[ 16 ]

THE PAYPHONE CLANKED as Jim pushed his quarter into the pay slot. He hesitated for a moment, but punched in The Hawk's number.

The line rang three times.

"The Hawk, what do you want?"

Jim chuckled a low, humorless huff and placed his hand on the top of the payphone, leaning casually as he replied. "Do you always answer the phone like that?"

Her playful, soubrette voice lashed a quick-witted reply. "Only for the hunky rouges."

Grinning, Jim shook his head and cleared his throat and ignoring Jodie's flirtatious words.

In the back of his mind, Joyce's probing question echoed, souring the feeling. It was a self-conscious worry; he changed the subject.

"Just got done at Terry Ives's." Jim went into short length of what they'd learned, trying to fill Jodie in as best as possible. "They drugged the hell outta this woman back in the day. Anyway, Jodie, she's practically catatonic. The woman could barely watch the damned T.V., let alone tell us if she knew where her daughter was these days."

"So, we're not anywhere closer to an answer." Jodie heaved a heavy sigh. Jim could hear a shuffling on her end of the line, and he wondered what she was up to. "Damn it."

"I won't exactly say that."

Jim continued: "Her sister was there, told us that Terry Ives' daughter Jane never made it. She miscarried in the third trimester."

"—What?"

"Said Terry believes Jane is still alive somehow, though. And that her daughter is special... born with abilities."

"Abilities..."

"Telekinesis, telepathy, you name it. Apparently, this kid's got it," Jim said.

"Fuuuck," Jodie said, stretching the word out with a long, overdrawn stammer. "What do you think, Jim? Just another psycho, or... well,.." Jodie scratched the side of her head.

Jim could picture he face, with her soft eyebrows arched high as she thought over the possibility. Jodie's voice sighed through the receiver.

"Abilities, Jodie? I don't know. Do I believe that the CIA would steal a kid to cover up decades, and I mean decades, of corruption?"

The phone's receiver buzzed with Jim's flush exhale through his nose. Weary and worried. "Yeah. Yeah, I think they'd take as many kids as necessary," he sighed.

"As many kids as necessary." She repeated it, but the words lingered on her tongue with an acrid aftertaste.

The unspoken hovered between their spaces. Jim squinted against the sun reflecting off the acrylic panels of the pay booth. He watch the birds soaring over the horizon, and glanced towards his cruiser. Inside, Joyce was cradling her head in her hands, processing everything they'd seen.

After a moment, Jim sighed and cleared his throat. "Listen, Jode, we're about to head back to town. Why don't you meet us at Joyce's —"

"—Actually," Jodie interrupted. Jim recognized the secrecy in her tone. "Let's meet at the Police Station."

She must have felt his burning curiosity as she quickly explained. "Powell and Callahan picked up Jonathan this afternoon."

"Shit."

       Jodie clocked out at the end of her shift, feeling sore and drained. It had been quite the day, with the fight in the alley and all the gossiping teens, it sure sapped her energy.

     She made her way to the Police Station, biking the short distance with her Raleigh. It took a moment to get going. The chain was stiff from sitting, chained up outside The Hawk for a few nights. Jodie felt a little guilty at the abuse, glad no one had stolen it.

      She pushed open the doors to the station with ease, hit with the weak stench of the station's coffee pot, burning away in the midst of the station. It was paired with the smell of wood paneling and old carpet.

     "Well, isn't this a surprise?" Flo sarcastically chimed as the bottle blonde strode through the foyer in her street clothes: a flannel overshirt, dark jeans and thick hiking boots. "I don't think I've seen you come here without being escorted."

      "Oh, you know I love to watch you work," Jodie snipped back, just as sarcastic. She tossed her hips with her words, shaking them to merely gain a rise from Flo.

     Just as she'd predicted, the elder secretary scoffed and shook her head, turning back to her typewriter with a low, muttered huff under her breath.

      "Figures."

      Jodie's ass touched the cushioned lounge chair for a solid second before the doors to the Police Station swung open once again.

