Chapter Text
“Flawless, as always,” Mike smirks, shoving the test paper into Dustin’s face.
Dustin picks it up and raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Mike.”
“What do you mean, ‘Sure’? I got a 102%. Can you top that?”
“No, but why does it matter?” Dustin shrugs, and continues walking down the hall.
Mike catches up fast. “Yeah, whatever. You’re just jealous.” He takes the test paper back and crumples it up into a ball.
“The exact opposite, in fact. I feel bad for you. Now, hurry up, or we’ll be late to lunch.”
They scramble to dump their bags in their next class and go to the cafeteria. Lucas is already waiting for them.
“What took you so long?” he asks, in between bites of his sandwich.
Mike and Dustin look at each other and shrug. They sit down, take out their lunchboxes, and start eating.
Max and El arrive a few minutes later, chatting animatedly. They sit down across from Lucas and make conversation.
Mike suddenly feels something cold and wet on his face. He puts his hand up to it--apple juice.
“Hey! Wheeler!”
He turns to Max, still licking the apple juice that she shot at him. “What?”
“You’re daydreaming again. Care to share with the class?”
Everyone turns to look at him. Mike shrugs. “It’s nothing,” he says.
It’s a Monday morning, so everyone’s burnt out and tired. Their conversations are shallow and lighthearted. Lunch ends quickly, and so does the rest of the day.
Before Mike knows it, he’s at home, rifling through graded homework assignments and finishing up essays. He watches the sunset, attempts to draw it (he fails), and eats a granola bar. His parents call him downstairs for dinner.
“Got a 102 on my science midterm,” he flaunts to his father.
He grins. “Good job, son.”
Mike sits down, picking up his fork. His sister, Nancy, slides into the chair next to him, and his mother sits across from him.
The TV is on, but no one’s watching. A light breeze is drifting through the open window. The phone starts to ring at one point, but it’s ignored by everyone. Halfway through their meal, his father comments, “Nancy, why can’t you be more like your brother?”
She almost chokes on her water. “What?”
“He gets such good grades, and you failed algebra. It’s all those boys you talk to. They’re a bad influence.”
Nancy doesn’t respond. Mike feels a pang of sympathy for her. What’s the use still living if you’re not good at math or science? he thinks, and shakes his head sadly.
His mother changes the topic. “The house across the street isn’t on sale anymore,” she muses. “Do you think someone bought it?”
“I heard a family from Indiana is moving in sometime soon,” his father responds. “And they have kids.”
“Do you know their ages?” Mike asks, despite himself.
“One is your age and one is around Nancy’s age. That’s all I know.”
Mike nods, and finishes up his food. He tosses it in the sink for his mother to deal with, and goes upstairs.
He blasts synth music in his room and lays on his bed, contemplating. After an hour or so, he decides it’s time to go to bed, and goes to sleep.
~
Mike is awoken by the sound of a truck. It’s still dark outside, but nonetheless, he immediately runs to his window and opens the curtains to see the confusion. From his window, he has a perfect view of the house across the street from him. A large moving truck is parked there, along with two cars. A man and two women are unloading stuff from the truck, while another tall boy is unloading suitcases from one of the cars. Mike assumes this is the kid who is Nancy’s age.
He catches a glimpse of a smaller kid, one with messy blonde hair in a bowl cut. He’s pulling a suitcase into the house and scratching his elbow.
Mike’s never been into the house next door. He doesn’t really know anything about the people who lived there previously, just that the house has been on sale for a few months now.
He watches as the truck pulls away and one of the women is gone. All the boxes are now in the house, and the door is ajar. At this point, the sun has started to rise.
When the door closes after a few minutes, he doesn’t see the younger boy again.
Mike sighs and closes his curtains, wandering back to his bed. He checks the time--7:00am. What’s the point in going back to bed now, if he’s going to need to get up again in 20 minutes anyway? He throws off his pajamas and changes into something better for school. He does his hair (a lost cause, it’s completely tangled) and packs his bag.
He goes downstairs, grabs his bowl of oatmeal, says hi to his sister, and sits on the couch. He’s technically not allowed to eat breakfast while watching television, but who cares at this point?
Mike has already erased the events of the morning from his memory when his mother comes down and looks out the kitchen window.
“Seems the new family has moved in already.”
“Yeah,” Mike mutters. He hurriedly finishes up his oatmeal and puts on his jacket. It’s not supposed to be cold this time of year, but it is, and Mike is still salty about it. He opens the door and begins to walk towards school. The walk isn’t far, only about ten minutes, but he hates it. His bike is still getting repaired, and his parents aren’t willing to drive him, so he has to deal with it.
