Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello there,

I don’t know if this is good enough to continue, but I do have a plan if I do continue it. For anyone who reads this, thank you. I appreciate you so much. For those who have previously read my works on Tumblr, thank you and hello again!

A couple things:

This is an eventual Steve Harrington pairing, it will include a short relationship with Billy Hargrove, as well as some moments with Jonathan (they won’t date), and Eddie Munson. Young adulthood man. There will be drama, angst, little moments etc.

Also foreshadowing.

The reason I have begun with a Prologue is so we can get an understanding of Sarah, but once she loses her memories, we get to learn with her. We get to discover her past, react to the upside down, learn about her relationships with the characters and watch as she grows. I also double posted it on Tumblr as (Y/n) because I need thoughts on my readers there if I should continue. I have also double posted Chapter One, Chapter Two and Chapter Three on Tumblr too under the same blog.

I chose the name Sarah because it means Princess, and people call her Hawkins’ High’s Queen for some reason. She has a lot more depth than meets the eye, and we will learn about her as she learns about herself. She is not a bitch! Nor does she think she is Hawkins' High Queen she finds it cringe!

Please note she is a teenager until season three so she makes mistakes and may say cringey things.

Now I was originally Mileven but I have become more of a Byler fan, the proof is insane, and I eat up each discovery of each small moment every time. So, they will end up together, and as Sarah is Mike’s sister who knows, she may witness some tension. Even if they don’t end up in the show, they will here, I can’t wait for volume two!

This won’t just follow the seasons; it will also be about in between, because we need to witness all the drama.

Now the Prologue is typical 80s teenage drama at the end, her head injury is so silly but lowkey fits the vibes of the era. Feel free to skip, you just get insight into how she behaves before she begins with us. Chapter One starts with her waking up in the gym. The Prologue also lacks the depth of description in following chapters because she has grown accustomed to the way things are, complacent.

Also, she isn’t going to be overpowered, or get away with comments/decisions, there are always consequences to her actions even if we don’t see them yet. Visually I tried to make her very different to the Wheelers but otherwise clearly a Wheeler.

There might be smut in the later seasons, I don’t know if I will write any full blown but just in case, I put the tag in there.

If you can’t wait for Steve drama don’t worry, outside of season one to begin with there is quite a bit between season one and two but let me clarify. There is no cheating, except what Nancy and Jonathan do and Steve will still love Nancy because he needs that development.

Please let me know if you think I should continue!

As usual please do not copy or plagiarise any of this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here, and the (Y/n) alternative Prologue on my Tumblr blog as well as the alternative Chapter One, Chapter Two, and Chapter Three. 

Also this is my first time uploading anything on Ao3 please be patient with me, and let me know if I have missed anything. Like how do I even rate this?

Also at no point do I intend to offend anyone.

Thank you. 

Disclaimer: This if a work of fanfiction, and therefore scenarios (excluding scenes from the tv show/other cannon material), dialogue (outside of what is featured in cannon material) and Sarah Wheeler are all from me. 

Chapter Text

October 17th, 1983

“Hurry up, will you!” Nancy Wheeler says to her sister indifferently, ignoring how she jumps at the sound of her bedroom door flying open. School starts in half an hour, and although Nancy is getting a lift with Barb, she knows her sister will hate to be late.

“Get out of my room, asshole!” The eldest wheeler shouts, slamming her diary shut, glancing down a second to make sure the ribbon is between the correct pages before rolling off the bed and landing on her feet.

Nancy scoffs at that, “are you so lazy you can’t get up like a normal person? Jonathan is waiting for you.” Nancy Wheeler is no doubt gorgeous, brown hair just below her shoulders. Today she wears a purple blouse tucked into a beautiful cream skirt with lower pleats and multicoloured stripes around her thighs, it falls to below her knees. Such a beautiful skirt, Sarah would have bought it herself if she’d seen it in the shops – oh wait. She did.

“Take off my skirt you – you Orc!” Sarah shouts, grabbing her black backpack off the floor beside her bed. “You say I dress like an old lady and yet you wear my skirt,” she mocks her, deepening her voice, “you are such a hypocrite Nancy, eat my ass.”

“Ewwwwww,” Nancy whines, before yelping as she is pushed by her sister into her door on her way past. “Urgh!”

“You can wear it today, don’t get it dirty, ass wipe,” she holds up her middle finger behind her as she runs down the stairs, “also stop leaning on my door handle you’ll break it!” Nancy sticks up her finger in return, making a point to slam the bedroom door shut as she watches her.

Sarah Wheeler (or as she is known otherwise, Sadie) jumps down the last steps, swinging her heavy backpack in her left hand.  “I’m off!” She shouts, dropping her bag a few moments later to pull on her shoes and shove on her short brown leather blazer jacket. She spares a quick glance to the window, clear, orange leaves, no sign of a breeze, at the most a little chill.

“No, you are not young lady,” the tone of her mother is one she had grown accustomed to as a child, disapproval. She sighs, turning to her mother who waves her over to the table. There with Karen Wheller, her mother, as usual is her father, Ted Wheeler, a kind but complacent man who won’t signal his acknowledgement unless there is a tone of disapproval, injury or if a manager needs a talking to. Next to her mother is her littlest sister Holly, a gorgeous toddler with lovely blonde hair. Their mom like their dad is a brunette, although Sarah admits she isn’t sure if that is naturally, unlike Holly who is blonde and Sarah with her auburn hair.

“Sweetie, you will freeze to death.”  Karen smiles fondly at her daughter, who smiles back. Most of breakfast has been cleared away, they had finished half an hour ago but today Holly threw a fuss and is only eating now whilst Ted is hooked into a particular story. He worked half an hour late last night, he can go in ten minutes later today – at least, that is what he tells himself. The family anxiety comes from somewhere.

“Thanks Mom, but I won’t.”

Karen’s smile falls, Ted hums. “Ted, please tell your daughter she will get a chest infection.”

“You heard your mom, sweetheart,” Ted says looking up from his newspaper, and somehow, he manages to speak without his facial expression changing at all, “the cold will invade your chest, causing your lungs to freeze, then your veins until you die brutally from the Fall season.”

She grins at that, laughing before walking over to press a quick kiss to each of their cheeks. “Thanks, Dad.” Karen, although she does smile for the moment her daughter’s lips touches her cheek, looks utterly unamused as she shakes her head at her husband.

Sarah turns on her heels, an excited smile on her face. It is her favourite jacket, and she has a couple weeks before winter comes, it is only mid-October.

“Excuse me.” The tone makes her freeze in her steps. She smiles bashfully as she spins on her heels. Her mom gives her a look and by the time she enters Jonathan’s car she is in a thicker coat, brown wool with big black buttons that reaches her thighs.

“Finally,” Jonathan chortles with a wide grin on his face as she sits down. She grins up at him, smiling gleefully as she pulls on her seatbelt. His car is over a decade but its clean inside, and he takes great care of it, she wouldn’t mind this car in red, although the green is pleasing.

“Sorry, Mom made me switch coats,” she explains, pushing her backpack further between her legs as she opens the main zip before pulling out something wrapped in aluminium foil. When she looks up Jonathan is grinning at her, shaking his head slightly.

Jonathan and Sarah have known each other for almost their entire lives and have been best friends since the start of her last year at middle school. He is no doubt handsome, his dark jacket compliments him, and those rare smiles light up the room. “Well, it looks like it will rain later,” he averts his eyes for a second, twisting to put his hands back on the wheel, “uh, does, uh Nancy need a lift?”

She smirks at that, “is that why you wore this jacket after I said it suits your eyes last week?” His face falls, eyes turning dead, unimpressed as he turns to look at her. For a second his eyes flicker with something as he takes in her appearance. She shifts in her seat, smiling nervously.

“You look almost like you.” His brow raises and she scoffs before pushing him away, making them both laugh.  It is true, at least in his eyes. Today she is clad in high waisted flared jeans, which are certainly out of fashion for their generation, she wears a red shirt with a deeper neckline than her sister wears, with a burgundy belt. Underneath her jeans are a nice pair of brown boots. It is her hair that is the most her today. Today her fringe is blow dried and she wears her hair up and down with a red bow that Jonathan has only seen her wear on rare spring weekends. “The weekend did you good then?”

“Yeah, it did.” She dares not admits that she spent the weekend watching television with her dad and brother.

“So shall I pretend I don’t know you, Sadie?” Jonathan grins, taking out the key from the ignition. Sarah stops her struggle with her backpack, turning to him deadpanned. His grin widens, his eyes crinkling as he looks proudly down at her.

“I bring you a bacon sandwich – or as our European allies say ‘sarnie’ – and this is how you treat me?”  His face falls slightly, brow furrowing for a split second and if she didn’t know him as well as she does, she would have missed it. She knows her Jonathan though. “We had leftovers,” she explains as she leans closer, eyes and brow softening. 

“Oh.”

She’s lying of course. She knows how hard Mrs Byler works, and Jonathan too, although there is usually breakfast at their table, Sarah knows Jonathan is so generous that if dear Will was even a little hungry, he’d give him more of his. So, she doesn’t take the risk.

She tilts her head to the side, waving the sandwich in the air slightly. “Shall I eat it then; I’ve only had two.”

“Wait,” he straightens his posture, smiling slightly as he plucks it from her hands, “we don’t want you getting fat.”

She scoffs, biting back a grin as he gets out the car. She does the same, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“You –,” Jonathan starts, taking a bite from his sandwich, before continuing to speak with his mouth full, “are somehow listening to Bowie too much. I mean I love his music, but your impression is offensive not to mention like crazy inaccurate.”

Her nose curls in disgust at his lack of table manners. Boys. Before she can reply with anything other than her middle finger, she is cut off.

“Morning Sadie,” Chrissy Cunningham almost whispers, waving at the both of them as she walks past heading into school. She tugs on her backpack straps, same time as Sadie does. She wouldn’t say they are particularly close, but being on the cheer team has meant they spend a lot of time together, and Sarah is admittedly fond of her. Chrissy is everything she should be.

“Hi,” she returns, even quieter than Chrissy, flashing a quick wave.

What an idiot? Seriously she can’t even speak to people properly. Oh my. Internally she screams, fighting off a face palm as she slowly lowers her hand, turning back to Jonathan. He raises a brow, biting back a smile as he pulls his camera over his head.

“Wish I caught that.”

“Hello, Wheeler.” Sadie holds her eyes shut for a few seconds before planting on a smile and turning to right, shutting closed her locker. The school halls are bustling with conversation, the lights never failing to make her tense. Everything is dull as a school should be, plain lockers and floors. In freshman year she used to come in before everyone else, riding in to get here early, the first one in homeroom. She misses that.

“Harrington.”  There he is. Steve Harrington. The hair. The King.

The dick.

She loosens her shoulders, softening her eyes, “how are you?” Their eyes meet, her blue with his hazel, though he quickly looks away, instead focusing on her forehead. His smile is easy, his hair effortlessly cooperative and irritatingly thick and smooth. He has dark thick, long eye lashes with perfect unembellished skin. He has to look down to see her and if this were any other boy she’d swoon.

“Good, thank you, you? Um, look, okay so -,” he fixes how his right shoulder leans against his locker. He tenses, gulping, as it forces him to lean closer, and for a moment their eyes meet once more. Steve clears his throat, opting to stand tall, fixing his left hand in his pocket. He wears a blue and white striped polo with blue jeans that no doubt flatters him from behind. No jacket.

“You’re going to get cold.”

His brow furrows, smirk falling as his shoulders loosen. “Sorry?” They stare at each other for a moment before he shakes his head, “oh, right. Yeah, I left it in my car. It’s not too bad anyway.”

“So –,” Tommy H interrupts them, appearing from behind Sadie as he walks around to slam a hand on Steve’s shoulder, grinning as he chews his gum and meets her eyes. “How did it go with asking the Queen of Hawkins High’s permission?” He’s a handsome boy with gorgeous freckles but unfortunately lacks manners.

She smiles at that, shoulders tensing as she tilts her head slightly to the side. “For what?” Her fringe does not cooperate with this angle, making her regret not putting on hairspray this morning as some if it catches the corner of her left eye. She quickly fixes it, pushing the strands out the way and Steve seems almost transfixed, his gaze making her skin prickle.

Tommy notices the silence, and shakes Steve’s shoulder, “to talk to little Wheeler.”

Her false smile falls at that; she rolls her shoulders back as she shifts her weight to both feet. Steve leans away. For a second she doesn’t say anything, and then she wets her lips with her tongue.

“Stay away from her. You’re riddled.” She’s proud that her voice refuses to waver. She fixes the books in her arms, ignoring the way Steve’s mouth falters and the way his gaze hardens as he scoffs. She also ignores Tommy’s laughter and the snide comments of Carol as she walks away, but she hears it all.

“Can’t believe Saint Sadie put you in your place like that.”

“Don’t listen to her Steve, she’s just jealous because she’s too ugly –.”

Sadie's eyes fight to water as she walks over with a smile to her familiar green jacket clad friends. “Hey guys.” They turn to her and smile back, and their girlfriends tucked under their arms now revealed to her grin as the see her, pulling her into the fold.

“There you are, Sadie,” Jason, Chrissy’s boyfriend, gently pokes her shoulder, “thought one of the freaks might have gotten you.”

The first few periods are peaceful, History is fun, Geography fine (although it has been a dreadful bore since they moved her to the front), learning Algebra however is the most peaceful part of her day, soothing patterns. It is only in the Gym early that afternoon that it all goes terribly downhill.

Jonathan Byers is only out of his period for about ten minutes, or he is meant to be, the Yearbook want him to take a photo of the class doing Physical Education for their senior year, or something. That is why Sadie finds herself jokingly doing lunges besides her closest friend at the top of the bleachers. They are only unlocked so he can take his pictures, and although she had tripped almost twice on her way up, she is having fun. Like her classmates she is clad in Hawkins High’s grey gym shirt, and dark green shorts, now her hair is in a ponytail right at the top of her head, she looks great.

She feels great, or perhaps that is only because their teacher has left to go grab the pump for their sport balls so the class can all mess about for ten minutes.

Her smile falls as she watches her three favourite people sneak up the far side of the bleachers.

“Jonny,” she utters, stopping her lunges to straighten her shirt and pull her shorts further down.

“What?” Jon laughs, bent slightly as he leans on his front leg to snip a photo off her.

“You don’t want to be late.” She turns, smiling at him but he instead turns to where she was just looking. He groans as they come over, frozen with his camera hanging loosely around his neck.

“You say Steve’s riddled but what about our favourite Queer over here,” Tommy H jokes, wrapping his arm around Jonathan’s shoulders.

“Alright man, look, don’t say that –,” Steve starts but Jonathan pushes Tommy’s arm off, taking a step back, making Steve smirk, “oh, look who’s fighting back.”

Carol laughs, curling her hair around her finger as she continues to chew like an animal whilst her boyfriend holds his hands up in surrender, stepping back.

“Hear that, Wheeler, your boyfriend’s a Queer.”

“Don’t talk about your dad like that Tommy, show some respect.”

His face falls, lips curling as he flashes his teeth, “don’t say that shit. You might be Miss Popular, but I know what you are.”

“Are you going to start snapping your fingers and erupt into song?” Sadie starts snapping her fingers, her long legs beginning to dance as she begins to hum a stereotypically musical tune.

“Here goes the leprechaun,” Carol groans, looking up to the ceiling. Steve and Tommy both laugh at that, Wheeler halts in her dancing.

“Wow, you are so clever, now why did you choose the profession of being a whore?” It is a very low blow, Sarah knows most do it because they have to, but unfortunately like all humans, wounded she has struck out like an animal.

Tommy H and Carol’s faces harden, and she can’t deny the primitive glee she feels at the sight. Voices gasp from below, and unbeknownst to them a small group had gathered at the bottom of the bleachers to watch.

“What did you just say?” Carol’s eyes are wide, jaw loose, and Sarah feels the familiar churning in her gut, the self-despise and guilt.

“I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” She talks with her hands, almost holding them in surrender. “That was a bitch move, I’m sorry, I’m sure you’ve only been with Tommy, everyone knows that, I’m sorry.”

She sees Tommy smirk, taking his hand off his girlfriend’s back just as Carol smirks too. She has fallen right into their trap.

“You’re so sad, I can’t believe you’d think you could ever -,” Carol starts just at the same time as Sadie speaks.

“Steve’s the whore. He’s more riddled than his dad.” She drops her left hand in surrender to point right at him. Mr Harrington isn’t known for his fidelity. Four years of his egotistical overbearing presence has apparently gotten to her.

Jonathan chokes on air at that, and the group below begin to loudly laugh. Even Tommy H laughs a little.

Steve’s jaw drops, and the girl opposite her laughs, turning around to gently cup his chin, “aww is little Steve hurt.”

“Come on man, we all know what your dad is like.” Tommy continues, and a giant pit forms in the bottom of her stomach. This wasn’t meant to happen. How did this happen? As teenagers do, they had taken it too far.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” Carol turns around so fast Sadie’s surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. “Don’t tell me you’re soft for Steve.”

Her brows raise, a smile on her face as she changed her tone to one of speaking to a child, “even if I was. It’s not too bad. I mean, you got soft for your first cousin and now you’re dating.”

Carol doesn’t hesitate to push her, but she doesn’t stumble back. Having sisters and a brother to beat up makes it harder to be taken by surprise. “I mean, I’m right though. Aren’t I? That’s why you look so similar.” A sore topic as she may have started that rumour in Sophomore year when they called Jonathan a slur, explaining that is why they look and act so similar. Whoopsies.

“LIAR!” Carol yells pushing her backwards, unfortunately despite Jonathan being ready to stop her fall, God punishes Sarah as she happens to be tilting sideways, weight on her left food smugly. Of course, her ankle buckles, and twists and she plumets down the steps of the bleachers. Of course, she is punished further as gravity causes her to keep plummeting, smacking perhaps every part of her body, and her classmates shocked at the body flying towards them and the loud sounds spread like the Red Sea. She falls on the side of her head.

Ouch.

It all goes black as the panicked voices get closer.

Chapter Text

“Sades! Sades! Can you hear me? Sadie?! Sarah!”

“Miss Wheeler, do not move, please.”

“Shit! Oh shit! I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t, baby, she’s breathing, she’ll be fine. Right, sir?”

“Sarah! Sarah? Oh god. Shit! It’s me, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

So many voices. There’s a buzzing too, but most of all a painful loud thumping in her head. Her sinus’ burn, her head and neck feel stiff. It takes a few seconds for her to feel the pain in her arms, a soft pulsing in her left leg. Everything hurts but nothing compares to her head, her eyes are welling with tears.

She groans loudly, and that shuts up all the voices.

“Miss Wheeler.”

Who?

“Miss Wheeler.”

“Miss Wheeler.”

Wait that’s her. She groans, tongue darting out to wet her lips. She tries to speak. ‘Yeah’ she wants to say, but all she can force out is a groan and a small sob. Her heart thuds in her chest, in sync with the pulsing in her leg. She wants to move, to dart out that leg, shake it to get rid of the feeling from where she has clearly lain funny. She must be in bed, right?

No. She can feel something hard beneath her side, very hard. What was she doing? Where is she? Her heart thuds louder, someone speaks, and then they repeat themselves.

“You’ve taken a fall, please don’t move.”

That would explain the pain. Slowly she forces her eyes open, and at first all she can see is light as the voice from before instructs everyone to move away.

Then her eyes adjust, head still very heavy. Several feet away is someone lying down, looking at her. A middle-aged man with a whistle around his neck which is laying on the floor in front of him. Brown hair, grey eyes, she feels no sense of recognition, she feelings nothing. So, her heart thuds harder, louder almost overtaking the thumping at the side of her head. Her toes curl, the muscles below her knee tense. The man notices this and nods to himself, pleased.

