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El has been fussing in the bathroom mirror for thirty minutes, getting increasingly frustrated. She runs her fingers through her hair, but part of her hand gets caught with a painful tug, causing her frustrations to mount even further.
A beauty magazine is propped on the bathroom sink, folded to a page showing a beautiful girl with a French braid. The golden pleat was tied off with a simple red ribbon. It was so ornate - unlike anything El had seen before. However, it couldn’t be that hard to replicate - given the amount of girls she’s seen wear them at school. But, that was the exact problem. All the girls figured out how to do their hair and El was lagging far behind. She had never even had long hair until about a few months ago. So, she can do basic ponytails and buns and half-ponies, but the more complex styles gave her difficulties. She only really mastered using a hair dryer a few weeks ago without burning her skin in the process.
Joyce had been extremely helpful - buying her scrunchies and clips and whatever else her hair needed, but El felt bad asking Joyce to do her hair in the morning for school. El was certain that the other girls just did their hair by themselves. She wants to have that same agency with it. After all, it doesn’t have to be buzzed every few weeks so weird electrodes can be taped to her head. Her hair can be whatever she wants to be. Which is why it’s so frustrating that it isn’t turning out the way she wants it to be.
A few brown strands are tangled into an attempted braid while others fall flatly at the side of her head from her running her hands through them so much. Initially, she wanted to incorporate a french braid into one of her half-ponies, but the braid laid awkwardly on the side of her scalp, so she had to take it out.
Then, she tried a side pony that she saw all the other girls wear, but she didn’t have the right hair texture to pull it off. Many girls had perms that made their hair look curly and big and so very beautiful. But from what El deduces, perms take a lot of work to take care of, and she isn’t sure she is of a high enough caliber to take on such a responsibility. She would try and curl her hair, but awkward maneuvering and a very, very hot curling iron made for a lot of burnt ears and necks.
So, El is moving onto a French braid. “Simple” French braid is what the magazine calls it, but the ache in her fingers says otherwise. Her arms are tired, her fingers are tired, everything is just tired. She presses her forehead to the bathroom mirror and lets out a small sigh. She knows her emotions can get too much to handle, so she tries to recenter herself but finds it harder to do the more she messes up.
Everything is a big mess. Moving is difficult, making friends is difficult, school is difficult, hair is difficult. She wishes Max was with her. Max was the one who actually taught her to braid. She didn’t even get mad when El gave her hair a huge knot the first time she practiced. She misses how non-judgemental Max was when El was way behind with girl stuff.
A ring at the doorbell shakes El out of her negative thoughts.
“Oh, El, could you get that?” Joyce calls from her desk, “I’m finishing up a call.”
“Okay.” El says from the bathroom. She takes one last look at herself in the mirror. She combs her hands through her hair so it doesn’t look as disastrous. One particularly stubborn tangle makes her tear up a bit.
She walks down to the front door - again, trying to calm herself down. Her hair probably looks a little messy, but there isn’t much she can do about it. El takes a deep breath before opening the door. She still gets a little nervous with things like answering the door and phone. There’s just so many unspoken rules and etiquette that El’s still figuring out.
She cracks it open, just a peek, and is just met with color.
“Hey, little dude, is Jonathan home?” the voice says.
El blinks a few times. Of course, it was Argyle. Who else would have such cool, colorful clothes?
She opens the door all the way. Argyle is holding a small bag at his side. She wrings her nose a bit since it smells a little funny.
“Oh, Argyle, what are you doing here?” Joyce asks as she walks to the door - her call must have ended.
“Hey, Mrs. B., I just got some stuff for a… school project with Jonathan.” He holds up the bag to show her.
Joyce tilts her head, “Project? What class is this for?”
Argyle looks between the bag and Joyce, “Ecology. We’re studying the effects of, uh, the local plant life on people. Crazy stuff.”
“Right…” Joyce trails off, “Well, Jonathan is out shopping with Will, but you can drop off your supplies in Jonathan’s room. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Joyce waves Argyle in, “Do you want anything to drink at all? Water? Pop?”
Argyle walks through the door, “I ain’t picky Mrs. Byers. You got it, I’ll drink it.”
Joyce gives a close-lipped smile. Argyle was always so go-with-the-flow that you had to make decisions for him. “How about… you just look in the fridge and pick whatever jumps out at you,” she decides.
Argyle gives a peace sign and grins, “Right on!”
El, seeing that she’s no longer needed in the conversation, retreats to the bathroom to give another attempt at her hair. Yep, it still looks messy. She takes a brush and violently attacks the strands, as if she were trying to tame one of the scary monsters Will likes to draw. The bristles make her hair a static mess, sticking out more than before. She throws the brush in the sink and it makes a loud clatter. Her lips go into a pout. She grips the edge of the sink and hangs her head, low and defeated. El has won against all sorts of terrifying creatures, but it seems like she has met her match.
She grinds her teeth in a fuss. She hears footsteps walk by the bathroom door and halt.
“Who, little dude, having some trouble?” Argyle says from the doorway. He’s holding a can of Dr Pepper in one hand and that suspicious bag in the other. It still smells kinda weird.