      Joyce Byers rushed through the Station, dark eyes wild, her tan overcoat collar as askew as her untamed mane. Jonathan cursed and shrugged deeper into the steel table he was cuffed to. Nancy licked her lips nervously and shielded her eyes from Hurricane Byers.

      "Hey," her voice called, a pitch below a shout, carrying through the entire station as she pointed at her son. "Jesus, Jonathan, w-wha—what happened? Why is my son in handcuffs?"

       "Hey, mom," Jonathan bowed his head. He avoided Jodie's sharp eyes, keeping his gaze low like a beaten pup. "I'm fine."

      Jim Hopper was close behind her, just as concerned. Officers Callahan and Powell rose from their seats and calmly approached the gurgling storm.

     "Why is he in handcuffs?" Joyce asked again, raising her voice. Callahan crossed his arms, puffing up his chest in a faux-strength move.

     "Your son assaulted a police officer,—"

     "—Ha, that's rich." Jodie rolled her eyes. "More like a volunteer citizen with how you handled that gang of teens."

     "—Jodie." Jim and Phil said in unison.

Motioning over her mouth, Jodie mocked 'zipping' her lips shut, and tossing the key behind her back. Jim's eyes crinkled in amusement as he focused on the situation at hand.

"Take them off," Joyce scoffed, pacing beside Jodie and pointing to the steel cuffs. The two women were a united front.

Though, deep down, Jodie was picturing the fight at The Hawk. Jonathan really had knocked some sense into that boy. And, maybe some brain damage.

Callahan looked from Hopper to Powell, brows raised. "I'm afraid I cannot do that."

"TAKE THEM OFF!" Joyce hollered. Jonathan and Nancy both flinched at the alarming shout, while Jim sighed and waved towards the teen with a bored expression.

"You heard her, take 'em off."

"Chief," Powell entered the conversation,  producing a box from another desk. It was about the size of a filing box, and, based on how it hit the table with a CLUNK, Jodie was sure it had to be heavy. "I get everyone here's emotional and all... but, there's something you need to see."

Joyce, Jim and Jodie all gathered around the filing box, curious and confused. Inside, it was full of weaponry. From Remington ammo, to handguns, and even a rusty bear trap. It was a lot of guns. Like, a The Guns of Will Sonnett-sized loot.

"Can you explain why we found this in your son's trunk?" Powell pressed Joyce.

"Heeey, Jonathan," Jodie asked, voice nervous and tight. "I get that you and Nancy Wheeler are a ... well, I don't know, but... you're not gonna kill that Harrington kid over spray paint, are you?"

"What?! No!"

"Okay, I just had to get that outta the way."

"What is all this?" Joyce asked to deaf ears. Jodie bit at a hangnail on her thumb, watching the scene unfold as the tensions rose.

Jonathan thrust his hands forward in irritation and glared at Officer Powell. "What the hell are you doing going through my car?!"

"Is that really a question you think you should be asking right now, kid?" Hopper leant forward, getting stark close to Jonathan Byers's face while Joyce sputtered in surprise on the sidelines.

"My office, now," Hopper spat, adjusting the rim of his hat. "You and I are gonna chat."

Jonathan replied without missing a beat, a stone stare in place of any fear or worry. "You won't believe me."

Softly, Jim's crystal eyes searched the Byers', endearing and earnest as he replied, "Why don't you give me a try."

      Hopper, Jodie, and Joyce huddled around the table as Nancy produced picture after picture of what Jonathan and her claimed to be some sort of flesh-eating monster. The teens were hesitant as they explained Barb's disappearance on the night of the party, and other strange things they'd figured out.

      Jodie looked at black and white photograph prints, almost wishing it to be a hoax. Captured in the image was a grotesque thing. It was huge in size, limber and almost ... scaled with reptilian skin. Jodie wasn't sure what to think.

