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“Hi.”
El had been so close to sleep, her stolen coat and hat heavy and warm, but the voice had jolted her completely awake. Had the man with the coat, the one she had hurt, woken up in the snow and told people he saw her? Had he told the bad men where she was? Had they found her?
Heart beating fast, she jumped up, ready to run or fight if necessary, when she realized that the person who found her wasn’t a man but a girl. In the bright moonlight, El could see she had yellow hair like the pretty hair Mike had given her.
Had someone given this girl her hair too? Maybe she didn’t have any hair of her own. El didn’t recognize her, but maybe she was from the lab. Maybe she had escaped too. Or maybe she would lead her right to the bad men.
El grabbed the girl and pushed up both sleeves of her thick sweater, inspecting each arm for a number. Nothing. Maybe she just got lost in the woods. El looked past her in case there were adults in the distance, maybe a worried mama searching for her. She would shove the girl toward her mama before running away for a new place to hide.
“Look,” the girl said, pointing up at the sky. “The stars are really bright and pretty tonight.”
El looked up briefly before asking, confused, “Who are you?”
“Come here,” the girl said. Now she grabbed onto El, placing her cold hand in hers. “I want to show you something.”
“No.” She could be taking her right back to the bad men. El would stay put.
The girl frowned. “You’ll like this. Come on!”
El decided to follow her. She was curious and knew she could use her powers to stop this small girl if she needed to keep herself safe. Together they trudged slowly through the snow until the girl stopped in front of what looked like a box on the ground. She hadn’t noticed it before.
“Open it!” the girl said. “It’s for you.”
El wiped off the snow and opened the box. Through chattering teeth, she gasped when she saw the wrapped Eggos and a big bowl of food. Her poor stomach rumbled just from the sight of them. This was for her? Who put this here?
“For me?”
“Yes. Take it.”
“From…you?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“He…”
El jumped away from the box. “Bad men!” She was so hungry but would leave the food and never come back if it meant she wouldn’t be caught.
“No. A nice man. And these are for you. You love waffles.”
El did love waffles. And she could almost taste them. But still she hesitated. “Promise?” she asked. “Promise not bad men.”
The girl nodded. “Promise.”
“Who are you?” El asked again.
When the girl didn’t answer right away, El pointed at her. “Friend?”
A big smile. “Friend.”
Mike and her other friends were gone. She desperately missed them and wanted another friend so much. And she knew that friends don’t lie. So this was for her. She bent down to collect the food, and when she straightened back up, the girl was gone. El looked around, but she had completely disappeared into the night. Like she had never been there at all.
--
“Hi.”
El lay on Will’s bed, knees pulled up to her chest. She still wore Nancy’s old dress, wrinkled after so many hours. She didn’t care what she was wearing. She didn’t care about anything.
She told Joyce she wanted to be alone, and Joyce had made a sad face before saying, “Of course, sweetheart, but come get me if you need anything.”
The voice wasn’t Joyce’s or Will’s or Jonathan’s. She groaned as she rolled over slightly to see who was bothering her. She blinked a few times. It was a girl. Not just any girl, but the same girl she saw when she was hiding in the woods so long ago. The one who led her to the box with the food. Which had led her to Hopper.
This time, she knew exactly who she was. She had seen photos of her just today at the funeral. One of her on top of Hop’s shoulders and one of her in his lap being read to. In the photos, Hopper was a different man than the one she knew: younger, thinner and clean-shaven. Nearly a stranger with his calm expression and soft smile directed at his daughter, the same girl sitting next to her now.
Sara. Dead Sara.
On any other day, El would have questioned the sudden appearance of her dead sort-of sister, but on this day, numb and overwhelmed with grief and exhaustion, she just turned back on her side and faced the wall.
“Your hair is pretty,” Sara said. “Can I brush it?”
El didn’t have the energy to answer. Sara took her silence as a yes and began to brush. El felt herself relaxing a little. It felt nice. Soothing.
At the funeral, all these stupid people El didn’t know said stupid things like, “He’s with Sara now.” Like that was supposed to make her feel better.
