[ 5 ]

"HEY THERE, Jodie!"

Jodie groaned into the phone and slung the pale, cream cord over her shoulder. The voice wasn't one she'd been hoping for, and she expressed the caller's unwanted presence as she slammed the phone back onto the hook.

Sighing, Jodie grabbed her mixing bowl of odd ingredients from her counter and stalked back to the phone, waiting. If it was an important call, the idiot would ring her again. They would be at her leisure, a slave to whether or not she would hear them out. Jodie smirked at the god-like power. Oh, how she loved phones and the power they gave her.

Riiing... Riiiing...

Jodie stared at the phone, playing with the concoction tucked against her chest, her dark eyes watching the phone jingle jangle on the hook.

Riiiiing... Riiiiiin—

Smirking, Jodie delicately lifted the phone and placed it against her ear. "Hello?" Her voice was sugar sweet almost like the first call had never happened. The voice on the other side of the line faltered.

"Hey, Jodie Whittier? This is Phil, Phil Callahan down at the Police Stat—"

The phone hit the hook again. Jodie cackled to herself and waltzed into her kitchen, rather enjoying herself. It was a fun game. Plus, she didn't care for Phil Callahan, so pestering him didn't bother her in the slightest. Popping open her ten-year-old oven, Jodie checked the thermostat and decided her casserole was almost ready for baking.

Phil took a little longer to call back the third time, probably annoyed at the girl. Jodie debated whether she should hear him out the fourth time he called, or the sixth, as she placed her food in the oven, knocking the door closed with her knee.

Grabbing a kitchen stool, Jodie perched herself in front of her landline, wickedly waiting for her little game to continue. Phil was probably seething by now. A couple more minutes passed. Jodie examined her fraying thumbnail, picking at it with a frustrated frown. It had taken her so long to get them to the length they were.

Riiiiing... Riiiiiing..... RIIINNNGG—

Jodie fought to contain the giggle that bubbled up inside her chest as she plucked the phone up. "Hello?" She asked, once again as innocent as could be. The voice didn't speak on the other end right away, but she could hear Callahan's angry breathing echoing through his receiver.

"Hello?" She asked again, finger hovering over the hook, ready to click the line off.

"Don't hang up!" Phil shouted. Jodie could hear someone scrambling on his end, either with a stack of paper or shuffling around. Maybe both. Callahan called out to something on his side, not bothered to muffle his voice.

"Chief! Hey, Chief, I got Jodie on the phone—.... —no, no I know, but... Chief, she keeps hanging up on me. No, I know, but why do I gotta tell 'er? Did she even know —"

More shuffling and scratching sounded into the receiver, but Jodie removed her hand, realising that this was a bigger deal than she had assumed. Especially if Jim Hopper was being brought into the situation.

The phone was handed off and Jodie's ear was filled with the heavy, stern breathing of Jim Hopper having a hard day. He groaned but didn't say anything right away. Jodie stood up from her stool and cradled the phone as tight to her face as possible, trying to hear everything.

Jodie's heart thumped in the silence. "Jim?"

"Benny's dead, Jodie."

She flinched away from the phone but quickly brought it back to her ear with a short chuckle. "Benny? Benny who?" Jodie smiled, shaking her head, staring at the wall with her eyes unseeing. "Not... not Burger Benny," she lightly scoffed, ready for Jim to clarify.

But, he didn't. He sighed into the receiver and Jodie scoffed a final time, unsure of what to say. "But, Benny.... Benny wasn't.... What happened?"

"Jodie, I can't really tell you that right now," Jim said. Before Jodie could yell at him, Jim spoke up, quelling her rage. "What it looks like is a suicide—

"—Bullshit,"

"—Jodie... that's all I've got right now. I'm doing more digging, there's... he was my friend too."

Jodie pulled the receiver away from her mouth, pressing her forehead into her wall, slowly pounding her skull against it, picking up the pace with a steady thump, thump, THUMP.

"It wasn't a suicide," Jodie whispered. She turned around, the phone cord wrapping itself against her small frame as she leant against the wall, staring up at her ceiling. The news wasn't good.

She hadn't been close to Benny in years, but that didn't make the pain sting any less. Benny had been more of a father to her in the teen years than her own dad had. Jodie liked to consider him a friend, but she respected him more than any friend she had ever kept. Which, when compared to Jodie Whittier's exceedingly small roster of friendships, that didn't say much. She used to spend long hours ditching class, or work, at Benny's. He was a quiet man, but very opinionated about the weather, fishing, and how to make the best prime rib in the Americas. Jodie clutched at the phone, not wanting to hang up, but not wanting Jim to hear her cry.

First Jamey. Then Will. Now Benny. Who would be next? Who else in Jodie's life would be stripped from her, like a layer of skin that she still clung to tightly?

"I'm cursed," she breathed into the receiver.

Jodie thumped her head against the wall again, this time it left a ringing in her ears. Jim asked what the sound was, Jodie ignored him. "Thanks for the heads up, Chief," Jodie quietly said, voice no louder than a breath. "I've... I've got to finish up this casserole and get it to Joyce Byers."