      But, both Nancy and Jonathan were steadfast in their story. They way they described each scene was in vivid detail, and it didn't take a detective to know that they believed in every word. Plus, it wasn't like they could have faked something like this. Or, would want to, that is.

       "You say blood draws this thing in?" Hopper asked. Jonathan and Nancy shared a glance.

       "We don't know."

       "It's... just a theory," Nancy added.

      With a sigh, Hopper nodded his head and contemplated everything they'd said. He placed the pictures on his desk and waved a hand towards the door.

     "Alright, I need a moment to think about this. Clear out."

      Nancy remained solemn and nervous, taking her leave. Joyce and Jonathan exited the room together, but Jodie could tell that the woman was fuming.

     "I'm sorry," Jonathan could be heard telling his mother.

     "You're sorry?!" Joyce began, their voices growing faint as the door shut behind them. "Sorry doesn't even begin to—"

     Jodie remained, however.

     To her surprise, it seemed that Jim had expected nothing less.

     "Jesus, Jode." He started, lowering himself into his office chair with a groan, removing his hat and setting it to the side. "I mean, a little girl with ESP? A monster roaming the woods?" He cradled his forehead, nursing a headache. "It's like the end of the goddamned world here."

      "You believe them?"

      "What, you don't?"

      "I didn't say that," Jodie shrugged. "I just know that it sounds unbelievable." Jodie thought for a moment, leaning back in the chair opposite Hopper. She pulled at her flannel overshirt, playing with the smooth, dark buttons while her mind wandered. "But," she started again, "I gotta say... I believe it. I believe all of it. Even the ESP."

       God, she felt like a quack.

     Jodie leant closer to Jim and rested her arms on the wooden desk between them. She was staring down at his hat, but her eyes were fogged, thinking of a different time. Thinking of Jamey.

     "What you said earlier, about the CIA taking kids to cover their tracks. Be honest with me," Jodie begged, meeting his watchful eyes. "Do you think they did something to Jamey, like, like they did to Will? Made... made him disappear?"

     Dips formed along the edges of Jim's stern, stubbled mouth. He gingerly grasped her hand, eye downcast but unwavering.

      "I think," he paced his words carefully, "it's possible. We looked for Jameson, for weeks. Jodie," her name bounced from his tongue like a jab, sharp and meaningful. "Jodie, I still look for him."

      "I look for him too," she breathed, placing a hand over her mouth to block the sadness that crept in the corners of her lips. "I see him everywhere."

     Jodie refrained from her instinct to pull her hand away from Jim's and sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. "I just wish I knew. I can't keep holding out hope that he'll just... turn up."

      "It doesn't get easier," Jim said, drawing closer to her. "I won't lie to you. It just... comes 'round less often." He absent-mindlessly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and the room fell quiet. The movement sent shivers through Jodie's knees, unbeknownst to the man causing it.

      That familiar feeling washed up on the shores of Jodie's tongue. She wanted to run, to hit the road and make her troubles disappear — at least for a little while. It was a temptation she didn't want to fight. She wasn't sure if it was stronger than the temptation she felt for Hopper.

     Jodie used to hide in men, or alcohol, or cigarettes. But, it never truly numbed the pain for long. She wasn't sure she could do it again. Not to herself, and not to Jim.

      "I'm gonna leave, after all this. After we get Will back, and that girl Jane," Jodie admitted down at their hands. "Maybe head out to Kentucky or Tenessee. Some place home-y. I don't know."

       Jim didn't say anything. He just stayed across from her at his desk, staring up at the ceiling, her hand in his, thinking.

     Jodie shifted her gaze to look at him, wanting to know if that revelation hurt him, or affected him in any way.

        Maybe if it had, she wouldn't want to leave so badly. Jodie found nothing. His face was statuesque, the Thinking Man.

Jodie suspired and delicately pulled away from Jim's grasp. Her had was buzzing. "I'm gonna grab a cup of coffee; you want it black?"

"Mhm," he replied. Jodie strode to the door as Jim called out to her. "Hey Jode?"

"Yeah?"

