Work Text:
Chapter 1
El ran the comb through her fringe until it lay flat, or at least, as flat as she could get it. No matter how careful she was, mousy brown strands found ways to twist out of place. She tossed the comb onto her desk with a small huff. It softly clatters against the wood. She steps back to study her reflection. Other girls’ hair always looked perfect. Why couldn’t hers look like that, too?
Pale light spilt through her yellow curtains, striping El in a golden gleam as she circled the bed. She stopped at her closet and grazed the hangers. There weren’t many nice clothes to choose from: a few dresses she had helped mend, some thrifted shirts, and the flowy trousers Joyce helped her sew all last weekend. They were a deep crimson, patterned with swirling navy paisleys that shimmered slightly in the light. She smiled a little. Joyce said they looked “artsy.” El wasn’t sure what that meant in its entirety, but Will's paintings were always really pretty, so she liked the sound of it.
She slipped them on. A memory from yesterday resurfaced. The girls in front of her -- during social studies -- whispered about their favourite bands. They passed notes of doodled hearts and song lyrics. El listened carefully, wanting to understand. She didn’t know all that much about music.
But she knew who did.
***
Will sat at the kitchen table, half-awake, eating cereal. Jonathan flipped through a technology magazine beside him. El remembered it arriving in the post yesterday. The mailman had been very nice when she opened the door. She’d never really met one before. He’d smiled at her when she struggled to say thank you. Maybe he’d sensed her shyness; the thought made her feel a little embarrassed.
She tiptoed past them, down the stairs, and into Will’s room. The door grated gently as she pushed it open. She paused, heart racing, then stepped inside. His bed was neatly made. An easel stood unused. Her foot brushed against something startling her, a sketchbook, lying open on the floor. She brushed it away with a kick. Clothes were scattered in a heap on the chair beside the bed. She knelt and began sorting through the fabrics, hands shaking, her pulse thudding louder with every second. Then she found it. A worn black T-shirt, the words The Cure faded faintly across the front. She recognised the name from the girls’ conversation. Perfect, she thought, folding it over her arm and slipping out before anyone could catch her.
***
El’s fingers fumbled with the clips of her bra. She hadn’t gotten used to putting them on. Joyce bought her three a couple of weeks ago, along with a gentle but embarrassing speech about how she was “becoming a woman now.” El didn’t feel anywhere near ready for such a title. But mostly, she hated how uncomfortable the things were.
She pulled the shirt over her head and turned back to the mirror with a sigh. She liked how the red lettering matched her crimson trousers. Reaching for the small tube of mascara and the red-tinted lip gloss on her desk, she applied them carefully. Joyce bought her a few makeup basics, along with a vhs guide she could play on the TV. Will kindly let her practice on him, and sometimes he practised on her too, though he never wore it outside. He says boys weren’t really supposed to, which El thinks is silly. She wasn’t ready to try anything bold in public yet. Joyce said she was really good but needed a little more practice before she could try real makeup like the pretty junior girls at school. She leaned closer, making sure her mascara wasn’t clumpy and her lip gloss smooth and even. Then, with practised concentration, she dusted a little blush over her cheeks.
El wandered to her desk. She ran her fingers down the side of an envelope — A new letter from Mike. The mail had just arrived early that morning. It was slightly crumpled in parts and poorly sealed, the long trip, El assumes. She was always thrilled when they came, considering it the best part of her week. She’d even begun drafting a reply in anticipation. A notebook lay open and waiting in front of her.
She picked up her pen, wanting to continue writing what she’d worked on the night before, when a voice called out from the hallway, stopping her. “El! C’mon, are you ready yet?!”
El shot up. She rustled through her trinket drawer, pulling out two little red ribbons. She’d saved them from the packaging of a ruffly pyjama set she bought with her allowance. she smoothed down her hair and parted it evenly. In the same way her dad taught her to tie shoelaces, El tied the bows. She’d seen a girl wear her hair like that at school before. Her boyfriend said it looked ‘cute’. El couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Mike would think that too?
But right now, he wasn’t important. Her attention was better placed on hoping the girls at school would appreciate the effort.
She grabbed her favourite red checkered shirt and slipped it on. She left it open so the other girls could see the band name on her. Maybe then they’d be nicer, even talk to her about music. deep down, El knew it was unlikely. She glanced over herself a final time. With her hair tied up that way and the layered shirts, she looked a little different. Maybe even older. She wasn’t sure if it suited her, but for a moment, she felt like she might have a better shot at being Jane.
Chapter 2
Outside, the blare of a van horn could be heard. Jonathan’s mumble carried faintly up the stairs.
