Chapter 34: The Snow Ball
The Hawkins Middle School gym had been transformed into winter wonderland—silver streamers, fake snow, disco ball casting rainbow lights across nervous twelve-year-olds in formal wear.
I stood near the punch bowl in cheap suit, official chaperone badge pinned to lapel. Chrissy beside me, wearing green dress that made her look like Christmas itself.
"You're staring at them like a worried parent," she observed.
"I am worried. Too many things could go wrong."
"It's a middle school dance, not a military operation."
"You'd be surprised how much overlap there is."
The Party had arrived separately—Mike in ill-fitting suit, Dustin with his hair gelled into weird shape, Lucas looking uncomfortable in tie, Will staying close to friends like they were life preservers.
And El. Eleven in a pink dress Joyce had bought, makeup Chrissy had helped apply, looking terrified and determined simultaneously.
"She cleans up nice," Chrissy said.
"She's terrified."
"So is Mike. Watch."
Mike approached El, said something, gestured at the dance floor. El nodded. They moved toward music with the grace of baby giraffes learning to walk.
"That's adorable," Chrissy whispered.
"That's concerning. She's been through too much. Deserves normal teenage experiences but I don't know if she can have them."
"She's trying. That's what matters."
Dustin made his rounds—asking three different girls to dance, getting rejected each time. He returned to the punch bowl dejected.
"Tough night?" I asked.
"Girls are impossible to understand."
"Yeah. That doesn't change with age."
"Did you have this problem?"
"Different problems. I was 'King Steve'—girls expected me to be someone I wasn't. Took years to find someone who liked the real me." I nodded toward Chrissy. "Worth the wait though."
Dustin absorbed this. "So I just... wait for someone who gets me?"
"And keep being yourself while you wait. Right girl won't want you to change."
He nodded, wandered off to get cookies.
Lucas had better luck—he'd found a girl.
Red hair, skateboard under the bleachers, attitude that screamed "don't mess with me." She stood outside the gym doors looking bored.
I recognized her immediately from the show. Max Mayfield. She wasn't supposed to arrive until September 1984.
Another timeline fracture. My changes cascading forward.
I approached casually. "You're new. Max, right?"
She looked up, suspicious. "How'd you know my name?"
"Small town. New kid stands out. Plus, you've got a California vibe. Easy to spot."
"That obvious?"
"The skateboard helps. Not a lot of those in Hawkins." I extended my hand. "Steve Harrington. I chaperone occasionally and know everyone."
She shook it, grip firm. "Steve. Yeah, I've heard your name. Lucas talks about you."
"Sinclair? Good kid. Smart. Loyal."
"He keeps staring at me like I'm some puzzle to solve."
"That's Lucas. He analyzes everything." I gestured at the gym. "You not into dances?"
"Not my scene. Too many people, too much noise." She kicked her skateboard. "But my mom made me come. 'Make friends,' she said. 'Be normal.'"
"Normal's overrated. Weird's more interesting."
Max laughed—sharp, genuine sound. "You're not what I expected. Heard you were popular. Figured you'd be an asshole."
"Reformed asshole. Made better life choices recently."
"What changed?"
Died, reincarnated, spent three years preparing for apocalypse, fought interdimensional monster, absorbed psychic corruption.
"Perspective. Realized popularity doesn't matter. People do."
She studied me. "You're weird, Steve Harrington."
"I'll take weird over normal any day."
Lucas emerged from gym, saw Max talking to me, looked torn between jealousy and curiosity.
"Your admirer approaches," I said quietly. "Give him a chance. He's braver than he looks."
Max glanced at Lucas. "He always this awkward?"
"Always. But authentic awkward. Not fake smooth."
"I like authentic."
Lucas reached us, stammering: "Hey, Max. Want to... maybe... dance? If you want. You don't have to. But if you—"
"Sure," Max interrupted. "But I'm terrible at dancing."
"Me too."
