Chapter Text
Mike Wheeler’s life starts the day he meets Will Byers on the playground. It is the first day of kindergarten, and Mike has already resigned himself to a fate of eternal lonesomeness. That is until he sees Will beaming a smile that showcases both rows of teeth, happily content despite playing on his own.
If you ask Mike, Will has always been a superhero.
Seeing Will for the first time was like snapping into consciousness. The world cast in light so bright and colorful and far too wide to grasp in tiny palms. Mike would tell you that when you first meet a superhero you have to hold your breath, stand really still, and count to ten before even thinking to approach them. You may try to will your limbs to stop shaking out of control with each step forward, and your heart might race fast against your ribcage even though there are no monsters chasing you. And if you manage to stutter out a few words without sinking into quicksand and the hero greets you with a smile, your feet sort of float off the ground for a second and you’re so happy you can cry.
. . .
It is a weekly occurrence, Mrs. Wheeler comes home from running errands hoisting an arm full of groceries and a fresh bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper. Today’s picks are sunflowers and daisies. The floral scent wafts under Mike’s nose and he follows it like a hound, trailing his dark navy blanket—his initials handsewn in the corner—behind him. He’d been dozing on the couch as Ted Wheeler’s game shows droned on.
His mother would usually take her with him to the grocery store and around town and even occasionally let him pick out the flowers, but today had been an already long, draining day for the newly turned five-year-old. His mother had woken him up early as the rest of the house slumbered, washed him and gotten him dressed and then they were out the door and shuffling into the car.
He had not the energy to even ask where it was they were going.
Still half in a daze, he rested his eyes as his mother tapped on the steering wheel and hummed along to whatever was playing on the radio. They pulled up to a giant brick building and waltzed inside and met with a strange lady who chatted animatedly with his mom as he roamed around touching anything he could get his hands on. By the end of it, he was exhausted and ready to go home.
Mrs. Wheeler had set him at the table and prepped a late breakfast—rather, early lunch. Eventually, lulled by the smell of bacon grease, Ted lowered himself in the seat next to Mike giving him a quick pat of the head before taking up the daily paper and glowering at the hot cup of coffee Karen sat on the coaster in front of him. Nancy had spent the night at Barbara’s house so Mike grew even more bored and tired as his parents talked about grownup stuff like bills and faulty streetlights and the weather. After eating he was stuffed and took up shop on the couch as Ted lounged in the sofa chair, flicking through various channels on the television.
Mrs. Wheeler cleaned up the dishes and stowed away the leftovers in the fridge before grabbing up her keys and purse. Mike was sleeping the morning off. She decided not to disturb him and gingerly draped his favorite blanket—a deep blue worn frock—over him and tiptoed out.
Today is one of the rare days where she has a few hours to herself. She spends most of the time worrying over her kids. Mike, in particular.
She’s weary that Mike will struggle adjusting to school. To being around other kids his age. Nancy had fared well enough and had always been a bit more independent, wanting to do things for herself and in her own time. Mike, however, is deeply attached to his mother. And vice versa. But school would begin in a month or two’s time and as much as she would like she cannot avoid it forever.
“Can I help?” Mike stands at the threshold of the kitchen, rubbing his tired eyes. His blanket dripped into a pool at his feet.
Before Karen Wheeler can get a word out edge-wise, he is shuffling over to the dining table and tugging harshly on the leg, dragging it over to the island. The sound of it scraping the wooden floors sends her nerves into a frenzy and her husband whips his head around so fast it’s a surprise it doesn’t fall off its hinges and topple to the living room carpet. She half-imagines that it does. Maybe then at least she’d get some peace and quiet from his nagging complaints.
Mike is completely oblivious to the tension crackling in the air between his parents. He has only one thing in mind. Pretty flowers.
“Of course you can help, sweetie.”
She stops her pruning to hold the chair steady as Mike clambers up to stand beside her.
“Michael, could you grab that vase for me?”
Mike is happy to oblige, reaching over and lifting the ceramic vase carefully with both hands and setting it closer to his mother. She hands him a flower and lets him peel off the leaves.
“You get better and better at this everytime.”
Mike beams with pride at his mother’s compliment and sets the flower in the vase waiting for his next task. She hands him another flower to pluck at.
“He’d be better not playing with that sort of stuff at all,” Ted grumbles from his place on the sofa chair. This earns a glare from Karen who takes notice of the way Mike bristles slightly at his father’s words.