She grabbed her little Jan's sports bag and hurried out. “Bye, Joyce!” she called into the echoing house to no reply. She pulled the door shut behind her. She bounded down the steps and onto the road.
***
El slid into the back of the surfer boy's pizza van. The scent of grease, along with something burnt and earthy, irritated her nose. The seats left a weird, cheesy residue on her hands as she wriggled over. Will was slouched against the window, arms crossed, staring out at nothing in particular.
Something's wrong, El notes
Will’s reflection stretched faintly across the glass. He was wearing a checkered flannel, similar to the one El had, but it was blue and buttoned up over a t shirt, he paired it with his usual faded jeans and sneakers. She liked the way his sleeves wererolled and cuffed at his elbows; he always did that when they were loose and baggy. Joyce had told her to buy clothes that were a bit big, Right now, they were growing, and soon they would be taller than her. Will’s hair hung just above his eyes, cut perfectly straight but grown out in a way that made him look kind of distracted or annoyed.
In the front, Jonathan was laughing at something Argyle said, his voice warm and loose around the edges, in the same way it got when he was tired. The music on the radio was fast and loud. Her fingers grappled for her buckle. She pulled the seatbelt across her Lapp. She wanted to join the conversation. Argyle was the loudest, smacking the dashboard and cracking up over ridiculous pizza topping combinations that didn’t exist. Jonathan giggled, mentioning something about pickles and pineapple. “Genius, man.” JArgyle shook his head. Their laughter was far too loud for 8 am,
El smiled -- faintly, though she didn’t understand the joke. She tilted her head, trying to follow along. The words escaped her before she could catch their meaning. Everything was somehow funny to everybody but her. She glanced over at Will for a hint — His jaw was tight, shoulders stiff. He wasn’t laughing. Maybe he didn’t understand either?
El watched him for a moment, clicking her shoes together as she tried to read his face. He just looked off, the way he always did when Jonathan started acting strange and tired. She could see it in the way Will’s expression fell. His body tensed; he was bracing for something.
Instinctively, El straightened. She brushed invisible dust from her crimson trousers. The glass caught her reflection -- messy bangs, uneven pigtails, pale swirls dancing on her face. She felt conscious of everything now. She thought about her clothes, her hair, even the bows she’d tied that morning. Her overshirt slipped slightly from her shoulder as she adjusted herself, revealing the black fabric beneath. Will’s eyes flicked toward her. Then stopped. His gaze landed on the lettering stretched across her chest.
“Hey, why’d you snoop through my room?" His tone was harsh enough to make her freeze. She blinked at him, unsure if she’d heard right.
“I didn’t..?” It came out softly, eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty. His expression was making her anxious. She hadn’t snooped – not exactly – but she had gone in there and taken a shirt. Will always let her borrow his clothes?
“You’ve never even listened to The Cure, Jane,” he gestured, annoyance flickering across his face.
“I’m sorry… I -I didn’t know—” She stopped, her fingers tightening in her lap. tears began to prick her eyes. She always upset people without meaning to. “I thought it was okay.” Her voice came out small and apologetic. It was so unfair, everyone was always mad at her, but El was trying really, really hard. She wished they understood.
Will sighed. He looked toward the front of the van. His shoulders slumped, his face eased. Jonathan was laughing at something absurd again, and Argyle was nearly in tears; their laughter made the tense space feel crowded.
El watched him carefully, unsure what had shifted. He shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said after a long pause. “Just... ask next time, okay?” Will’s tone had softened, the earlier bite gone.
She nodded, sinking back into the seat.
She missed Hawkins. There, she had three simple rules. Hopper had outlined them for her clearly. Always keep the curtains drawn. Only open the door if she hears his secret knock. Don't ever go out alone, especially not in the daylight. Now the rules only seemed to matter once she’d broken them and someone was hurt. She can’t do small, silly things like walking into a certain room if she wasn’t invited or leaving the table if not everyone was finished eating.
And at school, there were a million more rules, ones that were invisible. They decided who was laughed at, who got ignored and who was wrong. somehow she managed to fit into every category. They no longer just told her how to keep safe; they told her what was polite, what was cool and what made people like you. Now she was breaking them here with Will, too.
El turned to the window, watching the palm trees outside blur into green and gold streaks, the van rumbling down the highway. The laughter up front felt like it came from some far-off planet, blissfully unaware of earth-shattering struggles taking place just a few feet away. She wrapped her arms around herself, tucking away Will’s shirt. her face flushed as she watched the light change against the glass. Outside, Lenora kept moving — fast, and El sat exhausted, once again, trying to learn how she fit into it.