He arrives two minutes earlier than usual, and takes his usual spot in the front of the room. Lucas sits next to him, and they chat for a bit about random things.
When the bell rings, the room is boisterous and chaotic. Max, Dustin, and El are in a different homeroom, and Mike can’t talk to them till later.
The teacher walks in and futily attempts to calm the class. As he’s taking attendance, another student walks through the door. Mike’s eyes almost bulge out of his skull. It’s the kid from across the street who just moved in this morning.
“Sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, eyeing the teacher.
“Ah, you’re the Byers kid, aren’t you?” the teacher questions.
“Yep.”
“No problem, then. You can take a seat wherever there’s an empty one. Welcome, William.”
And lo and behold, William takes the empty seat right next to Mike.
“It’s Will, actually,” Will corrects, shyly.
“Noted, thanks,” the teacher replies, taking out a pen.
Lucas looks at Mike pointedly, so he figures that he needs to make small talk. He turns to Will, taking in his appearance. His hair is still the same as earlier, albeit less messy. He’s wearing pretty average clothes, though they seem a bit small for him. His backpack is blue, and out of the corner of his eye, Mike spots what seems to be a small gay pride pin.
“Hey, there! You’re the kid who moved in across the street, aren’t you?” Mike asks, and then internally cringes. Why did he start the conversation with that? Now he seems like a stalker.
“Oh! Yeah. You live right across from me?” Will seems surprised for some reason. He fidgets with his hair.
Mike nods, breaking eye contact, face red. “So. Uh.” He stutters and racks his brain for something to say, but it just feels blank.
“Where’d you move from?” Lucas butts it, giving Mike a questioning look.
“Indiana,” Will responds.
“How do you like our school so far?”
“Well, it’s only homeroom, so I can’t really make an opinion yet,” he says, and chuckles slightly. “But it seems pretty cool.”
Mike has finally come up with a question. “So, what’s your thing?” he blurts.
“My thing?”
“You know. What are you good at? Your special talent.”
“Oh.” Will pauses. “Hm. Art, I guess. And science. I really like both.”
Lucas raises his eyebrows at Mike, and smirks. Science, huh? he mouths, and Mike glares at him.
The bell rings again, signifying the end of homeroom. Everyone hurriedly gets up.
“Wait!” Will exclaims, before Lucas and Mike leave the room. “I never got your names. I’m Will, but you already knew that.” He chuckles again, in a way that brings butterflies to Mike’s stomach. He pushes them away, feeling a slight sense of anger at them.
Mike opens his mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. It’s like he short-circuited.
“I’m Lucas, and this is Mike,” Lucas answers for him, sending another confused look his way.
“Awesome. I’ll see you later, maybe?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Mike says, and Will leaves.
After he’s gone, and they’re walking to first period, Lucas whispers incredulously, “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You just froze. And you kept blurting out weird shit.”
“I don’t know, Lucas, okay? I’m tired,” Mike snaps.
“That’s not good, considering we both have a math test now.”
“Shut.”
“Fine. Good luck.”
“I won’t need it."
~
Mike stares at the word problem, head in hands, utterly puzzled. He reads it again. And again. And again. He draws a diagram. He erases his diagram. He writes down an equation, and immediately scribbles it out.
What is going on? he berates himself, frustrated. A problem like this should be easy to solve. He’s practiced it dozens of times before in the homework.
But right now, his mind is just blank.
He’s sitting next to Max, who’s sitting next to Lucas. She looks at him, slightly amused. She mouths, Having trouble? He glares at her and continues working through the problem.
There’s only 20 minutes left of class, and Mike still has a few problems to complete. He wraps the rest up quickly and comes back to the confusing word problem.
He doesn’t finish it before class ends.
After period 1, all three of them have a study hall, so they go to the library. Max and Lucas argue over which genre is better--”Science fiction is the only correct answer, Lucas!”--and trade jolly ranchers. Then they argue over jolly rancher flavors. Mike doesn’t respond to anything. His brain feels full of static.
“Mike, you’re too quiet. What’s going on?” Lucas notices.
Mike automatically straightens up, and smiles. “What do you mean? I’m great,” he lies.
Max groans. “Wheeler, it’s you and your fucking grades again.”
He winces. She can always see through his lies.
“It was the math test, wasn’t it? Always caring about these pointless numbers. When will you learn?” she continues, utterly exasperated. Lucas puts a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s not about me learning!” Mike snaps. “It’s about you learning. When was the last time you studied for a test? When was the last time you received a grade above a C? You don’t care about your future now, but it’s going to come back later to bite you. I know that.” He’s boiling with rage, and he doesn’t know why.
