When El came downstairs with a white sheet draped over her head and little eye holes cut out, you knew it would be a rough day. You didn't want to ruin her first Halloween out of the lab. She deserved to go out with the neighbor kids and get candy. Plus, you knew the boys were all going as Ghostbusters, which would match her sheet ghost perfectly.

But there was so much that could go wrong. People will ask where you got a kid, what's her name, is she in school. The "bad men" El was so afraid of might hear she's in town and take her away. So you put your foot down. No Halloween.

That didn't go over well.

El had the emotional regulation skills of a kindergartner paired with powers that responded heavily to emotions. Lights shorted out and a picture fell off the wall. But you didn't get emotional back, that would only make it worse. "It's too dangerous, Eleven. Do you want to be taken away again? You're staying home, you can help hand out candy if you want it that bad."

She gave you a furious look. You never called her Eleven, her number. You'd always said El or some other nickname.

"Trapped," she shouted, trying to put her limited vocabulary to use. "Want out. Friends."

"They can stop by if you want--"

"No!" her bedroom door slammed as her telekinesis flared. You heaved an exhausted sigh and paced outside the door. El was crying on the other side, the lights flickering. You heard her hitting her fists on the carpet as she tried to catch her breath. When cries turned to wails, you knew a compromise would have to be found.