OH MY GOD SHE HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED.

She goes to jolt back ready to get up but then she takes a closer look, eyes looking up. There are teenagers standing behind him, no more than about seventeen. They are all clad in matching grey shirts that read ‘HOWKIMS AHYS. OD’ in green text, and dark green shorts with thick white sports socks and a variety of trainers. That can’t be right.

‘Hawkins’ she realises, that is where she lives.

“Sarah.” Her eyes dart back to him. “Please do not move. Do you know what happened?”

She goes to shake her head, but stops, “no.” Her voice is scratchy, she feels a deep urge to clear it, but she feels that would be the wrong decision.

His face falls at that. “Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

One of the girls sobs loudly, stepping forward, hands flying to cover her mouth. Her hair is a beautiful auburn like her own, but slightly less coppery. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” she cries as she walks closer and closer.  She has lovely blue eyes but not as deep as her own or as blue. She can only see the colour so clearly because she’s crying.

“Miss Perkins, stop!”

Miss Perkins jumps where she stands, the man (who must be their teacher) telling her something about possible neck injury, but Sarah doesn’t pay attention to the specifics, as she watches who must be her boyfriend walk over to Miss Perkins. Sarah’s eyes are instead then taken by a pair of empty hazel ones. He was stood next to Miss Perkin’s boyfriend. Her brows furrow, this boy’s face is very pale, taut, eyes very wide, the only movement from him is the slow rise and fall of his chest. Ironic as she is the one on the floor.

“Sarah.” A boy on the other side of the teacher gasps out, he has shaggy medium length brown hair which he is running his hand through. She feels a strange sense of recognition. Unlike everyone else he is stood on his side, braced and ready to come over.

“Miss Wheeler,” her eyes go back to the teacher, “You fell down the bleachers and because of that I am going to walk over to your head and place my hand on either side to stop you from further moving it.” She can’t understand how that will work considering she is laying on her side, but she gives him consent. Wait how is she still laying on her side? For a second she can feel the pulsing in her left leg again, it’s under her right, the entire of her foot wrapped around the back of the foot above. Her left arm, the side she is on, is trapped underneath her but slightly bent so her fist is pushing against her back, which explains the pins and needles. Everything is pushed just against its natural movement, perfectly trapping her in place.

Her eyes follow him until he vanishes from her peripheral, her explains his movement as he lies down above her head, gently cupping either side of her head but around her ears. Her eyes are forced to watch all the students.

“Can you tell me your name, please.”

“Sarah.” The shaggy haired boy’s shoulders drop at that.

“What about your second name?”

“Edith and Childress are my middle nam-,” Sarah says but just as she starts the teacher talks over her.

“Your full name.”

She frowns. How rude.

“It is Sarah Edith Childress Wheeler.”

“Good. What is your mother’s name?”

Her eyes widen.

“What is your mother’s name?”

She gulps, flexing her hands.

“Stop that,” he instructs, just as she finds herself beginning to cry, trying not to shake. His grip gets firmer, immobilising her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” she gasps out, chest beginning to heave as she struggles to continue, “do I have a mom? I want my mom.” She’s quite loud and can hear some gasps in front of her.  Sarah knows she must have a mother. But where is she? Why isn’t she here? She’s alive, she knows that. Right?

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” The man begins, and she can feel his breath on the top of her head and smell the cigarettes on his breath, she’d be gagging if she wasn’t freaking out. “You fell down the bleachers, hit your head and you are experiencing some memory problems, but the Doctors will fix that.”

Okay. Okay. Okay. That does make some sense.

She clenches her eyes shut, trying to calm down her breathing. Her body doesn’t hurt anymore, must be adrenaline. She’s hit her head, clearly has a concussion and that is why her memory is flaky.

“Stop looking at her.” There is the squeak of shoes on the floor getting closer followed by a gentle voice next to her and a warm breath, “hey, hey, shhh, shhh, will you open your eyes for me? I am right in front of you.” She does so, and it is the shaggy haired boy from before. Now he is closer she can see his brown eyes, and his sharp jawline. He is handsome. His eyes search hers, no longer welled up with tears, but his cheeks are wet. Her rapid breaths slow slightly when he smiles at her. “Do you know who I am?” He coaxes.

“No. I’m sorry.” She bites back a sob, chest heaving. How was she so calm before? Seriously, what is she a child? One mention of her mom and she turns into a baby.

He fights himself from biting his bottom lip as he shakes his head, smile dropping with his shoulders. If she were anyone else, she mightn’t have noticed that because then he is smiling again, “shhh, that’s okay.” He raises his left hand, and hovers over her side before flexing it, looking up at the teacher.

He looks back down at her, “I’m Jonathan.” Good name. “And I need you to breath with me. Can you try that?”

Soon enough he succeeds, her breathing slows down, and he is instead lying in front of her, leaning on his hand. “See you did it in the end.”

She smiles slightly, “are you… my friend?” She gulps, hoping she isn’t embarrassing herself, otherwise it will be very awkward once she remembers him. If she wasn’t so drowsy she is pretty sure she wouldn’t ask such a soft question.

The corner of his smile quivers and he nods as much as he can from his angle. “Closest.”

She grins at that, and he can’t help but return it. “I’m glad, you’re pretty cool.”

He laughs at that, deeply, but not loudly and she realises he must be like her, enjoy keeping to herself, staying away from people. “I am most certainly not cool.”

“Well, I think you are. You came over to me when everyone else was just watching like I’m a freakshow.”

“You are not a freak,” he’s earnest in the way he speaks, it makes her cheeks flush slightly as he looks into her eyes, digging for the depths of her soul.

They don’t get to continue because then the sound of an ambulance gets louder and louder, before the screech of tires stop behind her outside, and the fire exit doors fly open. There is the metallic clatter of multiple pairs of feet jogging over, and the teacher almost shakes her head from his relief as he sighs before explaining what happened. Jonathan also speaks and for a second, she’s scared. Then the pairs of feet stop several metres away before walking around. They wear light blue button-up shirts and dark blue trousers. Once they reach in front of her, they announce their names, stating why they are here before walking over.

They take the lead and soon she has a cervical collar and other things before being log-rolled onto a backboard with help from gym teacher. The paramedics ask her questions throughout and because of that she isn’t scared any more than she is.

Her breathing becomes more rapid as they strap her in, and she reaches out her left hand as much as she can before the paramedic called Jim straps her wrist down. Thankfully Jonathan’s face appears above her followed by the gentle clasp of his hand over hers. There’s a quick shooting pain, but she doesn’t mind. She audibly sighs and smiles but then it is gone as quickly as it appeared as the paramedics work together to lift the backboard.

She yelps out and another paramedic called Richard coaxes her, gently explaining they are moving her to the ambulance, to go to the hospital where her parents will meet them.

The air gets cooler and she can hear the footsteps of the teacher, as well as the slight worried drag of Jonathan’s following them. She doors are kept open with a brick, a stool, something she can’t see.

From the very corner of her eye to her right she can see a gathering of students who aren’t dressed as the others were, in the gym uniform, instead they are in a variety of blurred colours. They lift her in.

“SARAH?!” A voice shouts out, a voice she doesn’t recognise but it still pulls at her heartstrings. It makes her eye well. Why?

“Nancy, wait.” She hears Jonathan say, followed by an oomph noise.

“Wh-whats going on? Get off me!” He makes another noise, and Sarah can only presume this Nancy has pushed him out of the way.

Jim the paramedic’s face disappears from above her, followed by his voice calling out, “everyone please step away and clear a path.” Then he slams the doors shut.

The voice of that Nancy is cut off, but as they begin to drive Sarah can hear her muffled shouts fading away. She’s shouting her name.

Everything is loud, the material of the towels and the cervical collar make her skin tingle. When they arrive, she is handed over and taken to a trauma room, the lights hurt her brain. She tried to get a nap on the way there, but Richard wouldn’t let her.

They mention no parental arrival yet, and how head injury takes precedence, and qualifies for treatment without consent. She gets assessed, checked, and even an x-ray. Then she is wheeled in for a CT scan, which is awful.

She’s then taken upstairs and wheeled into a room with a bunch of other children. Sicker children. It scares her. She shouldn’t be scared, but still her throat gets caught, her hands quivering. She expects her parents to be waiting, but then they aren’t. So, Bertha, a very nice nurse sits besides her bed and holds her hand as she silently cries.

“Take me to our daughter!” A very angry woman’s voice shouts out from down the corridor, followed by an equally angry voice of a man.

“I want to speak to your superior, you said our daughter is being scanned, it has been over an hour. Where is she?”

Both voices feel familiar, but Sarah tries not to get her hopes up as her fists clench and she tries to turn her head.

The voices speak followed by footsteps before they stop at the doorway of her room. Bertha says goodbye, giving her right hand a squeeze before walking away to talk to the three. Sarah’s had hangs in the air.

A stupid curtain blocks her view so she can’t see them until they come around. They are with her doctor. The woman has light brown blow-dried hair, brown eyes and if she is her mom she looks younger than she must be. She wears a blue jumper and blue jeans. The man has short brown hair with brown eyes, he wears a tan jacket over a light blue button up, navy tie and black trousers. Both look so terrified.

Then the lady walks over, the man clasping a hand over his mouth as he stumbles back slightly. The lady walks over to her other side, where her arm is not in a sling, and puts a hand on the side of her shoulder, the right taking her hand and squeezing it, tears in her eyes.

“Oh, my baby.”

Sarah smiles slightly, “are you, my mom?”

The woman cries out, and the man quickly walks over to wrap his arms around her chest from behind, pulling her tightly against him. Still ‘Mom’ does not let go of her hand.

“Yes, sweetie, this is your mom, and I am your dad,” the man says with a firm smile.

“Oh,” she says with a smile, “I’m sorry. But the teacher said it will come back soon, so don’t worry. The Doctors will fix me.” She smiles, and her mother’s eyes soften as she steps even closer to now clasp both her hands over her daughter’s.

“Of course they will.”

For a moment it is just the lights above them, the pale blue curtains and scratchy sheets and hospital gown as she looks at her parents. They’re beautiful. However, whilst she stares at them, they can’t stop looking at her injuries; her bruised legs, left arm in a sling, propped up left leg, and the bandage around her head to cover the stiches.

“About that,” the doctor starts, and they turn to him. He’s in his late fifties, grey hair, and hard eyes. “We have ran an X-ray and CT scan.”

“And – what did they say?” Sarah’s mom says just as her father asks the same question.

“Thankfully there is no spinal injury, not even a broken bone.”

Her mom gasps in relief, leaning back into her husband as she bends her knees, whispering a prayer to the heavens. Her dad’s shoulders sag, hands moving from his wife, one to clasp over his heart and the other to wipe his brow.

The doctor looks at Sarah than and smiles, “she was very lucky.”

“What even happened?” Mr Wheeler asks, crossing his arms over as he looks him up and down.

The doctor sighs, “I’m afraid it appears there was a fight, and another student accidentally knocked her down the bleachers.”

“And how high up was my daughter?”

Mrs Wheeler looks at her husband, “what do you think, Ted?”

Ted glances to his wife, raising his brows, nodding towards the other gentleman, “I know, but I want to hear it from the doctor.”

“From what I heard she was almost at the top.”

That appears to be what Ted needs to hear as he sighs loudly, looking up at the ceiling, “this is what happens when parents neglect their child, not everyone is as hands on as we are Karen. Now our little girl has to suffer because of it. Typical.”

“Yes, it is unfortunate -.”

“And who was this classmate?” Ted continues, looking back down from the ceiling.

“Uh -.” The doctor says as Karen once more looks at her husband, eyes transforming into a glare.

“Seriously?”

“I think it was a Miss Punkins - Pumpkins – no, Perkins?”

Ted scoffs at that, “of course it is, I told Sarah to stay away from that punk, she and that boyfriend of her with Harrington’s son. No doubt Steven is the cause of this.”

Karen does seem to agree with him as she seems to think for a moment before giving him a look. Ted obeys and looks back to the doctor, raising his hand for him to continue.

“Yes, she has bruising, a sprained arm, leg, and of course that small cut on the side of her head. We did have to shave a tiny square of her hair for that, but it is covered by the rest.”

Both her parents look rather horrified, but Karen does remove a hand to put an arm around her husband as he mentions it could have been a lot worse, and most of the injuries were simple wounds. Sarah did not realise they shaved some of her hair off! So that’s what they were doing, taking advantage of her not being able to move. Now she can never show her face in public. (She has incredibly thick hair but that is beside the point).

“It is good, in that way, most of it is fixable.”

“What?” The three of them say in sync.

“After ruling out spinal, we initially thought she had a concussion, worst case some compression and maybe a temporary disruption to autobiographical memory. Unfortunately, although the CT doesn’t reveal any major damage, the symptoms don’t match what we are seeing.”

“What does that mean?” Ted asks before his wife can speak, but it seems to be what she wanted to say anyway.

“It means currently, as technology is, we cannot see the depth of what caused this memory loss.”

“So how do you know what is wrong with our daughter?” Karen almost shouts, panicked, and she only relaxes slightly when her husband puts his hand on her shoulder.

“So, she had an external head bleed, and a concussion, and based on her symptoms it seems that when her brain shook the Hippocampus and nearby areas took the brunt of it. This kind of memory loss doesn’t show up on our scans, the concussion is fixing itself but the usual reduction of confusion and return of memories aren’t appearing as they should be.”

“So – what do you mean?” The sixteen-year-old asks before her parents can, looking up at the doctor with wide eyes, heart thudding in her chest. When her parents and the doctor look down to her, she feels small, like a child.

“I am saying that your long-term knowledge is intact, you can remember how you look, your age, but not your school or the town ap, even your mother’s name,” Karen clutches her chest as the doctor speaks, “we want to keep you for observation, watch your symptoms. Memory problems can happen after any fall, and the part of the brain which handles personal memories can be affected even if it doesn’t appear in the scan.”

Sarah gulps, biting her lips as she looks up to the ceiling. “So – “

Her father speaks before she can, “this sounds a lot like guessing.”

“So will she get her memories back?” Karen asks, not even hearing her husband, grip tightening on her daughter’s hand.

“I am saying that is why we are keeping her in observation overnight.”  

Sarah gets taken to her own small room in the paediatric unit, her mother doesn’t leave her side (her father only leaving every now and then with lunch and regular drinks for his wife) until she has to go collect a Mike, and a Holly. Apparently, those are her brother and sister, as well as that poor Nancy who was shouting out for her back at the school. The plan is her mom will bring her brother and sisters after dinner for half an hour, then she will spend the night with her whilst her dad goes back home, eats the dinner left for him and takes care of the rest of their children.

Despite the mental breakdown she had – okay the couple of breakdowns – the afternoon and evening is quite fun. She and Ted Wheeler spend those hours decimating the crossword in a variety of papers. (Of course, she did confirm with ID and family pictures that they were her family before relaxing.)

“Mister Wheeler look,” she grins, waving the completed crossword excitedly in his face. It had taken them ages to figure out the last word (this was their third newspaper) and finally she had. He had to write it of course.

His face falls at that but he quickly fixes it. He leans over on reflex going to ruffle her hair but stops himself, hovering. For a moment they’re both frozen, and then he sits back down, “I’m Dad, sweetheart.”

“Right, sorry,” she smiles bashfully, cheeks flushing. She knows he’s her father, he smells familiar, so does Karen but it feels strange giving strangers these titles. Sarah can’t help but feel incredibly guilty. Even though she knows it is out of her control.

“I still don’t get it; why won’t she recognise us?” The voice of a young boy asks from outside, down the corridor. Maybe this is her brother? “People get over memory loss like all the time.”

“This isn’t TV Mike, or dungeons and dragons.” A familiar voice responds, agitated. Nancy. Mike makes an indignant noise in response, huffing to himself.

Sarah smiles, giving the paper and pen to Ted who puts it in his lap and sits up, pushing herself into a better position with her right hand. This must be them, but there was another. Right?

“Now, now. Stop it.” The footsteps stop, now just a room away, and even though Karen whispers, she can still hear her. “As well as what I said about her forgetting some things for now, she also looks different.”

Sarah’s brows furrow at that. What could that mean? Did she dye her hair this morning? With everything going on she didn’t even think to look at herself in the mirror, as she knows what she looks like – there is also the fact she doesn’t want to see her bald spot.

There’s a pause, “because she’s bald now?”

Her mother sighs, “no, Michael, she has one bald spot that you can see only because the rest of her hair is braided away so the Doctors can see better.” Bertha did that, she hates being touched but Bertha brought in a radio and that distracted her as she shut her eyes to not see any of the other children. “She’s wearing a bandage anyway.”

“Well, what do you mean then?” She presumes he is shrugging, not that she can see, not that she even knows this child.

“She means her face is all hurt, I got a glimpse, and it was bad Mike,” Nancy lowers the volume of her voice, it breaks slightly at the end.

Oh. What was wrong with her face?

What sounds like a very small child, whines. It hurts her chest to hear it. She hears her mother shush her, as do her brother and sister.

She doesn’t want them to see her if they get scared.

Her father seems to notice something is wrong because he gently takes her hand in his own. She turns to him and he smiles.

“You look beautiful.”

“Will I scare them?”

He pauses, “no sweetie, if anything it’ll hurt them.”

“But I don’t want to hurt them,” she whispers, eyes welling slightly, and he squeezes her hand with a gentle smile.

“They know that sweetie.”

Sarah only looks away from her father because her mother announces herself as they walk in, “Sorry about the wait, Holly spilt her food everywhere, didn’t you baby?” Karen looks down to her youngest before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. She looks back up at Sarah, but her words get stuck in her throat as she looks at her eldest baby again, so her mouth just hangs open for a couple seconds.

Ted takes the lead, placing the newspaper on top of the others on Sarah’s bedside cabinet alongside the pen before heaving as he pushes himself off the chair. “Sarah, this is your sister Holly your mother is holding.”

She smiles at Holly but her back is turned anyway, looking over her mother’s shoulder at the plain walls. She wears an adorable little blue jacket from what Sarah can see and bright red tights.

“This is your brother Michael; he is twelve years old.” A black head of hair peaks around the corner paired with pale skin and adorable brown wide eyes. He seems to gulp before stepping fully inside.

He slowly walks over, waving a hand, “hi,” but he doesn’t take his eyes off the ground.

“Hi,” Sarah smiles at him, praying that he looks up at her and isn’t scared. He doesn’t look up.

“Son.”

Mike doesn’t move at his father’s words.

Karen coughs, and smiles at her daughter before nudging him, “Michael”, she whispers, eyes darting between her two children.

He gulps and looks up.

He doesn’t look scared, his eyes widen a little bit, but otherwise he furrows his brows, “seriously. She doesn’t even look that bad, Nancy.”

His sudden smile turns to a grin as he slides between his father and the bed before plonking down in what was his dad’s seat, “I heard you got in a huge fight,” he leans forward, elbows on his knees, “is that mouth breather going to prison? Please say yes.”

Her smile widens but before she can respond, he continues with his questions, “did you hit her too? Like a superhero? I hear you flew like a superhero.” He snorts.

Karen reaches over to clip him over the shoulder gently, “Michael!”

He holds his hands up in surrender, grinning whilst his father shakes his head behind him, walking around to stand besides his wife and youngest.

“Alright, alright. My bad. I’m sorry you hit your head,” his smile falls for a second, and he leans closer but straightens his back, “do you have internal bleeding? Are you going to die?” He enunciates the last question and Ted sighs.

Sarah’s eyes widen, “I hope not.” She looks away from her brother to her mother, “Missus Wheeler, I don’t have internal bleeding, do I? Am I gonna die?”