"I'd like to meet up with you later. Touch base." Jodie sniffled, her brow arched at the sincere and caring tone that carried over the phone. "Do you drink beer?"

Jodie picked her head up from the wall and rubbed a hand over the small lump growing on the back of her skull. "Like water. Why?"

"Would you like to get one with me?"

Though Jodie knew Jim Hopper would never ask a woman out over the phone, after a revelation like the one he'd thrust on her, she couldn't help herself. "You askin' me out, Hop?" It felt nice to joke the pain away.

"If you consider beer a date," Jim played along, "I would only wonder what you consider dinner."

Jodie felt her chest sink at the thought of dinner, no matter how irrational it felt. Benny made dinner, and so in light of his death, Jodie couldn't choke out another joke. Sniffling, Jodie toyed with the phone cord, pulling it between her long fingers. "That's awful nice, but," she cleared her throat, clamping her vocal chords tight against the emotion that pooled up in her chest, "we've done all the talking I can take for now."

Reaching out to hang up her phone, Jodie changed her mind and pressed the receiver to her lips one final time, before ending the call. "Maybe another time."

JODIE KNOCKED on Joyce Byers's front door, her insufferable casserole held out in front of her like a friendly beacon, but she instantly regretted coming. Her regret filtered into her marrow in two, overly excited, shrill words.

"WILL? Will, honey?!" Joyce yelled.

Jodie could hear the woman running to the front door, flicking the porch light on and flooding Jodie in bright, blinding light. She had meant to come earlier, but the news had prohibited her from leaving her house for a short while, which turned into a long while.

When the front door flung open, Jodie couldn't bring herself to look up into the desperately hopeful eyes of Joyce Byers. She wasn't who Joyce had been hoping to see, and the fact that Jodie's presence was a disappointment to Miss Byers made the young woman feel bad.

"Oh, Jodie, wha-what are you doing here?" Joyce's frantic eyes scaled Jodie's slumped figure in her porch light, offering the casserole like some peace offering that wasn't needed, or necessary.

"I'm really sorry about Will," Jodie said. "May... Do you mind if I came inside for a bit?" Jodie noticed the tiny moment of pause in Joyce's response, so she tapped a hand on her satchel that hung heavy and loose over her shoulder. "I've brought Camels and seventy-proof Captain Morgan."

Jodie wasn't sure why she wanted to wait inside the home with the worrisome woman. She could remember the fear, the loneliness that had accompanied Jamey's disappearance. When she had gotten the news in Michigan, Jodie had immediately turned around and fled back home, joining the search for her brother. Jodie didn't want Joyce to be alone right now. Joyce Byers had been the first woman to show up at the Whittier's home and present them with a casserole a year ago, speaking condolences and words of good-luck. It was only right to return the favour. She had always been so kind to Jamey.

"Of course, of course," Joyce breathed out, wringing her quivering hands together. "You're always welcome here." She ushered Jodie inside and quickly shut the door behind her, closing off the cold night. Jodie noticed that Joyce kept the porch light on, so Will would know she was home.

Jodie stepped into the small home, feeling the carpet crunch under her shoes as she made her way to the kitchen table. The place was a mess. The table had an overflowing ashtray in the centre, dishes piled up in the sink, and there was a faint smell in the air of something foul, but all this looked familiar to Jodie, all too familiar.

"It's chicken," Jodie said to Joyce, shooting her a smile from over her shoulder. Jodie discovered that Joyce hadn't followed her into the kitchen, but had instead plopped down onto her brown couch, playing with her pale hands.

Joyce's head snapped up at Jodie's words. "Huh?"

"The casserole, it's chicken."

Jodie dropped her bag onto the counter, setting it beside the casserole as she peeled back the top layer of tinfoil. Joyce sighed from the other room. "You know, Jodie, I'm not really that hungry, you can just leave it on the counter."

"Who said anything about you?" Jodie joked, searching the kitchen for a clean plate, but coming up empty. "I'm starving, I haven't ate all day." She yanked open a drawer and found a couple forks. Shrugging, Jodie grabbed two and jammed them into the top of the casserole, juggling the tin and her large bottle of Captain Morgan as she made her way to the couch.

Joyce's waxy face flickered with a forced, flighty smile, but her dark eyes didn't meet the woman. Jodie carefully lowered herself down onto the couch and dropped the casserole onto the coffee table, cracking open the bottle of rum with a perfected twist.

"Oh, I'll get some glasses," Joyce whispered, mind in another place. She picked at her nails and strode into her kitchen while Jodie watched with a placid frown, taking a swig of her bottle. Joyce popped back into the living room with a sheepish frown. "I-I guess I don't have any clean dishes right now."

"Joyce," Jodie assured her softly, holding out the alcohol to her, "it's okay."

The pair of broken women sat like that, in stupored silence, drinking spiced rum and smoking their way through a pack of Camels as Jodie pecked at her casserole. It wasn't very good, the chicken was dry and she'd forgotten a couple ingredients, but it didn't really matter.

The night was thick before Joyce finally spoke up from her mind-boggling quiet. "Jodie... How did you," she paused with a furrow set deep into her brow, turning to meet Jodie's wide-eyed gaze in fear and anguish, "how did you deal... with it?"