They entered the gym together. I watched them go, feeling ancient at eighteen.
Chrissy appeared beside me. "Making friends with the new girl?"
"Positioning. She's going to matter. Better to build alliance now."
"You're paranoid."
"I'm prepared. There's a difference."
The episode happened at 9 PM.
Will froze mid-conversation with Mike, eyes going distant. Not glazed—absent. Like consciousness left his body.
I was moving before anyone else noticed.
Reached him as he stumbled. "Will. Can you hear me?"
No response. Just standing there, looking through walls at something nobody else could see.
"Mike, get El. Chrissy, clear the area." I guided Will outside, away from crowd.
Cold December air hit us. Will blinked, awareness returning in fragments.
"Steve? What—"
"You flickered. Like before. What did you see?"
"The gym. But wrong. Covered in vines. Dark. Cold." His voice shook. "And it was there. The shadow. Watching. Counting us."
Mind Flayer. Still monitoring through the connection.
"Here." I placed hands on his shoulders. "Let me help."
Pain Heal activated and the vision slammed into me.
The gymnasium transformed—walls rotting, decorated streamers replaced by vines, floor cracked and bleeding into Upside Down beneath. And above it all, vast shadow presence counting the children dancing below.
Twelve targets, the Mind Flayer observed. Thirteen if you count the girl with powers. Resources for my return. Vessels waiting.
I pushed back mentally. You're not taking them.
I don't need to take them, traveler. They'll give themselves willingly when the time comes. Fear, love, desperation—such easy levers to pull.
Not happening.
We'll see.
The vision released. I gasped, stumbled against the brick wall.
Will watched with guilty eyes. "It hurts you. Every time you do that, it hurts you."
"I can handle it."
"But should you have to?"
No. But someone has to carry this burden.
"Rather me than you, buddy. You get to be a kid. I'm old enough to deal with consequences."
"You're only eighteen."
"Old enough."
El emerged from the gym, Mike behind her. She looked at me, at Will, understood immediately.
"Shadow," she said. Not question. Statement.
"Yeah. It's watching. Always watching."
"Can't stop it?"
"Not yet. But we will. When it returns, we'll be ready."
El touched my arm, her psychic connection flaring. She felt the corruption—I could see recognition in her eyes. The Mind Flayer's presence in my head.
"You're carrying it," she whispered. "Like I carried the gate. Too much. Too heavy."
"I've got this."
"Friends share burdens."
"This one's mine. You focus on being a kid. On dancing with Mike. On normal things."
She studied me with eyes too old for her face. Then nodded. "Okay. But if you need help—"
"You'll be first person I ask."
They returned inside. I stayed in cold air, watching stars, feeling Mind Flayer's attention like weight on skull.
298 days until Halloween 1984. Until tunnels and possession and Bob's death. Until everything escalates.
298 days to get stronger. To find solutions. To change what I couldn't change before.
Inside, music played. Kids danced. Dustin finally found a girl who said yes. Lucas and Max swayed awkwardly together. Mike and El held hands like lifelines.
This. This was worth the corruption. Worth the nightmares. Worth carrying Mind Flayer's attention.
Let it watch. Let it plan. I'll be ready.
Chrissy found me eventually, pulled me back inside. "You're freezing."
"Didn't notice."
"What happened?"
"Will had an episode. I handled it."
"By yourself?"
"That's how it works."
She held my face, forced eye contact. "Steve. You're allowed to share burdens. You're allowed to ask for help."
"Some burdens don't divide well."
"Then at least let me stand beside you while you carry them."
I kissed her—grateful, exhausted, determined.
The Snow Ball continued. Normal moments in abnormal times. I'd take them while I could.
Because winter was temporary. Spring approached. Then summer. Then fall.
And Halloween 1984 was coming like clockwork.
The Mind Flayer was patient. It could wait.
So could I.
But when we met again, only one of us would win.
I'd make sure it was me.
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