Heatwaves

Holly Jolly

"The trouble is you think you have time."

-Buddha

The following morning was a blur of confusion and lingering anxiety. As I rubbed sleep from my eyes and stumbled into the kitchen, the events of the previous night felt like they were slipping between the cracks of reality and a particularly unsettling dream. My mind was a tumultuous sea of doubt, replaying the strange encounter with Eleven and the bizarre happenings at the school. The uncertainty gnawed at me as I made my way to the kitchen to start breakfast.

As I grabbed a cereal box from the cupboard, my gaze fell upon a figure darting out of the house. My heart skipped a beat. Was it just a figment of my tired imagination? I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Standing in the doorway, still somewhat disheveled, was Hopper. He seemed to be in the midst of a small coughing fit, his face flushed with an unsettling mix of embarrassment and urgency. His eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, it was clear he was trying to gauge whether I had seen the woman or not.

"So? Late night, huh?" I asked, trying to mask the concern in my voice with casual indifference.

Hopper grunted, his annoyance evident. "Don't you have school or something?"

I forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I suppose so."

I hurried through breakfast, the unease in my gut making the food seem tasteless. After washing up and grabbing my things, I leaned over and kissed Hopper on the cheek while he was still eating. "We'll talk about it later. Also, I'm going to be home late tonight, so don't wait up."

Before he could respond, I slammed the front door behind me and headed towards my bike. The brisk morning air did little to clear my thoughts, but I pushed myself forward, determined to navigate through the rest of the day.

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When I arrived at school, I parked my bike in my usual spot next to Jonathan's. His car was nowhere in sight. I decided not to dwell on it—given the events of the previous day, I figured he might still be dealing with things at home. I headed inside and went through the morning classes with a growing sense of unease.

History class, however, took an unexpected turn. As I settled into my seat, Steve Harrington made an unusual appearance, plopping down next to me with an air of casual confidence. I barely had time to react before he struck up a conversation.

"So, why didn't you come last night?" he asked, his tone nonchalant but edged with curiosity.

"To what?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"My party, remember?"

I feigned a casual smile, shrugging slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Helping a child with telepathic abilities," I replied with a chuckle, trying to make light of it.

Steve's interest seemed momentarily piqued, but he quickly lost interest. "Fine, don't tell me. Just know you missed out," he said dismissively. He shifted his attention back to the board, the conversation abruptly cut short. Steve's behavior was noticeably different from our previous interactions—less friendly and more guarded.

The rest of the day dragged on. By lunchtime, I spotted Jonathan's car finally parked in the lot. I grabbed a bagged lunch from the cafeteria and headed to the parking lot, where I expected to meet Jonathan. Instead, I saw him sprinting down the hallway, his face pale and anxious.