“Is that true?” El had wailed in the car. “Is he with Sara?”
Joyce was exhausted. Exhausted and red-eyed and so, so sad. It took her some time before she said, “I really don’t know. But it’s a nice thought, so I hope so.”
“Is he with you?” El asked now, her voice croaky from all the crying. It came out as an accusation. “Is he?”
The brushing stopped. “Who?” Sara asked.
“Hop!”
“Who?”
Right. Sara wouldn’t know him as Hop. “Da ... your dad.”
“No,” Sara said. “My dad isn’t with me.”
El let that sink in before rolling over again to face her. Sara looked upset. “He’s not.”
Did that mean…could that mean…? “Maybe he isn’t dead then,” El whispered. If she had her powers, she could try to find him, but that had been another thing taken away from her. If he wasn’t with Sara…
They didn’t find a body. There was nothing in the casket. If he wasn’t with Sara, he could be alive. He could be hurt or lost or trapped somewhere. Should she tell Joyce? Or The Party? She sat up suddenly, feeling more awake than she had in days. She shouldn’t be in bed. She should be looking. Difficult without her powers but not impossible. The nearly forgotten feeling of hope bloomed through her. If he were alive…
“Hey,” Sara said. She touched the blue hairband on El’s wrist. “That’s mine.”
El looked down at it. It had been Sara’s. But now it was hers. Given to her by Hop. She did not want to give it back. It was hers. But Sara’s eyes were huge and her face was sad, so El reluctantly asked, “Do you want it back?”
“No. It’s yours now. We gave it to you.”
El teared up again in gratitude. She thought she was done crying today, but it looked like she was wrong. “Thank you,” she said as she cried.
Sara patted her shoulder and then the top of her head. “It’s ok. Things will be ok.”
“Promise?” El sobbed.
Her door suddenly swung all the way open, and Joyce was there, enveloping El into her arms. “Oh, honey, is there anything I can do?”
Sara was gone again, and Hopper might still be alive, and El had absolutely no idea how to answer that question.
--
“Hi.”
El was neither asleep nor awake. Somewhere in between. She knew she was lying down, like she had been asleep, but everything felt wrong. Her limbs felt heavy…no, every part of her felt heavy. Her head felt like it was broken. What was happening? She had been with Dr. Owens, and he told her to come with him, and then she had seen Papa and then…
No!
She tried to cry, to scream for help, but her mouth wasn’t working either. Why wasn’t it working?!
Then that voice again. A little girl’s voice, soft and sweet and familiar. “You’re so brave, El. And you’re still pretty no matter what. It’ll grow back.”
She tried to turn toward the voice, to make any kind of movement, but she was still frozen. No! Was she dead? Was she dying?
“You’re going to be rescued soon,” the girl’s voice reassured her. “And I’ll find our hairband.”
The strain of paying attention while in this in-between place was too much, and darkness came over her again. When she woke up for real this time, she was heartbroken when she realized her head had been shaved once again.
But that voice, the one which may have been real or maybe a dream, had been right. She would be rescued, and by the time they left and were en route to Hawkins, her frayed blue hairband was in its rightful place, back on her wrist where it belonged.
--
“Hi.”
El choked on the champagne she had been surreptitiously sipping and quickly hid the flute behind her back. Max had told her that since she was sixteen years old, not to mention the daughter of the bride and groom, it was perfectly ok to drink champagne. Max was right about a lot of things, and everything she said made sense, but El didn’t want to get into trouble, so she sipped in the shadows, hidden from sight. Or so she thought.
It was Sara again, looking like she had when El had first met her that fateful snowy night. And again on the day of the funeral, when El’s grief felt all-consuming. She was still a little girl, with her blonde hair in ponytails and a white sweater decorated with pink and purple stars. And El was nearly an adult. Old enough for makeup and high heels and a necklace with a heart from Mike. Old enough for champagne. Confident that Sara wouldn’t tell on her even if she could (could she?), El brought the champagne back to her mouth. At first, she hadn’t been sure if she liked the bubbles. But now, a few sips in, she was certain she did.
