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As morning arose, no one knew where Will Byers had gone. The Byers family would never know until that morning. Joyce Byers, Will's mother, would find his bed neatly cleaned up just like the day before. "Jonathan, didn't Will come home last night?" She would ask her oldest son while he made breakfast for him and his younger brother.
Jonathan was sixteen and the loser at Derry High School. He was known for his passion for photography, bringing his camera everywhere just to find the best moments of life, but the students believed that was creepy that a teenager might take photos of them without their consent. He had not seen Will since that Sunday morning after he had made breakfast for the both of them before Will went to the Wheelers' to play Dungeons and Dragons. "Uh, I don't know," He replied, his eyes looking back at his mother who looked disappointed at her son.
"You don't know?" Joyce asked in a serious voice.
"Jake said if I could cover, and I said yeah. We need the extra cash," Jonathan said honestly, his eyes looking back at his mother who was very disappointed in him. "Will is most likely at the Wheeler's or something,"
"Johnathan, we talked about this. You need to be there for him when he gets home," Joyce said in a serious voice. "You know what happened the last time he came home alone,"
Jonathan sighed with a nod, his hair bobbing in the air while he nodded. Joyce went to her phone, dialing the numbers of the Wheelers' hoping that her son was okay. She hoped that he wouldn't be like the missing children that were reported dead with ripped limbs. "Come on," Joyce begged, her voice filled with worry as she waited for the Wheelers' to pick up and felt as worry grew. She waited for a few minutes before she heard someone pick up and call.
》》》
"Hello, this is the Toziers' residence," Maggie Tozier called out as she held the phone, twisting the cord in her fingers. Richie was sitting in his seat, eating breakfast while he heard his mother talk to someone. Richie Tozier was a rambunctious kid as most would say. He was a little shorter than most boys with dark, curly hair and large, red glasses that stayed on his face. Everyone knew Richie as Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier which made sense by his loud personality and that he could never shut up.
Richie's father, Wentworth Tozier, sat next to him on the morning table, his eyes staring at his newspaper. They were all in the kitchen, the smell of bacon and coffee still hung in the air like a diner.
"Oh, is that right?" Richie's mom asked in a surprised tone. Richie's eyes went back to her and he was immediately curious. He leaned over the table, his body looking at his mother, who stood in the hallway.
"Mom, who are you talking to?" Richie asked loudly, enough for her to hear him.
"Richie, let her talk," Mr. Tozier muttered as he continued staring at his newspaper. On the front of the newspaper was the picture of a kid that he had never seen with the bold letters "ANOTHER TRAGEDY IN DERRY." Richie rolled his eyes and continued annoying his mother.