Mike’s frown deepens, brows furrowing and he leans back, sitting to attention.

The corner of Karen’s lips downturn for a split second but then she smiles, “no sweetie, of course not. And I’m Mom.”

“I tried telling her that, Karen,” Ted shakes his head slightly.

There’s an awkward pause as everyone looks at each other before Sarah and Ted speak at the same time.

“I had to wear an eye patch for a little bit.”

“Are you ready to meet Nancy?”

Mike’s eyes widen at what she says, head snapping back to see her, a wild grinning coming across his face as he gasps excitedly. “No way,” he whispers to himself.

Sarah apologies to Ted but he waves his hand in dismissal, “yeah, I am ready, I don’t want her to be kept waiting.”

Karen keeps smiling, and Ted nods before clearing his throat, “Nancy, please can you come in… This is your sister Nancy, she is fifteen years old, sixteen in December. You are Irish twins.” Ted lets out a little chuckle to himself.

Everyone, even Holly looks over at the door, but no one is there. The blinds are shut so they can’t even see out in the corridor to check.

“Nancy.” Ted calls again. Then Karen does.

“Ted,” Karen sighs sadly, quickly passing over Holly into her husband’s arms before saying she’ll go find Nancy.

Ted, Mike, and Sarah, all give each other the same awkward smile.

Of course, Holly decides this is the perfect time to look behind her, and upon seeing her sister’s face her eyes widen in horror. Ted begins to gently rock her on his hip, but Holly is already on the move, and she begins to cry.

Both Mike and Sarah’s smiles fall, and the eldest looks away in shame, eyes welling.

Mike glances at her and frowns before looking back to his dad, “get her out of here, you’re making Sarah cry!” He almost shouts, and for some reason Ted doesn’t comment on his attitude and instead continues to rock Holly, slowly walking out of the room.

For a second the two Wheelers listen to the cries of their little sister as she gets further down the corridor until finally, it’s a distant noise of the hospital.

“I think you look cool, like a superhero.” Mike says, causing Sarah to turn to look at him.

“I don’t think I’m one.”

Mike hums then nods, “that means you are definitely a superhero.”

Sarah gives a lopsided smile towards him, before looking back down in her lap.

“Here,” Mike says after some loud thumbling, as he drops a bedpan on her lap. She immediately gags and she turns to him, deadpan. “Now you can look at yourself.” Sarah glances over to Karen’s handbag on the chair which probably has a compact mirror, but then she looks back to her brother and sees his smile.

“Thank you.” Trying to fight off internal thoughts of cross-contamination and the possibility of the germs killing her or making her diseased, she picks the clean bedpan up and turns it in her hands so the back if facing her.

From her contorted reflection she can see she has a huge purple bruise that just stops below the bag of her eyes on her left side, there’s also a bruise on her neck, and she angles the pan to see it spreads to behind her ear. The bruise on her cheek ends on the left side of her nose, and there is a lump on the side of her chin.

She recoils, and Mike frowns.

“Don’t – “

“Am I adopted?” She says at the same time, turning to him. There’s a pause before they both begin to giggle. “I’m just saying, I don’t look like the rest of you.”

“You look just like your grandmother,” Karen states as she comes in with a fond smile, they both jump at the sudden arrival. With a sad smile, she walks over and takes the seat on the other side of Sarah, taking her hand.

“Because we were so late, visiting hours are now over, so Dad is going to take Holly, Nancy and Michael home.”

“She doesn’t want to see me.” Sarah sighs same time as her brother shouts out.

“Bullshit!”

“Michael Wheeler!” The tone makes them both jump but still Mike keeps the completely dumfounded look on his face.

“What?! It is, we just got here and there’s like an hour left.”

Karen goes to speak but before she can the overhead speakers turn on, “a reminder that evening visiting hours end in five minutes.” She raises a brow in challenge with her son, and he sighs in defeat, shoulders sagging.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbles, “she has no toys, or teddies, she is going to die from fear or boredom. Maybe even both.”

“Michael.”

“Fine. Fine. Fine.” He raises his hands in surrender as he stands.

Michael stops himself from hugging her goodnight. Ted does come back to say goodnight, but Holly and Nancy don’t.

At around nine pm Karen Wheeler leaves the room to get some coffee and snacks from the vending machine whilst her daughter sleeps. It is not even a full minute later that there is a knock on the door. Sarah jumps, eyes darting from the ceiling she was gazing at in hopes of falling asleep to the shut brown door.

It knocks again.

They’re quiet but firm.

“Come in?”

Despite her caution being clear the door slowly opens, and bright light fills the room. The person doesn’t ask before switching on the light, blinding her momentarily, and once her vision adjusts the door is firmly shut with a boy leaning against it.

Shock boy.

She recognises him from the gym, but now he is clad in a blue and white stripey polo, with light blue jeans, a brown belt and a dark blue jacket over the top. She realises now, that he is handsome, as her gaze moves up his body. He must be quite a bit taller than her, and he has the most gorgeous thick brown hair parted at the side.

“Hey,” he whispers, before clearing his throat, and speaking louder, “it’s me.”

She watches curiously as he walks over to her, he has one hand in his pocket, the other holding flowers. Oooo, flowers. There looks to be three different types, she recognises one to be Peony’s, the other’s she can’t name (although she is certain she did not know before hitting her head anyway), they are pink, blue and orange.

She was planning to move away but despite her better judgement she finds herself gasping excitedly, sitting up with her right elbow, leaning her weight on it. “Are they for me?” Clearly, he isn’t here to hurt her if they were in class together.

He smiles, exhaling breathlessly, “of course they are. I remembered how pretty you find Chrysanthemums, and I also put had some Asters put in there with the Peony’s.” He takes out his hand to point at them, the blue flowers being the Asters, the Peony’s just pink, and the Chrysanthemums both pink and orange.

She smiles and sits up properly, leaning against her pillows and headboard, reaching over to take the flowers, nodding to the seat besides her as he gestures to it. The boy sits down.

She shuts her eyes for a second as she places her face as close to the flowers without touching them as possible, she inhales as deep as she can.

She sighs loudly, a large grin spreading across her face, her shoulders sagging. She thanks his kindness. When she opens her eyes, he is already looking at her, a fond smile on his face.

Her cheeks flush and she drops her arm, still holding the flowers firmly on her lap. The boy shakes his head, clearing his throat.

“I know what you’re thinking. Here comes Steve – Steven - at the most –.”

She knows she should say ‘excuse me’, but she can’t help it, “who’s Steve?”

His face drops, his brow furrows, “uh – an idiot?” There’s a pause as she tilts her head, nose scrunched, one eyebrow raised. “Is that right? Because I am even more of a jackass, not only a dipshit, I’m a – “

“Ohhhhh, you’re Steve,” she hums to herself. Not Steven Harrington, who her father spoke about, surely?

His jaw goes slack, eyes widening.

She continues, “you don’t have to apologise. I don’t know who you are, remember?” She jokes, referencing the gym earlier that day.

There’s a pregnant pause.

He closes his jaw, tilting his head to the side, and his eyes loosen, pupil’s dilating slightly more than they already are, “w-,” he clears his throat, “what do you mean… you don’t know who I am?”

His tone hurts her, makes her eyes want to well. It’s so gentle. How can a gentle voice hurt her so?

“Of course not,” she places a hand over her heart to exaggerate her next point, trying to make it clear she doesn’t mean to hurt him, “I didn’t feel anything.”

“What?”

“With Jonathan I – I almost recognised the way he stood sideways in the gym. It felt familiar, almost like an inside joke. Holly’s whines hurt my heart,” she explains, pushing her hand harder against her chest, “stuff like that. Like something I should know, at the tip of my tongue, a feeling of being on the brink of recognising something but not knowing.”

He pauses, his eyes strangely empty before he nods, “right. And let me get this straight -,” he looks back up at her, their eyes meeting again, “there was nothing when you saw me in the gym, and nothing now.”

She nods at him, and he sighs, exasperated.

“You’re not my boyfriend. I’ve never had one.” She’s pretty sure she’s never had one, never been kissed either.

He laughs a little when she says that, looking up at her, “definitely not your boyfriend, Sadie.” It’s the way that he says it that settles wrongly with her. Also, that’s not her name.

It’s fucking rude, and as much as she doesn’t want to, her fingers tighten around the stem of her flowers and she clenches her teeth.

“Then why are you here?” She doesn’t mean to be sharp in the way she says it, but something about his attitude there towards her feels almost familiar. “I know we aren’t friends.”

His eyes change at the last bit, recognition, and almost hope. “We aren’t.” He stands up, and brushes invisible dirt from his thighs. Her eyes follow his motion - great thighs, great legs – before she looks back up at him as he continues, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to tell you, uh, get well soon. We’re all thinking about you back at school.”

She raises a brow at the last bit, and nods, thanking him firmly again for the flowers and, “thank you for coming.”

“No worries, no worries,” he mumbles to himself before reaching the door. Steve turns around one last time, hand on the door handle. “I hope you get your memories back.”

She politely smiles, “me too. I’ll remember you,” she jokes. He laughs quietly, nodding to himself before turning away and mumbling something to himself again that once again she can’t catch. Slowly he opens the door, taking a quick peak left and right before quickly stepping outside, shutting the door behind him.

Two minutes later her mom returns, and says nothing about the now turned-on light, or the fresh bouquet on her bedside cabinet, she just pauses in the open doorway. Karen then glances at her daughter who is sleeping before walking in and shutting the door behind her.

Sarah isn’t sleeping. She can’t. She’s doing a good job of pretending she isn’t scared, but she is. She is so, so scared. What if she falls asleep, wakes up and everything is exactly the same? The same being that she can’t remember anything important. What will she do then? Will her family even want her still?

October 18^th, 1983

Against her will, Sarah does fall asleep, and upon waking up, she is very disappointed.

Same as yesterday.

Nothing.

There is a smooth hand gently caressing the top of her head, the nails skimming her scalp ever so slightly every now and then. It’s soothing, familiar, and she finds herself leaning up into it. Must be her mother. It’s confirmed when Karen laughs under her breath, continuing her motion.

“How are you feeling, Sarah?”

Sarah quickly wets her lips with her tongue, swallowing some saliva because her throat is quite dry, “same as yesterday.”

The motion in her hair pauses so she opens her eyes, they take a moment to adjust. Karen smiles down at her, “it’s okay, the doctor will speak to us soon.”

“Sorry,” she says, sitting up. Karen’s hand falls and she places it against her back, stopping her from leaning back as she uses the others to fix the pillows into a better position. Sarah thanks her.

“Don’t be sorry,” Karen says, passing a glass of water to her daughter who makes quick work of it.

The walls are still plain minus some inspirational posters dotted about. There’s a cabinet in the corner of the room in front of her, and a bedside table on her right. There are two chairs either side of her, with another and a little table in the corner. It’s mostly the machines around her which take up the room, and her bed. Opposite her is a clock, the hands pointing to 7:30am. Did Karen even sleep?

She does notice how her flowers are now in a vase (still tied up), a coffee cup besides her bed, and the newspapers and pen from yesterday evening are all now in a tidy pile. The jug of water has been refilled, as well as her glass.

Sarah tries to stretch, but forgets her left arm in the sling, making her groan in pain, grabbing her arm with her other hand. On reflex she stretches her legs, but a shooting pain travels up her left leg, from her foot to her thigh. At that, she shouts out, “Ow!” Karen doesn’t ask before pulling back the blanket. Her ankle is propped up, no swelling but when Karen goes to gently touch the tender area, she yelps out.

“This isn’t like when you’ve twisted your ankle before,” her mother mumbles to herself, and before she can stop her, she’s out in the corridor calling for a doctor.

He confirms that there is no fracture in the x-ray, not even a greenstick, and that would be the most likely as although commonly in children you can suffer for them until the age of twenty-five. Apparently, it is a mild sprain, just like her arm, and despite being on pain medication her brain is trying to validate a bigger reason for her memory loss than there is. So, as well as her constant migraine, she now has a throbbing foot. How does that even make sense? Apparently, the body works in mysterious ways, everybody is different.

“Now, looking back at Sarah’s early childhood history, I can see she was rather a withdrawn infant, with features consistent with minimal brain dysfunction and hyperkinetic syndrome. She also showed early learning difficulties, particularly with speech. Given her current memory difficulties, I would expect some of these earlier patterns to re-emerge when she becomes overwhelmed –”

“Hey!” Both the mother and the daughter shout out.

“Don’t talk about her like that! All kids go through it. And no one certainly said any of that to us, the teachers didn’t notice a single thing. Where is this even coming from?”

“One of my favourite books was a book on plants at four years old, dickhead. I was talking just fine, just not to asshats like you.”

There is a pause and then doctor hums to himself, looking at her before making a note on his clipboard, “I’m just reading comments on previous Doctor visits… well, at least you remember that. Should I presume, you can remember everything else?”

He’s clearly not amused with the way this little girl is giving him lip, as his own lips are pursed, eyes deadpan. Karen puts her arm over her daughter’s shoulders, both giving him the same fed-up look, but he doesn’t seem to care for the wrath of a woman. “Of course, she was withdrawn with a doctor constantly shoving a stick down her throat, she was always at our doctor’s, she was asthmatic.”

Karen is angry for her own reasons, but Sarah is mostly furious about not only suffering from memory loss, but now she has to dig-up the bits she does remember about herself, her facts, her faults. She tries to fish around for other memories about that, but she has no memories, just facts, and not anymore about her childhood.

“What do you think, Doctor?” Her mother exasperatedly asks.

Once Doctor Dick leaves, Karen does a few minutes later. She needs to ring the house, explain to Ted the doctor is letting her out at noon, and they will be home then, to be ready, or something. Apparently, everything is normal so she can be discharged, despite you know – the memory loss.

So, she purses her lips, crosses her arms and glares at the clock on the wall opposite her. Stupid clock. She may have no memories, but she has her own bedroom, with lots of books, and even her own telephone – at least that is what Karen said.

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the open door, actually giving a couple gently knocks. It’s Jonathan.

Sarah grins, pushing herself up even further against her pillows, wiggling. Today he is wearing a blue t-shirt, and his jacket from the gym yesterday with the same washed-out blue jeans. “Jonathan!”

In his left hand he holds a pink gym bag. He smiles too as he walks over, before plopping himself in the seat next to her. “Heard from the Nurse you’re still a little fuzzy up there.”

She scoffs purposely dramatically, sighing as she gazes at the ceiling for a moment, raising her right arm in the air, “that is what they say.” She turns back at him, “looks like I’m permanently scrambled.”

“Even more than you already are?”

The joke makes her laugh, and she realises they must really be best friends.

There’s a pause and he glances down to the bag he’s put on the floor beside him, then back at her, “your dad gave me this to give you and your mom, something about Holly throwing a fuss, and he can’t get her in the car to bring it himself.”

She nods, “makes sense.”

Another pause, “I, uh, didn’t want to put it on your bed because of your foot.”

Sarah glances down and blushes. Her quilt is pulled off the left side of her body, revealing her long (admittedly unshaved) legs where the gown ends at her knees from where they had the Doctor look. Jonathan doesn’t seem to notice the hair; he just looks over her injuries.

 She mutters a quick apology, and he tells her not to apologise for things she can’t control.

“Thank you for bringing it, but how did you even get up here, visiting hours for parents just started.”

He sighs dramatically, leaning forward in the chair so he can lean his arm on her bed, and his chin on his hand. “What can I say? It was a huge battle.” She laughs a little, making him smile. “No uh, I told Mom I’d drop off Will, and your dad gave me the bag at the front door. I just told them I was your brother and you needed these for discharge, that ‘our mom’ forgot them.”

“Smart.”

“The smartest.”

Another pause.

“Who is Will?” She asks, brow quirked.

His smile quivers momentarily, “uh, he’s my little brother. Our brothers are sort of best friends.”

“Because of us?”

“No, uh, they did that all by themselves.”

They spend the next ten minutes talking. His name is spelt Jonathan not Johnathan, she says she finds that weird, he said he knows. Mike has two other friend’s, Lucas and Dustin. He explains how Nancy looks, his brother and mom, even Mike’s other friends and their families, all so she can recognise them or at least presume who they are when she meets them.  

“Yesterday you said about being a freakshow, and I said how you aren’t a freak. Do you remember?” He’s now leaning back in his chair, right knee constantly bobbing up and down.

For a moment she is fixated on the movement before saying, “yes.” She definitely remembers that bit.

“That’s because, uh,” he pauses before giving her a smile with raised brows, “you’re sort of the most popular girl at school.”

“What the fuck?” She begins to laugh boisterously; she can’t help it. She hates people. What do you mean she’s so popular?

He doesn’t seem shocked by her foul language, and he begins to laugh with her, but gentler.

After a minute, and a slap to her own knee, she quietens down, eyes stinging. “Are you shitting me?”

“No, I’m not… You’re like probably going to be cheer captain next year.”

Her smile drops at that, eyes widening as her heart begins to thud, “you’re joking, right? I’m no captain.” Hell no, is she doing that.

“I’m not.”

“I hate exercise unless it’s a walk in the woods or a bike ride.”

“Yep.” He nods. How infuriating.

“You’re shitting me!”

“Honest, I’m not!” He sits up straight in his chair, “everybody likes you because you’re actually nice, and you aren’t a bitch to everyone.”

“Really?” Her brows are so high up they might fly away. She is definitely quitting cheer, because she knows she definitely hates it. Why is she wasting so much time on it, then?

“Well, there is one week a month – “

“Fuck off!” She shouts out, laughing as she searches for something to throw at him, but there is nothing.

Laughing, he throws up his arms in surrender, apologising between.

For a moment there is silence.

“Then why am I friends with a loser like you?”

He gives her a deadpan look, and it makes her grin wildly. This feels about right.  She bites back her grin before continuing, “if this is a teen movie, then why aren’t I with the football captain or something?”

“Basketball,” he corrects, “and it’s because your personality is where it gets – “

She gasps, grinning gleefully, flipping him the bird, and it makes his own grin widen.

At no point has Jonathan mentioned the little bald spot on the side of her head, revealed by her dozen or so braids from where the doctor took off the bandage. He’s acting like she isn’t in a hospital, miserable, and it makes her very glad. When her mom returns, she thanks Jonathan, and the two chat for a moment about stuff Sarah doesn’t pay a lot of attention to because now the curtains are open at the window and she can see the birds and buildings again.

She and Jonathan bid each other goodbye, no hugging which she is relieved about. She does try to look at his ass as he walks away but her mom catches her, giving her a knowing look. She doesn’t have a crush on him, but he is fine.

After another once over her body, and some adjustments and quick touch-ups they tell her she can get ready to go home. When Karen nods and goes to go into the gym back, she flinches and the doctor notices. For a moment he is actually gentle and asks if she would rather a nurse – but Bertha’s shift has finished. When she takes in the crestfallen expression of her mother she declines.

You don’t realise how humiliating it is being unable to dress yourself until your mom is doing it for you again. Sarah knows she has to smell a little, they didn’t bathe her, saving it for home, but Karen says nothing, even rolls some roll-on deodorant for her and sprays some deodorant. She doesn’t look at her chest, which she is grateful for and they forego a bra. Sarah doesn’t mind that; bras are useless and painful. Karen puts an undershirt on her with a white button-up blouse ending at the top of her hips, and a long grey cardigan. The left shoulder of the cardigan they don’t put on after putting her arm back in the sling, Karen just lets it hang over. Fashion. Her mom pulls on light pink tights and a cream skirt with lower pleats and multicoloured stripes around her thighs, it falls to below her knees. What a pretty skirt.

Karen doesn’t touch her hair except for her fringe which never falls perfectly straight anyway, there is always a little curled parting. The braids remain intact.

