfriend.)

"Sorry." Max clears her throat, eyes darting from the policeman to his daughter. The brunette's awkwardly shuffling her feet along the polished basketball court, worn soles right on the bright yellow outline of a tiger's face, gaze lowered as she grips the stool with white-knuckled fists.

(Goddamn you, Hawkins Tigers.)

"You're sure about this?"

Will takes a moment to consider his options, eyeing the lighter in one hand and the bright red, almost daring sign in front of him. Then, he nods, confident, and he shoots Brett a look out of the corner of his eye.

"Definitely."

"We can't go back." The taller teen tells him, scraping the toe of his shoes against tiled flooring. He rubs his hands together conspiratorially, blond hair flipping back. The muscles in his neck tighten, and his jaw clenches, "If they catch us..."

"We're doing it. Well... I'm doing it, with or without you." Will confirms, and he runs his hand through his hair before swallowing down a heavy breath, "He's lost it." He stares warily up at his boyfriend, referring to his stepdad, "Trust me, we're just doing everyone a favor."

Brett nods, and he rests a comforting hand on the shorter boy's arm, "Okay. Then I trust you." He squeezes Will's forearm, touch lingering, "But if this goes up in flames..."

"Pun intended?"

Brett grins, "Of course."

Alright," Hopper slips his hands from behind his back to massage his jaw, dark eyes shifting over the faces of several dozen teens, "Which one of you little shits was it?"

"You can't talk to us like that!"

Hopper lowers his arms then, unfolding them from his chest as he approaches the boy who just spoke. "Yeah?" He narrows his eyes, leaning down to the kid's level. "You got something to tell me?"

The blond boy squirms under his gaze, arms tightening around his frame as his legs squeeze. He looks up at the man with an innocent look on his face, eyes squinting as if he wants nothing more than to close them or get as far away from the chief as he can. "No, sir. Nope." He shakes his head, "Not me."

"How about you just sit there and stay quiet then, huh?" Hopper stands up straight again to stare down at the group of teenagers directly before him. He eyes them considerably for a moment, letting his gaze sweep over their many faces, features, traumatized and yet puzzled expressions. Then he takes in the whole audience at his disposition with a sigh and a soft pinch of his nose.

(Maybe assembling the whole senior grade in one place hadn't been the smartest decision.)

(He should have just questioned them separately.)

(But oh, well...)

Hopper cracks his knuckles, walking back into the center of the gym again. He resumes his place from before, hands on his hips with an air of authority.

"Anybody?" He pushes his tongue into his cheek, breathing heavily with flared nostrils. "I've got all day."

"Well, we don't." One nasally girl in the back calls out, and she immediately stands up to catch his eye. She has long brown hair pulled into an up-do, and there's a noticeably dicy tone to her voice.

Stacey.

Behind her father, El squirms in her seat — he'd made her sit on a stool in the middle of the gymnasium, in front of all of her peers like some kind of martyr.

(And, please, like the humiliation of having her private texts published for everyone to see wasn't embarrassment enough. Now her dad is getting in on the action.)

"Maybe if your daughter hadn't been such a slut, then she wouldn't have been hacked."

There's an awkward silence (aside from some oohs and ahhs) that follows her words, and El would be running up those steps to wring her neck right now if her dad hadn't beat her to it.

"Say that to me one more time," Hopper demands, blinks, and out of the corner of his eye, he spots the principal standing up, in case he needs to intervene. But the police chief simply waves a hand about, silently telling the man to stay put. He squares back in on Stacey, who's got a petulant scowl on her face now, "You sound like you have some juicy information."

("Please, God, don't say juicy ever again", El pleads with a look up to the ceiling.)

"Information?" Stacey crosses her arms, feigning disinterest. Her eyes roll, almost all the way to the back of her hair, and she purses her lips with a swing of her ponytail, "Please, I'm just as curious as you are, sir." She holds a hand up to her heart, bats her eyelashes with a glance down to her peers, "The sooner we get this resolved, the sooner I can go back to being top dog."