"How long gone are you gonna be?"

"I don't know...." she admitted as she walked out. Last time she'd left, she'd been gone a year. Jim didn't say anything else.

Jodie's heart fell into disappointment.

Part of her had yearned for him to ask her to stay, to tell her she didn't need to run around anymore.

She wondered what Jim could be thinking as she grabbed a couple of cups of stale, burnt black coffee from the break room.

Jodie could hear multiple conversations from the other end of the station, but didn't pay them any mind. She took a moment to gather herself, flattening her cropped blond strands as she tucked them behind her ears.

In the reflection of the coffee pot, she could see a melancholic woman staring back with flushed cheeks. She was torn between the desire he'd stirred inside of her and the haunting thought that he was completely uninterested in it.

When she returned, Jim had taken to pacing around his office, a finger pressed to his pursed lips. His light eyes fell on her as she re-entered the room and he stopped, drawing close to her once more.

Jodie smiled meekly and shut the door behind her, offering him a cup.

Hopper took the it, his long, calloused fingers brushing against hers. "Thanks, Jodie."

Jim sipped slowly and they stood, watching each other. Jodie felt the atmosphere of the room had shifted in her absence. She thumbed the lip of her cup, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

There was an element of anticipation in the stale Station air. Jodie felt it in her lungs.

Hopper took a step closer to her, eyes shifting over her delicate face, surveying her soft features. He examined the pull of her lips, the curve of her round nose, the long, dark lashes that framed big, doe brown irises.

Something he saw made him sigh through his nose; Jodie's pulse throbbed. She wanted to reach out and grab him, pull him close to her. His aftershave wafted between them, mingling with her own perfume and crafting a unique aroma.

Hopper set his cup on the desk, never breaking their eye contact. For a moment, there was electricity — a now or never sort of euphoric zing that sung in the air.

Jodie's lips parted as Jim leant closer to her, feeling swaddled in the moment's embrace. His warm breath clouded her mind, fanning her face as he came close enough to touch.

Jim reached a cautious hand to her cheek. It was warm against her skin. Her eyebrows knit together as he began to speak, so very close to her now.

"Jodie, I w —"

"— I WANT AN APOLOGY!" A muffled, but shrill, voice verberated through the back halls of the Police Station. Jodie jumped in surprise, her face flushed.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jim cursed.

Jim pushed himself away and Jodie did too, as if doused in icy water. Jodie and Jim went to investigate as the voice drew louder and louder.

As they rounded the corner into the booking room, a mom and her son, with his arm in a rudimentary sling, were standing toe to toe with Officers Callahan and Powell.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jim demanded.

"Chief..." Powell began, his tone hesitant.

The mother's demanding voice rung out as she addressed Hopper, hoping that the Chief of Police would have more sense to him that the other officers. "These men are humiliating my son!"

"Nononono,—" Callahan's anxious tone tried to calm the erratic woman down. "Okay, that's not true."

"There was some kinda fight, Chief —"

"—A psychotic child broke his arm!" The mother interjected Powell as she put her talones hand on her son's shoulder. Her son was tall for his age, which Jodie was guessing around 13 or so.

He had dark hair and eyes with ruddy cheeks and dirt stained shoes. In fact, his whole outfit was dirt except for his pants which looked as clean as could be.

"A little girl, Chief, a little one." Callahan elaborated to Hopper, pinching his finger together and earning a disgruntled gasp from the mother.

"That tone! Did you hear that tone?!"

"I heard it," Jodie quipped.

"—Jodie," Jim sighed, knowing she wasn't making the situation easier.

Callahan floundered, mouth agape as he flung his hands defensively in the air. "Honestly, I'm just trying to state the facts!" He tapped his book, pushing the rims of his glasses back over the bridge of his nose. "It was a little girl!"

"Okay, I don't have time for this." Jim circled his finger at the officers. "Would you please take a statement?" He quietly mouthed, while the woman's back was turned to him: "and get her out of here."