El watches as Argyle brushes his hair out of the way to take a sip of Dr Pepper. It was so long, almost going down to his hips. It was like that book of fairy tales that Hopper showed to her once. Rapunzel. Instead of shiny golden locks, Argyle had jet black, almost glossy hair. It was like silk, or velvet. It was beautiful. El wants hair like that, but the frizzy hair in the mirror is denying her aspirations.
She bites her lip to hide her pout, “I’m doing my hair. It… isn’t working out.” Her voice comes out quiet and small. She points to the magazine in the sink to show him. The “simple” French braid seems to taunt her.
Argyle leans over to see the magazine and nods his head in understanding. “French braids, huh? I know my way around a few braids,” he says.
El blinks at Argyle, “You do?”
Argyle grins, “Well, Jane, you’re looking at a braiding aficionado. I’m a master of my craft. A hair guru.”
El tucks a strand behind her ear and gives a look to Argyle, “How do you get your hair so pretty?”
“Just good ‘ole peace and love,” Argyle states.
El tilts her head, perplexed. Usually it’s good shampoo and conditioner that makes people’s hair look nice. But, Argyle said he was a hair expert. Maybe that’s the secret ingredient.
“How do I put… love into my hair?”
“Well, little dude, you just gotta schmack good energies and vibrations into it.”
El nods, even though she has no idea half the words Argyle just said.
Argyle sets the suspicious bag down on the tile, as gentle as a baby. “First things first: if you put care in your hair, you’ll get care out of it.” Argyle hands El her brush, “You gotta be chill when brushing. You can’t fight the hair.”
El puts the bristles to her scalp, and brushes a bit slower, but another knot stops her. Her frustrations come back.
“Good energies.” Argyle reminds.
Instead of trying to rip the knot out, El gives it a few tentative brushes. The knot loosens, and El is able to untangle it with her fingers. She tries the same approach with the rest of her hair until everything is brushed out. Her hair looks much better, and there isn’t as much static as there was before.
“Peace and love.” El states.
“Yeah, you got it!” Argyle says, impressed, “Now, aren’t I a good teacher?”
She looks at the magazine. “But how do I do something like that? …Can you… show me?” She feels a bit flustered - Argyle was doing so much already. But, again, he was an expert. He’d have a better understanding of how to… “schmack” love into it. Whatever that means.
“Of course, little dude. It’s as easy as 1, 2, 3.”
El squints again, “Aren’t “dudes”… boys?” At least, that’s what she thought.
“Dude is a state of mind. Boys are dudes. Girls are dudes. It’s just the vibrations. If they’re cool, they’re a dude.”
“Okay… dude.” El says with a bit of hesitance.
“ Nice , I dig it!” Argyle says.
El maneuvers so that Argyle is behind her. She watches in the mirror as Argyle sections off her hair into three strands on the top of her head. That’s what El was trying to do, but her fingers weren’t dexterous enough.
“Here are my easy peasy tips for a sick braid,” Argyle explains, “Just make sure all the chunks you’re grabbing are even. And, make sure it’s right in the center. But the most important thing is patience.”
“Patience?”
“Yeah, make sure to give your hair some T.L.C. If you’re all mad and stuff while doing it, all that negative energy goes right into your scalp and makes you angry for the rest of the day.”
“It does?” She didn’t know hair could have such a big impact on the mind.
Argyle begins to braid the hair. While he tugs on it slightly, there’s no actual pain or discomfort that El feels.
“Yeah, that’s why you need that peace, love, and patience. So, braiding your hair with those things in mind will send all of those good intentions straight to your body. Pretty gnarly, huh?”
“Is that why you’re so calm all the time?” She asks.
Argyle chuckles, “That’s just a part of it. The other part is in that bag for me and Jonathan’s “school” project.”
El looks back at the bag on the floor, “So, all the smelly plants Jonathan uses are just for a school project?”
Argyle nods his head coolly, “Yeah, all sorts of projects. School projects… Personal projects… Project projects…”
El perks up, “If it makes you so calm, can I have some?”
Argyle stills a bit, “I’d let you partake, but I don’t think Jonathan would be cool with it. I don’t want to make my dude upset at all.” He pats her on the shoulder, “You should ask him, not me. Preferably when your mom isn’t around.” El nods and makes a mental note to ask Jonathan later.
Argyle begins to take new hair from the side of her head to incorporate into the braid. He somehow manages to gather new strands without completely unraveling it.
“This is the tricky part,” he says, “But after that, it’s smooth sailing. Just remember P. L. P: peace, love, and patience.”
“P.L.P.” she repeats.
Argyle’s aficionado hands masterfully crosses over the strands into the pretty pleat. El tries to copy what Argyle is doing with her own hands, putting it into muscle memory. Over, under, cross, alternate. Over, under, cross, alternate. Over, under, cross, alternate.
“So, I was just curious and stuff,” Argyle says after braiding a few more rows of hair, “I know your name is Jane, but I’ve also heard Jonathan and Mrs. Byers call you El. Where’d, like, that nickname come from?”