"Top dog?" El snickers under breath, pulling the top of her t-shirt up to her nose to mask her laugh. She brings her knees up onto the stool, wrapping her arms around them as her face falls against her thighs, brows raised in bemusement, "Sure."

"I mean, no offense, but your daughter isn't exactly popular. This is obviously just some stunt so she can gain a little notoriety around school."

"Are you serious?" comes a voice from down the other end of the bleachers now, and every single person in the room whips around to see who dared speak up.

There's a redhead stood up, hands on her hips as she glares across at the other girl. Hopper knows who she is, so when Max opens her mouth to start talking again, he doesn't see fit to cut her off. She's got this.

"Why are you such a sk—"

Just then, the doors to the gym fly wide open, and Hopper quickly turns around to see two more kids enter the room.

One of them is who he knows to be the daughter of his divorce attorney, a girl by the name of Jennifer Hayes. She's got a skip in her step and grin on her face, blonde hair freely flying in the air as she approaches the bleachers. She casually walks around him with a small, almost bashful smile on her face.

A few feet behind her is one Michael 'Mike' Wheeler.

Hopper knows him as one of El's best friends, if not her oldest friend—in age and sentiment. The boy's several months older, and about a whole foot taller, than his daughter. Whenever he's seen Mike, it's either been with El or Will or any combination of their other friends. With black hair and long limbs and wide brown eyes, Hopper's pretty sure the kid had been El's first crush.

(Granted, she never told him as much. But he'd walked in on them once—and they'd been roughly around eight years old at the time—kissing. Well, it hadn't been kissing, exactly. More like, El had gripped the boy's shoulders and let him peck her on the lips fleetingly, as little kids do, and then she'd run up the stairs with a hand over her mouth and a pretty red tint to her cheeks.)

(Hopper's not entirely sure what happened to their relationship; why childhood sweetness hadn't blossomed into young romance, but given the way Mike is following after the Hayes girl with a guilty look on his face, Hopper's pretty sure that he's not El's boyfriend.)

(And it's a shame really because Mike Wheeler is one of, maybe, six teenagers that Hopper doesn't mind.)

The man watches as Mike trails his feet along the floor, hands stuffed in his front pockets and gnawing at his bottom lip. His eyebrows are raised up as though he's surprised by the number of people gathered in the gym, and he glances over at El to shoot her a smile, friendly and reassuring, Hopper notes. And then the kid—he'd have a lot less trouble calling him that if he didn't rival him in height—meets the chief's eye and his smile dips ever so slightly. He nods his head in acknowledgment of the man, shoulders slumped, and Hopper can all but return the gesture as Mike takes a spot on the lower bleacher.

"You," Hopper points toward the brunette from earlier, and he clicks his tongue as he reaches for his belt. He slides his thumb through the front loop of his pants, tugging, "I'm assuming you own a printer?"

"Yeah..."

He nods, "So you're admitting it then?"

"Admitting what?"

"That you printed out those messages."

"What, just because I have an office in my house, I'm suddenly a whistleblower?" Stacey squeaks.

"Dad," El mumbles his name, gritting her teeth with a look in Mike's direction. He's sat beside the blond kid from earlier, and the boy (who is now wearing a beanie pulled down to his eyebrows) is, to put it plainly, watching him. It's like he knows Mike is up to something but he can't quite put his finger on it.

(She needs to end this before any more people catch on.)

"Dad!"

Hopper groans, turning around to face his daughter, "What?" He snaps.

"Can you just... not do this right now?"

"El, sweetie," he starts, fingers linking together with a sigh, "you know how I work—"

As he's about to finish his sentence, the fire alarm is ringing out throughout the whole school. The noise causes an uproar, and so before Hopper can even assess and control the situation, there's a sudden swarm of teenagers heading straight for the exits, and straight for him.

Hopper's hand fly up to his ears to drown out the sound of the alarm and panicked teens rushing about, and just as he goes to locate his daughter in the midst of the rush, he finds her stool tipped over and empty. The yellow note has slipped from her pocket and is lying crumpled on the floor, ready to be trampled on by her frenzied peers.

