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It wasn’t even a month into the school year before Eddie Munson swooped in and snatched up the remnants of Max’s friend group from the corner table they’d been occupying in the cafeteria each day.
Since the very first day of school, it had been the same routine at lunchtime. The boys chattered about this and that over their trays of food while Max poked at whatever she’d scrounged out of the fridge that morning. She didn’t talk much, and she barely even listened to them, either. She just sort of… existed beside them, and they seemed happy enough to accept what they could get considering how many excuses she came up with to avoid them outside of school.
Yeah, okay, it was weird. Max knew that, and she suspected the boys thought so, too. But they were still friends, weren’t they? Where else was she going to eat?
Well, she supposed there were plenty of places where she could eat, actually, but what would the boys think if she did? Maybe it’d succeed in getting them to quit prying into her emotions, to quit shooting her indiscreet looks of concern, but it also had the risk of making them think she was mad at them.
Was she, though? She sometimes wondered, but then immediately felt guilty.
Of course not. They were still her friends. It was the Party, after all. It’s just that the three of them were in a separate dimension from Max— somewhere Starcourt was over and done with, where they didn’t have to worry if their parents would fall asleep at the wheel after the graveyard shift or worry where they’d find their next meal, where nightmares of Billy’s bloodied corpse didn’t wake them up in a cold sweat every night.
But whether or not she was with the boys, she’d discovered, she was still stuck in that awful dimension. Getting too close to them only served to remind her of it more. Jealousy squeezed her chest painfully every time one of them grinned or snorted at a funny story, or some dumb joke that the old Max would’ve laughed at, too.
Still, at the same time, she didn’t want to sit by herself either.
Maybe it would get them off her back about “opening up”, but she remembered how lonely those first few weeks of school felt last year before she knew her stalkers. Eating lunch alone under the bleachers wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory, nor one she wished to return to. It wasn’t likely to make the nightmares go away. And it sure wouldn’t make them worry any less if she abruptly stopped showing up to their corner table every day at lunch. If anything, they might decide to kick their therapy-slash-detective work up a notch, and Max definitely couldn’t handle that.
She had this internal debate with herself every single day before lunch, and still every day she ended up eating with the boys.
Granted, she rarely talked unless directly spoken to, and even then she usually just mumbled or hummed in response; sometimes she ignored it altogether. She already had Mike sitting next to her in English and Dustin in Bio, and her hopes of going unnoticed by Lucas in P.E. were dashed when the guys’ and girls’ teachers decided to celebrate the start of the week (and slack off on lesson plans) with a group kickball tournament.
At least it was boys versus girls. So long as Max kicked hard and ran fast, she could avoid Lucas’s ever-present gaze boring into the back of her head. It might’ve been the first time she actually made a real effort in gym class.
“Nice hustle, Mayfield!” Ms. Poulsen had exclaimed as Max crossed home plate for the third time. “Have you considered track and field?”
Oh, fuck right off with that, Max nearly said aloud. What am I, Steve?
(Sure enough, Lucas was close enough to hear; when Max craned her neck to look, he was doing a terrible job of biting back his smile.)
So lunch was an awkward affair, but a constant nonetheless, and Max decided she could live with things going on like this.
But then Eddie Munson happened.
“Dude, how are you in Honors Algebra? This isn’t an absolute value problem, it’s just a regular parabola—”
“That is a parabola!”
“Then why is there no curve? Honestly, did you use a ruler to draw this? It’s, like, triangular.”
“I literally just asked if it looked okay, not for you to shit over every little thing!”
“Okay, well, fine, this is me telling you it doesn’t look okay—”
Max sighed and rolled her eyes, leaning over to steal a swig of Mike’s Coke while he was distracted with Dustin’s math homework.
As she snuck it back onto his tray, she met Lucas’s gaze, and he gave her a sheepish grin. She tried to return the smile, but couldn’t bring herself to care much that she probably failed.
Her mom was supposed to be getting groceries after her shift today, so all Max had for lunch was a PB&J on stale bread, plus an apple from Dustin which he'd refused to eat upon spotting the sizable bruise on its side.
