Chapter Text
Joyce pushed a brochure across the table toward Will. “There,” she said. You’re all registered and ready to start next Monday. Both of you,” she added, looking at El. “Will and Jane Byers.”
“Hopper,” El said. “Jane Hopper.”
Joyce’s face fell. “I’m sorry, sweetie. There will be too many questions about why you’re living with me. It’s easier this way.”
El nodded sadly and looked back down at her sandwich.
Will, meanwhile was flipping through the brochure. “The Cape Elizabeth Capers?” He said incredulously. “Our team is called the Capers?”
“It’s quaint,” Joyce said.
Will pushed the brochure away and sighed. “So we start Monday?” It was Friday now, and Will wasn’t sure if he was ready to become a Caper quite yet.
“Next Monday,” Joyce corrected. “That way we’ll have some time to finish unpacking and get you two ready for your new school.” She reached over and tousled Will’s hair. “You need a haircut.”
Will ducked away from his mom’s hand. “I don’t know,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, which had grown surprisingly long. “It’s different.” The long hair made Will think of Judd Nelson, or some other rebellious guy in a movie. Which probably wasn’t an attitude that Will could pull off, but at least it was a change.
“But I can’t see your beautiful face,” Joyce said, leaning forward and grabbing both of Will’s cheeks.
He squirmed away again. “Ugh, Mom! Maybe I’ll cut it short, then.”
“Whatever you want, sweetie. We’ll go get it cut tomorrow.”
“I can go by myself,” Will said. He stood up and put his plate in the sink.
“Will, we’ve been here less than a week. I don’t want you going into town by yourself.”
“I’m fourteen, mom. I’m not a little kid anymore!” At least, that was what he’d been trying to prove to himself since he found out they were leaving Hawkins.
Joyce sighed, exasperated. “At least take your sister,” she said, gesturing to El. She stopped, suddenly realizing what she had said. “I mean--”
“It’s okay,” El said. “Everyone’s supposed to think that anyway, right? And besides, I like it.” She shrugged. “I like having brothers.”
Will smiled at her. “So, do you want to go into town with me tomorrow, sis?”
El grinned. “Yes.”
The next day the two of them ventured out into Cape Elizabeth. They could have gone into Portland, the biggest city in Maine, which was only a bus ride away, but Joyce wanted them to stay local. And, Will begrudgingly admitted to himself, it was nice to be able to walk into town. They would have to get used to it, anyway. This was supposed to be their new home.
Their first stop was the barbershop. El waited near the front, reading a magazine, while Will hopped into the barber’s chair, suddenly nervous. It was the first haircut he’d gotten without his mom there.
“What’ll it be?” The barber asked him.
“Um, shorter?” Will looked around at the photos posted around the shop. There were short, military-like haircuts and ridiculous teased hairstyles that probably took a whole can of hairspray and made Will miss Steve. Finally, he saw a style he liked. It was shorter on the sides and looked pushed back in the front. “Like that,” he said, pointing at the picture.
“You got it, kid.” The barber began cutting his hair. After several minutes of speedy cutting, he squirted something into his hand and used it to slick back the front of Will’s hair. “Take a look,” he said, gesturing to the mirror.
Will couldn’t believe it. He looked—did he dare even think it? He looked cool. He felt like James Dean. If only he had a leather jacket to complete the look instead of a flannel shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror for another moment before he remembered where he was.
“Thank you,” he told the barber. “It’s great.”
The barber smiled and patted Will on the back. “You can pay up front,” he said. “You’re gonna want some of this gel, too.”
Will walked to the front of the shop and called out to El. “I’m done!”
El stood, her eyes wide. “Different,” she said.
“Very different,” Will agreed. “Do you like it?”
El stared for a moment, considering. “Yes,” she said finally. “It’s nice.”
“Good,” Will said. “I’m glad.”
He went to the front desk where the barber was waiting at the register and paid with the money his mom had given him. In a moment he was walking out of the shop with a bag containing some toxic-looking green hair gel, El by his side, a new spring in his step.
“Where next?” El asked.
“I don’t know,” Will said. “Let’s go see what kind of shops there are.”