Glancing around, Hopper quickly starts guiding kids towards the exit. He's the chief after all; his priority has to be the safety of his town and its residents. He starts waving his hands about, ushering kids forward and copying the principal.

But less than a five seconds later, over the crowd, he spots a brown head of hair pushing through the doors. Only, she's heading for the left side of the building instead of the right (as she should), and there's a tall black-haired figure next to her. He identifies the other person as the Wheeler kid, and Hopper watches as the two teens separate from the rest of the group. Either they're stupidly walking straight into the line of fire, or they know something Hopper doesn't.

(It's definitely the latter.)

(He follows.)

Turns out, the whole thing had been a hoax. The fire alarm that is, not the total invasion of his daughter's privacy. Within a matter of twenty minutes,

Well, some kids. Hopper's not an idiot, and he knows just who was responsible.

(There's a reason Will, three minutes from now, will come running out of the back building with urgency.)

Slipping through the doors that lead out onto the football field, Hopper watches as the pair of teens in front of him around the corner of the building, heading straight past the run track. They've been roaming around the school for a good ten minutes, arm in arm.

They're making a beeline for the back of the school building now, and just when Hopper thinks he can catch up, they quicken their pace and run straight out into the parking lot reserved for students.

Licking his lips, Hopper stands back as his daughter shuffles between a bunch of cars, sticking close to the boy in front of her, hands on his shoulders as though he's guiding her to some form of safety.

(Whatever she's up to, it almost certainly has something to do with Mike Wheeler.)

(Hopper's just not sure what they're doing yet.)

El ducks behind a large black van then, and she vanishes for all of (maybe) five seconds before he sees her again. She's sat on the hood of a car, knees pulled up to her chin, and Mike is stood by the passenger side door, shoving his backpack inside.

Across the way, Hopper spots the rest of their friend group making their way over to them. The redhead is a waving a hand about, mobile phone clutched between her fingers.

"Lovebirds!"

(These kids would be in so much shit if he wasn't so worried about his daughter's well being.)

(Wait... hold on.)

(Lovebirds?!)

Pressing his side to the brick wall, Hopper brings his hat up to his face. He replaces it back on his head, pulling it into place by his fingertips until his eyes are almost covered.

El holds up a finger in front of her mouth, as though to silence her friends, and Sinclair throws his hands up defensively. He shifts his shoulders back, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulder as their approach the other two.

Whatever they're saying, Hopper can't quite make out. But he stays observing them for a solid ten minutes, standing in the shadows as his daughter interacts with her friends. Their other friend joins them after a moment, and his stepson eventually appears out of nowhere, and one of them even ends up getting a punch square in the jaw.

(But, nine minutes later, when Mike Wheeler pulls a small stack of Eggo waffles from his backpack and hands them over to El with care...)

(Well, his suspicions are confirmed.)

(Hopper can't help but smile, and walk away knowing she's going to be alright.)

"Take it."

"For real?"

Could-Be-Matt pulls down the edge of his beanie with one hand, the other extending out to Dustin. He loosens his grip of the items in his hand, fingers wiggling. "Just take the damn thing, Henderson."

Cautiously, Dustin reaches for the stick and lighter. He ponders his next move for a moment, nose scrunching as his breath catches in his throat, uncertain.

"Do I have to?"

"No." Could-Be-Matt shrugs, careless enough for Dustin to just up and run if he wanted to. His brows dip between his nose, eyes closing. "But I know something you might want to know." He says, cryptically raising a brow.

The other boy pulls a face, upper lip sticking to his gums as he contemplates Matt's offer. He clenches the items in his fist then, skeptic, "What does it concern?"

"Your friend and," he pauses, thinking, "your other friend." Could-Be-Matt grins, boyish and childlike. Green eyes blink wide open, and he licks his lips as his hands move to clasp behind his back, "Turns out I'm, like, a detection or whatever."