At least Sarah can brush her own teeth, her toothbrush having been put in there by her dad.

Apparently, she can’t get even one crutch because it is unstable with both her left leg and arm sprained, instead a nice male nurse brings in a wheelchair. He and her mom help her into it before he wheels her out, also embarrassing. Still, she is very relieved she doesn’t have to walk.

Karen packed the gym bag, adding in the newspapers and pen, as well as her own jumper from the night before, she wears a different t-shirt, a grey turtleneck. It is only when they are at the desk that Sarah realises her mother has another bag with her, it is large and clear. Her name is written on it. She can see her gym shirt has been cut, she remembers now, so no idea why that is in there. She tightens the grip on her bouquet from Steve in her lap.

Then she realises then that she mustn’t have gone to school in gym clothes, so they must be in the changing rooms. Hopefully she had no expensive jewellery.

When they reach the first floor she has to wait with the Nurse for a moment as Karen brings the car around. The Nurse is kind, Bob is his name and when they see the car appear in front of the main doors, he gently rolls her outside to the end of the pavement, parallel with the car door once her mom gets out and opens it.

Sarah thanks them both, and Karen gently helps her into the back of the car. Unfortunately to get in she has to go left side first, it hurts like a bitch but it’s a quick break from the constant thumping in her head.

Her Mom clips her in before getting in the car herself, but only after Sarah tried to battle and do it herself. Sarah quickly waves at the Nurse who waves back before walking back inside with the wheelchair.

“Here you go sweetie.” Karen turns in her seat after clipping in her own seatbelt, and she offers something she grabbed off the passenger seat.

Sarah gasps excitedly, “thank you,” and takes it. A Hershey bar, her favourite. “I hope these are my favourite because they taste good.” The joke makes her mom smile, who watches her expectantly. How can she have a favourite chocolate but not remember the taste?

The first bite makes her groan loudly. Pure delisciousness. She opens her eyes, nodding as she looks at her mom who smiles fondly at her. She raises a hand to hover over her mouth as she chews before speaking, “Missus Wheeler, if this was a man I would -,” her mother gives her a look, making her smile bashfully, “shake his hand.”

The journey isn’t too bad. In all honesty Sarah has no idea how long it takes because her mom keeps giving her snacks. She’s had Pringles, M&M’s, and even a Twix. They do talk, apparently tonight she was meant to have ballet in town, but her mom has cancelled that, apparently, she also has the dentist Thursday which sounds like it’ll suck. Karen explains she got her braces off last week, but this is to check for actual cavities, etc – the health of her teeth. Sounds like a bad dentist, but Orthodontists and Dentists are different, apparently.

She does thank Karen again for coming to get her, but her mother just shakes her head, reminding her she is indeed her mother.

When they pull up Sarah can see three little boys on bikes staring at her. Quickly she realises which one must be Will because he reminds her of Jonathan. Despite the three boys looking nothing alike, and dressing nothing alike, they all have the same loose jaw and wide eyes.

The front door opens, and Ted shouts something which is muffled by the car window, and the three quickly scramble to get on their bikes and ride away. She hears Mike shout bye to them, and that is when she realises, he is in front of the car from another door to Ted, waving. She leans against the back seats, staring between the gap of the front two just as Mike’s eyes meet hers and he smiles.

She doesn’t smile back because she can see her dad from her peripheral coming over, and then her mom gets out the front seat, so she quickly scrambles to unbuckle her seatbelt with her right hand before shoving the pringles can under her right arm, squeezing all her rubbish in her hand.

Karen opens the door with a smile but before she can shuffle out, Karen takes her rubbish and the pringles. Sarah thanks her but once again she is stopped from shuffling out as her father tells her not to move.

Ted bends down, and wraps his arms around her back, encouraging her then to pivot on her right leg and step out.

When they do make it inside – through Ted’s door not Michael’s as that isn’t the front door – she is ready for a lie down. Her head is thumping, and she’s groggy.

From the entry way there is a staircase, which goes right, going upstairs. Behind it is on the wall is an open squared archway which leads to the kitchen. Meanwhile on the wall left to the front door is two different archways presumably leading to different rooms, whilst on the right the open doorway leads to what looks to be a posh sitting room.

To the left next to the door is some sort of bench to put your shoes on, and Sarah gently lowers herself onto it with the help of her dad.

She does end up getting a quick tour of the first floor, there is a dining room, a kitchen, and sitting room, another place for sitting, and they have two tables apparently one for breakfast and another for dinner. Everything is connected, it’s pretty cool. Mike is almost excited in the way he points things out, he tries to get her on the lazy-boy, but Ted calmly stops his son saying it could hurt Sarah in her current state. Holly plays with her toys in the corner. No Nancy.

It makes her sad, but she ignores it, instead opting to sit and talk with Mike. “So, can I be a Druid? Say I was a human Princess discovered to be the daughter of another man – but my mother is the rightful Queen, the father the consort. What if I lost my memories five years ago and came across a group of Druids and became one. Oooo can I be half-elven, please?”

Mike begins to practically vibrate, “you want to play?!” He sounds quite surprised, which confuses her as this sounds incredibly cool so why wouldn’t she want to.

“Please can I be a member of your party.”

He nods excitedly before his face drops and he freezes, “I get a couple more campaigns to plan but after like the sixth for sure, I can get you in that one!”

Sarah smiles, “I can’t wait.”

Even Holly spends some time with her, although she mostly stares at her sister’s bruising.

Apparently, Nancy is at Stacy’s, which is what Karen explains when they eat their sandwiches and crisps for lunch.

Nancy is there for a while as by four pm she still isn’t home. That is when her dad helps Sarah upstairs so she can take a sponge bath. He leads her to her room, the first door.

It is gorgeous, pink walls, white metal bedframe with matching drawers and a standing mirror. She has bookshelves stuffed full and shelves along the tops of her walls. She has a Star Wars bedspread and white bedside cabinets on either side of her bed. She even has a wardrobe and a dressing table. Her room is huge! She gasps even louder when she sees her window and the little seat beneath it. There are so many things, but she lacks the mobility to go and nose as she sits on her bed.

She takes in as much as she can as her dad leaves the room. She has jewellery and perfumes in messy but controlled piles on opposite sides of her dressing table; she has two belts (one brown and one black) hanging over her mirror with a flowery scarf. Even her wardrobe is forced open by a green polka dot dress. Thoroughly lived in. Her bed is made, clean sheets as she can smell the detergent and on her pillow is a pair of pink button up pyjamas.

It is her mother who comes gets her for her sponge bath. She leads Sarah to a lovely white bathroom with the sink full off warm water. Her toothbrush is back in its holder, and there are a face cloth and sponge on either side of the sink.

“I’m going to help you into your underwear and then I will be outside if you need me, sweetie.” Karen does just that, and Sarah thanks her.

When Karen shuts the door Sarah’s shoulders sag in relief. She rubs the centre of her forehead with her right hand before using it to push off the sink so she can hobble to sit on the edge of her bath.

She sighs again, looking at her feet.

She sits there for fifteen minutes in silence, mind going crazy as she takes the time to digest everything, come to terms with it as much as she can in this short time.

She doesn’t realise how much time passes until she is startled by her mother as she knocks, “are you okay sweetie? Do you need any help? Are you ready to get dressed now?”

Sarah jumps back, almost falling off the edge of the tub and into the bath if her right hand didn’t suddenly grab the edge and steady her. Why didn’t she just sit on the toilet?

Her eyes drift over to it. On top of the seat is a dark blue t-shirt, a grey zip-up fleece and a pair of loose grey tracksuit bottoms. There’s only one sock from the looks of it, and fresh knickers.

She must have seen it, realised but not actually registered it.

She makes quick move of washing up, shoving down her knickers with her right hand, shaking it down her thighs and legs. Washing under her undershirt is the biggest issue as no matter how hard she tries she can’t get it over her sling.

She makes sure to tug on her underwear before asking for her mother’s help.

Karen is glad to help, and soon enough Sarah is downstairs at the dinner table eating with her family. Everyone but Nancy.

She doesn’t see Nancy as they eat their takeaway, nor as they all sit down watching the television. She doesn’t see her when her dad helps her up to the bedroom, nor when everyone comes in to say goodnight to her when they can. Her Dad ruffles her head, her mother kisses her forehead, and Mike gives her a very quick hug whereas Holly gently brushed her sprained arm.

It is almost ten pm, she knows this as she’s watching the hands tick on her clock besides her bed, when there is a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in,” she says, pushing herself up with her hand. The door slowly creeps open and from the darkness a teenage girl emerges into the light of the room.

This girl has brown hair, below her shoulders and it has a slight wave. She wears a pair of blue button-up pyjamas she she’s quite nervous as she steps inside, closing the door behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she quietly says, clasping her hands together as she slowly looks up from the floor. This must be Nancy. Nancy’s face doesn’t change as she takes in her sister who’s on her back. That is why Sarah doesn’t ask her name, just presumes it.

“It’s okay, Nancy, I hope you had fun at Stacey’s.” Sarah seems to make it worse, as for a second Nancy has a crestfallen expression.

Nancy then unclasps her hand, reaching into her right pocket to pull out a little tub, shaking it, “you left this at school.”

Huh.

Sarah wiggles up, so she’s leaning her back on her pillows, now sat up, and Nany places the tub in her lap. Now her right arm is free of weight, she opens it up to reveal a pair of retainers.

“Ohhh, thank you.” Sarah says, before popping in, pushing them in. It hurts for a second, but at least her teeth aren’t going to move out of place.

“No worries,” Nancy says, but she doesn’t move, just stares down at her sister.

Sarah smiles awkwardly, running her tongue over her top retainer. Then she notices the thing protruding from her sister’s left pocket, some sort of brown animal teddy.

Nancy gestures to the bed besides Sarah’s hip just before the cabinet, and Sarah nods, so she sits down.

“We fought yesterday morning.”

Sarah’s brows raise, not surprised at the likelihood of the situation, just Nancy talking about it, “I’m not surprised.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiles at that, “me too,” she says in a teasing tone, but it just makes her sister lean closer.

“When, I saw you,” Nancy’s eyes well with tears, “I couldn’t see you properly, and you weren’t moving, I thought you were dead.”

“Well, they had me pretty bound up, strapped down like I could run off.” She tries to make her sister smile, but it fails, and even though Nancy’s doesn’t cry Sarah knows she’s distraught.

“I thought you’d died hating me.”

Sarah can’t help but laugh, and on reflex she goes to open up her arms for her sister. Of course it strains her left arm, making her groan, so she just opens her right. “Oh, Nancy, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible. I’m the eldest right?”

Her sister eagerly nods, leaning even closer on her hands.

“Then I’m obliged to never hate you, aren’t I? Now come here.” Nancy doesn’t dive into her open arms, instead she gets up (much to Sarah’s confusion), and walks around the side of the bed. She doesn’t touch her, instead she sits down next to her. Nancy doesn’t even smile, just looks at her.

What is it with this family and physical touch? Though in all fairness, Sarah does hate being touched, that hospital visit was awful, the ER part even worse.

Nancy and her just look at each other for a couple minutes before Nancy gets up, quickly reaching in the space under Sarah’s bed to pull out a small brown teddy bear. She then pulls back the quilt and gets into bed, lying down instead of sitting up. Sarah goes back to lying down, watching her sister as she plops it on Sarah’s chest.

“Here. You need him to sleep when you’re scared.”

When Karen Wheeler goes in the next morning to check if Sarah is still breathing, and if she has seen Nancy as she has school, she finds the two girls fast asleep, ironically in the same position, but not touching.

Chapter Text

October 19^th, 1983

Once again Sarah is disappointed when she wakes up to find that her memory is the same as yesterday.

Yawning, she opens her arms and stretches, forgetting about her sprained arm again, making her yelp.

Someone sharply inhales, wincing, and Sarah freezes her motion, slowly opening her eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she shouts, jumping back.

“Sorry,” her mom says bashfully, Holly on her hip. Behind her is her father, camera in hands.

“Well, Karen, I had no idea our daughters even knew each other,” he says in his drawl, lowering his hands after a final snip.

That is when she notices the daylight. Although obviously not as bright as outside, the room is now illuminated with what daylight escapes through the gap in the curtains, highlighting the pink of her room. Her mom is in a beige turtleneck and some sort of dark grey waistcoat-cardigan sort of thing, she does not know the name, with dark blue jeans. Holly waves at Sarah who waves back, she is wearing a little blue long-sleeved dress and white tights. Meanwhile Ted wears tan trousers with a beige button-up shirt that has a right-breast pocket with something tucked inside. The three of them wear their own colour of slippers, her dad dark grey, mom beige and Holly pink.

This must mean breakfast time.

If her parents had not made sure that she knew she was not going to school the night before, she has no doubt she’ll currently be darting around, trying to pull on jeans, undoubtedly falling over, and injuring herself.

“What the?” Nancy’s voice calls out from next to her, and Sarah jumps again. What is it with this family and scaring the crap out of her today? Nancy’s hair is frizzy, and Sarah’s is the same – except hers is trying to break free from her braids. She watches as her sister groans, pushing herself up on her elbows.

“Mom? Dad? What the?” Nancy rubs at her eyes, and upon taking in her family’s appearance, she gasps, jumping up. “Shit, shit, shit,” she says, quickly taking in the daylight through the curtains, and the clock by Sarah’s bedside, before darting over to her parents with an excuse me, and shoving past into the corridor.

“Language.” Ted says, shaking his head at his wife before turning away and heading downstairs.

Karen stays. With a smile, and Holly still on her hip, she comes to sit on the edge of her daughter’s bed. With her other hand she reaches for Sarah’s hairline, before freezing and pulling her hand back. “We’ve got pancakes and Eggos for breakfast,” that instantly perks her up, “and I was thinking, today I could show you some family photographs, try to trigger some memories?”

Her mother looks so hopeful, and even though Sarah has a feeling deep down that it will be to no avail, she nods, “that would be lovely, thank you.”

Sarah is the only one in her pyjamas at the breakfast table; Michael is in a yellow and white striped long-sleeved polo, and when Nancy finally arrives, she is in a little pink blouse and pair of black jeans. They all look so perfect, like pieces of the same puzzle finally come together.

She had waited for her sister, unlike the others, and after glancing around wistfully at them all, she picks up her cutlery and cuts out a lovely chunk off syrup covered Eggo.

The doorbell rings, and she freezes, moments away from what would undoubtedly be the feeling of pure joy.

Karen groans, as does Ted who keeps reading his newspaper.

“Who calls at this hour?” Her father mumbles to himself, not making any move to get up. Hollys’ forkful of food is frozen in Karen’s hand, and when the doorbell rings again, she turns to her husband, brows raised.

“Are you going to get that, Ted?”

He looks over the top of his paper, meeting her eyes, before sighing loudly. His four children watch as he goes to the front door.

The doorbell rings. “Yes, I’m coming.” He mumbles something to himself before opening the door, bidding the person a good morning. His children, as nosey as ever, are all turned in their seats, trying to get a good view, and even Holly shuts her mouth, refusing the Eggo.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, uh, yes. It’s Mrs Perkin’s, Carol’s mother.” It is the voice of a woman, sort of husky, and Sarah realises she must be a smoker. She seems worried, but also cautious.

“I see.” There is a pause, and there is the sound of the door moving ever so slightly. Ted must be contemplating shutting it in her face.

“I am so sorry about what happened, you know what teenagers can be like,” she jokes, a strained quiet laugh follows.

“I do; I have two of them.”  Her father responds, an edge to his voice, but still the familiar drawl.

“Yes,” she laughs quickly, another forced one, it is quite ghastly to hear, “look, uh, Carol really wants to apologise, and she is in the car. I was wondering if –.”

“I’m afraid our daughter is unavailable at the moment, we’re having breakfast. But thank you for the apology,” Ted’s tone is more polite when he says this, the familiar balanced drawl dropping for a moment.

“Oh. I, uh, I understand,” there is a pause and then the sound of something heavy shifting and she sounds like she is smiling, “I made you meatloaf.”

There is a pause, and she presumes her dad takes it as he then says, “thank you, my wife will be very appreciative.”

A pause. Mike and Nancy give each other a look, and Sarah’s eyes catch Karen’s who seems to think it is the right decision for her to remain seated.

“Once again I am so sorry… how is she?”

“Doing as well as you can imagine. No breaks thankfully, we’re just hoping her memories come back.”

The woman gasps, and Karen smirks, mumbling something under her breath that looks a bit like ‘bitch.’

“At the end of the day though, it was just an accident.” Karen’s face falls at her husband’s words and she turns sharply to him, not taking it lightly that he is not being a little harsher the woman. As much as Sarah is angry, very much, and already does not like this girl, she knows it was an accident, and to be pushed she was probably being a bitch. Still, it does not mean it should be as easy as forgiving and forgetting. She knows she should forgive and forget, but she has a right to be upset - at least for now.

“So, like, does she not remember the fall?”

“She doesn’t remember most things. Including us.”

Mrs Perkins gasps again. “Believe me, me and her father are making sure nothing like this will happen again, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you – “

“Although it was an accident, Carol does say she pushed her because – well, Sarah did imply that she and her boyfriend were engaging in… incest.” She says the last bit hushed, but they still hear them and Michael laughs. Karen looks at him, and he quickly covers it with a cough.

Sarah gasps, covering her mouth with her hand as she fights off a smile. She can only presume they are not related and based on Jonathan’s information (which fortifies what she still knows about herself) she knows she isn’t a nasty bitch, so it must have been earned. She glances out the corner of her eye to find Nancy staring at her with a brow raised.

“What your family do is between your family, but in our house, that’s frowned upon,” Ted continues to wind her up, yet he keeps his voice the same.

“Well, we don’t that, that’s the point. Tommy and Carol aren’t related.”

“Of course.”

“So…”

“So, your daughter pushed mine down the bleachers.”

“She didn’t mean to.”

“Clearly. Otherwise, she would be in prison.”

Karen sighs, taking off the napkin from her lap, and she stands and walks over to her husband, stepping in front of him as he keeps his other hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Janet, for the casserole. We’ll see you soon.” Mrs Perkins utters a goodbye, but Sarah does not catch the end of it, because the door shuts.

Karen and Ted talk to each other under hushed breaths, and then her mom walks back in with a smile whilst Ted continues walking down the entryway to the kitchen.

Karen retakes her seat, picking up Hollys’ fork again, and turns to her children, smiling. “Eat.”

The clatter of forks and knives on plates quickly fills the room again and continues to do so when Ted joins them.

For five minutes or so, they don’t talk.

“Can Will still come tonight, please?” Mike asks, mouth full of syrup and Eggos, looking up at his mother expectantly.

Karen sighs, fork hovering by her mouth before she places it down, smiling softly at her son, “no, Michael, your sister isn’t in the right mind.”

Sarah frowns at that, “I don’t mind, I can eat in my room,” she turns to smile at her brother. She is already overwhelmed at it is, not to mention Nancy interrupted her crying session last night, still Michael should not have to suffer.

Karen sighs, “you shouldn’t have to. This is your home first, sweetie,” she turns to her son. “And Michael can go a night without Will.”

He groans loudly, “but she’s already met Jonathan. He’s his brother, it’s like basically the same.”

“Now, now, Michael, do as you are told. Your mother is right.”

Michael shoots around in his seat to look at his father who does not put down the paper, an incredulous look on his face. “Am I the only person thinking right now? This is bogus!”

Karen’s brows raise, and Ted puts down the paper just enough to reveal his eyes, but before they can speak Nancy does, “shut up, Mike. How’d you feel if you forgot us, and Will, and Sarah made you eat with Jonathan not even two days later.”

He shuts up at that, looking down at his plate, lips pursed.