       Powell nodded and assured the mom that they would do everything they could. Callahan returned to his notes, probing the kid for more descriptors.

"So, what did this girl look like?"

       "She had ... no hair, and she was bleeding from her nose." Jim stopped and Jodie watched the scene with an arched brow. "Like a freak!"

        Jim interjected, turning back to watch the kid. "What'd you just say?"

       "I said she's a freak."

      "No, idiot," Jodie rolled her eyes. The boy's mom gawked. "Her hair?"

      The boy glared at Jodie but replied. "Her head's shaved. She doesn't even look like a girl. And..." The boy looked down at his feet, feeling embarrassed at something left unsaid.

       "And what?"

      "She can... do things."

       "What kinda things?" Jim asked cautiously.

      The boy's ears darkened and he looked from the police to his mother, who reassured him to speak honestly. "Like... make you fly? ...And piss yourself."

     "What?" Powell asked, clearly amused by the whole thing.

      Jim didn't find it funny. "Was she alone?"

      The boy shook his head no. "She always hangs out with those losers."

      "What 'Losers'?"

Jim instructed Powell to take a more thorough statement, to help calm the mother down. Jodie went to grab some water while Jonathan, Joyce and Nancy all huddled amongst themselves. She needed to cool down after that moment with Jim.

According to the bandaged kid, who's name was Troy, the little girl was with the boys: Mike, Dustin and Lucas.

    When Jodie thought about it, she realized that she knew exactly who Troy was talking about. It was the girl she'd seen riding around with Mike on their way to school.

Which, meant that they were in some serious danger.

As the styrofoam cup in her hand filled with the cool liquid from the jug, Jodie could overhear Callahan muttering to Chief Hopper about Jodie. Neither were aware that she could hear them.

"The Whittier girl, Chief?" Callahan mumbled with a cheeky smile. "You sure are spending a lot of time with that one."

He didn't have to say it, but Jim and Jodie could both pick up on the strong insinuation.

Jodie snickered, sipping at her water. She knew that if Callahan was aware that she was listening, he wouldn't have said anything.

"Look, it's not like that." Jim brushed him off. Denying anything. "The girl needs a helping hand. You know how it is. I'm just trying to guide her straight, keep her outta trouble — you know, help her out. Focus on Troy. I'm going to look for the kids."

Jodie flushed red with embarrassment and annoyance, it was a hodgepodge of both which flared up her decision to get the hell away from here. "Screw this."

Jodie clutched the key to her bike lock in her jacket pocket, feeling the brass dig into the palm of her hand.

Her heart was swelling, but not in the good sort of way. It was an aching swell that felt like it was about to burst right out of her chest.

She stalked to the door, while Joyce called out to her, asking where she was going.

Jodie flung her cup to the dirt lot outside, letting the Police Station's door slam with a BANG CLANK behind her.

Heavy, fast-paced footsteps hit the gravel behind her.

"Hey, Hey — Jodie, Jodie wait." Jim closely followed her tail, reaching out a strong hand and grabbing her by the elbow. It was firm, but not too strong as she yanked her arm away.

Jodie turned to face him, cheeks red, blond strands of hair whisps in the cold wind. Her hardened expression made him pause and frown.

"Don't," she began. "You know what, Jim? You can go straight to hell."

"The hell'd I do?"

"You're not my guardian angel, okay? I'm not some-some-some charity case! I don't need your help, I don't need anyone 'guiding me straight'."

"You heard that." Jim offered only a sheepish look, scratching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't mean —"

"—I don't know what to think, you know?" Jodie exhaled, feeling the corners of her lips quivering with sadness as she tried to keep them straight. She didn't want him to know... to know she was hurt.

Jodie's tongue wet her pink bottom lip and she broke away from his apologetic gaze. "This whole thing is fucked: the monster, the girl, the C-I-fucking-A. But, you and me?" She pressed her lips together, pointing firmly between their chests. "We're not that. We're not. Not to me."