"A detective?"

"Yeah, that." The blond boy nods, grin slipping from his face as it fades to a simple smile, "It was so easy." He boasts, proud of himself.

(How the f— did he figure it out?)

Just then, Could-Be-Matt pulls a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, orange and eye-popping. He opens it up and untucks folded edges, holding it out for Dustin to take, too. The boy snatches it quickly, keeping the lighter and joint in his other hand. Matt has circled a couple of texts in green highlighter, but there's a pen-drawn star beside one of El's outgoing messages.

Good job you've got Wheels then, huh?

Dustin reads the text aloud, the realization that it's been there all along suddenly hitting him.

(Oh, if only Stacey hadn't been such an idiot.)

Clearing his throat, Dustin quirks a brow, "You planning on telling people?"

"Nah," Could-Be-Matt sniffles, glancing around the deserted hallway.

He'd caught Dustin right outside of the school entrance when everyone had been making their way back inside. He'd pulled him aside and thrust a joint and an ultimatum in his face.

"I kinda like being in on it." He grins.

Dustin frowns at that, "You know you've just freely given up valid information, right?"

"Eh." He grabs Dustin's hand then, opening it up to reveal the smoke and the used lighter. "Offer's still on the table, Hendy."

El, you need to tell your brother to chill." Lucas calls out to the girl upon approaching, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes the phone the phone in Max's hands. "He almost burnt down the school."

"No, he didn't." Max rolls her eyes, thrusting her phone forward to show the brunette. She pulls up Will's message — I think I did sthg? Head out back now! — and quirks a brow in surprise, "He, like, went off." She snaps her fingers then, shooting Mike a bland look, "Waffle Boy."

The tallest teen just fakes a laugh, teeth-baring as the corners of his eyes wrinkle in contempt "Funny." He slurs, leaning back against his car.

"Just stating the facts."

Behind Max, there's a sudden cry of "Abort! Abort!" and the group whips around t see Dustin hurling toward them, practically stumbling over his own feet. His hands fly out in front of him, and when he reaches the car beside Mike's, he drops down onto the ground with a heavy sigh.

"Jesus!" He shouts, throwing his head back, "Fuck!"

Mike kicks him in the butt, scowling, "Keep your voice down!"

Dustin just sits upright, back against the wheel-trim of the Volvo behind him. He licks his lips, dry and panting, "Sure thing, Waffle Boy."

"Are you all gonna steal my nickname now?"

"Obviously." Lucas nods, casual as his arms cross over his chest. His cheeks puff out as he takes in his friend's slumped form on the ground; Dustin's pulling on the side of his hoodie, making the flaps bat open wide. "Man, what happened now?"

"I almost got roped into Williams' class." He breathes, still out of breath, "Can you believe that?" He grumbles with a melodramatic tut, "As if!"

"I mean, we do have class." Mike points out, earning a glare from everybody beside El, who simply nods in agreement. "Unless we... don't?"

"That's more like it, Lurch." Max cheers, clapping a hand on the boy's arm. She glances over his shoulder to look at El, but instead catches sight of Will in the background. "Our hero!"

"Shh." Will plasters a hand over her mouth, wide brown eyes staring back at her. "I don't wanna get expelled."

Max mumbles something into his skin, but when he doesn't pull his hand back, she kicks it up a notch and licks his palm.

Will flinches, quickly removing his hand and eyeing the wet patch of skin, "What the heck?"

"Right back at you, Byers. Why are your hands so sweaty?" She rubs her lips, grimacing, "Gnarly."

"Maybe you shouldn't go around licking people." Mike tells her, fingers tight around his biceps, "You know, then you wouldn't get spit on you."

Max tosses hair over her shoulder, setting her eyes on the lanky boy. "Oh, whatever—" She stops talking then; an arm stretched out to wave in his face rudely, she'd underestimated the distance between their bodies, and suddenly her half-clenched fist was colliding with the side of Mike's face.

Her knuckles drag across his sharp jaw, bone on bone, and she can feel his chin lightly crunch under the force of her blow.