“Thank you, Nancy. That’s not how I would have put it, but thank you,” Karen says, going back to her own meal. Holly starts eating again, and so do the others.

Five minutes later they are done, and just as Karen and Sarah stand to clear up, the doorbell rings again.

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Ted drops his paper on the table with a huge sigh.

“Ted!”

“I’m sorry Karen, but our children are not this popular.”

Karen shakes her head at her husband before walking over to the front door. Sarah gently lowers herself back in her seat, glancing between her brother and sister, both who have their brows raised already looking at each other. Still, they do not look that surprised.

“Oh, hello Barbara,” her mother sighs, opening the door, “do come in.”

“Thanks, Mrs Wheeler. I’m just here to get Nancy, but also my mom wanted me to give you these.”

“Oh, they didn’t have to, that’s so kind.”

Her mom walks past the doorway to the Kitchen, a silver tray of food, with a card on top and flowers in her other hand. “Nancy is just finishing breakfast.”

A face peaks around the doorway. She wears round glasses over her brown eyes and she has noticeably short thick reddish-brown hair brushed to the side. She has a slightly oval face with a soft roundness. Barbara gives a quick wave, stepping inside the room, “good morning, everyone.”

In sync, Sarah, Ted, and Mike say “morning,” whereas Nancy opts for a “good morning.” Holly simply waves.

Barbara clasps her hands behind her back, and awkwardly smiles, leaning her weight back and forth on her heels. She wears a blue puffy coat, a brown plaid high-neck blouse with a frilly collar and high waisted blue jeans.

Sarah tilts her head to the side curiously. She does not recognise her, but Nancy told her about her, and their long friendship. Her eyes meet Barbara’s and they both smile.

“Hello.”

“How are you feeling?”

They speak at the same time, and they both laugh slightly.

“Shit.”

Barbara chuckles just as Ted says, “language.” That shuts them both up.

“I’ll be right there,” Nancy stands, smiling as she glances between the three of them before quickly walking to and up the stairs.

Mike’s brows are raised as he plays with the syrup left on his plate, with his fork, presumably not getting up to avoid conversation.

“What – uh – did the Doctors say? Nancy mentioned your memory loss; I am so sorry.”

Sarah smiles sadly, “just a couple sprains, nothing broken. They said as they can’t see the damage on my brain, they have no idea when it could come back. They did have to shave some of my hair off.” She says the last bit breathlessly, wide eyes.

Barbara’s eyes widen, “woah,” and Ted clears his throat.

“Just a tiny bit though, for stiches. You can’t even tell,” she finishes.

Ted does not go to work that day, having taken yesterday and today off or something. Instead, he and Karen spend the morning with her going through old photographs. Family photographs, school photographs - some school ones though Ted purposely keeps away, which just confuses her.

It is not till lunchtime that their peace is disrupted by heavy and eager knocking at the door.

“Hey! Sadie!” It is the voice of a boy, one she does not recognise, and he seems pretty bothered. He knocks again, and that kickstarts Ted into action who huffs as he gets up.

“Please, Sadie.” Now she knows that voice. Carol Perkins. Have the people in this town heard of boundaries? She feels sad for a moment when she realises, she is the cause of this stress, she knows what constant anxiety is like and she would not wish that on anyone.

“Good afternoon,” Ted says, opening the door. From this angle she can see Ted but not Carol and presumably her boyfriend.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me, Mister Wheeler, is Sarah there? We’d like to apologise.”

“Oh, so you’re those punks from school.”

There is a pause.

“Look, sir, can we please let Carol apologise, and brush this all under the rug?” Tommy H charmingly says. It clearly does not fool Ted who leans back in shock at the audacity.

A car door loudly slams shut from outside followed by hurried footsteps that slow from a jog to a walk as they get closer. Then someone is talking out of breath, “I am so sorry Mister Wheeler.”

“Yes, well you would be Steven.”

“They didn’t mean to be so – look, Carol just needs to apologise.”

“We didn’t think anyone else would be in,” Carol tries to explain and Sarah watches as her dad sticks his head out the door, looking side to side before leaning back.

“Did you not see our cars?”

“Yes, well, uh.”

Sarah sits up straight, leaning closer to the sound. Her mother shakes her head fondly, mouthing for her ‘to leave it to dad.’

“You thought we would leave our amnesiac daughter home alone in a strange house?” None of them seem to have a response to that, so Ted continues, “glad to see you’re still the same, Steven.”

None of them respond.

“We’ll let you know when she’s taking visitors. Thank you for coming, and for the apology.” Then he shuts the door.

October 21^st, 1983

Sarah has learnt many things. First of all, she hates meatloaf – a discovery made Wednesday evening. She also has a bad poker face as she must of hid her discomfort very poorly because her mom offered her some of Mrs Sinclair macaroni and cheese, she dropped off immediately. She much prefers that. She has also learnt that she cannot remember the plot of most movies and books, which has been brilliant fun rewatching/rereading. She met Mrs Sinclair Wednesday – and she is wonderful – as well as Ms Henderson yesterday. So far, the only guests have been her grandparents, her aunt, uncle, and cousin Joanna, so no one else. She has had get well soon cards from the Hollands, Byerses, Hendersons, Sinclairs, Cunninghams, Carvers, Perkinses, McKinneys, Thompsons, Vicky Carmichael, Tommy H, an Andy, and a bunch more people from school. Poor Nancy had to bring a bunch home yesterday evening.

She figures everyone is sympathising for the freak, but it is still very kind.

Yesterday she had a half an hour phone call with her doctor, just to confirm her stiches were fine, she is not straining herself and if she had regained her memories. She had Karen do most of the talking.

Come Friday lunch, still no memories, and Ted has had to go back to work today, so it is just her and her mom; except, Karen has just left to go food shopping. Although Sarah’s sprains are feeling much better, she does not feel thrilled about the idea of walking around a shop for an hour, and neither did her mom.

So, she sits on the lazy-boy she has since claimed from her dad in the past twenty-four hours; she presumes if it were not for her memory loss he would be chagrined because he does not seem to mind, in fact looked rather relieved. There is an annoying advertisement playing, disrupting her TV, and she cannot be assed to go to the toilet despite her filling bladder.

She is cladded in grey tracksuit bottoms and a dark blue hoodie, her hair is now in four braids, still leaving her stiches bare. Even though she had a bath this morning, she hates the feeling of her hair which is slowly going to be getting greasy, all because of some stitches. Even her fringe is losing its pizzazz and is more like flat very parted bangs. Her bruise is calming down and the lump on her chin has since sunk and become a scar for now. She can now blow her nose without wanting to cry, and the constant headache is basically gone.

Someone rings the doorbell, followed by hasty familiar knocks. Still, she does not move. No abduction today. Specific rules, no answering the door to strangers.

They knock again, and there is the sound of something against glass, no doubt that person trying to get a better look.

“Oi! Wheeler!” Tommy H shouts out forcing her to look up to the ceiling and groan. Seriously?!

“I just want to talk.”

“Come on Wheeler, once it’s over you won’t have to see us again.” Steven Harrington. Gosh she really does not like this guy, at all. His very voice makes her flex her hands.

Not only is this annoying, but it is also humiliating. It makes her feel like she is in the wrong, like she is being a drama queen for not giving these bullies the time of day. They are bullies, and she has no doubt Harrington had an alternative reason for visiting her in the hospital.

“We know you’re there,” Carol continues.

For fucks sake.

“Come on, Wheeler.”

Groaning, she clenches her eyes shut for a moment before looking down at her appearance. She can’t see them dressed like this, and she does not want them seeing her stiches and bald spot, she can’t have people spreading rumours.

Do you know what else gets her? If Steve cared after seeing her in the hospital – how she looks – he would know she does not want to see anyone.

On the other hand, if she doesn’t see them, they will never leave her alone and no doubt make her sound like a bitch at school.

“Sades, don’t be dra – don’t drag it out.”

Oh. Fuck. You. Steve. Harrington.

She quickly leans over the arm of the couch and grabs her discarded dressing gown, throwing it over her head.

They did not go away for half an hour – only because her mom was driving down the street, now back with Holly.

Sarah would admire the dedication if they were not such dicks.

Dinner is delicious, Mike and Nancy talk about their days. Nancy aced her pop quiz, and Mike and his friends are buzzing about the campaign in their basement tomorrow. She is happy so long as they are happy.

After dinner, she excuses herself to her bedroom and drops the large phonebook before crawling up on her stomach. She flips through the yellow pages before stopping when she finds ‘Pe,’ there she runs her fingers across until she finds the ‘Perkins’ listing.

Leaning forward, she twists the dial on the phone, and once done, places it to her ear. It dials for a minute or so.

“Hello, Mrs Perkins speaking.” The voice is familiar; this must be the right house.

“Hello, this is Sarah Wheeler. Does Carol Perkins live there?”

There is a pause, “uh, yes, she does. Please give me a moment.”

There is some fumbling in the background, and Sarah takes that time to curl her fingers around the chord, crossing her left ankle over her right. She can hear some mumbling, hushed tones, then the fuzzy sound stops and Carol speaks.

“Hey, uh, Sadie.”

“Hi, Carol.”

There is a pause.

“Look, I am so sorry, I can’t believe, I didn’t mean to –”

“I know,” she says calmly, almost monotone before easing her tone with a laugh, “you’d have to be psychotic if it was on purpose.” Carol does laugh too, admittedly awkwardly. “I just wanted you to know, that I know it was an accident, don’t kill yourself over it.” Carol sighs slightly, and Sarah pauses before continuing. “However, waiting until I am home alone and knocking on the door for half an hour is not cool.”

“I knew you were in.” She is almost triumphant, but still gentle. Manipulative cow.

“Yes, I didn’t answer because I was home alone, you see. I’m not supposed to answer the door to strangers, let alone ones knocking full force saying they only need a moment, and to stop being dramatic.” Her voice is empty, she does not mean for it to be, but it is, and Carol pauses before speaking.

“I know, I am so sorry, they were egging me on – they could see how worried I was.”

She lets her finish before carrying on, “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know who my family are, I even forgot I hated meatloaf. Now, imagine waking up in a world where you only know you, and facts. Now, imagine the girl who you hear is the one who accidentally pushed you down the bleachers, and two rough boys knocking at your door, begging for a moment of your time… now imagine you are home alone.”

There is a pause, a fumble, and the sound of something clicking close to the microphone. Carol says something, but it is muffled, something is covering her mouth or in it.

“Sorry?”

There is more fumbling. “Sorry,” the voice is now clear, “I said, I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Clearly.” There is a pause before Sarah relaxes her voice, uplifting her tone, “just keep it in mind for next time.”

“Right.”

“Well, I hope you have a good weekend, and can you thank your family for the card, please?” She smiles.

“Yes, uh, I will.”

“Bitchin, I’ll see you at school.”

What the fuck? She has been watching too much television.

“Oh, uh, are you in Monday?”

“Probably not, because of the stitches. I’d say come Thursday for sure, at the latest.”

“Cool.”

“Cool. Have a good weekend.”

“Thank you, you too.”

“Bye.”

Sarah puts the phone back down on the receiver, and hums to herself before flipping backwards in the book, searching for H. She gives each arm a quick stretch, changing her balance for each, before leaning back down on her elbows, and reaching out her right hand. She dials the number, having found it, and picks up the phone, pressing it to her ear.

It dials but is quickly picked up. “This is the Harrington Household, Mrs Harrington speaking.” Do people not use their first and last names anymore?

“Hey, it’s Sarah Wheeler, does Steve Harrington live there, please?”

“Oh my. Sarah Wheeler. Little Sarah Wheeler? Is that you?” She is a young woman, middle aged by the sound of it, and Sarah can practically hear the glass of champagne she is no doubt holding, and the dark red lipstick.

“Yes,” she laughs gently, politely, “it is.”

“I heard what happened, I am so sorry. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe my poor Steven had to watch; it must have been awful.” She sighs softly, “Don’t worry, his dad and I had a word with him.”

Sarah bites her lip at that, twisting the cord harder around her fingers. “Thank you, crazy how quick life can change.” Her wallpaper becomes remarkably interesting, although the whole room is painted pink, the wallpaper her bed is against is a darker pink with white and yellow stripes. How did she not notice before?

“It is,” she sighs.

“Is Steve there, please?”

“Oh yes, though I must say I am surprised – STEVEN!”

Sarah quickly pulls the phone from her ear which rings for a second. Ouch. Sarah does not hear what happens next, too busy rubbing at her ear, having to pass the phone into her other hand. She only puts it back to her ear at the sound of a static voice saying, "Sadie?’

“Steve,” she says, smiling as she puts the phone back to her ear. “It’s Sarah.”

There is a pause, “how are you feeling?”

“As well as you can imagine, considering you basically threatened me.”

“Woah – I would not call it that –”

“Well… it felt like it, Steve. Why would you do that?” She does not raise her voice; her sigh gives away her irritancy.

Steve pauses, sighing, and it sounds like he rubs at his mouth and chin before his microphone clears and he teasingly says (except she knows he isn’t really teasing), “well you were dragging it o –”

“What is wrong with you?” Unfortunately, she is madder than she thought. She will feel bad later, but right now she feels pushed along, anger rushing through her veins – that is the only way she can describe it.

“What?” He sounds baffled.

“Were you neglected as a child? Clearly not enough because I have no – no idea where you get this level of audacity from.” He does not respond, so she continues, “you are so arrogant. Mr I am going to come and apologise to you, not elaborate and then come around a few days later after forgetting your entire life to call you dramatic.” She speaks in an extremely high mocking voice until the end where her voice becomes sharper, harsher.

“I – uh –”

“I am guessing you fucked up before, and somehow you have fucked up even more.”

“Wait – no – wait a minute –”

“Oh, I am not waiting for you Harrington. Because how can you be so sweet, and then an absolute dick. Seriously?”

“No – now – wait a -”

Sarah can hear her blood thumping in her ears and her grip around the chord begins to dig into her fingers. “You saw me: beaten, and what? You wanted your besties to see?”

He seems to have given up, because he just sighs loudly, which only makes her angrier.

“Do you want to know what your problem is, Steve?”

He sighs again, “please, by all means.” For some reason she can imagine him waving his hand for her to do so. “Let me know.”

“You are too busy making the wrong sort of people happy, you don’t care about other people. You are selfish, egotistical, and I am finding you very hard to like.” She is being mean, but she cannot think and she does not care in this moment.

He scoffs, “obviously.”

This time they speak at the same time, but he mumbles and she can only just catch it.

“That’s me.”

“You scared me just to jerk off Tommy’s dick.”

“- What?”

“- What?”

“I scared you?” He whispers to himself.

For a moment neither speak, and Sarah’s gaze falls onto her clock on the other side of her bed. Almost seven pm.

“What did you think? Two angry men and one over-eager woman wouldn’t scare me?” He does not respond, and after a moment she scoffs. “You don’t think, and you don’t care.”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“Goodnight, Sarah.” He sounds nonchalant, like he does not care, and unfortunately him saying her name makes her blood feel hot, and the hairs on her arm prickle.

“Goodnight, Steven.”

He hangs up, and for a moment she stays there, frozen.

Then she shoves the phone back on the receiver and groans loudly, flopping onto her back. Running her hands down her face she knows he won’t do anything like that again (or shouldn’t), but she regrets being so mean. She isn’t nasty. She isn’t mean – unless to her sisters and brother but that’s fair game.

Groaning she turns onto her stomach and grabs the pillow beneath her with her right hand before screaming very loudly. Despite one hand, it is still muffled.

Thursday, 27th October 1983

The weekend is fun, she meets Mike's friends, who are so adorable it hurts, like genuinely. She doesn't get to see Jonathan because he is too busy working, and Nancy explains she told everyone she was not taking any visitors. Sarah is glad, considering it does take a while for the bruises to fade to a nicer shade, and she doesn't get her stitches out until Tuesday. That shower after the stitch removal is glorious, a joyous occasion. She does find a diary, it talks about drama at school, family drama, and Steve Harrington quite a bit. Unfortunately, Sarah is not as organised as her sister and only began it three months ago, making it useless except for when she references the last few years in rants - apparently, she was depressed last year which she certainly is not anymore. It is strange, she knows this is her life, but it feels nosey to be reading it.

Thursday is to be her first day, and even though her mom encourages her to stay home, she can write and walk now (sometimes with a little pain), the bruises are healed to a yellow (which she has mostly covered with makeup), and she can wear her hair down. By muscle memory she puts eyeliner on her waterline and mascara on - though the foundation bit her mom had to help with. Her mom blow dried her fringe and hair the night before, and today with the help of a roller, it remains mostly in place. Her mom doesn't let her get a lift with Jonathan, instead opting for her to drive herself. 

When they do arrive, Sarah can feel everyone staring at her. Nancy gets out without a fuss, bidding goodbye before heading straight to Barbara, but Sarah cannot get out. She swallows, clenching her fists, and when her eyes accidentally meet Holly’s, she flashes a quick smile.

"You ready, sweetie?"

She gulps, looking out the window. She can see everyone looking, some more discretely than others. She recognises Carol, and Tommy H, Jonathan too, as well as a gathering of people she can presume to be the cheerleaders and the basketball team. 

"I want to go home, please."

Her mother turns in her seat, and looks sympathetically at her daughter, eyes sad, "of course, Sarah."

She sighs, grinning. Unfortunately, that moment of peace is short lived as there is a knock on the window next to her, making her jump. It is a girl, a little younger than her with long bouncy strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail. She has soft features and big trusting blue eyes. The girl smiles at her, waving, and with a nervous smile, Sarah reaches over and puts the window down.

"Hey."

"Hi Sarah, I'm Chrissy Cunningham, we're in cheer together." Chrissy has a lovely voice, so hopeful and cheery that Sarah cannot help but smile, unable to look from her eyes for a moment. She takes this silence as a cue to continue, "we're friends."

"Oh. Thank you for your card - and your family."

"No worries, the others are over there," she points a thumb behind her, leaning her head to the side to reveal the kids Sarah had correctly presumed to be the basketball and cheer team which are obvious by the boys' teams jackets, otherwise they'd all look the same. They wave, and Sarah slowly waves back. 

A pause.

"Do you want to come over?" 

"Oh - uh," she looks over to her mom who gives her a quick, firm nod. Sarah turns back to Chrissy with a charming smile, "yes please."

"Great," Chrissy smiles, tugging the straps around her shoulders closer before taking a quick step back.

Sarah glances back to her mom who gives her an eager thumbs up before grabbing her backpack and slowly opening the door. The second her red Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars hits the gravel and she stands straight, swinging the straps over her arms, more eyes cover her. She can see Nancy and Barb watching from besides the school doors, so she flashes them a quick smile as if to say, thanks sis. She can also see Jonathan who is stood next to his car, fiddling with his camera around his neck, and she waves and he awkwardly nods as he fights to free a hand before waving at her. When she makes eye contact with Carol, and Tommy H who has his arm over her shoulder she holds up her hand in acknowledgement, not a wave exactly, and they do the same. 

"Ready?" Chrissy draws her attention back to her. Sarah can now see she is cladded in white Keds, nice blue jeans in the same style Sarah and Carol wears, as well as a white wool jumper. She is gorgeous. Sarah herself wears a purple, pink, and blue thinly striped turtleneck (which is thankfully loose around the neck) with dark blue jeans and her Levi's light wash denim jacket. Sarah nods, tugging on the straps of her backpack and follows Chrissy.

Chrissy introduces her to everyone, and they are just as nervous as she is. She meets Andy, Jason, and other members of the team as well as their girlfriends who seem to be her friends as they talk more effortlessly, there are a few who are not dating anyone. 

