Heatwaves

The Weirdo on Maple Street

"The only true wisdom is in knowing

 you know nothing."

-Socrates

When I arrived home that night, I found Hopper sprawled out on the couch, deep in sleep. I pulled a cozy blanket from the lounge chair and gently draped it over him, careful not to wake him. The weight of the day seemed to lift as I prepared for bed. The new friendships and the events of the day had left me with a sense of contentment and anticipation for what lay ahead.

The next morning, I woke up with a smile, memories of yesterday's encounters still fresh in my mind. After a quick shower and getting dressed, I went into the kitchen to find Hopper still asleep on the couch. Determined to start the day on a positive note, I made breakfast for both of us. I attempted to wake him, but it took a good five minutes before he finally stirred.

"Come on, I made breakfast. I have to leave soon," I said, gently shaking him.

"Yeah, I'll get up in a second," he mumbled, barely opening his eyes.

"Did you get to eat the lunch I left for you yesterday?" I asked, hoping he'd enjoyed it.

"Yeah, it was great, thanks kid," he replied with a tired grin before shuffling to his bedroom.

I finished my breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and headed back to my room to put on my shoes and grab my backpack. As I was about to leave, I called out, "Alright, Dad, I have to get going. I'll see you later!"

Hopper, still half-asleep and likely in the shower, didn't hear me at first. I was about to head out when he suddenly appeared, looking alarmed.

"Did... did you just call me Dad?"

I froze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me. "I—uh, you know I'm running pretty late. I should get going."

I turned towards the door, but Hopper stopped me.

"Hey! It's okay if you did. I mean, I don't mind, it's just been a while."

I turned back to him with a small, sheepish smile. "Okay, sorry. It just slipped out."

"It's okay," he said, waving me off. "But you should get going. I don't want you being late."

"Goodbye... Dad," I said, before quickly slipping out the door to avoid any more awkwardness. I hopped on my bike and made my way to school, the rhythmic hum of the bike tires beneath me providing a soothing distraction.

When I arrived at school, I noticed Jonathan's car wasn't in its usual spot. I shrugged it off as a potential mix-up and went about my day. I deposited my things in my locker and glanced over at Steve and Nancy, who were giggling together. I rolled my eyes and focused on the mundane task of organizing my locker.

By third period, Jonathan still hadn't shown up, which was unusual. My worry grew as whispers and laughter from Steve's group began to reach my ears. I looked over and saw Jonathan hanging up a poster in the hallway. My heart sank as I approached him, not realizing the severity of what was being displayed.

"You know, Jonathan, if you needed tutoring, I could've helped you," I said with a forced chuckle, only to stop in my tracks when I saw the poster.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, my voice tight with concern.

"Will didn't come home last night," Jonathan said, his face etched with worry.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he didn't come home last night."