It was a Friday night, and Will felt more anxious than excited. He already knew his mother would pepper him with questions about school, about friends, about every corner of his life. After everything they’d survived, he couldn’t really blame her; the paranoia had never truly left Joyce Byers.

Jane still “Eleven” in so many ways already knew you. Will had given you the quick version of her story: the strange powers, the lab, and how she’d become his sister after Hopper, her adoptive father, had died at the hands of the Russians.

Jonathan wasn’t much of a concern. Will doubted he’d even be around, and if he was, chances were he’d be mellow, maybe a little stoned something that happened more often since he’d started hanging out with Argyle.

You drew in a steadying breath and pressed the doorbell. After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Joyce, her smile warm but edged with the same nervous energy that always seemed to hum just beneath her skin.