Jodie took a few steps backwards, putting distance between them. "I'd rather be nothing than pretend."

Jim bowed his head, scratching at the back of his neck as he searched for what the hell to say. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to find Jane."

"Don't do this," Jim said. He motioned back to the station, where Joyce was standing by the front door, watching the pair in confusion. "Come with us."

"No."

WITHOUT THINKING TOO much about it, Jodie took off on her bike. Truth be told, she just wanted to be anywhere but here.

It didn't take Jodie long to arrive at The Quarry, the last known location of the boys according to a very upset Troy.

It was about three or so miles from the Police Department, and the exertion did end up helping Jodie's frustrated emotional state.

Where would the boys go? They couldn't drive anywhere, so she felt it safe to assume that they couldn't have gotten far. Especially with all these helicopters and men in black suits looking around for them.

Jodie tried to think of what Jamey would have done. He had always been talking to Jodie about all the fantastic places he and the gang would hide out in. Maybe there was somewhere they would feel safe, somewhere not too far from the Quarry.

      Sighing, Jodie parked her bike by the cliff side, breathing in the crisp air of the late afternoon. She watched the birds over head. And, on the horizon, a helicopter circled around Hawkins.

        "Fuck's sake," she bit out. How the hell Hawkins got caught up in all the mythological shit, she'd never be sure.

       The cold breeze calmed down her fit of frustration with Jim.

      To be honest, Jodie wasn't sure what she expected of him: it wasn't like he was hers.

       Maybe it was better if they were just friends. But, what bothered her was that what he'd told Phil Callahan that he was "watching out for her" like a guardian. Jim hadn't said that they were "friends" or even "aquatinted". And, that didn't sit right for Jodie.

     Inhaling deeply, Jodie popped back onto her bike and cut through a tree-lined path. She pictured the old trails she used to camp out in. Or, the places that she used to meet boys in the dead of night, wondering if they were in any of those.

      All she could think of that was around this area was the Old Junkyard.

     "Well, damn," Jodie said out loud to no one in particular. "I'm a kid surrounded by the CIA. A junkyard could work."

      The path to the Yard was thick with mud, and Jodie's tires struggled against the ground as they were sucked down into the muck.

Jodie resolved to chaining her bike up to a thick oak wood and trekking the rest on foot. Cautiously, she was sure to watch the skies. Fortunately, it looked like the CIA, or whomever, hadn't begun circling the Junkyard area just yet.

The yard was littered with plenty of trashed vehicles and tools from all walks of Hawkins. Jodie looked at each as she passed them, brushing the dirt and dust from the passenger windows to peer inside.

After four trucks, seven cars and a motor home, and no kids, she was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

But, just as those thoughts began to creep in, a bright, yellow school bus (that had been decommissioned years ago) caught her eye.

"Bingo."

As she approached it, Jodie could hear childish whispers reverberating off the steel sides of the bus, though she couldn't make out the words.

"All right," Jodie spoke up, alerting the gang of kids. Inside, there were curses and scratches against the metal. The kids clambered up to peer cautiously outside the windows. "Open up!"

Dustin greeted Jodie cautiously at the school bus's door, peering around the young woman, which she assumed was to see if anyone else accompanied her. "Jooodie," he sung in a falsely positive tone, "what're you doing here?"

He was strategically in her way.

Jodie offered him a goofy grin and placed her hands on her hips, sternly. "Are you gonna let me in, or do you want the helicopters to come first?"

"Good point," Dustin chirped, immediately stepping to the side.

"Oh my god," Lucas groaned as Jodie stepped inside. "Dustin, you weren't supposed to let anyone in."

"It's Jodie," Dustin replied, bowing his head. "I checked if she was alone."

     Mike scoffed and sat, his arms wrapped around his knees. "Some Gatekeeper you are."

Jodie sized up the crew inside. They looked so young, so small, and so unprepared for all the trouble they were in. She didn't have to hunch over on the bus, being short enough to pass under the ceiling, but just barely.