“You look so pretty!” Sara said. “And I told you your hair would grow back.”
“When?” But as soon as El asked, a hazy memory came back to her. The terrifying in-between state: knowing she was in trouble but unable to move or speak. And the little-girl voice that she was sure she had imagined. “You were there. You found my…our…hairband.” She raised her wrist as proof.
“Yes.” Sara pulled El down so they were both sitting on the floor. Sara leaned in and patted El’s curls, stiff with hairspray. “I told you you’d be rescued. And you were.”
“Are you a ghost? El asked. “Or an angel? Because you come when I need help.” She liked the idea of an angel visiting her. It sounded nicer than a ghost.
Sara shrugged, seemingly uninterested in the questions. “Your necklace is pretty. Where did you get it?”
“From Mike. He is my boyfriend.” Even if Sara couldn’t answer if she were a ghost or an angel, El still wanted to know why she was here. “I don’t need your help today.” A pause. “But I’m happy to see you.” She said the last part quickly, hoping she hadn’t offended her. Could you offend someone who is dead?
“Is she nice?” Sara asked.
“Who?”
Sara pointed. “Her!”
Joyce, the reluctant center of attention, in her lacy white dress that made her look like a princess. “Oh, it’s too much,” Joyce had protested when they were shopping, but El convinced her it was perfect.
“Joyce,” El said. “Yes. She’s very nice.” El could give dozens of examples of Joyce being nice, but the best one was that she took care of her when they thought Hop was dead. El did not like thinking about that period of her life in California, but she would never forget how Joyce made her waffles for breakfast and brushed her hair when it got tangled and hugged her at night when she cried.
“My mom’s name is Diane,” Sara said softly. “She’s nice too.”
“I am glad.” El didn’t know what else to say.
“She is married to Bill now, and I have a brother.”
El had so many questions about this whole situation. “Can you talk to her too? Or your brother?”
“No.” Sara shook her head. “Just you. Just my sister.”
Sister. A warm feeling spread through El, and she couldn’t help but smile hearing Sara say it. Kali was her sister, but this was different. Kali was her sister because of a bad man; Sara was her sister because of a good one.
“Sister,” El repeated. She linked her arm through Sara’s. Sara leaned against her.
“My mom is happy,” Sara said. “She misses me and is still sad, but she’s happy sometimes now too. I’m really happy about that. Is Dad happy sometimes?”
El scanned the group of people in the banquet hall before finding her dad talking to Jonathan and Nancy. He did not look at all like the man in the pictures at the funeral, and she wondered if he seemed like a stranger to Sara now.
He had a beard again, but this time it had some gray in it. His face was scarred, both from Russia and the final battles with One. On bad days, like today unfortunately, his limp was noticeable. In so many ways, he was not the same man that Sara knew or even that El knew when she first met him years ago.
“Yeah, yeah, lucky me, I finally found a way to lose all that weight,” he would say, and then she and Joyce would roll their eyes at him.
Sara asked if he was happy. He wasn’t for a while, although El wasn’t supposed to know that. Back from Russia, he was…different. He didn’t sleep much, and he didn’t eat much. And even though Joyce did her best to reassure her that he was fine, that everything was fine even as he was screaming at night from bad dreams, El knew it was a lie. And then he helped them defeat One and got hurt again. Which led to a quick stay in the hospital, more nerve damage to his leg and a few new scars decorating his already scarred face.
But then, somehow, time passed and things slowly began to improve. Normal became almost normal for them, and ordinary was celebrated. One was finally gone, and both Max and her dad were not just alive but healing. It was a gradual process, but it was happening. And her dad and Joyce went from kissing a little bit when they thought no one was looking to kissing all the time with Will and Jonathan groaning or making faces when they saw them.
And then her dad and Joyce decided to get married and celebrate with a big party.
El continued to watch him. Even though he was still talking with Jonathan and Nancy, he was looking past them, staring at Joyce with a goofy look on his face.