When Chrissy shows Sarah her locker, to say she is unamused would be an understatement because there on the top row to her right is Steve Harrington, who is going through his own locker. Do they not alphabetise here? Class is starting soon, and although most of her friend group is with her, some have left for their own classes. Also, only a few are in her year (who she does seem closer to), but why are most of her friends younger than her?

This is not what she wants this early in the morning.

Steve raises a brow, jumping a little when he sees her from the corner of his eye, Sarah smiles politely. She flinches internally at the embarrassing phone call, and her display of emotions - she cannot believe she behaved like that.

"Good morning, Wheeler."

"Good morning."

She looks down at the note in her hand, the locker combination that Nancy gave her for her locker and quickly uses it. Thankfully, it does open. It is not anything too exciting, she realises as she goes through everything, there is a bag of sanitary towels and painkillers, a lipstick and lip gloss, there is a plastic bag with an emergency pair of black leggings, and black shorts, slouch socks. There are a bunch of schoolbooks as well as a copy of the hobbit tucked away. There is another little bag in with deodorant, roll-on, and a little travel perfume. On the inside of the door is a picture of her and one of the girls she just met, another of child her and presumably Jonathan as he looks a lot like Will in art class, as well as a butterfly sticker, a heart sticker and a bunch of knick-knacks. 

Steve's face peaks from behind her locker door, and she smiles, trying to bite back her annoyance. He smirks charmingly, his hair flat all the way from where it is parted at the side. He wears a light blue long-sleeved shirt with blue jeans, and a brown belt. Gosh he is hot.

"What would you say if I came to say sorry?" He quickly glances in her locker, "nice," he points to the heart sticker.

She gently shuts the door of her locker before leaning against it as Steve now is, she looks up at him with a smile, their eyes meeting, and she takes in his appearance, eyes lingering on his Adam's Apple as Steve swallows. She blinks, quickly meeting his eyes again, and he is smirking - again. 

"I'd say we don't need to mention it again." Ha. Ha. "I'm sorry for what I said." She's quieter when she says the last bit, strumming her fingers against her locker.

His smirk falls, and he fixes his arm, leaning closer to her as he bends down slightly - it is ever so slight, but her eyes cannot pull away. Now that they are close, she can see how handsome he really is, he has several sparing freckles here and there on his lower cheek and neck, and his brows are infuriatingly perfectly shaped. Even his hairline is perfect, his skin smooth, and his eyes are so deep she cannot look away. 

"But do you forgive me?"

She considers it for a moment, Jonathan has described him to her, how he's 'a grade A asshole' but he is one of the first people she met. 

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and a wide smile comes over her face, "maybe."

He doesn't' smile, in fact his frown deepens, and so do his eyes as they soften. "I never wanted to scare you, Sadie."

Sarah swallows, and she licks her lips again, "I understand where - I mean if I was Carol and I did that to someone... I'd feel suffocated by guilt."

He rolls his eyes at that, and she frowns, brow creasing. 

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Not at you. Never you."

The way he says it makes her eyes widen, and she can feel her pulse in her fingers, and even worse in her face as her blood rushes to ridiculously flush her very fair skin. 

Chrissy coughs before stepping besides her, "hiya, Steve."

"Hey, Chrissy," he turns to Chrissy, flashing a very charming smile. Dear god. "How are you."

"Good, thanks, you?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

He is so confusing. How can he be so casual, and so unflustered? 

He is a flirt. Jonathan mentioned that. She finds her nose curling at the memory of all the stories of heartbreak before she realises and quickly drops it with a smile.

Steve turns back to her with a casual smile, "look, uh, I got to go - but, let me know when you figure out what I need to do, Sadi - Wheeler." He flashes a finger gun before stepping back.

However, before he can turn away, Sarah speaks, "you can start by getting my name right."

He pauses at that, brow creasing, "that is your name."

"My name is Sarah."

"Yeah, but I - you go by Sadie." 

She does not know what to say to that, and he is strumming his fingers on the side of his thigh.

Hastily he says, "I mean, that's what everyone calls you. Sadie originally - traditionally - started as a nickname for Sarah, only recently did it become its own name -," he glances at Chrissy behind her. "I mean - it's just your nickname."

She furrows her brows at that - no one else calls her Sadie but her classmates, even Nancy does not call her that, Jonathan neither. So far, she has heard Sars and Sar at home, or with family friends. Strange. Is it bad if she isn't too fond of Sadie? It feels too personal as it is so different. 

She nods slowly, "so my friends call me Sadie. That's cool then," Carol is certainly not her friend, why is she using a nickname? Does Steve not understand the meaning of nickname? She would understand if it were her middle name, but it is not. She would understand if everyone called her that, but they do not. Perhaps she is hinting 'stop calling me that, dude' in the wrong way.

"Everyone does." 

"No, they don't." 

"I do," Chrissy says from besides her, and Sarah quickly glances behind them, there her friends are trying to pretend they are not listening with all the noise around them, but she can see their ears angled towards them. 

"See you in class, Steve," she says, turning back to him.

"See you later, Wheeler, Chrissy."

That afternoon, after class, Sarah waits patiently on a bench by the school, waiting for her brother, sisters, and mom, having waved goodbye to most of her friends. Michael clearly must be busy because she has been watching the children in the school opposite for a while now, keeping an eye out for him or one of the party. 

"Hey."

Sarah jumps at Chrissy's voice, quickly turning in her seat. Chrissy has her fingers wrapped around her backpack straps and when she gestures to the empty space on the bench besides Sarah, she nods, gesturing for her to sit. Just like Sarah, Chrissy puts her backpack between her legs. For a moment both watch their schoolmates pull out the car park, and the yellow buses in the distance getting loaded.

"I kinda lied."

Sarah raises her brow, turning to look at her, "about what?"

Chrissy bites her lip, turning to meet her eyes, "we aren't really friends. Well, we're friends but not like - friends? You're closer to the others."

Sarah tilts her head to the side, face soft, "why did you come over, then?"

"Ah, I don't know," she blushes slightly, looking away to watch the kids again, "you just - you looked scared. And I know how that feels." Chrissy turns back to her, and Sarah is already smiling. The wind brushes some of her hair in her face she tucks behind her ear, and Chrissy softly chuckles.

"Well, the others didn't." Chrissy smiles softly, and Sarah continues, firm, "thank you. I needed the push."

"You're welcome," Chrissy looks away again, at the ground in front of them. This pushes away Sarah's introverted tendencies because she finds herself speaking before she can think.

"Wanna go to the movies this weekend?"

Chrissy turns sharply, brows raised, a gentle smile on her face, "uh - for sure, thanks."

"Cool."

"Cool."

Chapter Text

November 6^th, 1983

If there is one thing I wish more than anything (par the obvious everyone in my family is happy and healthy) is that Steve Harrington shits his pants at school.

Oh, what I would pay for that.

I know I should be over it, but I can feel him watching me across the halls, mocking me. Can he not just grow up and fuck off?

I rarely speak to him, but his presence is a constant reminder of – UGH.

I CAN’T EVEN SPEAK ABOUT IT.

FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

AND FUCK YOU STACEY I HEARD THAT COMMENT ABOUT MY SKIN.

Lots of love from your writer,

                                                            Miss Sarah E. C. Wheeler

Jesus Christ.

All her diary entries show is that she is a teenager, and like all teenagers found it unnecessary to make note of what is important. No matter how many times she reads it, it is just the same – no hidden clues or anything. Most entries are her ranting about school, or thirsting over actors, or contemplating suicide after an embarrassing moment. The only useful thing she has gotten is that she auditioned for ballet summer school in New York just before her accident, and that she has at least some sort of study schedule.

She’s learnt more in the last few weeks raw-dogging life. Since the accident, she has become very close with Jonathan, seemingly returning to some sort of routine, as last week he began driving her to school, and her friends from cheer and the basketball team are actually really nice, and not high school pricks. Being a prick is left to Steve and Tommy H. So far, she is closest to Chrissy, who phones her almost every night just to talk.

It’s cool.

Fun.

Nice.

“Hey, Sarah.”

She jumps slightly and turns behind her. Currently she is laid on her front on her bed, pink button-up pyjamas on, her diary in front of her, and her science homework to her right (which she gave up on about a minute into doing it). Her bed is made up, though heavily crumpled by her body and constant fidgeting. Behind her bed on her wallpapered wall, is a window, and like the other one to her left of her bed, the heavy curtains are open, but the thinner white curtains are closed, Nancy has the same ones in her room.

She smiles at the young boy clad in an adorable white ‘Karate’ tee, with a grey one underneath (smart as it is November), and an adorable tan coat, and a white and blue cap with a red bill. He has his blue backpack on and is holding out a pizza box, with an adorable smile on his face.

“There’s a slice left if you want it,” he opens the lid, “sausage and pepperoni.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” she smiles, admittedly honoured she was asked first (pretending as if her door isn’t the first one), “but, I just brushed my teeth. Nance, though, might want it.”

“No problem, thanks, Sarah.”

She smiles, but he doesn’t see it, already walking down the passage to Nancy’s room. She can hear her on the phone, she isn’t very quiet, and Sarah is nosey.

“Yeah… No, I don’t think. Yeah… he’s cute,” Nancy says, immediately piking her interest. Who could this guy be? Better not be Jonathan, that’s her best friend. “Barb, no, I don’t think so.” Well, clearly, she doesn’t like this boy that much. “Barb, you’re not –.”

Sarah doesn’t turn away from the open door as she listens to Dustin repeat the same question he asked her to her sister. He’s so adorable, with his adorable hair.

“Hold on.” Nancy says, and a moment later the door slams shut.

Little shit.

She’s on her feet before she knows it, and before she can register it, on reflex, she is in the corridor, padding on the soft carpet barefoot and leaning around the sighing Dustin to twist the doorknob open.

“Hey!” Nancy shouts, startled.

“Don’t be such a shit, say no thank you,” she points a finger accusatorily at her sister.

“Okay, holy shit,” Nancy holds up the phone in surrender from where she is lying on her stomach in her blue pyjamas. “Thank you, Dustin, but I’m not hungry.” She sarcastically smiles at the two, before flipping the bird at her sister.

“Say sorry.”

“UGH!” Nancy gets up, walking over, and taking the doorknob on the other side in her hand. “I’m sorry, there.”

The door slams in their faces.

Sarah’s fist curls as she bites her lip before she smiles sarcastically, flipping the bird at the closed door. She sighs, and turns, jumping slightly at the sight of Dustin. She forgot he was there. Her face flushes at her display, she didn’t mean to talk so brazenly to Nancy. She has to keep reminding herself every day that although she doesn’t know Nancy, Nancy does know her.

“Sorry.” She smiles bashfully at the boy who looks up at her with a dropped jaw.

“You’re awesome.”

Her face flushes darker. “I’m not but thank you.” She takes in his appearance, “you have the slice. Are you all heading home?”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“Well, I’ll be down in a moment to wave you all goodbye.”

“It’s because she’s been dating that douchebag Steve Harrington,” Lucas says before Sarah opens the door to their open garage. She doesn’t register his words.

“Yeah, she’s turning into a real jerk. Unlike Sarah, and I heard that –,” Dustin stops when he sees her, climbing onto his bike. “Hey.”

“They’ve both always been real jerks,” Mike says, before quickly glancing behind him, “hi.”

“Nuh-uh, she used to be cool. Like that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder tree campaign.” Dustin finishes. That sounds like fun, and she isn’t surprised Nancy did that, she can be not annoying sometimes.

“Four years ago.”

“Just saying.”

The three leaving boys are all sat on their bikes, ready to leave, looking back at her expectantly. They look exactly the same as they did when she saw them at dinner, all in their adorable outfits. Michael wears his blue jumper, and Lucas his tan coat and blue shirt with the yellow collar, Will in a dark blue plaid shirt now covered by his jacket.

“You boys all call when you’re safe home, except you Lucas, I can see where you live.”

“You stalking me?” Lucas jokes, making her and Will laugh.

“Yes.”

“We’ll radio.” Dustin says, as if it’s obvious. Which, it admittedly is.

“Well, Will you ring, because you won’t be in range, and it’s dark, you don’t know who could be lurking out there.”

Dustin gasps, as Will nods, Lucas and Mike looking between the three of them. “You know what range is?”

“I’m not an imbecile.”

“He thinks you are,” Lucas laughs as he begins to pedal, ignoring whatever Dustin mutters at him before he leaves too, “later.”

“Byeee.” Sarah steps out, clad in a dressing gown, and trainers she is standing on her tiptoes in so she doesn’t bend the back. She continues to wave with her brother as she walks around Will who’s still on his bike, to stop in front of the back of the car.

“It was a seven.” Will says.

“Huh?” Mike says.

“The roll, it was a seven.” She glances from her peripheral to see him moving back and forth ever so slightly on his bike. “The Demogorgon it got me.” Then he grunts, beginning to pedal, “see you tomorrow. Bye, guys.”

Mike doesn’t say anything, watching him with her, his yellow and red sleeveless puffer jacket, and that dark backpack fading into the distance.

Then the garage light flickers above them. They both glance up.

“Huh,” she looks down to her brother, wiggling her brows, “I hope it’s not a monster, oooo.” She wiggles her fingers, walking like a zombie menacingly towards her little brother.

Michael rolls his eyes before flipping off the light switch, trying not to smile as Sarah laughs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as the two head inside.

Michael heads down to the basement to clear up their mess, whilst she tucks away their shoes. It is a couple minutes later, after she has rifled through the bread to pick the best slice to munch on, that Mike shouts up that Dustin is home safely. That makes Lucas and Dustin.

She tries to tell herself everything is fine, but her brain is gnawing, and she has this awful feeling in her bones. So, when she does pick up the kitchen phone and dial the number, she waves in dismissal at her mom and her worried look.

The phone is picked up immediately, “hi, Jonathan, is Will home -?”

“Hello?! Hello?!”

Goosebumps. He sounds so scared, so urgent.

“Wi –.” Static. What the fuck? “Hello? Hello?” Just static. She has never had that before. She tries not to slam the phone back on the receiver, but her skin is cold, and her ears are thumping. She quickly picks up the phone again and redials. It dials, and dials, and dials until it gives a busy signal, and she sighs very loudly.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong.”

Her mother puts her hand on her shoulder, gently turning her around.

“It’s Will, he was meant to ring me, and he answered – he was scared. Now I can’t reach him.”

She looks up from the ground, and Karen is looking down at her, lips pursed as she pulls her into her arms. “There, there, sweetie. I’m sure Joyce just sent him to bed, or maybe Jonathan is pulling a prank. You know what boys are like.”

Not my boys, she wants to say. It’s an intrusive thought, one that groups the Byers boys, her own brother, Lucas and Dustin.

She can hear her father shuffling in the distance, still playing with the TV antenna before he calls out her name.

“It’s all right Ted.” Karen says, eyes falling to her cupid’s bow.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Yeah, well -,” she sighs, cutting herself off before letting go of Sarah and walking over to get some kitchen roll.

“Her nose is bleeding,” Ted states, and Sarah turns sharply, brows raised in confusion. Her father is now stood underneath the entry way into the kitchen connected to the sitting room.

“Yes, Ted, we can see that,” exasperated, Karen tugs at the roll before turning to face her once more.

Nosebleed?

Confused she slowly raises her right hand, brushing beneath her nose before putting her hand in front of her. Blood.

She hasn’t had one in years, not since eighth grade.

November 7^th, 1983

That night she dreams of monstrous men.

The following morning is hectic before breakfast. Nancy wears her skirt, which she has to try to tug off her until her mother declares, “Nancy, you know your sister doesn’t like it when people touch her things. Can you not wear something else?

So, now Nancy is wearing a grey wool skirt with diagonal stripes with her white tights and short black heels, buttoned pink cardigan, and dark brown blouse. Sarah in comparison wears a pale lavender long-sleeved shirt with a navy waistcoat on top, with dark blue Levi’s and her converse.

First day of the school week and everyone is dressed just as well; Ted in a white button-up shirt with a black tie, Karen in a blue and pale plaid shirt, Holly in a cute pink long-sleeved shirt, and Mike in a long-sleeved dark and pale blue striped polo with white and yellow stripes.

“That’s disgusting,” Nancy comments watching their brother who sits between them pour a large amount of syrup on his eggs, and at the same time the landline rings. Sarah has already poured her own small amount of syrup on her eggs and bacon, and everyone else is already eating their meal, their father also reading a newspaper.

Karen quickly gets up and answers it, Holly in her arms.

“You’re disgusting!” Mike retorts, making her laugh.

“Hello?” Karen says in the background. Mike pours syrup all over Nancy’s breakfast, making Sarah snort. “Oh, Joyce, hi.”

“What the hell, Mike?” Nancy drops her cutlery loudly.

“Quiet!” Karen quickly shouts, glancing behind her.

“Language.”

“Are you kidding?”

Sarah laughs again, and for a moment she swears the sun shines brighter through the window. She doesn’t hear the rest of the phone call, too busy laughing as their father tells the two of them off. Her laugh is cut short when Ted tells her off too. Is a girl no longer allowed to show her amusement?

The rest of breakfast is peaceful, although Mike is on edge when Karen explains that Joyce thought Will was missing until she realised he had left for school early. How could Mike not be on edge? No one likes the idea of a missing child, lest it spread to their own.

Jonathan doesn’t ring for another half an hour to tell her he can’t take her to school. Sarah wouldn’t mind if not for the fact that Ted had already left, Nancy and Mike too, and Karen was clearly busy with Holly. However, she knows she’s in the wrong to be irritated if it turns out that something is up with Will – which, surely there isn’t.

So, she made the executive decision to drive herself. Backpack strap over one shoulder, she grabs her keys and heads straight outside.

As it turns out she has her own car - no idea why she doesn’t drive it to school normally. Walking out the front door, she walks past the open garage to the side of the road. There it is! Her red 1974 Cherry Camaro that she saved a shit ton of money for, with her parents helping a bit.

Humming to herself she unlocks the car, swinging the key between her fingers. With a quick twist the driver’s seat opens, and she chucks her backpack onto the passenger seat.

Sarah is glad to find that the seat is in the perfect position, and she quickly turns the key into the ignition.

Why doesn’t she drive more often? This is easy.

‘HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU!’ Is what the radio and tape player in her car plays. It startles her, it blares, filling the street. With haste she twists the knob and turns it off.

“Holy shit,” she laughs to herself, sighing as she falls back against her seat.

She takes a moment to gather herself before tucking her hair behind her ear. She then huffs, placing her hands 10-2 on the wheel.

Oh.

Goosebumps.

Her head is cold.

She is scared.

Why?

Apparently, she’s a great driver. Plus, Ted has been taking it on drives so that the battery won’t die.

She’ll do a test run down the street; it’s just like riding a bike.

On instinct she can feel her hand raising to get ready to drive but unfortunately the door is thrown open, and a hand reaches over to turn off the ignition and steal the key.

No!

She turns to her mother, smiling bashfully, but her mother is anything but impressed.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Driving, it’s only been a few weeks.”

Karen is frowning, arms crossed and brow furrowed. It makes her gulp. “Not exactly.”

It gets darker as clouds cast over, and for a moment there’s a cool breeze.

“I can drive, I remember gas, breaking, blinkers, etcetera.” She smiles at Karen, “plus, muscle memory?”

“Get out of the car, Sarah.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

Karen sighs, crossed arms tightening before they completely loosen, dropping to her sides. Sarah glances to the other side of the car, she can see the kitchen door is closed-to. She wonders what Holly is doing, probably with her toys.

She wishes she was playing with Holly’s toys.

“You are my daughter; you’re meant to be a bother.” Karen pauses. “And where is your coat?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Sarah mumbles, speed walking to the doors, quickly sparing another wave behind her to Karen and Holly in the car. She has a couple minutes until the bell, but she really needs the toilet and is running very behind schedule.