"Jesus!" Dustin exclaims!

"Shit!" Mike yelps, right hand flying out to clutch his face. He runs his fingers over the side of his face, mouth opening to stretch out his jaw. "What the hell?"

"Well," Max sucks in her bottom lip, blue eyes widening in horror despite her nonchalance, "that's what you get for fucking with the high school hierarchy." She tells him, beating around an apology, "But, you know... sorry?"

"Come here." El beckons the boy toward her, and she softly cups the left side of his face in her palm, a sorry smile playing on her lips. Her thin brows draw together, corners of her mouth pursing as fresh color rises to his cheek, "Oh."

"Is it bad?" Mike squints with one eye, peering down at her. He places his hand over hers, threading their fingers together as her touch falls to his chin, "You'd tell me if it was bad, right?"

El giggles, kicking a leg out to curl it around his thighs, "Of course." She lets go of his hand and pulls on his shoulders until he's leaning down to her level. She presses her lips against the bruise that's slowly forming under his skin, "I'll make it better later."

"Is that also what you meant when you said he could 'put it anywhere'?" Lucas teases, finally addressing the elephant in the room (or, well, the back parking lot?) He laughs to himself, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from his girlfriend. Max glares up at him, and he quickly throws his hands up apology, eyes wide in Mike's direction.

"No." Mike pulls a face, brows drawing together, "She was talking about my car but good to know where your head's at."

"Your car?"

"Yeah, where I should park it." Mike explains, "You know, when I went over for that project—"

"When you went over, or when you came over?" Dustin cuts on, smirking to himself even as his gaze remains on the ground.

"Okay," Lucas interrupts, holding up a hand and waving it about dismissively, "well what about the wet thing?"

"The..." Mike gulps, soft hint of color to his cheeks as he runs his index finger along his chin, "What wet thing?"

Lucas deepens his voice then, puckering his lips as he remembers, tries to quote one of Mike's text, "'Oh, you were so wet last night'... or... whatever it was you said." He shrugs, leg jittering, "I don't remember, man."

"Yeah, no. Once again, not what you're thinking."

Shaking his head, Lucas hums disbelievingly with an snap of his fingers, "How is that not a sex thing?"

"It was literally raining two nights ago!"

"And you were just, what, stood out in it like a couple of weirdos?"

"Rain is romantic, Lukey." Max whines, jokingly.

El peeks over her boyfriend's shoulder, "Kind of?"

The redhead in front of her snorts, "Jesus, do you two hang out anywhere other than Mike's car? Fuck."

Dustin snickers from his spot down on the ground, calloused fingers running over the corner of the sketched-out parking space, "Obviously, it's their bone zone." He says, digging the ball of his hand into the concrete.

"That makes sense."

Max rolls her eyes, and she rests her arm on Lucas' shoulder with a sigh, "Perv."

Flushing, El looks up through long lashes. "I didn't, umm... " she starts, stammering, "I didn't realise how half of it sounded at first but then... I guess without context—"

Will cuts in then, a Sharpie in his fist as he finishes scribbling something down in his free palm. "She didn't know what an innuendo was." He explains, looking up at his friends with a slight smile and shrug. He turns to Mike, "Took care of that one for you."

The black-haired hoy sends him a puzzled look, "Thanks?"

"So wait," and Dustin holds up a hand then, "you guys haven't gone to Pound Town in Mike's car?"

"Jesus, are you all in withdrawal or something?" Mike frowns, and he sits down on the hood of his car, palms flat by his sides on the carbon. "Stop."

"Wow, you're really avoiding answering that one, huh?" Dustin's eyebrows wiggle and rise up to the bottom of his cap, "Interesting." He runs his index finger over his chin thoughtfully with a hum; wide, hazy eyes quickly shifting back and forth between his friends.

Max squints, eyes narrowing in on him. "Are you high?" She kneels down to grab his face between her hands, thumbs pulling his cheeks down to get a clear look into his eyes. "Holy shit!"

