The Banished | Stranger Things

Chapter Two

The Reappearance of the Hargrove Boy

What did Eddie need me to find? Why did the phone cut out? What was that letter all about? But most importantly—how in the hell was Eddie alive?

"Hello?" Steve's hand waves in front of my eyes, snapping me back to reality. "Earth to Valerie."

It's been three days since I found the letter and received the mysterious phone call that left more questions than answers. "Hm?" I hum, my focus drifting back to him from the tumult of my thoughts. "What?"

Steve cracks a smile, teasing me out of my reverie. "You're awful focused on that lizard on the window."

There's a lizard on the window? I turn to look, and sure enough, a small gecko clings to the glass, its tiny body a welcome distraction from the whirlwind in my mind. The seemingly mundane detail suddenly anchors me back to the present, here in the dusty backroom of Family Video, far away from the murky depths of my brother's mysteries.

I chew my lip, eyes drifting down to the counter as I wrestle with how much to share. "Yeah, just... I feel like I'm being watched," I admit, the words barely above a whisper. It's the truth, an unsettling sensation that's been gnawing at me. Everywhere I go, it feels like shadows flit just out of sight, like there's apair of eyes tracking my every move.

Steve's expression shifts subtly, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe?—before he masks it with a nod. "This town has a way of making you feel like you're on stage sometimes," he says, trying to lighten the mood, but the heaviness remains, pressing down on us both.

I can't help but stare at the brunette, narrowing my eyes as a wave of suspicion washes over me. Why does he look like he knows exactly what I'm talking about? I've always been an open book, and I'm sure he can see how my face has morphed into a giant question mark. "You know, small towns can be like that," he continues, his voice steady, but there's a slight flicker of nervousness on his face. It's subtle, almost imperceptible, but it's definitely there.

"Right, I know. But—" I start, ready to press him for more, but he cuts me off.

"You're new here, and you don't exactly look—no offense—normal." He smiles apologetically, his attempt at deflection almost too smooth.

He's not entirely wrong. My hair is a wild mane of dark brown curls that cascade just past my shoulders, and my eyes are a stormy greyish blue—"like storm clouds in a painting," Eddie used to say. And my style? Let's just say it's not what the locals are used to seeing. All black, with harsh, clean lines, the kind of look that screams goth. Yeah, I'm goth in the middle of nowhere, small-town Indiana, and I'm acutely aware of how much I stand out.

Still, his comment feels like a convenient excuse, a way to brush off what I'm feeling. There's something he's not saying, something he's holding back, and it only makes the knot in my stomach.

I narrow my eyes slightly, not letting him off the hook so easily. "Yeah, I get that I stand out," I say, my voice steady but firm. "But this isn't just about people staring because I look different. It's something else. Something... off."

Steve hesitates, his smile faltering for just a second before he recovers. "I mean, you're probably just adjusting to a new place. Hawkins can feel weird when you're not used to it." His tone is casual, but there's an underlying tension that makes my skin prickle.

"Maybe," I reply, not entirely convinced. "But it feels like more than that. Like someone's watching me. Following me."

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it, his brow furrowing slightly. "Look," he finally says, leaning in a bit, "if you ever feel like something's really wrong, like someone's actually following you... you should let me know. I can help."