When she gets inside, she quickly waves to her friends, speeds past her locker and pushes open the door to the girl’s bathroom. She tugs to undo the buttons of her brown coat with her free hand not clutching anything.

That is when she is brutally scarred for life.

There Steve Harrington clad in a light blue stripey long-sleeved polo, with his hair parted like the first time they met, has her beautiful, wonderful sister against the wall. Clearly, they were kissing moments before and were murmuring to each other just now.

Fucking hell, Steve Harrington is punching way above his weight. 

Secondly, this is disgusting.

Thirdly, this is Steve Harrington! He is yet to earn her forgiveness, and this is not the way how. Her sister deserves better than The Douchebag Hair.

“Oh my god,” she raises her hands in surrender as she begins to walk backwards, “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t see anything I swear!”

When the fuck did this happen? Why is she only just hearing about this now?

The two are yet to step apart, looking at her with wide eyes. Nancy is paler than usual, but Steve is more composed, looking more annoyed at the interruption than anything, jaw tight.

“Sarah, wait -,” Nancy starts, but Sarah is out of the bathroom before she can finish. There’s a tight feeling at the back of her head, and her shoulders are tense without meaning to be. She doesn’t stop speed walking, now clutching her binder to her chest.

By the time Nancy steps outside the bathroom, Sarah is out of her line of sight, tucked away in homeroom.

Sarah quickly starts a conversation with Brenda before she even has a chance to think, slumping down in her seat. Thank you, Brenda, lovely, pretty, Brenda.

When Steve comes inside, he doesn’t even look at her, not even pausing in the doorway. Why would he pause in the doorway? Sarah is turned away, facing Brenda and the window to the field outside, but she can hear, and she hears nothing; just Steve loudly greeting his friends, and doing a bro handshake hug thing with Tommy before throwing himself in his seat, his gym bag landing on his desk.

The end of the school day is a huge relief. She manages to convince the others to not eat lunch in the cafeteria, instead a picnic table out at the far back of the school, in the woods. They all have fun, some of the boys giving the girls their jackets to sit on the leaves when they couldn’t fit on a bench.

She successfully avoids Nancy and doesn’t even have to worry about Steve as he doesn’t acknowledge her.

For once, in this case, it is a relief he is a douche.

She lingers in the toilets after school, for about twenty minutes before heading straight to the phones out back. Reaching them, she crouches down as she slugs off her backpack before opening it and rummaging.

After about half a minute, she finds it, the tiny scrap of paper with Jonathan’s number on. She hums ‘Under Pressure’ to herself as she fastens up her backpack. She stands up, and shuffles forward with it between her feet as she pulls out some quarters from her right back pocket before dialling the number.

It barely rings before Mrs Byers picks it up, “Lonnie? Will?”

“No, I’m sorry, Mrs Byers, it’s just me.”

There’s a loud sigh, “oh, Sarah, we’re trying to keep this line open in case someone rings.”

“I know, I heard about the search party and was wondering if you checked in any basement or crawl space last night, maybe the woods, because Will was home when I spoke to –. “

“Wait, wait, wait,” she can imagine Mrs Byers shaking her head, running a hand through her hair, “you spoke to Will. When?”

Sarah’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, “last night. I rang and he answered immediately, but then we were cut out, with… static? I don’t know, it was weird –.”

“Wait, what? What did he say?”

“’Hello?’ But urgently, he – he, uh –”

She hesitates but there isn’t time for a pause as Mrs Byers jumps right on it, “but what, Sarah? But, what?”

She gulps and quickly glances around her. It feels almost like a secret, or perhaps more of a sin, a fear, “he sounded scared, Mrs Byers,” she whispers. “He didn’t even get to hear me respond.”

This time there is a pause, then a shaky inhale. “Scared?” Her voice cracks, and Sarah can’t bear to imagine her trying not to cry. She can hear Jonathan speak in the distance, but she can’t understand what he says.

“Yes.”

“Okay, uh, thank you, Sarah. What time was this?”

“8:42 pm. I remember because I was watching the clock when I was waiting for the call to go through the second time.”

“Yeah, uh, the phone wasn’t on the receiver this morning… thanks, I’ll let Hopper know.”

“Okay, I wanted to check on Jona -,” Mrs Byers hangs up on her, “-than.” Sarah sighs and clenches her eyes shut.

Was this her fault?

She should have fought harder. Checked on Will.

No. It’s not, right? She wasn’t there, so how could she know? Plus, the other week Mike didn’t put the phone on the receiver properly and no one realised for several hours when Sarah realised Chrissy hadn’t called.

How is she meant to feel about this? She doesn’t know.

She needs to help find Will.

Her eyes open as she groans, clutching her stomach with her right hand. Great.

She quickly puts the phone on the receiver before picking up her bag and slinging it over her left shoulder. She sighs loudly as she turns around. Karen has been waiting an unfair amount of time.

Great, she is now also selfish.

Sarah goes to gaze up to the heavens but instead her eyes catch someone watching her. Tommy is mumbling something to him as they wait, no doubt, for Carol. Steve nods along to him, saying some words here and there but his eyes don’t break from hers.

How did she not notice them? They are literally behind the open doors outside, leaning against the wall.

Why are they even out back?

She nods to herself, tightening her grasp on her strap before walking over, “have a good evening, guys.”

Tommy only stops for a moment, but quickly spares her a glance, looking her up and down, “you too, Wheeler,” before resuming his conversation.

“Thanks, you too,” Steve mumbles very badly and she doesn’t catch what he says, but it is the right number of syllables, so it is most likely that is what he said. 

“We should be out there right now. We should be helping look for him.” Michael speaks up that evening at dinner. It is now dark outside, and the Wheelers are all gathered around their dinner table, feeding themselves whilst Karen spends most of her time leaning over next to her to Holly in the highchair. As it is dinner they’re at the dining table, not the kitchen table, and Sarah sits at what is technically the head of the table between Ted and Mike.

“We’ve been over this, Mike, the Chief says – “

“– I don’t care what the Chief said.”

“Michael.” Karen is now facing her son, her husband wiping his mouth.

“We have to do something. Will can be in danger.” Mike speaks so urgently, so earnestly.

“He’s right,” Sarah cuts in, and her brother quickly turns to her with a relieved smile.

“More reason to stay put,” Karen quickly inputs, leaving no time between them speaking.

“Mom!” Mike says at the same time Sarah shouts out her first name, but Karen puts her hand down.

“End of discussion.” Karen looks at each of them, excluding Holly, but Nancy doesn’t care, and Ted is mid-sip of his drink.  Michael and Sarah are quick to look away. The two lean their foreheads on their hand in sync.

“So… me and Barbara are gonna study tonight.” Sarah scoffs, and Nancy makes quick work to turn and glare at her, before looking back to Karen. “That’s cool, right?”

“No, not cool,” Karen quickly says, and Sarah has to bite of a smirk. She can’t help it. That is what you get for not telling your big sister big important things like boys.

“What? Why not?” Nancy isn’t used to being told no.

This is amazing.

“Why do you think?” Karen begins to also speak with her hands, “am I speaking Chinese in this house? Until we know Will is okay, no one leaves.”

“This is such bullshit.” Nancy drops her fork.

“Language.” (Ted Wheeler’s favourite word).

“So, we’re under house arrest? Just because Mike’s friend got lost on the way home from -”

Michael begins to talk over Nancy just as Sarah’s eyes widen and she has to turn away to the closed blinds behind her brother and sister. “Wait, this is Will’s fault?”

“Nancy take that back.” Karen gives her a chance.

“No!”

“You’re just pissed off ‘cause you want to hang out with Steve.” Mike says, no hesitation, and Sarah can’t help but begin to laugh, ignoring the look Nancy gives Mike then her.

Mike seems to realise his mistake as he awkwardly looks away, eyes wide as he turns to their parents. Sarah leans against her fist, biting down on it, as her shoulders shake. This is glorious.

“Steve?” Ted speaks again with a very obvious side eye, just as Karen speaks.

“Who’s Steve?”

“Not Steven Harrington? He’s been here far too much; do we need to set a place at the table?”

“Her new boyfriend.” Oh, apparently no mistake was made, Mike is just dishing out strikes. In all fairness, Nancy deserves it, poor Will. Mike was egging on their parents with his wide eyes before.

“You are such a douchebag, Mike!”

“Language!” Ted raises his voice.

Nancy groans loudly before pushing herself up off her seat, heading straight upstairs, ignoring their mother as she says, “Nancy come back. Come back!”

Sarah’s now longer laughing, her brows raising as high as they can go. The audacity. Where is the fear?

Karen sighs, looking down to her youngest, her toddler who is somehow clearly easier to deal with than her detective son, independent daughter, and her other amnesiac daughter who tried to steal her own car. “It’s okay, Holly. Here, have some juice, okay?” She leans towards her, gently taking care of her.

Ted takes another mouthful of food before speaking, “you see, Michael? You see what happens?”

“What happens when what?” Michael shouts as Holly chugs down her mug, looking at him as if she understands what is going on, “I’m the only one acting normal here! I’m the only one that cares about Will!”

“What am I, invisible?” Sarah sticks out her hands at her side, shrugging her shoulders.

“That is really unfair, son,” Ted explains, “We care.” He pops some food in his mouth. Mike is dumfounded and drops his hands. He then pushes himself up off the table and leaves.

Where the hell is everyone going?

“Mike!” Karen says, before sighing alongside Holly, Mike running up the stairs.

Well Sarah’s still hungry, but now she has to leave in solidarity. For fucks sake.

“Let him go.”

Karen turns to her husband, “I hope you’re enjoying your chicken, Ted.” Sarah pauses, lowering her fork from where she was about to take her last bite, and ironically Holly is munching on chicken alongside the two of them.

Karen gets up, and seeing her shot, Sarah awkwardly stands and almost bows, thanking her parents before running upstairs as her mom lifts Holly.

“What did I do?” Karen ignores Ted, heading for the living room. “Hey! What’d I do?”

Sarah does feel bad for him, how is he meant to do better next time if no one tells him what he did that was wrong?

The last thing she hears before shutting her door is Ted dropping his fork with a clatter.

Jonathan needs her. That is what she tells herself as she tugs on her yellow raincoat she snuck upstairs. It’s going to rain tonight, and she isn’t taking any risks. As her car keys have been confiscated, she is going to cycle to Jonathan’s, offer her counsel and then find Will.

It will be cold, so she has a thick jumper on, and an umbrella and flashlight tucked into her now emptied backpack. Gosh she needs a snack, but she couldn’t sneak one up. At least she managed to tuck her wellies by the garage door.

Sarah exhales, standing tall with her hands on her hips. All ready.

The moment of satisfaction and readiness to venture is short lived however, as there is a loud shuffling outside her window followed by a loud groan and a quick rhythm of taps on the window.

She slowly turns.

Steve grins at her, giving a quick wave before struggling to push himself further up the roof.

She can only watch, jaw slack. What on Earth is he doing here?

He taps rhythmically on the window again before pointing at the bedroom.

Can he go away?

She glances behind her to her shut bedroom door, following his finger.

Oh! Nancy.

Right. Yes. That makes sense.

For a moment she hesitates, a quick smirk at the idea of leaving him outside. It drops as soon as it appears, but Steve seems to notice as his smile widens and he nods to the side, gesturing to be let in. Sarah sighs, reaching for the edge of her right sleeve with her fingers as she walks over.

She sighs again at his expecting, arrogant look as if he knew he’d be getting in. She reaches over with both hands, opening the window, kneeling on her makeshift window seat, “Steve? What are you doing here? Didn’t Nancy ring you to tell you she’s not allowed to leave?”

No point explaining why, or that none of them can leave, Steve wouldn’t care.

He looks up to her, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, “I figured we’d just study here.” He’s dressed just as earlier today but now clad in a jacket.

Sarah laughs, “no. no. No way! Nancy won’t want that, and my parents won’t either.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve starts, before leaning up, putting his hands into her bedroom on either side of her window, forcing her to step back off her seat. All right, let yourself in, by all means. She watches with a raised brow as he pulls himself up. “Come on, I can’t - have her failing - just bear with me - uh,” he mumbles as he kneels onto the windowsill before stumbling inside, stepping on her lovely ottoman she likes to use as a window seat with his dirty shoes, making her frown.

Dirty.

Great, now she can’t touch that until it that cushion gets washed.

He says something, but she is too busy staring down at her lovely ruined padded storage box. There’s no dirt on it, but she can visualise the little vibrating germs.

“Hey,” Steve says gently, stepping back into her line of vision from where he was next to her. She looks to him, and he’s frowning, biting his lip, and for a moment his eyes glaze over before he blinks, looking back down at her. “I got you something,” he calmy says, a contrast to his fumbling moments before, as he rummages through his dark blue jacket pockets.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

He pauses for a moment, eyes looking right down into her own. His tongue darts out to wet his lip, and he goes to say something before hesitating. He shakes his head, looking down at the floor, and continues his fiddling now in his jeans. “Ha!” He shouts out, pulling out deep-brown packaging with very large block white letters, and white edges at either side. A Hershey bar.

She can’t help but grin, looking down at the bar than up to him, “that’s so kind.” Gosh, she is so hungry. She hasn’t brushed her teeth yet (was going to before she left) so she can eat it. Wooh!

He leans back ever so slightly, eyes wide, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches her.

Wait, Nancy left dinner too.

“You should keep it or give it to Nancy.”

“Uh…” he shakes his head, straightening his posture, “no, I, uh, got it for you. Nancy mentioned you were hungry.”

“Huh?” She tilts her head to the side, looking up at him expectantly.

“On the phone.”

“Ohhh.” Sarah laughs, fixing her posture. “That’s so nice of you. What did you get Nancy?” How did her sister know she was hungry?

In all fairness she has been huffing and mumbling swear words under her breath as she dotted around the house the past half an hour gathering supplies.

Steve’s eyes widen comically, jaw slacking ever so slightly, and he looks up, past her. For a moment he doesn’t speak, and it takes Sarah an embarrassing ten seconds to realise he forgot to get her sister something. “Oh,” she whispers herself, looking away from him and back down to the open window in front of her. She decides not to say anything about the fact that her sister deserves to be wooed and worshiped even if she is a bitch. Instead, she steps back over to the window, and slams it shut, and locks it. She winces at the sound, she’s always been strong handed, and was expecting it to be heavier than it is.  She draws both sets of curtains to a close.

When she turns around, Steve is already looking at her, “maybe it is best if I do give it to Nancy. She didn’t say she was hungry.”

She can’t help but laugh, not surprised. From what every around school says, he is a douchebag, and she has seen that herself, experienced it – although she did see that nicer side of him the first time they met.

A fluke.

Gosh, he is so confusing. There is clearly so much to him – so why be a prick?

“Unless she doesn’t like Hershey’s?” His tone completely changes, even gentler than he was talking to her before. Nervous.

“I think she likes it, I wouldn’t know.” She wishes she did know. “I can ask Mike?”

Steve’s brows furrow and he looks up from the floor, down at her, “your brother? Didn’t he just leave?”

Her reassuring smile falls. “What?” At the back of her mind, she has a thought that she should have said ‘pardon’. She pushes up both sets of curtains instead of apart and presses her forehead against the window. She can’t see anything.

“Just as I climbed up.” Steve laughs nervously, “looked like he was on a mission or something.”

Sarah glares at the darkness and the sparse streetlights outside before pushing herself off the window, stepping backwards and turns to face Steve. “I’m not doing this again.”

Steve’s brows furrow even more, watching as she walks past him to grab her backpack, slinging it over her left shoulder. She doesn’t see his face as she pulls open the door, a little bit too aggressively.

She doesn’t care for being quiet, she must save her brother from whoever took Will. She knows he’s probably lost – well no she doesn’t know that - people think that - but she knows Will was safe at home. The thought only makes her angrier.

Her footsteps thud, and Steve follows her, whispering for her to be quiet.

Shut up, Steve.

She doesn’t say that though.

She walks down the corridor and quickly knocks. She opens the door before Nancy can reply, and her music fills the passage.

“Hey!” Nancy turns, startled, flashcards in hand at her desk. “What the hell?”

“Have sex, and I’ll tell everyone he knocked you up.”

“The fuck?” Nancy pauses, then looks her sister up and down, “going somewhere?”

Sarah smiles sarcastically before stepping aside, quickly turning to face Steve as she waves into the room exaggeratedly, bowing. “King Steve.” Her sister seems to forget her existence, and any worries about her getting lost as soon as Steve steps into the room.

“No, no, no. No way!” Nancy starts, and Sarah doesn’t hear the rest as she bids them both goodbye and quickly makes her way downstairs. She is lucky that Karen, Ted and Holly are in their own rooms as she makes her way out to the garage.

She’s annoyed to find the door unlocked.

Michael. Little shit.

Where is the need for security?

Sarah is a speedy cyclist with a very well taken care of bike. Her bike has a lovely brown leather seat, and pink covered handlebars. For a moment she enjoys cycling, until the heavens release their fury.

She is very lucky that her brother explained the previous week about the nicknamed ‘Mirkwood’ and which actual road it is, otherwise, she would have no idea where to look for him. Her brother is lucky too because it lessens her anger ever so slightly.

Dustin and Lucas are also lucky that she manages to catch a last-minute glance of Dustin standing next to their bikes before rushing after Lucas and Mike, from her perch at the top of the slope.

Great, she should have known where one dipshit is the others follow.

A minute later, she enters where they did, standing up down her bike alongside theirs’ on the ground. She only takes a moment to shrug off her bag to grab her flashlight before she follows in their direction. At this point she can’t see their lights, but she can certainly hear them. The rain batters her face, the wind blowing it at her despite her coat covering her head and hair.

BOOM!

Great, now there’s thunder.

“Will!” Mike pauses. “Will!”

“William!”

“I got your X-Men one thirty-four!” There’s another pause. The rain is very loud, the twigs and leaves beneath them too, but she can just about capture what Dustin says, “guys, I really think we should turn back!”

Sarah raises an arm in front of her brow, trying to see better as she turns to her left, shining her flashlight in the direction of their voices.

She can hear Lucas and Dustin shouting in the distance and now flickering lights between the trees still far off. She can’t lose them.

So, she does what anyone does, and with her raincoat soaked, slightly loose wellies on (as she isn’t wearing the right socks), she begins to walk much faster. It quickly turns into a jog.

She should shout out, but the rain is hard and being blown straight into her open mouth, so she keeps it close as her speed increases.

The lights are closer, and in the distance, there is the growl of thunder across the sky once more.

“Do you ever think that Will went missing because he ran into something bad and we’re –”

“OOF!” She doesn’t hear the rest of what Dustin says as the edge of her boot catches on a rock, causing her to stumble forward. Her other foot trips over her, causing her to fall forward. “Shit!”

Her hands catch her before her face hits the ground, but she lands rather uncomfortably, the top of her backpack hitting the back of her head. One hand has landed right on a twig with an upright branch, digging into her palm with an awful sting, and the other is bent awkwardly onto her flashlight and the ground, causing a searing pain in her wrist. Why didn’t she just let go?

For a moment she puts her weight on her right hand and arm, hissing slightly as the branch digs further in, all so she can get off the flashlight with her other one. She quickly switches her balance, palm now on autumn leaves, wrist still finicky but not as sharp. “Ow,” she whispers to herself, pushing herself up to sit on her knees as looks down at her hand. It’s dark, but she can feel the scrape. She quickly grabs her flashlight, and brings her hand close to her face, shining down on it. The light floods her vision making her groan as she blinks rapidly to regain her sight.

It's just a little scrape, only deep enough to draw some blood. Nothing too serious.