“When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep? When was the last time you smiled genuinely? You’re such an idiot. You can’t see what’s right in front of you. The school system has conditioned you into believing that grades are everything!” Max exclaims.
At this point, a few of the other kids in the library are watching the chaos, mildly intrigued. The librarian turns to them and shushes them.
Mike’s face flushes. “I’m going to go use the bathroom,” he mutters, and sprints out of there.
He wanders around the halls aimlessly, contemplating Max’s words. He deems them useless and files them away for later thought. He constantly keeps an eye on the time to make sure he has enough time to finish his other homework for next period.
As he turns a corner, he accidentally crashes directly into someone. He winces in pain and rubs his nose as he realizes that it was Will.
“Sorry!” Will and him say at the same time.
He blushes. “Ah! Mike! It’s you.”
Mike chuckles. “It is.”
“Are you… supposed to be in a class right now?”
“Nah, I have a study hall this period.”
“Nice,” Will responds. “I have math right now…”
“Aren’t you taking a test?”
“It’s my first day, so they want me to take it later. I’m not sure why. I already know the material,” he explains.
Mike nods. “Makes sense.”
They stand in silence for a minute while both of them think of something to say. In contrast to earlier, Mike’s mind is firing on all cylinders. The butterflies in the stomach feeling is back. He’s so afraid of it that he buries it, a sense of panic rising in his chest. He’s never felt anything like it before, and he has no idea what it’s supposed to mean.
“Mike?” Will questions, looking concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Just zoned out for a second.”
Will nods. “It’s fine. No need to apologize”
“Well, uh, I’m going to go back now. See you later?”
“Yeah. See you, Will,” Mike whispers. Will waves, turns, and walks away.
Mike stares after him, watching him fade away and grow smaller as he goes down the hallway and makes a left.
He feels dizzy. He resolves that he should go drink some water, but once he does so, it doesn’t do anything. He goes into the bathroom and splashes water on his face.
He stares at himself in the mirror, and wonders why, though he is categorized as smart and gifted, he feels so incompetent; so utterly useless.
~
Mike stares out the window, waiting for the bell to ring. He’s in history class, and his stomach is rumbling, as he forgot to eat a snack two hours ago like he usually does. He doesn’t much care for history, and finds the subject boring. He doesn’t have any of his friends in this class. His history teacher is also the one teacher who despises him, for no particular reason.
Finally, the gonging sound rings out throughout the halls. Mike jumps out of his seat and runs to the door, leaving the room instantly. He quickly drops his history notebook into his locker, grabs his lunchbox, and sprints to lunch.
El, Dustin, and Lucas are already there. Mike sits down across from them as usual, starting to eat his lunch. He doesn’t feel like talking much today. He’s been like that a lot lately.
Mike’s eyes wander to Will, who sits at his own table, alone. He doodles in a sketchbook, periodically sipping soup. It’s been a week or so since he’s moved. No one in their friend group has suggested for Will to sit with them, and Mike isn’t about to ask now.
He is awoken from daydreaming with a tap to his shoulder.
“Wheeler, looks like you aren’t the only nerd at this school,” Max taunts in his ear.
Everyone else suddenly goes silent, except for El. “Max!” she says, warningly.
“What…?” Mike questions, confused.
“Byers kid got a 99% on that math test,” Max explains. Dustin and Lucas simultaneously facepalm.
Mike’s brain lags for a second. A 99%? I could top that. “Your point?”
“It was the highest score in the class.”
Mike glitches again, bewildered. This is new. He’s not used to not being the best. He’s not used to getting lower grades than perfect. He’s not used to being beaten out by the new kid.
He looks over at Will again. So innocent. So small. So… smart?
I’m jumping to conclusions. I don’t even know what score I got, Mike thinks, attempting to rationalize his feelings.
“You got an 80 by the way,” Max pipes in, grinning.
El curses and leads her out of the room to talk in the hallway. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that,” he hears her whisper.
Dustin and Lucas are staring at Mike, an unreadable expression on their faces. They seem--tense. Like they’re waiting for him to blow up.
And he does. He stands up sharply, throws the rest of his lunch in the trash, and runs to his math class.
~
Mike’s math teacher is kind, but strict. She doesn’t assign too much homework, but calls him Michael and refuses to use nicknames for anybody. She’s better than any other math teacher Mike has had in the past, though, so he doesn’t really mind.
She hands him his test back, advising him that he doesn’t need to be perfect all the time, that a B is a perfectly fine score, that the concept was hard, etc. Mike tunes all of it, nodding absentmindedly. He flips through the pages, seeing red pen after red pen after red pen. Every five checkmarks feel useless compared to every minus-one-point he sees written on the page.