Skipping breakfast had left her with a bit of a headache, but she found herself not minding the boys’ bickering too much. It felt like a return to normalcy. These days, it felt increasingly rare for the boys to get wrapped up in something besides glancing at her and then exchanging Looks with each other. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine El and Will sitting at the table, too, rolling their eyes in unison with Max—
A scuffed, black boot thudded onto the table, narrowly missing her sandwich and making all four of them jump.
“Hail and well met, tiny warriors!” A voice crowed.
Max turned her head to glare up at the intruder, but faltered when she recognized her neighbor.
She didn’t know his name, but she saw him often enough when he lived in the trailer directly across from theirs. Maybe “heard him” was more accurate; it felt like his guitar and his record player were always taking turns in attempts to distract her from her homework. How her mom could sleep through it, Max had no clue, regardless of how much alcohol was in her system.
When she looked back at the boys, they were staring at him, too, but their expressions were more confused than malicious like hers. She realized she’d never mentioned him, or his late-night solo concerts.
“Who are you?” Mike said bluntly, and Max internally cheered. This could be one of the few times Mike’s assholery worked to her advantage.
“That is the question, isn’t it?” He said with a thoughtful hum. He pulled his foot off the table only to kneel in front of it, place his elbows between Lucas and Max, and steeple his hands under his chin. “It changes by day, see. The best people are chameleons, don’t you think? But, if you must know, the birth certificate says Edward Munson— Eddie, if you please. However, I’m much more interested in who all of you are.”
The guy must’ve been a senior— though he almost looked too old to be in school at all, she thought. Quite frankly, to Max, his outfit screamed “try hard,” but he clearly had some kind of misunderstood misfit vibe going on. Yet based on the boys’ expressions, they were falling for it hard and fast.
“Uh, I’m Dustin,” he offered, pointing at himself. “And then, uh, Mike, and Lucas, and Max.” He pointed at each in succession.
Lucas straightened up in his seat a little. From where Eddie was knelt on the floor, Lucas had some height on him.
“What’s up with the ambush?” He challenged, keeping his chin up.
Eddie chuckled.
“Oh, you haven’t seen an ambush yet, my future minions!”
Mike rolled his eyes with a scoff.
“Dude, seriously, just spit it out. Lunch is half over and I have a Bio test next period.”
(Again, Max mentally drew a second point for Mike; she pictured the score-board Robin had made for Steve at Scoops Ahoy. Keep going, Mike! She urged.)
Eddie blew out a breath, like he was exasperated with them, and planted his hands flat on the table where his shoe had been. They glinted with thick silver rings on nearly every finger.
“I have a certain talent for listening, my friends,” he said, gesturing towards his ears with a flourish. “I constantly keep them primed for scouting out new recruits for my very exclusive club— one which I think your little troop would fit in perfectly.”
The four of them exchanged glances.
“Why us?” Dustin asked, hesitant. “And what club?”
Eddie grinned with all of his teeth and leaned in even closer. (Max tried to breathe through her mouth, lest the potent smell of hairspray worsen her headache. And she thought Steve was bad.)
“You four always sit together at lunch. Not only that, but not one of you ever seems to hang around anyone else throughout the rest of the day, period,” he said. “In other words, you’re freaks. Outcasts. Probably nerds, too, I’d bet.”
Max watched all of their eyebrows shoot up at once, their mouths turn down in indignation, but Eddie continued talking before they could protest.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch now,” he chided. “Freaks are my favorite sort of people. It’s practically my middle name. And it’s certainly a requirement if you want to join the Hellfire Club.”
Mike narrowed his eyes.
“Hellfire?”
Eddie smirked.
“Is it possible that you little kiddies have heard of Dungeons & Dragons, perchance?”
The boys’ eyes widened indiscreetly. Dustin leaned forward.
“Are you saying you’ve got a D&D club? Like, a whole group of people running campaigns together?” He pressed, glancing at the others. “We’ve never had more than four players at a time.”
