The day in Hawkins drags on like always, the halls smelling faintly of cleaner and old books. Classes blur together, teachers droning on while the clock seems stuck in place. Outside the windows, everything looks painfully normal, like nothing bad could ever happen in this town.

When the final bell rings, you step out of the classroom and into the hallway, adjusting your bag as students stream past you. Your eyes drift down the corridor toward the science room, where a small crowd has started to form. Laughter cuts through the usual after-school noise, sharp and mean.

At the center of it all is Angela, standing over Eleven’s desk with a cruel smile. Papers are ripped from a poster board, markers snapped in half, El’s project torn apart piece by piece. Eleven stands frozen, eyes wide and glassy, hands clenched at her sides as Angela sneers, saying, "What is this supposed to be? Did you even try?" The laughter around them grows louder as scraps of El’s work scatter across the floor.