“You can help me anytime, Michael. Okay?”
“Okay.” When the vase is full, he leans forward and presses his nose to a sunflower and breathes deeply. “Mmm.”
“What do you think?”
“It smells really good. And it’s pretty, too.”
“Very pretty,” Karen affirms. “Now, where should we put this one?”
“Hmm…,” Mike purses his lips and looks around. “By the window! Flowers love the sun.”
Karen chuckles, “By the window it is.” She lifts the vase and carries it to the window nestled over the sink. She steps back to admire their handiwork and Mike watches on, enamored by the colorful arrangement, “Now, where did you learn so much about flowers, hmm?”
“Nana.” Nancy is sort of an expert on gardening believe it or not. She picked it up from girl scouts and of course with anything his big sister does, Mike is quick to catch on.
“And where did Nancy learn, do you think?”
Mike seems to really ponder on this, “Barbie?”
“Not quite.” She sidles back up to the kitchen island. “She learned from being a part of her scouts troop and also reading books and going to school.” Karen braces herself a bit for the conversation ahead, letting Mike mull over the idea of it. “Would you like to go to school, sweetie?”
“School?”
“Uh huh. It’s that really big building where we met that really nice lady today. It’s where Nancy goes to learn about cool things.”
“Like flowers?”
“Yes, like flowers and how to read storybooks and count by twos. All of the things you like Nance to teach you how to do.”
“Will you be there?”
“Hmm, no, sweetie. But you’ll make friends and your teacher will be there with you and I’ll pick you up everyday after school—”
“But why?”
“Why what?”
“Why can’t you come with me?”
“Well, because I have things here to do.”
“Then, I’ll stay here and help you.” That solution seems reasonable enough to Mike.
“You can’t stay at home forever. And I won’t be able to always hold your hand.”
“But why?”
“Well, because you’ll grow and become a big kid—“
“But I’m not big. Not like Nana. Not like you.”
“No, not yet. But…you’re just as brave and strong. And they’ll be other kids your age. You’ll get to play. And learn.”
“But I don’t want to. I wanna stay with you.”
“You can’t stay with me, Michael.”
“But why?” Mike’s bottom lip quivers and Karen hurries to remedy the conversation and redirect Mike’s big emotions.
“You know how Nance comes home with her backpack full of cool stuff? Her drawings and letters.”
He nods, albeit sullenly.
“And you always follow her around and ask her to show you everything? And she lets you draw with her and reads you books that her teacher reads in class. And sometimes she even goes to her friend’s house.”
“Barbie?”
“Yes, Barb. And you know how you always beg to go with her? Well, Nancy met Barb in school when she was your age. And she learned how to write her alphabet and color pretty pictures and read lots of cool books. If she never went to school and always stayed at home she would have never been able to do all of those things.”
“School is important?”
“Very important.”
“But I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared. Nance was also afraid.”
“She was?” Mike couldn’t believe it. His sister is never scared of anything, not even spiders.
“Uh huh. She wanted to stay home with me. Just like you. And to be honest,” Karen’s voice drops to a whisper as if it is a secret between the two of them, “I wanted that, too. And I want you to stay with me for as loooong as possible. But the thing is, if I keep you here,” she tugs him into a hug and squeezes him real tight and he giggles. “Then, you won’t get to do all of those amazing things. Like read and write and make friends—”
“Like BARBIE!!”
“Yes, like Barbie,” she pinches his cheek. “Does that make sense?”
She pulls away enough to look at him.
A pout forms on his face and his cheeks puff out in a huff of air as he considers her words. “I want to make friends and be cool like Nana.”
“And I want that for you! But if you don’t want to go, then I guess…” she shrugs.
“No! No, I wanna go. I really wanna go.”
“Well, okay. If you insist. I’ll be there to drop you off everyday. And pick you up when it’s over. And we can stop and get ice cream afterwards. How does that sound?”
“Chocolate chip ice cream with rainbow sprinkles?”
“Yes, chocolate chip ice cream with rainbow sprinkles for the brave boy conquering his fears.”
Mike stands taller now and jabs a thumb at his chest, “I won’t even be scared. You’ll see.”
The end of summer whizzes on by and Karen slowly begins to engrain the thought of kindergarten into Mike’s mind.
“Think of all the friends you’ll make, and all of the things you’ll get to tell me about,” she’d chatter on about her own fond memories and Mike would imagine himself at school. And with each comment it scares him just a little less.