“And what a shame that is!” Eddie exclaimed, throwing a hand to his heart. “Almost as awful as Hellfire’s own losses this year— our cleric gone to Purdue, two paladins to IU, and a rogue to Marian, of all places. You can imagine my grief. So how about we help each other out: add your group of four to mine and make eight? Besides the best D&D you’ve ever played, you also get added bonus features like a larger lunch table straight in the center of the cafeteria. Get out of this dark little corner by the trash cans, huh? What do you say, freaks?”
Max swallowed hard and didn’t wait any longer.
“Sorry, but I don’t play D&D,” she said shortly. Her chair screeched as she pushed it back and grabbed her backpack to sling over her shoulder.
The boys looked startled. Hell, Lucas held up his hands like she was a spooked animal.
“We haven’t even made a decision yet, Max,” he said quickly.
Mike nodded with a frown, looking between her and Eddie.
“We’re not just gonna let you sit by yourself at lunch,” he agreed.
For some reason, that made the tightness in Max’s chest flare into anger.
“You do not and have never let me do anything, because I’m in charge of my life, assholes,” she snapped.
She was about to turn on her heel and storm off, but their faces made her falter, just a bit; they looked downright concerned, and for once they weren't even trying to mask it. It occurred to Max that she hadn’t said so many words so loudly in— well, in a long time.
She pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose, forcing what she hoped was a believable smile.
“Look, it’s fine. You guys have been dying to play since Will moved. This is, like, your dream come true,” she said, trying to make her voice sound confident despite the dread churning in her stomach. “And Ms. Kelley has been trying to move our meetings to lunchtime anyways. It’s a win-win. Just— go have fun, okay? I’ll see you around.”
She didn’t wait for their response before striding towards the doors. They didn’t call after her, and she didn’t look back.
Her next class was on the other side of the school, so she figured she would take the outdoor route to waste time, maybe get some air. It was chilly that day, so no one was eating outside. The abandoned scene by the picnic tables or payphones when she pushed the heavy metal door open made her feel even lonelier somehow, but—
She froze when she saw the phones.
With a start, Max remembered that California was three hours behind Indiana. It was about midday, so she was pushing her luck, but if there was a chance El and Will hadn’t left for school yet, Max was surely going to shell out the quarters on the payphone to try. Thank god for time zones, she thought.
“Greetings and good mornings.”
The voice on the other end of the line was a male voice that Max definitely did not recognize.
She blinked.
“Uh, who is this?” She asked, forcing a polite tone. She was certain she dialed the number right, but she wondered if she should go get the boys, after all.
“Such a great question,” the voice sighed. “Really, do any of us know?”
She gripped the phone a little tighter.
“Sure, but I’m asking if you know,” she said. “I’m asking who you are. Can you at least tell me your name?”
The guy hummed thoughtfully.
“Well, friends call me Argyle.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“What, am I supposed to ask what your enemies call you now?” She snapped.
She could hear his grin through the phone.
“Huh. I dunno if I’ve got any enemies. But if I do, they probably call me Argyle, too,” he said easily. “I only have one friend, anyway. Do your friends call you something different than your enemies?”
Okay, Max’s patience was running on fumes now. She ignored his question.
“Can I assume that this phone belongs to your one solitary friend?” She pressed. “And if so, can I talk to him, please?”
“Oh, totally! Great talking to you, unnamed stranger.” He seemed to pull away from the receiver before he shouted— which Max appreciated— “Hey, Jon! There’s a spunky little spirit who’d like to connect with you.”
Max could hear hurried footsteps in the background and Jonathan’s muffled voice.
“Jesus Christ, man, how much did you take?” He asked; the line crackled a bit as the phone changed hands. “Mike?”
Max was going to rip her hair out.
“No. This is Max.”
“Oh, hey! Max! Man, I haven’t talked to you in ages. How’ve you been? How’s Hawkins?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Look, can I just— is El around? Or Will?” She asked, her voice bordering on desperate.
Jonathan hesitated.
“I’m sorry, kid, they just left for school,” he said. “Isn't it, like, noon there? Is this— did something happen? Like, a capital-s Something?”
Max swallowed hard at the immediate worry in his voice, and shook her head as though he could see her. Now she just felt stupid.