"We're at school!" Mike thwarts his friend, a hand flying out to smack the boy's bicep when Max drags him up to a stand.

Dustin brushes him off, and he shoos the redhead away with a flick of his hand. He yanks on the strings of his hoodie then, mindlessly pulling them tighter so the material gathers around his neck. "I did it for you, you assholes," he mutters, puppydog-like, "It's not my fault the burnouts have terms and conditions."

"You're a fucking idiot." Max tells him, but she's unable to hold back a bemused snort. She wraps an arm around her boyfriend's shoulders, waits for Lucas to grip her waist in return before leaning her head against his arm. "But at least you're too spaced out to drive so we won't have to ride in your death trap of a car."

"Today was bad enough with Will becoming a pyromaniac." El voices, earning an eye-roll from her brother. She pushes up on the hood of Mike's car to grip his shoulders then, seeing as he was stood in front of her. "Piggyback me down?"

He places his hands over hers, hoisting her up onto his back with a smile, "Always."

El moves to stand up on the hood then, tightening her hold on Mike's shoulders as her legs wrap around his frame. He places his hands on her calves, keeping her steady as she hops onto his back with a huff.

"So much for hiding your relationship," Will jokes, and he jabs the cap of his permanent marker back into place before holding up his palm, "Look."

(There's a scribbled drawing on Will's palm, all black ink and thick edges. It's a sketch of El kissing an unidentified boy. There's a question mark where his face should be, but he's holding up a couple of Eggo waffles.)

"What is that?"

"It's you." Will looks up at Mike, shit-eating grin on his face. "See?"

Max pulls Will's arm toward her and Lucas then, eyes widening as she gasps, "Cute. You even got his gangly arms right!"

"Shut up."

El slides her arms around her boyfriend's neck, crossing her ankles around his front. "Ignore him." She pats his chest comfortingly, sighing, "He's a traitor."

"How? I told one person—a trustworthy person, no less—the truth. At least I'm not the one who told a cheerleader."

Mike throws a hand up defensively then, "That was an accident," he points out. "She found us."

"Kinky." Lucas smirks, "Seriously though, man, you could've just not hid out in the girls' room."

"That was my idea. I thought it would be safe." El admits with a blank expression. She chews a bottom lip for a second, "Stupid, really."

"Not entirely," Mike cranes his head to look back at her, tightening his grip on her legs, "It turns out we weren't the only ones with a secret." He shoots Dustin a knowing look.

"What?" Dustin's nostrils flare, and he eyes his friend skeptically, "What is that look? I don't know that look."

Mike smiles over at him, hands moving up grab El's knees as he wriggles his shoulders, "Jennifer Hayes totally has a crush on you."

"Wait—" Dustin moves to place a single palm flat against Mike's chest then, staring down at the ground as he takes in the information, "Are you being serious?" He asks, eyes closing, "or is this like that time you guys told me Stacey wanted me?"

The black-haired boy quirks a brow, casually shrugging as Dustin takes a step back as though he's truly floored by the news, "No, that was a joke." Mike explains with a tilt of his head, "Jennifer really likes you, she told me herself."

Dustin throws his hands up then, and he walks around in circles for a second before he stops and wriggles his fingers in Max's face, "I told you she wanted me!" He bounces up on his feet, fingers still moving, sneakers shifting the gravel beneath his soles, "I knew it!"

The redhead pulls her face, flipping him off with a smirk, "She probably just wants in on your extensive hairspray collection. You know how those girls are."

"Just because you don't like anyone outside of the five of us."

"Who says I even like you?" Max tries him, a challenging look on her face.

Dustin slowly starts backing it up, "You're a fraud! Lucas, you're dating an imposter." He wags a finger toward the girl, eyeing the bandana on his friend's head. He walks back into the front of a car then, quickly reaching down to rub the back of his knee. "She's a phoney!"

"Oh, boo-hoo."

Zoning out, El nuzzles her head into the crook of Mike's neck. "Mike?" She presses her lips against his throat sweetly, whispers, "you got any snacks in that backpack?"