“Mike, I can see that you’re disappointed,” she says. “But you passed with an above-average grade. You can’t get A-pluses all the time, it’s not realistic.”
And he understands that the words are true. He understands that they’re correct. That she’s right. But he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t believe it.
He doesn’t believe that the new kid, the Byers kid, could get a higher grade than him. He doesn’t believe that the minute Will came here, his grades started to tank.
So, Mike makes a decision--he is going to be better than Will. He is going to destroy him.
No matter what it takes.
~
Throughout the day, everyone seems to have heard of Will earning the highest score on the math test. Mike doesn’t know how, but it’s high school, and rumors spread faster than a cheetah. Various kids taunt and make snide remarks at Mike. Why can’t they just mind their own business? he thinks, exasperated, then realizes that he’s being hypocritical, and erases that thought from his mind.
Everytime Mike sees Will in the hallway, he turns the next corner to avoid him. Everytime Will makes eye contact, Mike looks away. Everytime Will starts to talk to him, Mike responds with monosyllabic answers until he makes an excuse to leave.
And yet, every single time they interact, Mike’s heartbeat speeds up. His palms get sweaty, and those godforsaken butterflies come back. He doesn’t know what they mean, and he’s too afraid to ask himself. He suppresses them, but once they’re gone, he feels empty inside.
Obviously, his friends have noticed something is up. The other day, Dustin took him aside to talk.
“What is going on recently? Is this about that stupid math test?” he had asked.
Mike had shaken his head, and didn’t respond, no matter how much Dustin pestered him.
He doesn’t talk to Max anymore, either, giving her the silent treatment. Deep down, he knows this is superficial. He knows he’s being petty, and that Max is probably right, but he can’t bring himself to accept the fact that school isn’t everything.
At home, he didn’t tell his parents about the B. He didn’t know how they’d react, because nothing like that had every happened before. He figured they’d find out eventually, but it’s not lying if you don’t say anything, is it? Obviously, Nancy knows (see: rumors spread way too fast), but at least she has the audacity to not tell anyone else.
On another note, Nancy has become more close with Jonathan Byers, Will’s older brother. He’s a pretty talented photographer; Mike’s seem some of his stuff. Mike thinks that this is a nice change. At least she’s not hanging out with that idiot Steve.
Either way, his parents have also noticed his change in demeanor.
At the dinner table that night, they discuss the Byers’ parents for a bit (“Joyce is so kind, but she never answers any questions about why they moved”), but then the topic changes.
“Mike, how are things at school?” his mother asks.
He pushes his food around his plate with his fork. “Good.”
“Are you talking to Will? Is he fitting in there?”
“Yeah,” he lies. Nancy side-eyes him.
“Are you eating enough? You’ve been losing your appetite lately,” his father comments.
“I’m just not hungry.”
“If you say so.” His father shrugs and continues eating.
The table is silent for the rest of the meal. When everyone’s done, Mike helps his mother wash the dishes. She raises an eyebrow at him incredulously when he suggests it. But he just needs a way to distract his mind from everything that’s been happening.
After the dishes are done, Mike neglects his homework and decides to sleep, but he can’t even do that correctly. His head throbs as he opens up his writing notebook and scribbles out a poem. He rips out the page immediately, and starts over.
And as I stare into the abyss,
I think about where I am now
I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be going through this
Am I going crazy? Would I even know?
Who am I if not someone smart?
Who am I if not a role model, someone the other kids look up to and are jealous of?
Someone that my family is proud of?
Someone that has a reason to still be here
on this planet
I used to be able to see my future
but now there’s nothing there
He accidentally tears the page with the force of his pencil pressing down on the last word. He grabs his eraser and restarts the poem for a third time, for a fourth time, for a fifth time, and now it’s pitch-black outside, and thirty minutes later, he’s still sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the wall.
~
Mike doesn’t know at which point he falls asleep, but he does, and now he’s late to school. He recalls the disturbing nightmare he had during the night, but then pushes it away because he doesn’t want to think about it.
Missing homeroom isn’t a big deal, but he’s never really been late before. He hurriedly packs his things, skips breakfast, and runs to school. By the time he gets there, the halls are filled with students switching classes and the slamming of lockers.
When he walks into class (science), Mike is immediately taken aback. He stumbles backwards and has to steady himself on the doorframe to regain his balance.
Why?
Because Max and Dustin are chatting with Will.