There was a souvenir shop with magnets shaped like the state of Maine and model lighthouses, and a women’s clothing shop that delighted El. She tried on a dozen hats, with Will giving a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to each one. He briefly admired some things in the window of the menswear shop next door, but just shook his head when El asked if he wanted to go inside. He knew he wouldn’t be able to afford anything in there.
Soon they came upon a shop that made Will stop dead in his tracks. Beautiful paintings hung in the window along with a sign that said “Sale! 50% off all paintbrushes!” And another announcing “art lessons given here”.
“Let’s go in there!” Will said. He rushed in without waiting for El’s response, but she was close behind him.
Once inside, Will didn’t know where to look first. There were art supplies stacked on every available surface: paints and papers and more kinds of brushes than Will had even known existed. The walls were hung with framed art, each piece accompanied by a card with the name of the artist and a price. He stopped at a portrait of a young woman. Something about the piece called out to him. It was a simple portrait, but it captured the look in her eyes better than any photograph could. It was a mixture of kindness and melancholy that tugged at Will’s heart in a way he didn’t quite understand.
“Like that one?” Suddenly there was a voice at Will’s side. He jumped and looked around quickly. El was across the store, picking up each paintbrush in turn. The voice next to Will came from an older woman who had long gray hair to her waist and a lot of beaded jewelry.
“Yes,” Will said. “It’s beautiful.”
“Well, I had quite the pretty young model,” the woman said with a chuckle.
Will shook his head. “No. I mean, sure, but that’s not what I meant. It’s—it’s the emotion. You painted this?”
“Sure did,” the woman agreed.
“So you’re—“ Will looked at the card accompanying the painting. “Dorothea Geraldine Hazelton?”
“Friends call me Dot,” she said.
Will nodded silently. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was it an invitation for him to call her that? “I’m Will,” is what he finally settled on. “That’s my sister,” he said, pointing at El across the room. “We just moved here.”
Dot gave an elaborate, theatrical bow, holding out her long skirt as she did so. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Will. Welcome to Cape Elizabeth and to my shop. Are you an artist?”
“I draw,” Will said. “I’m not as good as that,” he added, gesturing to her painting again.
“Will, I have been drawing and painting for over 50 years and teaching art for 35. If someone as young as yourself were already as good as that, I might as well give up the whole thing.”
“I guess that’s true,” Will said. “You have classes here?”
Dot smiled mischievously. “Let me get you a flyer.” She began to walk off. “Be right back!” She called.
El reappeared at Will’s side. “Ready to go?” She asked. “It’s almost lunch time.”
“Almost,” Will said. “She’s getting a flyer for me. About art classes.”
“Why do you need classes?” El asked. “You’re good.”
“Not that good,” Will said, pointing at Dot’s painting again.
El shrugged.
“Here we are, here we are!” Dot bustled toward them. “Have a look,” she said, thrusting a flyer into Will’s hands. “Pastels on Mondays, oil painting on Wednesdays, life drawing on Fridays. All in the afternoon, so you could come after school.”
Will looked down at the flyer, excited. He wanted to take all the classes. But when he saw the listed registration fees, he knew that wasn’t likely. He could probably convince his mom to pay for one, but that didn’t even include the cost of supplies.
“Which one is, uh,” Will tried to think of a tactful way to ask which would be less expensive to do. “Which class uses the least supplies?”
“Hm? Oh, that’d be life drawing. Just your paper, pencils, and charcoal.”
That sounded good. Will already had all those supplies.
“You’ll have to check with your parents about that one, though,” Dot said with a wink.
“I will,” he said, unsure why he should have to check about that one more than the others. “I gotta get going, but—oh, this is my sister, Jane.” He was suddenly brought back from his art class fantasies by El tugging at his arm. “Jane, this is…” he trailed off, still not sure what to call her.
“Dot,” she finished with a smile. “Pleased to meet you, dear. I hope to see you both soon!”
“Me too!” Will said. He couldn’t believe Cape Elizabeth had an art shop and an art teacher. Maybe moving away from home wouldn’t be all bad.