Lucas's eyes widen, "Is that code?"

Purposely ignoring him, Mike makes his way around to the side of his car. He bends down to lower El to the ground. She jumps down, but her hands remain against Mike's back as he yanks the side door open.

Backpack pulled up from off of the floor into the passenger seat, Mike makes quick work of unzipping it and retrieving a cling-wrap-covered stack of chilled waffles. There's four of them messily wrapped-up, and he turns around to place them in El's hands affectionally with a smile.

Having skipped out on lunch, El beams up at him, "Thank you." She pushes up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, eyes closing momentarily. Then she's tucking in and unwrapping the food.

"I don't how you can eat them like that," Mike leans back against the door, having just closed it. He jingles his car keys, eyeing the Eggo waffles with a knit of his brows. "They need heating up."

El shakes her head, humming as she tears into the first one, "Nope," she mumbles after swallowing a bite, "they're perfect like this."

"You're only saying that because they're his." Max interjects.

The brunette shrugs, a sheepish grin on her face, "Half true." She beams up at her boyfriend, melting into him when he pulls her into his side and kisses her forehead adoringly.

"Gross."

Will coughs, "Jealous."

"As is, like, half of our grade." Lucas throws in.

"Shocking statistic, really, given half of them don't even know who Mike is, much less his well... alias." Max crosses her arms, "How long until we can leave, anyway? You know, since the school actually didn't burn down." The redhead reaches down to swipe her backpack up from off of the ground, swinging it over her shoulder.

"Shouldn't we head back to class?" El rasps, throat full of waffle that she tries to swallow down, hand pressed up against her mouth in modesty, "Like everyone else already did."

"No?" Max shrugs, and she shoots the youngest boy a knowing smirk, "We can't let Will's hard work go to waste. Afternoon at Benny's anybody?"

Will tilts his head to the side, considering. Then he nods, adjusting the strap of his satchel and pulling open the big flap, "Wait, did you want me to actually burn it down?" He stuffs his marker into the front pocket, laughing, "Or are you just jealous that you didn't think of it first?"

Max clears her throat, and she grabs Lucas' hand to pull him along as she starts to walk backward, towards her own car near the staff parking lot. "Just let us in on your schemes next time, Byers."

"If he did that, he wouldn't be the weird one." Lucas teases, amicably laying a hand on Will's back. "You need a ride?" He

Realising they've been walking away from Mike and El, Will glances back at the pair. Dustin's already gone—disappeared somewhere, and probably on the hunt for Jennifer Hayes— and his sister and his best friend are too busy staring at each other to pay them any attention; they haven't even noticed their friends' absence.

"El was my ride home so—"

"I wouldn't worry about her," Max cuts him off, backpack hanging by her fingertips as she shifts from one leg onto the other with a shake of her head. She stifles a laugh, earns a grin from Will in return, "She's got Waffle Boy."

Not a single one of them catches the girl standing off by the football field.

She appears only seconds before Max starts walking away, and she watches with a scowl, tugging on the bottom of her skirt, as three of the teens venture off in search of their own cars—and it's not the fact that they're leaving that rattles her. It's who they're leaving behind.

Because, right there, in the middle of the parking lot, is Jane Ives Hopper—her current rival for the school's attention. She's wearing those odd clothes again, all stripes and patterns, and light brown curls are falling from her ponytail to cradle her face.

She has her back pressed up against someone's car door while they rummage for something in the back, and there's a half-eaten waffle dangling from her fingertips.

The girl can all but watch as Jane shoves the food between her teeth, biting down into it, before she reaches up to pull the hair-tie from her curls and pass it to... Mike Wheeler?

(Wait...)

He slips the pink item over his wrist—the color clashing with his green top—and he leans down to kiss the girl on the cheek. And then he's pulling the passenger side door open again and Jane Ives Hopper is slipping inside and Mike Wheeler is smiling and—

Stacey gasps, then yells, "What?!"