The last week of June in Hawkins, Indiana, hung thick and heavy—the kind of heat that made the air shimmer off the pavement and turned the whole town hazy and slow. Summer had officially swallowed the streets, and the only sounds were the buzz of cicadas and the distant whir of the ceiling fans in the Wheeler house.
Mike's basement was a graveyard of soda cans and chip bags. The glow of the TV flickered across everyone's faces—an old VHS copy of The Terminator that Dustin had insisted on, despite having seen it at least six times already.
Dustin Henderson
nose buried in a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, talking with his mouth full I'm just saying, if we're gonna watch something, it should at least be relevant. The mall's got that new theater, you know. We don't have to keep doing this basement thing every single day.
Lucas Sinclair
rolling his eyes from the floor where he's sprawled out You literally suggested this movie, dude.
Dustin Henderson
Because I have taste, Sinclair. Your mom's got taste. There's a difference.
Will Byers
quietly from the corner armchair, sketching something in a spiral notebook This is nice though. Just us.
Max Mayfield
snorting, dramatically flopping her head back against the couch cushions Us and the million degrees. I swear to god, if my trailer doesn't get air conditioning fixed by next week, I'm moving in with you, Mike. You're warning your parents now.
Mike Wheeler
shifting on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, eyes darting toward Saleena for half a second before looking away Yeah. Cool. Whatever. I'll—uh—I'll mention it.
Max Mayfield
grinning knowingly at Lucas, who stifles a laugh Real smooth, Wheeler. Real smooth.
The basement door creaked open, and everyone's eyes shot up. Mrs. Wheeler's voice floated down the stairs, casual as always.
Karen Wheeler
Mike, there's a pizza here for you boys! And girls! I'm not going up and down these stairs again, so somebody better—
Dustin Henderson
already scrambling to his feet I got it, Mrs. Wheeler! I got it! pauses at the bottom of the steps, turning back You guys want me to grab extra napkins or should we just use our shirts like animals?
Max Mayfield
deadpan Animals. Obviously.
Dustin Henderson
nodding with approval Correct answer.
He thundered up the stairs, leaving the basement door swinging. The faint sound of his voice drifting back down, sweet-talking Karen Wheeler about how great her hair looked, filled the brief silence.
On the couch, Mike had gone suspiciously quiet. His knee was bouncing. His eyes kept finding you across the room—not holding, just flickering, like he was afraid of being caught.
Max Mayfield
nudging you with her elbow, voice low He's doing the thing again.
Will Byers
not looking up from his notebook, a small smile The thing where he stares? Or the thing where he doesn't say anything?
Max Mayfield
Both. Always both.
Mike Wheeler
suddenly, too loudly I'm gonna go get some water. Anybody want anything? his voice cracks slightly on 'anything'
Lucas Sinclair
grinning Yeah, a girlfriend would be nice.
Max Mayfield
mid-drink, chokes
Mike Wheeler
turning red, mumbling Shut up, dude. That's not—I wasn't—he bolts up the stairs before anyone can respond
The basement door swung shut behind him. A beat of silence.
Max Mayfield
wiping her mouth, turning to you with a wicked grin You know he's gonna come back with like three glasses of water and a bag of pretzels to make it look normal, right?
Lucas Sinclair
He's gonna say the word "hydro" at least once. I can feel it.
Will Byers
glancing at the door, softer He just gets nervous. He doesn't know how to talk to you yet.
Max Mayfield
"Yet" being the key word. she bumps your shoulder You should go up there. Help him carry stuff or whatever. He'll short-circuit.