“No,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm even as it threatened to waver. Why did her eyes feel warm? “No, nothing like that. I just, um, it’s lunchtime, and I had some spare time so, y’know… just thought I’d say hi. But it’s okay, I know your mom needs the phone for work, and you— wait, shouldn't you be at school, too?”
Jonathan was quiet for a beat too long.
“It’s— we— I mean, I worked late last night, and woke up with a headache, so I—”
Max huffed a laugh, her lips tugging up in a small smile.
“Friends don’t lie, Byers,” she said in a light, warning voice.
He groaned and dropped his voice to a whisper.
“Ugh, fine. I just told Mom I had a migraine after working late last night,” he admitted. “But me and Argyle— sorry about him, by the way— we really did work late, so half of it was true! And, hey, you know I can sniff out a lie, too. Why’d you really want to talk to the twins in the middle of the school day? Shouldn’t you be at lunch with the boys?”
Max nibbled on her lip.
“Yeah, no, um— well, I was, but then this senior, he came over and started talking about this D&D club he runs, so obviously the boys wanted to join, and—”
“What, they just left you?” Jonathan exclaimed, incredulous.
Max shook her head, again as though he could see her through the phone.
“No, no, they weren’t going to, but— I mean, it’s D&D, so I knew they really wanted to sign up, and so I told them to go sit with Eddie and the rest of the club. That’s why I figured I’d try calling El and Will, ‘cause there’s only a few minutes left of lunch period,” she rambled.
Jonathan was quiet for a moment.
“Eddie… like Eddie Munson?” He asked. “Wild hair, black clothes, senior for, what, the third year running?”
“I guess?”
Jonathan groaned.
“Max, you can’t let the boys join that club. Munson treats it like his cult. They sit together at lunch every single day, and he does not allow stragglers wandering near,” he said emphatically. “What are you gonna do, just sit alone at lunch all year?”
Max shrugged and dragged the toe of her sneaker along a crack in the sidewalk.
After a long moment of her silence, Jonathan sighed.
“Kid, listen to someone who’s been there, okay? It’s not pleasant, and you don’t deserve it. None of this is fair, but you can at least be fair to yourself, y’know?”
His tone was firm, bordering on stern, and Max had to remind herself that being a big brother was basically his entire personality.
She blew out a breath and leaned against the payphone.
“Yeah, okay,” she said finally. “I’ll— I dunno, I’ll figure something out.”
“Good,” Jonathan said, sounding relieved. “Listen, my mom’s shift starts soon, so I’ve gotta get off the phone, but call soon, okay? At least leave a message or something so we know how you’re doing.”
“I write letters every week,” she protested, smiling lightly despite herself.
“To the twins, sure, but I don’t get to hear any of that. I only have so much time in the day to worry about them, yeah? Mom and I want to hear from the rest of you gremlins.”
Max huffed a laugh.
“Got it. I’ll call… Well, I don’t know when, but soon. Tell your mom I said hi, too.”
Jonathan hummed.
“Will do. Stay cool, Mad Max.”
The next morning, when she opened her locker, a folded-up note fell to her feet. An irrational bubble of anxiety floated up her chest, because Lucas hadn’t left her a note like this since last year, but the worry dissipated when she unfolded it to see pretty lilac stationery and the neatest cursive she’s ever seen.
Max, I’ve got a load of boring newspaper stuff to get done during lunch. Come to the journalism room and keep me company? – Nancy
A distinctly separate hand— Was messy a rude way to describe it?— had added a postscript with a dull pencil.
I’ll be there too! And I stole cookies from Steve’s house, so you better come! – Rob
Max laughed under her breath as she re-read the note once, twice, and suddenly the busting hallway seemed a little less rowdy, a little less chaotic.
Her mom had forgotten to pick up groceries the day before, so all Max had for lunch was a banana and some stale crackers. She was certainly not in a position to turn down Steve’s fancy, homemade chocolate chip cookies. Even better considering she wouldn’t have to share with the boys.
She couldn’t even be that irritated with Jonathan for snitching on her. She decided that she wouldn’t make this a common occurrence, lest they start to worry and pry as much as the boys did— and they were no replacement for El, of course— but maybe sitting with the girls wouldn’t be so terrible. Just every once in a while.