He wasn’t always happy. She knew that. Even before Russia, he could get angry or worried. He’d get sad when she said something about the lab or Papa. Or when something reminded him of Sara. And then he’d get very loud or very quiet and sometimes drink and smoke more than usual.
But today?
Today, he was happy. Today, they were all happy.
“Yes,” El said, completely sure of this. “He is happy sometimes.”
“I know he misses me and is still sad sometimes, but I’m glad he’s happy sometimes too. Like my mom.”
Sara’s head was now on her shoulder. “I wish…” El began but paused. She wished Sara wasn’t dead and that they could be normal sisters. She wished Hopper could see them together like this.
As if he sensed this, she saw his eyes dart around the room, finally landing on her and her hiding space. Slowly, he made his way over to them. To her. Just like that, she was alone again.
“Hey, kid,” he said. “Why are you sitting all the way over here?” Then he noticed the empty champagne flute on the ground next to her. “Ah,” he said. “Contraband.”
She didn’t know what that word meant, but she figured it was bad. “Max said it was ok.”
He laughed. “She did, huh? Well, it’s a special occasion, and as long as you promise not to make it a habit, I’ll look the other way today. But no more until you’re 21, all right? Even if Max or Mike says it’s ok. Especially if Mike says it’s ok.”
“Yes.” She held out her hand, and he helped her up. She smoothed her hands over her pretty purple dress.
“Dad.” She stared at him, meeting his instantly concerned gaze. Blue eyes just like Sara’s. Again, she was at a loss for what to say. She eventually decided on, “I’m…we are happy you are happy.”
“We” could’ve meant her and Will and Jonathan. Or Max and Mike and The Party or even the whole town of Hawkins. It could’ve meant anything or anyone, but she didn’t break eye contact with him.
Sara, Sara, Sara, she repeated to herself, and she didn’t know if it was because of her powers or something that Sara managed to do herself, but suddenly everything was different. The air felt strange, charged somehow. Her vision got fuzzy for a second, and she sensed that someone was beside her again. Sara.
Hopper made some kind of strangled gasp of a sound and stumbled back, holding onto the wall for support. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Her head started to throb, and she felt the start of a nosebleed. In the quest for normalcy, she didn’t use her powers much anymore, but it was like riding a bike. She continued to chant Sara in her head over and over until she was too exhausted to continue and her mind went blank. She slid down to the floor again and closed her eyes.
“El.” Hopper’s voice sounded so far away. He said her name again, and this time she forced her eyes open. He was pale, nearly white, and his voice shook when he asked, “What the hell just happened? Did you see…? Did you do that?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Sara. Sister.”
“Jesus.” His hand swept over his face, and when he moved it away, he was blinking hard. He was crying now. “I can’t believe…”
She stood up. “She helped me. Before.”
“Yeah? That…that sounds like her. She always liked helping people.” A soft sigh then and a deep breath. “I can’t…We’ll talk more about this later, ok? I need to wrap my head around this first.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before gazing past her to Joyce, to the crowd, celebrating and unaware. “I think we should probably head back over there. People are going to wonder where we are.”
She reached for his hand. He squeezed it. “Thank you, kid. I…I don’t even know how to process this kind of shit. Jesus. But I was actually able to talk to her for a second. She was smiling. And I heard her voice again. I heard her goddamned voice again.” He cleared his throat. “Just…just thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
Another deep breath and then, sounding almost normal, “We need to get you cleaned up. You feeling ok? You want to rest for a bit?”
She grabbed the damp napkin that had been under her champagne glass and wiped her nose. Not too much blood this time and not a drop on her pretty dress. “I am ok.”
“Good.” A shaky smile. “How do you feel about a dance with your old man?”
She smiled back. “Yes.”
On the dance floor, she was slightly lightheaded and he was slightly unsteady with the limp, but they faced each other. A slow song started, and she swung her hips a little and snapped her fingers, copying some of his sillier dance moves. He laughed. “Are you making fun of me on my wedding day? That’s not allowed.”
“Teasing,” she said. He laughed again before taking one of her hands and twirling her around.
“I’m glad he is happy sometimes,” Sara had said to her.
Yeah. El was too.