When the day finally comes, in the few early moments of morning as they get him dressed and out the door Mike actually makes good on his word. He doesn’t complain not once.
It’s only as she unbuckles him from his seat and sets him to his feet in front of the giant brick building that his resolve falters. He latches onto her hand and makes a slow trail towards the school lawn. Other parents pass them with their kids in tow and come back out empty-handed all before Karen and Mike can get more than a few yards from their parked car.
“Michael, we’ll be late at this pace. I’ll only be a call away. We discussed this, remember?”
Mike doesn’t get a chance to respond before a loud woman with red wire-framed glasses pinched high on the bridge of her nose and a long heavy looking skirt that sashays as she walks greets them with a, “Mrs. Wheeler, it’s so nice to see you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Donna.”
The woman, Mrs. Donna, leans down to Mike’s eye level. “Oh, and it’s nice to see you, too, Michael.”
Michael yelps at the warm press of his mother’s hand to his back, urging him to speak rather than just gape at the nice lady.
“H-hello.”
“Hi. I’m Mrs. Donna. Do you remember me?”
Mike honest to god shakes his head no which sends Karen several shades whiter and a look of mortification creases a line into her forehead. In pure Karen fashion she quickly adjusts and smoothes the wrinkles into a polite smile. “This is your teacher, sweetie. We met her when you visited the classroom over the summer, remember? She’s gonna take good care of you. ”
Mike remembers how hot and sticky his clothes had been that day and the heavy lead of his feet as they approached the school building. He remembered it was so quiet inside the room that he had braced himself in the doorway for a monster to crawl out and was instead confronted by a too nice, too bright, and too unfamiliar face. He does remember red wired glasses. Vaguely. Or maybe they had been blue? He remembers roaming around the room touching every little thing as his mom and the strange lady just talked and talked and talked. The long breath of relief when they finally left and scrambled back to the car.
Mrs. Donna chuckles through the exchange watching the inner mechanisms of Mike’s brain sift through the memory of their first meet, “He’ll fit right in. The kids are always a ball of nerves on the first day.” To him, “Michael, would you like me to walk you in?”
He glances up wearily at his mother who lowers herself into a crouch beside him, “It’s alright. I’ll be back to get you before you know it. Have fun and listen to your teacher. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She places a kiss to his dark, curly hair and whispers, “You are a very brave boy, Michael Wheeler.”
And then he takes his teacher’s hand and lets her guide him inside.
Of course he is the last to arrive, or so he thinks, taking up one of the only empty seats next to a boy who Mrs. Donna says goes by Richie. Not long after Mrs. Donna settles him in and returns to the front of the classroom does the door burst open and a disheveled woman with dark brown hair tumbles in with a small, skittish boy latching onto her pant leg. Certainly, Mike didn’t look that pathetic outside the schoolhouse. The boy half-hides behind who Michael can only assume is his mother.
“Sorry,” the woman wheezes, “we had a late start and the traffic was terrible and…it won’t happen again.” She reaches behind her and pries the boy away and towards the teacher. “He’s all yours.” She rubs the boy’s hair, “Be good.”
The kids at Mike’s table seem disinterested in the commotion at the door and take up asking loads and loads of questions or jumping from their seats and running around the room. One little girl even pulls out a box of crayons from her backpack that should be stored at a cubby and starts going to town on the desk. Mike winces, if his mother caught him doing that he’d never be allowed to touch a crayon again.
He knows. It happened.
He forgets about the boy and rests his head on the desk feeling the coolness against his skin. Don’t cry, don’t cry, he repeats the mantra in his head. I am brave. I am brave. He misses his mother already. A thought that makes him realize he is not, in fact, brave at all. Every nerve in his body stands on edge. Nothing feels familiar or safe.
Mrs. Donna claps her hands together and the room quiets just enough for her to rein in everyone’s attention including Mike’s and the school day starts.
Okay, maybe Michael doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. He has free rein of the room and the tasks Mrs. Donna has them do are really fun. Today she talks to them about colors. Asks them their favorite color and why. Mike’s is blue because it’s the best. No further reasoning required. She shows them this giant wheel that looks like a rainbow and hands out these glass prisms of red and blue and yellow. He finds that if you place the blue with the yellow it makes green and it blows his mind.