Jodie rubbed her nose, knowing her face betrayed the pain that Joyce had brought out of her in that one, simple question. She brought the Captain back to her lips and took a swallow before handing him back off to Joyce, thinking about what to say. Lies never helped pain. Patronizing never helped her either, and Jodie was sure it wouldn't help Joyce.

So, Jodie told her the truth, tucking hair behind her ear. "I didn't."

Joyce didn't say anything, but Jodie was sure it was the right thing to say. Anything else would have been filling Joyce with false hope. Jodie couldn't even bring herself to say 'I'm sure they will find Will', she wasn't sure about anything. Joyce knew that.

Jodie searched around the room, realising that Joyce was staring at the phone again. "Waiting for a call?"

"From Will," Joyce spat out, taking another drink. "Hopper thinks I'm making it up, but the other night, I got a call from Will. And, I-I just know he's gonna call again."

Frowning, Jodie sat up straight, eyes flickering from the new phone plugged into the wall to Joyce's twitching fingers, anxious for the call. "What? He called? What did he say?"

"Well, I couldn't hear him," Joyce explained, eyes wet. She stood up and tugged her hands through her mussed, dark hair, clearly upset. "H-He was breathing; it was his breathing."

Joyce rubbed at her eyes and sat down beside Jodie, worried that the girl was so quiet. "Do you believe me?"

Jodie didn't hesitate. "I believe you."

And, she did.

Joyce sighed in relief and latched onto Jodie's hands with her cold grip, bottom lip quivering. Jodie wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the obvious exhaustion that was making Joyce open up to Jodie so freely, but she was happy that she was here. The insufferable casserole had been a good idea after all.

RIIINNNGG—

Joyce jumped up from her couch and yanked the phone off the wall. "Hello?" She pressed the phone tighter to her ear. Jodie was on the edge of her seat, wondering if it was Will on the other side. "Hello?" Joyce asked again.

"Who is this?" Joyce pressed a palm against her chest, tears running down her cheeks. Quickly, Jodie stood up from her spot, but she didn't make a move. "Will? Will, it's me. Talk to me! I'm here, j-just tell me where you are, honey. I can hear you, please!"

Every light in the house flickered and Jodie jumped, looking around as Joyce gasped and cried out for her son on the phone. There had been some reports of rolling blackouts, Jodie reminded herself. The timing was just weird.

Joyce screamed and flung the phone from her face as blue sparks of electricity fried up and down the wires of the landline. "Holy shit, Joyce," Jodie cursed, rushing to the upset woman's side, reaching out, "A-Are you all right? That looked—"

"—No! No! No!" Joyce ignored Jodie's worry, trying to get the phone to pick up a dial tone. She threw the phone across the room, Jodie barely missing the trajectory by swaying out of the way.

Jodie watched her anguish, feeling rather vulnerable and awkward. It would be a bad time to leave, but it would be a bad time to stay too. She was damned either way. "Joyce," Jodie softly said, starting to kneel down, but the lights started to flicker again. One by one. "J-Joyce."

She watched in confusion as the lights flicked on and off, one after the other, making a highlighted pathway down the Byers's hall. "Strange for a power outage," she whispered. Joyce scrambled off the floor and called out for her eldest son, but Jodie knew that he wasn't home. It had only been them for hours.

Unphased, Joyce fearlessly followed the light path, but Jodie trailed behind, not feeling very safe. Rushing to her purse, Jodie yanked out her little switchblade knife that she carried in her bag and followed, nervously, behind Joyce, catching up to the woman as the radio clicked on in her son's room, blaring loud rock music.

Jodie flinched. Something wasn't right, and she didn't really want to hang around to find out. "J-Joyce," she whispered tightly to the erratic woman, the lights still blinking on, off, on, off, on. Joyce clenched tightly to Jodie's arm, somehow the both of them managed to find a little strength to explore the mystery together.

"Jonathan?" Joyce called out one more time, swinging the door to the room open with a bang.

There was no one in the room. Jodie flicked open her switchblade and strolled around the room, ripping open the closet as Should I Stay or Should I Go played deafeningly in the background. Jodie thought must be a cruel trick that some asshole teen was playing on a desperate mother. "Come out you little shit!" She hissed, dropping to her knees and checking under Joyce's son's bed, but there was nothing there.

The music clicked off. All the lights in the room shut off.

"There's no one in—" Jodie said, turning to look at Joyce who sounded like she was crying behind her. In the dark, there was something else in the room with them. Jodie gasped. "H-Holy—"

It was coming from the wall, as if it were trapped in between the house and the plaster, a mass of bones and arms and fingers, clawing and trying to tear its way out. Joyce and Jodie screamed in horror and fled from, wailing all the while, from the house.

Jodie slammed the front door shut as Joyce ran to her car, trying to keep up with her. "Holy fuck," Jodie yelled, "holy fuck. HOLY FUCK; what the hell was that?!"

⌱ ⌱ ⌱

[not edited]

stranger things have happened!

The next update may be really soon, I'm feeling pretty inspired.

So, Jodie saw it, what now o.o