Will doesn’t know what he expected when they moved. Maybe he kind of bought into his mom’s idea of a fresh start—a place he could begin again. A place where he would no longer be known as Zombie Boy, or the queer or that fairy, and he could build a whole new identity for himself. Anything he wanted. A quiet artsy kid (most likely), or a popular jock (least likely), or a theater star, or a track star, or anything between.
Instead, he got Lenora, and it’s just as much of a nightmare as Hawkins was, just in a different way. Sure, there’s no Upside Down, no horrible Mind Flayer possessions, but the people…the people are so mean. Perhaps mean isn’t the right word, cruel would probably be more accurate.
The cruelty isn’t aimed at him, but rather El, and somehow that makes it worse. They’re family now, and watching her suffer hurts his heart in a way that he didn’t know was possible. Will feels protective and weak at the same time, angry and defenseless. He misses the power that they had as a party, the indestructible feeling of a group of misfits.
And he really misses Mike. He knows that while he’s only had a handful of phone calls, El has stacks and stacks of letters, and he tries not to feel jealous, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to reach out more, or if he’s supposed to swallow this feeling down. This big something that’s been brewing inside of him for so long.
It’s frustrating—all these feelings, being friendless, the loneliness—so Will buries himself in art. All he does is draw and paint. Even in class, he draws in his textbooks and in his notebooks instead of listening attentively like he used to.
Today, they’re working on choosing a subject for an essay, and Angela’s phony voice rings out across the room, and Will fights not to roll his entire head in exasperation.
The teacher of course is a sucker for it, showering her with praise and Will lifts his head to make eye contact with El. Her jaw his clenched, her face stony and firm. They both hate her, but El more so, and for good reason.
“Can you believe this twat?” Someone behind Will whispers.
And Will is no stranger to curse words, but the brazenness of it catches him by surprise. He jerks around to face the smirking boy behind him to the right.
He’s grungy, dressed in dark jeans and black shirt, his hair a messy tangle of dirty black curls. But his face…
Will feels his cheeks heat up as the boy’s smirk widens.
He reminds him a little bit of Mike. Just a bit. Similar sloping nose, similar freckles, but this boy is more gaunt, a lot more angular. His cheekbones are higher, sharper, his jawline more defined. But still…
Will whirls around in his seat, his heart pattering too hard in his chest to be casual.