BOOM!

Thunder again. Closer.

She drops her hands, and listens. The voice of her brother and his friends have stopped, no crunching of leaves beneath their footsteps.

Shitting hell!

Grumbling to herself, she stands up, rubbing her sore hand against the side of her coat to try and ease the annoying sting.

She goes to take a step but stops.

There’s a new sound.

A strange sound. Like the moaning of wood. A direct opposite of the sound of settling wood you can get with floorboards.

Slowly she turns around, shining her flashlight behind her.

Nothing.

Huh.

BOOM!

The sound of God’s fist startles her embarrassingly so as she lets out a scream. She quickly turns back around, facing the direction she last heard her brother.

She only makes it a single step just as her skin begins to prickle.

SNAP!

She gasps, turning around, hands shaking as she moves her flashlight side to side. It came from right behind her, where she just heard the wood sound.

SNAP!

She gulps, “hello?” Thankfully, her voice isn’t shaky. “Will? Is that you?”

She takes a step forward, the front edge of the sole of the wellie digging into the rock that had tripped her.

She shines her flashlight to her right just as there is another thunderous boom and a sharp, bright light floods directly in front of her.

She would have missed it if not for nature’s will.

She screeches, and stumbles backwards, managing to steady herself before she falls over.

Darkness again.

She quickly moves her flashlight to shine where she saw it.

It’s so dark, so very dark, darker than how she imagines the twilight zone of the deep sea, but the light illuminates the figure.  The rain is harsh, she can’t see exact details, but it is tall. Terrifyingly tall. It’s too long. Taller than any man she had seen before, even on television. His arms are long and thin falling far past his thighs, and his fingers or nails - whatever they are - are just as creepy in length.

She screeches, stumbling backwards as her legs shake. If she walked closer, she could get a better look but hell no. She catches herself before she can fall, and her eyes slowly travel up its body right to its face.

Its face.

What the –

There isn’t one. She swears. It’s like a blank canvas.

Could hallucinations be a side effect of her injury?

She can’t move, no matter how much she wants to. Maybe this is like awake sleep paralysis?

Gulping she gathers as much will as she can and clenches her eyes shut, counting to five in her mind before opening them.

Nothing.

She sighs loudly, shoulders sagging in relief.

Except in her chest, she’s still scared, and the hair on her arms is still poised.

Is it better he isn’t real or better that he is?

She straightens her posture and freezes in her place, flashlight hanging limp. On one hand her head injury is even worse, life threatening, as hallucinations are never a good sign; but on the other, Will was taken by this freak. This man.  

“Sarah?!” A hand touches her back, and she screams, turning sharply, pointing the flashlight behind her as she stumbles backwards before falling straight on her bum. “What the hell?”

“Jesus Christ!”

“You’re blinding me!”

Her chest is heaving, and it takes her a moment to realise that it is Mike, Dustin and Lucas who just spoke to her, all looking down at her as if she is a madwoman, arms shrouding their faces.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, not being heard over the rain, as she lowers her torch.

She groans, raising an arm as the three point their flashlights at her on the floor.

“You okay?”

Michael isn’t as kind as Lucas because he immediately starts the accusations, “are you following me?”

“Seriously?!”

“Come on. Please don’t tell Mrs Wheeler.”

Sarah groans before leaning on her injured hand and pushing herself up off the leaves. The three don’t step back, instead their lights follow her face as she stands up. “Excuse me?!”

The rain is loud, but not as loud as her indignation as the three of them quickly drop their lights, saying something she can’t’ catch and can only presume is apologies.

BOOM!

“What do you three think you are doing, searching for Will in a rainstorm!” She takes in their appearances as much as she can, and only finds herself getting angrier, “seriously, Michael, no raincoat?” Her brother is the only one not wearing one. He doesn’t even have a hood on his coat!

“It wasn’t raining when I left!”

“Did you not hear the warnings all day, dipshit?!”

“Oh, shit! She’s mad!” Dustin says to Lucas, shouting so he can hear him, not realising the other two can. She and her brother give him a matching look before turning back to each other.

“I am mad, Dustin,” she turns from her brother to look at the other two, and through the rain she can still see them gulping. “Thank you for noticing. My idiot brother and two of his equally idiotic best friends decided to go looking for their friend in the woods, in the middle of the night. IN WEATHER THEY CAN’T EVEN SEE IN!” Now she’s going to get ill from giving her brother her coat – although she prefers it to be her than him. She doesn’t mean to shout for anything other than the weather, but she does anyway. The three look down to the ground, their lights falling to shine on their shoes.

She sighs.

Well now she feels bad.

“I’m sorry,” she says, stepping closer to them so they can hear better. “I just don’t want you guys to go missing too. It’s dangerous.”

The three don’t say anything, but through her continuing quick blinks to fight of the rain she can see them look up to her.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Did you see something?” Lucas asks.

“What?” She raises her voice as the rain gets even heavier to the point they all need to start shouting again despite her having closed the distance.

“You screamed!”

“And you said it was dangerous!” Dustin finishes his best friend.

“Yeah, that’s how we found you! You looked scared!” Mike adds, taking a step closer to his sister. The other two quickly do the same.

BOOM!

Her tongue darts out to wet her lip despite them already being soaking as she tries to come out with something. Instead, her jaw goes slack, “ummmmm.”

“What?!” Lucas says, gazing at her curiously, the three simply thinking they missed something she said.

“I thou- I just think!” She gulps, ignoring the pain of the battering rain on her face as she tilts her head, “I think we should go home and continue in the morning!”

She can see their shoulders sagging and can slightly hear their groans.

There’s a distant SNAP.

“Did you hear that?!” Mike says.

Sarah shines her flashlight around them, full 360 degrees.

“No!” Lucas says, turning to Dustin with a shrug.

“Is it a monster?!”

“No! Uh – just shut up, Dustin.”

“What?” Lucas asks as Mike puts his arms in front of his friends either side of him.

“Did you guys hear that?”

“The snap?” Sarah says, shinning the flashlight about them.

“No, after that, like –.”

SNAP!

It’s to her left. She doesn’t hesitate to step in front of Mike, pushing the three of them behind her as they all turn towards the noise.

The man is real!

“You guys run; I’ll take him!”

“What?!” The three all shout, almost at the same time. She begins to walk forward, glancing behind her to the three of them, “JUST RUN!”

BOOM!

Sarah begins to run, shining her flashlight directly in front of her but she only makes it several feet before she sees a little bald girl in nothing but a yellow t-shirt.

They both gasp, the little girl raising her right arm and hand just as Sarah tries to stop her momentum towards the girl by walking sideways.

She does miss the girl but falls straight on her side with a loud groan, dropping her torch. Ouch.

Pain floods her left arm as it throbs for a moment.

“SARAH!” The three shout out in sync before the sound of snapping twigs and crumbling leaves begins and gets closer.

What the hell is this girl in the woods for?

Groaning, she pushes herself up with her other hand onto her knees, grabbing her flashlight before standing up, shining it towards the girl.

There the boys are, shining the flashlight directly on that little girl. The girl looks nervously between the boys and her, chest heaving, shivering, fists now clenched at her sides.

Holy shit.

It takes a moment for the four of them, terrified, seem to regain their ability to move.

“Oh my god, she’s bald.”

“I think the more pressing issue here is that she’s clearly lost in the woods, Dustin!” Lucas says, looking at his best friend exasperated. “Like what the hell is she even doing out here!”

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Mike says, taking a step forward.

The girl steps backwards.

“Hey, hey,” Sarah says loud enough for her to hear as she lowers her torch, walking around her to where the boys are as she raises her hands in surrender. “What’s your name?”

The girl doesn’t say anything, just watches them, eyes glancing nervously between the four.

“Are you lost?”

The girl pauses, before nodding slowly.

“Okay, do you want to come with us until we ring your –”

“Have you seen a boy called Will?” Mike says gently, still loud enough.

The girl furrows her brows as Sarah looks over at her brother with a brow raised before turning back to the girl, “excuse my brother! Do you want to come with us?! Where’s it’s warm?”

The girl doesn’t respond, there is a very pregnant pause as she seems to think.

Sarah continues, “we’ll get you some clean clothes, warm clothes!”

Cautiously, the girl nods, and Sarah smiles at her. She shrugs off her backpack; it drops to the floor with a loud thunk. She begins to pull off her coat.

“Wait! Here!” Mike shouts with a smile, shrugging off his own backpack, before tugging his coat off over the flashlight.

“Hey!” Sarah shouts, making the girl jump. She quickly turns to this poor baby, apologising, before turning to her brother. “Put your coat back on.”

“But -”

“Put your coat BACK ON!” The two look at each other, Sarah staring deep into her brother’s soul before he finally sighs, shrugging his coat back down his arms, grabbing his backpack off the ground with a loud huff.

“Fine!”

The strange girl is sat down, pressed against the back of the couch, still wet (although Sarah did sneak a towel underneath before she sat down), clad in Sarah’s raincoat. The girl doesn’t look away from the four of them.

Mike stands in front of the girl, Dustin on his left, Lucas on his right whilst Sarah grabs more towels for the boys, “All right, take your coats and first layer off, we’ll put them on the radiators, and dry of with these.” She leans over the shoulder of each boy, giving them a towel. Mike has already taken off his coat, clad in his semi-dry blue hoodie. The three boys turn around to face her, each displaying mild annoyance, the girl follows their gaze.

The basement is as organised a mess as usual, DND stuff piled on a small table, an overthrow folded over the back of the couch.

Dustin, and Lucas are yet to take their coats of but upon a wave of their hand they grumble to themselves and shrug off only their coat.

“I am not getting undressed in front of a stranger.” Lucas points a finger to the side, looking down at the girl.

“Seriously?” Mike sighs, turning to him, “we’re literally wearing t-shirts and undershirts. It’s not like you’re going to be naked.”

“Not me, unlike you two I only got this t-shirt and an undershirt! And - I know that, but you’ve seemed to have forgotten, ‘stranger danger’.”

“You scared of a little girl, Lucas?”

“Shut up, Dustin. Seriously.”

Sarah lets them argue as she pulls off her own jumper, slinging them over a radiator. She grabs a towel and quickly leans over, rubbing her scalp and hair aggressively. She can’t hear what they’re saying until she stops, stretching her back when a grown as she fixes her posture.

“I think if we don’t do it, she’ll kill us,” Dustin says through clenched teeth. Sarah tries not to laugh. What is a little girl going to do to the four of them?

When she turns to make a joke, she finds they’re already looking at her. The boys smile innocently before quickly beginning to do as she said.

“You boys will need showers. You can have them here or at home, depending how long you are staying.” She looks over at the girl, “are we getting Karen? I can go get her?” She smiles, walking over to them.

“Woah, woah, woah.”

“Let’s hold on a minute.”

“Let’s talk to her first,” Mike says, same time as his friends raise their own issues. The four of them are absolutely soaking, and Lucas and Dustin make quick work of hanging their coats and first layers over the radiators and a plugged-in heater before returning to their positions.

Sarah tries not to think about how a plugged-in heater with jumper thrown over it can cause a house fire as she walks over to stand on the other side of Lucas.

The four look down to the scared girl.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Is there a number we can call, for your parents?”

Great question, Mike.

“Where’s your hair?” Mike and Sarah to look at the speaking Dustin, “do you have cancer?”

“Did you run away?” Lucas asks.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Mike gently inquires.

“Is that blood?” Lucas’ inquisition makes Sarah’s eyes widen as she leans closer, getting a better look. Holy shit.

“You’ve been to Benny’s burgers?” The girl’s eyes widen in recognition, but she doesn’t say anything, perhaps due to the sudden movement of Mike whacking Lucas’s hand that was reaching for the girl.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas says, hands out saying what-are-you-talking-about.

The other four turn to Dustin as he says, “I bet she’s deaf.” He doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward to slap one palm down onto the other, startling the poor girl and Lucas. Dustin shrugs, “Not deaf.”

“Seriously?” Sarah says, holding out her arms in a similar gesture to Lucas, at the same time her brother speaks.

“All right, that’s enough,” he talks with his hands, “all right? She’s just scared and cold.”

The room lights up the same time thunder roars outside. Dustin and Lucas don’t take their eyes off this stranger whereas Sarah watches as Mike turns around and walks over to the folded-up laundry basket on top of the dryer.  Lucas, Sarah and Dustin turn to look at each other, before glancing back to the girl who jumps at another roll of thunder, eyes clenching shut momentarily.

What should she do? What should Sarah do? What is she meant to do?

Ahhhh.

“Here,” Mike reappears, a folded jumper and tracksuit bottom in a pile, “these are clean. Okay?” He holds out the clothes with one hand, and the clothes droop.

The girl reaches forward, gently taking them. The jumper is on top, and she runs her thumbs over the sides as she holds it over her lap.

Huh.

The girl then places the fabric against her cheek for a second, and once satisfied places it next to her, peeling off the coat.

None of them expect what happens next. The girl stands up, right in front of Mike and crosses her arms, reaching for the edge of the t-shirt to pull it over her head. The four of them jump, immediately exclaiming in protest. The other three immediately turn away.

“No, no, no, no.” Mike repeats, placing his hands on top of hers before she can reveal any skin above her knees.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” Their eyes are clenched shut, Lucas throwing his arms behind him as if it will shield him from being scarred whilst Dustin throws his arms up in surrender, both keeping their eyes clenched.

Sarah on reflex covers her eyes with her hands, stumbling backwards, “shit. Sorry.”

“You see over there,” Mike tries not to stammer but his shoulders give it away as he points to the basement toilet, “that’s the bathroom.” He turns back to her, keeping one hand hovering over her wrist. The other three glance over as Mike continues, “privacy. Get it?”

The girl looks between them before picking up the pile and walking over to the bathroom. Mike goes to follow but Sarah gently puts up a hand, “she might find it more comforting if it’s a girl.”

He stops and nods, glancing at the ground.

Sarah walks over as the girl looks around the lit-up bathroom. She goes to shut the door, but the girl grabs the side with her hand before she can shut it fully, making her jump.

“You don’t want it closed?”

The girl fidgets, thinking, before speaking, “no.”

“Oh, so you can speak.” Mike states from right behind his sister, making her jump.

“Jesus, Mike.” Sarah whispers between her clenched teeth, quickly glancing at her brother before smiling back at the girl.

“Okay, um,” she slowly closes the door to, the girl not removing her hand from the side, “how about we keep the door like this?”

“Is that better?”

“Yes.” Her voice is so quiet yet firm. For someone who looks like a female bald Will she’s quite unlike him. Sarah has a feeling the girl wouldn’t hesitate to take them all on at once if needed, whereas Will is gentler, more likely to negotiate.

The brother and sister return to the two boys, and Mike quickly fills them in in case they didn’t hear it themselves.

“This is mental,” Dustin states, still yet to take off his hat.

“At least she can talk,” says her brother.

“She said ‘no’ and ‘yes’. Your three-year-old sister says more.” Lucas says, the four of them looking at each other.

“She tried to get naked.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with her,” Lucas starts, pointing to the side of his head, “like wrong in the head.” Well, that’s not nice.

“Lucas, you have no idea what her home life is like,” Sarah says firmly, giving him a look.  

“She just went like,” Dustin attempts to mirror her when she tried to undress herself earlier (without touching his own shirt) but instead knocks off his hat. Dustin glances down at it as Lucas speaks, before fixing his coat.

“I bet she escaped from Pennhurst.”

“From where?” Mike asks, fed up. The look she and her brother gives Lucas is almost the same.

“The nuthouse in Kerley County.”

Dustin smirks, “you got a lot of family there?”

“Bite me.” She and Mike both sigh, rolling their eyes before Lucas continues, “seriously though, think about it. That would explain her shaved hair and why she’s so crazy,” he gestures to his hair.

“Why she went like…” Dustin repeats his mimicking, not knocking anything off this time.

“She’s an escapee is the point. She’s probably a psycho.” If that were true, they would have certainly heard about it by now.

Dustin’s eyes widen as he turns to his friend, “like Michael Myers.”

“Exactly! We should have never brought her here.”

Sarah sighs, shaking her head with a smile, “I appreciate the imagination, it is a good theory.” Lucas nods proudly. “Except for the fact she’s like eleven.”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t be a psycho!” Lucas gestures with his hands.

“Do you know how many days – weeks – it would take to walk from there at her height?” Maybe not weeks, but still. “Wouldn’t we have heard about an escapee day ago, if that were the case?”

Lucas pauses, glancing to the side as he thinks.

“So, you just wanted to leave her out in that storm?” Mike accuses.

“Yes!” He doesn’t even hesitate. “We went to find out Will, not another problem.”

“I think we should tell your mom,” Dustin says.

“I second that.”

“I third that,” Sarah quickly adds.

Mike looks at them all as if they’re stupid, “who’s crazy now?”

“How is that crazy,” she and Lucas say in sync, tensing their shoulders as they pull a face.

“’Cause we weren’t supposed to be out tonight, remember?”

“So?”

“So, if I tell my mom and she tells your mom and your mom…” he nods at each of them.

“Oh, man.”

“Our house becomes Alcatraz.” Startling comparison, but okay, Lucas.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’ll say I found her.”

Mike can’t seem but help laugh, looking at his sister, “be realistic, you’re already in deep shit because you tried to drive to school, remember?”

“You what?” Lucas says, he and Dustin looking at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. She glances to the side, smiling nervously.

“See! Now, imagine their reaction when they find out their amnesiac daughter snuck out and got lost in the wood trying to find Will and instead bringing home some random girl -”

“She does look a little like a bald female version of Will,” Sarah mumbles, crossing her arms as she refuses to look her brother in the eye as he continues on.

“- You will be grounded – for life!” Mike inhales. “We’ll never find Will.” Dustin looks at Lucas and her, mimicking the new girl once again, searching in their eyes. Mike barely pauses before continuing. “All right, here’s the plan. She sleeps here tonight.”

“You’re letting a girl –,” Dustin tries to say at the same time Sarah speaks.

“Now, wait a minute –”

“Just listen!” Mike looks from Dustin back to Lucas, “in the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Penhurst or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear. And tomorrow night we go back out, and this time, we find Will.”

The boys consider it, much to the alarm of Sarah, “now wait a minute. This is someone’s baby, we can’t keep her parents worried any longer just because we don’t want to get in trouble!” She takes a deep breath, “secondly, who said you were allowed back in the woods?!”

Sarah ends up escorting Lucas and Dustin to the back door, now both in semi-dry coats. Meanwhile, Mike settles the girl into the fort. Sarah mentions how she wishes she could drive them home, but the joke doesn’t land as the two nervously say ‘no thank you’. She waves, watching as they cycle away, telling the two to make sure they radio Mike.

She makes sure to lock the door. Before she can head back down into the basement Mike steps into the doorway. He gives her a look, and she steps back, he shuts the door behind him.

“I don’t know how I feel about this Mike.”

Mike sighs, gazing at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at her, “you got a better idea?”

Her jaw drops and she leans back, “all right, holy shit.”

Mike shrugs before walking past her, heading over to the stairs, and right up them. Sarah watches her brother, brows raised.

She has to remind herself that his best friend is missing, she can’t imagine how that feels, and annoyingly he is right about the situation.

Jonathan!

She needs to check on Jonathan.

She needs to tell him what she saw. The faceless man.

They need to come up with a plan to find him. Well, first make sure he’s real. It felt real.

Anyway, back to the plan. They need to hunt this man down, starting with any nearby circuses.

She thinks over her plan as she walks over to the other room where they keep the address book. She grabs the address book before returning to the kitchen phone and dialling the number.

Immediately, there is a fast busy signal.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Sarah groans, putting the phone back on the receiver with a thunk. Seriously?!