A Stranger Thing

Chapter 3: Lights, Cameras

When I arrived home, Johnathan was sitting on the couch, looking at his camera. The house was dark and quiet aside from a lamp on in the living room. I figured Joyce must have gone to bed.

The walk back from Steve's house was quick and uneventful, considering it was just down the street. I quickly forgot about seeing the lights flicker, figuring it was just a weird electrical thing or I was just more drunk than I thought.

When I walked into the house, Johnathan noticed me, and gave me an inquisitive look. "Where were you?" he asked, seeming confused. I didn't blame him, since it was totally unlike me to leave the house on my own in general, aside from sometimes just wandering around town.

I rolled my eyes to the back of my head and laughed a bit, sitting down on the couch near him. "Ugh, Steve Harrington's house."

"Oh, why were you at that guy's house?" Johnathan grimaced slightly.

"I don't know, Nancy invited me I guess..." I said, and his interest piqued at Nancy's name.

"Nancy?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I know she's not really the sort of person I'd normally be friends with, but she's been nice to me, at least, and she said maybe it could get my mind off things," I rambled slightly.

"Well did it?" Johnathan asked.

"I guess. At the time. I don't know if I'll ever go back though... Steve sucks, and Tommy sucks," I laughed to myself.

"Hold on, were you drinking?" Johnathan laughed in disbelief, probably noticing I seemed a bit more silly than usual. Plus I smelled like cheap beer.

"Why else would I go to Steve Harrington's house?" I giggled. "But anyway, how'd things go at Lonnie's?" I changed the subject, adopting a more serious tone and expression. "I'm guessing no Will..." I trailed off.

Johnathan only shook his head gravely in response.

"Shit," I said simply.

"What if... what if something like, really bad happened?" Johnathan spoke quietly. His eyes were fixed downward, at his camera.

My eyes shot towards him. "Dude... don't even say that. You can't think like that. Trust me. Any scenario that could've happened, I've already thought of it. And it doesn't help. It won't help find him, to think like that."

"Yeah... I know," said Johnathan.

"Look, it's late, I'm gonna get some sleep, you should too," I told him, getting up from the couch and heading towards my room. He didn't answer me.

The next morning I was awoken by Joyce's voice. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and sat up in bed, listening.

"Will? Will, it's me, talk to me," I heard her say, and I froze. Will was home?

I practically leaped out of bed and rushed to the boys' bedroom, where Johnathan was already standing in the doorway.

Inside, was Joyce, sat in front of at least 6 different lamps.

I looked to Johnathan for clarification but he seemed just as confused as I was.

"Just say something..." Joyce was muttering, seemingly to the lamps.

"Mom...?" Johnathan spoke hesitantly, and Joyce whipped around to face us. She looked tired. I wondered when the last time she had slept was.

"Johnathan, Zaylee, come here," she frantically motioned for us to enter the room.

"What's going on...?" I asked, confusion coating my words.

"Come here," she urged us, sniffling. "It's Will. It's Will, he- he's trying to talk to me," she whispered.