There is a biter in class—James—that makes one of the other kids cry. Mike takes note to avoid him at all costs. And then it is lunchtime. He strolls over to his backpack and wrenches out his lunchbox. He returns to his round table where all of the other kids are already munching and swapping their stuff. Michael doesn’t like sharing. And because he won’t share his apple sauce with Richie who is offering him half of a measly peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crust still attached he becomes like a social pariah immediately. No one wants to sit or eat by him or even be his friend and he suddenly wishes he wasn’t at school anymore.
He hates it here.
“Okay, everyone!” Mrs. Donna commands attention. “Clean up your area. It’s time for recess. When you’re done, line up in a straight line at the door to head to the playground.”
Recess. The playground. He should be excited, but he is more nervous than ever. His tummy does weird flips.
Nancy met Barb in school when she was your age. His mother’s words bounce around his head. No one will want to play with him after today’s lunch fiasco. He’ll never meet his Barbie. Never make a real friend or have fun or do cool stuff.
And why should I care? Mike grows defiant in the midst of his growing fears. Like he’d want to be friends with them anyway. Richie shoves crayons up his nose. Sarah picks at her boogers and eats them. And though he hasn’t found anything considerably off about Darcy who also shares their table, he’s certain something about her will come up.
If nothing else, he knows how to have fun all by himself. He carries the thought with him like a warm blanket as he cleans his trash up and makes his way to the back of the line. He’ll have fun by himself and then go for ice cream later like his mom promised.
He shuffles out onto the playground with everyone else. From his spot in the back he misses first dibs on everything. The seesaw, the jungle gym, the giant slide, even the stupid tether ball. The sandbox is empty and he makes a beeline for it but is cutoff by two girls who start playing princess and talking about castles and moats. No thank you.
He sighs and stabs his toe into the dirt. He imagines the earth splitting open and a fire breathing dragon crawling out to smash the castle to bits before kneeling down and offering him a ride. He walks around for a bit, humoring himself with his own little made up world. The heat of summer lingers and he stops to lift his arms to shield himself from the sun blazing down on his face.
He wants recess to be over.
Not even two seconds pass and he locks eyes on the shy boy from earlier perched on the swing set and flying back and forth higher than Mike has ever gone before. He doesn’t look so frail and weak now free from his mother’s shadow. A huge grin lights up his face and his hair flutters in the wind and Mike thinks to himself, “Wow, he’s so cool.”
He maybe says it aloud too without realizing it. But more than how cool he looks, Mike notices that he is playing all alone. Just like him. The other kids are grouped up in pairs or trios around the playground but this boy is all by himself on the swingset made perfectly for two.
This is his chance. Maybe the boy won’t hate him. Mike holds his breath and gathers himself counting to ten. Then, he runs up to the boy unable to control his excitement and their eyes meet.
“Do you wanna be friends?” Mike blurts out in a rush before he can chicken out.
The smile never leaves the boy’s face as he nods at Mike’s request.
Sunlight spreads across Mike’s chest and his heart feels really warm. He takes up the seat beside him and they swing in childish delight until their teacher calls them back inside.
Once inside Mike asks to be placed at the same table as the boy. William. That’s what Mrs. Donna calls the boy when Mike can only point and gape at his new friend, realizing he doesn’t even know his name. Unfortunately, for him Mrs. Donna is a mean troll who doesn’t grant wishes.
She tells him that if she allows him to switch seats then she’d have to let the other children do the same. But, if he keeps his area clean everyday and listens to the lessons and plays nice with the other children, she’ll give him a chance to change his seating position.
So, for now, he makes shy glances at Will every so often to make sure he is real and won’t just suddenly disappear into thin air. Mike has a very vivid imagination.
Will rarely meets his gaze, more preoccupied with his drawings or whatever is in front of him at any given time, but Mike doesn’t mind. Will is his first friend—his only friend—and he is forever stuck with him now.
. . .
They spend every recess together. And in the free rein of the classroom, Mike gravitates to Will’s side and talks the boy’s ear off. And Will mostly smiles and hum and shares toys. Mike likes to talk a ton and fills in the gaps of Will’s silence.
“William is quiet.”
Mike overhears the conversation as he is up sharpening his pencil. The door to the hallway is cracked slightly as Mrs. Donna stands talking to a parent. Will’s mom.