His breath hitches and he berates himself for being so angry about it. Max and Dustin are allowed to talk to whoever they want. I don’t own my friends, he reminds himself, wondering why he feels betrayed.
Mike throws his backpack down on the floor next to his desk with such force that he hears a crack. Water immediately starts pooling out onto the floor. He curses, and removes the broken plastic bottle from his backpack. He moves his backpack out of way (the bottom is already soaked) and grabs some paper towels from the back of the classroom.
Max and Dustin stop their conversation and watch him clean up the mess, but they don’t help. The class is pretty full by now (although the teacher isn’t here yet), and everyone is too distracted to care.
Except for Will.
He gets up and walks over to Mike at the front of the class, with more paper towels in his hand. “Here, lemme help you clean up.”
Mike, who’s been crouching down on the floor, gets up and stares Will in the face. His heart starts beating rapidly, but he ignores it. “No need. I can do it myself,” he snaps, grabbing the extra paper towels from Will.
Will looks hurt. He realizes he’s being rude, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want help from the person he currently hates the most.
Will mutters, “Okay. Just offering,” and puts his hands up in surrender. When Mike ignores him, he walks back to his seat. Mike finishes cleaning up and sits down again, eyeing the clock.
“He’s been so salty ever since he got that 80,” he hears Max whisper to Dustin.
“I heard that Will earned the 99. That was the top score, wasn’t it?” someone else chimes in.
“Since when has Mike not earned the top score? And in math, of all subjects? Isn’t he a genius or something?”
“Well, maybe there’s a new genius in town.”
Mike stubbornly refuses to look behind him, though he hears everything everyone is saying. He wishes they could just shut up. He recognizes, again, that he’s being hypocritical, that he says the same things about other people, that he talks behind his classmates’ back about their grades as well. That he silently (and sometimes not-so-silently) judges people because of a number.
And, while he recognizes how stupid it is, he feels like he deserves it. He feels like this is the price he has to pay for getting a low grade, for not being perfect. For someone else taking his top spot.
The teacher finally joins the class, seemingly frazzled. It snaps Mike out of his trance and the class quiets down immediately. He sets down his gradebook and addresses the class.
“Settle down, children. We have a lot to cover today, and we need to talk about the upcoming group project,” she explains.
The words, “group project” hang in the air. Kids automatically turn around and lock eyes with each other, a silent, “Let’s partner up” being communicated. Mike almost audibly groans. He hates group projects, but of course, he is now forced to participate in one. He hopes that the teacher at least lets them pick their own groups, otherwise, he’s screwed.
“And I’m choosing the groups, after last time.”
Now almost everyone in the class audibly groans.
“You’ll do it in pairs, and you have one week. I want it to be colorful and creative. You also need to present it. Here are the guidelines,” she says, while passing out stapled packets of paper. When she hands one to Mike, he flips through it absentmindedly. He tunes out the teacher and reads the directions by himself.
They have to choose any famous scientist or engineer and create a poster about them. The assignment is simple, and they have a lot of freedom on who they can pick. Mike recalls doing a similar assignment a few years ago, but he doesn’t remember who he picked.
Everyone is already whispering about topic ideas. Since no one is sitting on either side of Mike, he has no one to discuss with. It’s not like it matters right now anyway--the teacher hasn’t even assigned partners yet.
“Now that we’re done going through the directions, does anyone have any questions?”
No one raises their hand.
“Perfect. I’ll read out the names of the pairs I’ve chosen. If you have a valid reason for not wanting to be in a group with someone, please come talk to me, and I’ll see what I can do,” the teacher elaborates, producing a folded piece of paper from her gradebook.
“First group is Josh and Marcy. Next is Dustin and Avery. Preethi and Kade are the next group…” she continues.
Mike holds his breath as she continues down the list. Max is partnered up with a boy whom Mike does not know the name of. Finally, the teacher gets down to the bottom of the list. Mike surveys the room self-consciously, trying to figure out who he’s going to be paired up with.
As his eyes rest on the person sitting exactly two rows behind him, the teacher says, “And Mike and Will, you two can be partners.”
He whips around to face the teacher, mouth opening in protest. She gives him a look and tosses the paper in the recycling bin. The bell rings, and everyone rushes to get packed up.
“That is all. Work on your projects, kids! Try to get a rough draft ready by next class. See you on Friday.”
As Mike is walking out the door, Will runs up to him. “So, I guess we’re partners, then?”
Their shoulders brush. He feels a shock of electricity shoot up his arm, and those stupid butterflies in his stomach have arrived.
“Yeah,” Mike replies coldly, staring straight ahead. Unfortunately, he thinks to himself.
It’s going to be an interesting week.