Jodie's eyes found the girl straight away. She was dressed in a powder pink dress and blue cardigan with her brown hair cropped to her scalp. Jane. She looked exhausted.

Jane was watching Jodie, too. Her small, dark eyes were weary and cautious. Jodie offered her a smile and inched closer to her. "You must be Jane."

"Jane?" Mike hovered protectively beside the girl, monitoring Jodie's movements as she approached them. "This is Eleven."

     "We call her El," Dustin added.

      Jodie's nose curled and she slowly lowered herself down onto one of the benches beside Jane. "Where the hell'd you get that from? Some flick?"

      Jane's eyes widened at the name and she rose her left hand, pointing slowly at her chest. "Eleven," Jane repeated. Her voice was cautious, and wavered as she attempted to speak firmly.

     Titling her head to the side, Jodie let out a curt laugh, half amused and half confused. But, in her bewilderment, Jodie watched Jane lower her hand, her eyes zeroing in on the bracelet dangling from the girl's pale, exposed wrist.

Blue, green, brown and tied in
a special knot at the cross section.

Jamey.

Jodie snatched the girl's forearm and pulled her up from her seat where she'd been sitting. Jane yanked weakly away from Jodie, struggling to break free.

   The boys began to holler, asking 'El' if she was okay. But, Jodie could only see colours. "W-Where did you get this?" Jodie asked softly, shaking the girl's arm.

The girl blinked up at her, mouth parted in scared silence. "I-I..."

Jodie shook her again, tears beginning to collect in her dark lashes as a confusing mix of anger and fear and anguish contorted within the pit of her chest.

"WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?" Jodie yelled. Jane's face contorted, and she looked to the boys for answers, her bottom lips trembling.

The girl tried once more to break free, yanking at her arm. "Mike!" She wailed.

"Jodie, JODIE STOP!" Mike yelled, weakly shoving at Jodie's torso. The woman was much stronger than the adolescent boy, and he could hardly move her.

Mike pleaded with Jodie, and she suddenly felt ashamed of herself, realizing that she was scaring them all. Jodie quickly released the Jane's slim arm like a hot iron, revolted in her rash actions.

"She doesn't talk!" Dustin said, eyes wide.

"She can't understand you!" Lucas said.

Jodie pushed herself away from the kids, her breath coming to her in short bursts. Thoughts shot past at lightning speed, thunderous claps of emotion echoed and vibrated from her ribs.

She was suffocating on her own overwhelming dread, hyperventilating in her fear.

Jodie choked and gasped, lowering herself numbly into the seat behind her. She cradled her head in her hands, digging her nails into the roots of her blond hair.

She stared at the dirt riddle metal floors, feeling like a horrible adult. Adults didn't grab children. She'd messed up.

A mute, the girl was a mute and she was wearing the last gift Jodie had given Jamey.

"El, are you okay?" Mike asked quietly. "You hurt her! Her arm's all red." He threw Jodie's curled frame a disgruntled glare as he hovered over his friend. Dustin and Lucas hushed Mike gently.

"Hey, not to be a dick," Lucas said. "But, we're in hiding, remember? Maybe lower the dramatics."

"Everyone's okay," Dustin assured Mike, looking between Jodie and Jane with a brow crumpled and distraught. "Right?"

Jodie's bottom lip quivered and she swallowed hard, blinking away the dewy tears. "I-I'm sorry, Jane — Eleven. I... I'm sorry."

The girl didn't say much as she took deep breaths, back pressed firmly against the opposite side of the bus.

But, after a moment of silence and examining the small woman in front of her, Eleven swallowed a lump in her throat and uttered one word, holding up her wrist to flash the bracelet to Jodie Whittier: "Jamey."

⌱ ⌱ ⌱

sorry.
you may scream [ here ].

This was the longest chapter so far!

Please spare a moment to vote and comment your thoughts on the story
so far!

Big reveal in this one!
Any thoughts, theories?

This one goes out to @-valentiinez ! Thank you for the support 💖