Will had been absent for two, long excruciating days that felt like eternity. And Mike was certain he’d be absent again today when the bell rang and Will was still nowhere to be seen. But he is now propped up at the table drawing furiously with crayons. The drawing isn’t really anything exciting, a vomit of color exploded onto the page, but Mike thinks it is edgy and different. Far from the stick figures of his family he and everyone else draws. Will is an artist akin to Picasso in Mike’s mind. And whenever he compliments Will’s work the boy would always grow shy. But he never spoke. It’s why Mike in any other circumstance would have sidled away from the door out of respect for adult conversation but his feet remain frozen within earshot in spite of himself.
“He doesn’t interact much with the other kids. Maybe…,” Mrs. Donna hesitates. “Maybe he needs another year. To adjust.”
“I can’t. He can’t,” Will’s mom’s voice trembles. “His father and I both work. And him tagging along only works for so long. I can’t afford to miss more days. Isn’t there like a grace period for these things? He’s ready. I know he is. I know my son. He’s just slow to it, but he’ll get better.” She seems to be trying to convince herself.
“I understand, Mrs. Byers. And I want him here as much as you do. I just worry with his delayed development—“
“He already knows how to write his name. And he understands his numbers.”
“Mrs. Byers.”
“I count with him with pennies and crayons and he knows. He’s not delayed. Not mentally. He’s so smart. He just takes a while to warm up. And he communicates. In other ways.”
“Even so, he’s frequently tardy. And missing several days at a time doesn’t help him.”
“I know. And I’m trying.” A pause. “I’m trying.”
Mrs. Donna sighs, “I want William to blossom here. But this is a joint effort. We have to be on the same page.”
“And we are. Us being late is my fault. Not his. He deserves to be here. No more excuses. No more slipping in late. I promise.”
“Okay. But I have to mark him as absent without a doctor’s note.”
“That’s fine. Thank you!”
And Mrs. Byers scurries past. Mike catches the blur of her as she whizzes by, having momentarily forgotten about his dull pencil. Mrs. Donna enters the room and catches slightly at Mike who holds her with a glare. He knows she knows he heard something of what was said but ushers him back to his seat and starts the day.
Will she really make Will leave school? Would he lose his first friend? No, no, Mike has to do something.
During lunch he stands solemnly at his teacher’s desk, shuffling his feet.
“Yes, Michael, did you need something?”
“Will does speak.” Will. He had thought it was a nice short term of endearment for the boy and William felt too cold for friends. He had even insisted Will think of him as Mike. It felt less maternal and grown up.
Mrs. Donna studies him carefully and lowers her spoon from the mush of grey sloshing around her bowl. “Oh. Is that so?”
“Yes,” he clips. This is his genius plan. And if that fails then he’ll just coax words out of the other boy. In simple terms, he’ll teach Will how to speak.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Mike can’t believe she actually believes him on first go. I guess his plan isn’t so dumb after all. Pride swells in his chest and he turns to share the good news with Will when Mrs. Donna calls out—
“William, can you come here, please?”
Mike freezes in place. Will turns his head to the front of the classroom, the fringe of his bowl cut a little too low in his eyes and drags his seat across the floor before silently approaching. Will makes eye contact with Mike whose face heats up in embarrassment, grimacing slightly at now being caught in his lie.
“William?”
Will’s attention is on their teacher as he nods.
“You and Michael are friends, yes?”
Will nods again with a warm, unassuming smile. He doesn’t know what his mother and Mrs. Donna talked about in the hallway. He doesn’t know they talked about him missing school and falling behind. Mike hasn’t had the chance to tell him. He wonders if he should at all. If Will will be hurt by knowing.
“Do you like it here? At school?”
Will nods enthusiastically and grunts an affirmative.
Mrs. Donna smiles, something sweet to match Will’s grin. “Okay. Well, I’m very happy to have you here. And I’m happy you have a friend as good as Mike to care for you.”
Will is smiling at Mike now and Mike is confused by this turn of events.
“Line up. It’s time for recess.” Mrs. Donna stands and announces this news to the rest of the class and ushers the two boys to clean up their stuff and head to the door.
He and Will stroll hand-in-hand to the playground as they always do—because a few weeks ago Will had fallen on the way to recess after being caught up in the hurried rush of the other kids and scraped his hands and knees and ever since Mike has made it his mission to protect him. And though he doesn’t completely understand Mrs. Donna’s decision, he is glad to have Will still by his side.
And when they get back to the classroom, Mrs. Donna rearranges the seating chart and Mike just so happens to have a seat right next to Will.
-end of chapter one-