El stills a bit. She couldn’t exactly say Oh, it’s short for Eleven. Because then she’d have to explain why she’s called Eleven. Luckily, Will taught her a nice lie in a situation like this, even though she shouldn’t lie to friends. Was Argyle a friend? Well, she’d like to be his friend.
“It’s from my middle name - Eleanor,” she fibs.
“Yeah, that makes sense. Cool nickname,” Argyle says nonchalantly. He’s now braiding the ends of her hair. That El can do. She reaches to grab a stray hair tie to give to Argyle. She doesn’t have any fancy ribbons to put in her hair - something she should probably mention to Joyce when she gets the chance. Argyle removes his hands and presents the finished look in the mirror. El looks over her shoulder, feeling the smooth pleat of the braid in her hands. Each section of hair crossed over each other to make the delicate pattern, not a piece out of place. A few strands were left out of the braid to frame her face. She plays with the end of the braid, experimenting with what it looks like over the shoulder. As a finishing touch, she grabs some yellow barrettes strewn on the bathroom counter and pins them into place.
It’s perfect.
The soft yellow perfectly compliments the yellows and browns of the plaid button down she got from Will. El feels all giddy. She does a little twirl to see the braid spin with her.
“Another satisfied customer of Braid Expert Argyle, if I do say so myself,” he says with his arms folded proudly.
“Pretty.” El says. She feels herself smile. Wow, she feels on top of the world. It was like a whole new reality opened up to her. Argyle was right. Putting good thoughts in your hair does make you happy. She wants to jump, prance, twirl, do anything and everything with her hair. She turns to Argyle.
“Thank you.” She says.
Argyle shrugs and sticks his thumb and pinky out, “Yeah! Anytime, little dude.” Again, El doesn’t really know what it means, but she mimics Argyle’s gesture in response.
There’s the squeaking of the front door and shuffling of bags that makes Argyle peak his head out of the bathroom.
“Nice!” He says, “Byers is finally back.” He picks up the suspicious bag off the tile, “If you don’t mind me, I’m going to put the “school project” in Jonathan’s room.” El gives a thumbs up.
She exits the bathroom as well, going down toward the kitchen. Grocery bags were set on the table and Jonathan was in the process of unpacking them. Will was standing in front of the open fridge with a partial scowl.
“Did someone really drink the last Dr Pepper?” He groans.
“We can always pick some up tomorrow,” Jonathan says, handing Will three boxes of Eggo’s - her rations for the week.
El goes and rustles through the bags for any other goodies. Yes! They got the snack cakes. And a pint of ice cream as well! Wait, it’s butter pecan, nevermind. That’s Joyce’s favorite. But, the pack of Oreos lifts her spirits once more. She sneaks one out of its package.
“El,” Will says, “Those are for later.” That doesn’t stop him from taking one as well.
She thinks back to Argyle. Will has… vibrations, or whatever that means.
“Sorry… dude,” El responds. She replicates the gesture with her pinky and thumb.
Will gives her a weird look, like he didn’t know she was able to do that. It was a glitch in the matrix, so to speak. Jonathan chuckles from the kitchen table. “Have you been hanging out with Argyle?” He asks, a bit jokingly.
“Yes! He braided my hair,” she says with a smile. She turns around to present it proudly, holding the end out.
“Woah, it looks really good, El. Really pretty,” Will exclaims, scanning it over. “Seems like it would be fun to draw.” El puffs her chest out in delight. That was one of the best compliments you could get from Will.
“It really does,” Jonathan agrees, “But, why was he here in the first place?”
“Argyle brought some stuff for a school project you had. He went to your room with it.”
“Wait, school project?” Jonathan asks.
“Yeah, it was for… e-call-oh-gee? You were using your smelly plants to see how they affected people,” El states plainly.
Jonathan sputters while Will gives him a dirty look.
“Also,” El continues, “He says they make you really calm, but he said he couldn’t give me any and told me to ask you.”
“Jesus Christ. Argyle taught El about weed. ” Will mutters, hand cradling his head in disappointment.
“ Shhh,” Jonathan hushes, waving his hands in the air wildly, “Mom is in the other room..!”
“Oh, yeah, he also told me to ask you about it when she wasn’t around,” she says, a bit quieter. Will has to walk away in disbelief.
Like a guest star appearing on a sitcom, Argyle walks into the kitchen, hands in his pockets all laid-back. He either misses or completely disregards Jonathan’s glare at him.
“‘Sup dudes,” he greets, “Got the goodies for our “school” project, Jonathan?” He examines the snacks on the kitchen table, “Yeah, you got a good variety here.”
“Argyle,” Jonathan hisses, “Did you really teach my sister about you know what?”
“If you know what means how to do a really sick French braid, then I sure did,” Argyle confirms, hands on his hips.
“I- nevermind, forget it,” he says. “Thanks for doing Jane’s hair.”
“No problemo. Figured someone had to teach her the power of peace, love, and patience” He sticks his arm toward El for a fist bump, “Am I right?”
Argyle may use funny plants and say words that El may not totally understand and has an entire rainbow for a wardrobe, but she knows one thing for certain: Argyle is really cool. With a smile, El accepts the fist bump graciously.
“Peace, love, and patience!”