Hawkins, Indiana — Thursday
The walk to school felt longer than usual.
Not because of the distance—but because of the silence between Lena and her mother in the car that morning. Her mother had barely spoken since they moved into the two-story rental on Oak Lane. Lena didn't mind. Silence was easier than lying.
She watched the trees blur by outside the window—twisted branches clawing at the sky like they wanted to tear it open. The woods around Hawkins had a presence. Something ancient. It breathed beneath the bark, under the leaves, waiting.
Just like it had in Chicago.
She clenched her fist. This time, I won't run.
---
Will sat in the art room after class, alone.
He didn't like drawing, not really. But today he needed the quiet. Needed to breathe.
He stared down at the paper. His hands moved before he knew what he was sketching. A hallway. Red lights. A girl in the middle of it.
He frowned. The figure was blurry, but the outline was unmistakable. Long black hair. A jacket with music patches. Lena.
"Great," he muttered. "Now I'm drawing her."
He almost crumpled the page when he felt it again—the hum. The quiet static in the air. The world... paused.
The lights above flickered. Not just a normal flicker. A pulse. Like something breathing electricity into the world.
Will stood up slowly. "No, no, no…"
But it was already happening.
From the corner of the room, the mirror began to frost over.
---
Meanwhile…
Lena sat in math class, barely hearing the teacher drone about geometry. Her fingers itched under her desk, scribbling shapes into her notebook. Not doodles—symbols. Circles, interlocking lines, patterns she couldn't explain.
She'd been drawing them since she was five.
But today, one of the symbols glowed. Not literally—just a faint hum behind her eyes, like the shape meant something. Like it was a key.
Then she felt it.
The same pulse.
The world tilted. Just slightly. Like someone had knocked the town off its axis for half a second.
She gasped.
The lights buzzed. Her pencil snapped in half from the pressure of her grip.
The teacher looked up. "Miss Thompson?"
"I—uh—sorry," she stammered. "I need to go to the nurse."
Without waiting for permission, she grabbed her bag and walked out fast—too fast. Her boots echoed through the halls as she made her way to the one place no one would question her for hiding: the art room.
She didn't expect to find Will already there, standing in front of a mirror that had gone white with frost.
"Will?" she breathed.
He turned to her, wide-eyed. "It's back."
Lena slammed the door shut and ran to him.
"You feel it too, right?" she asked, grabbing his hand. "That buzzing—like something's coming."
He nodded. "I used to only feel it when the gates opened. But now... it's different. It's not the same as before."
Lena stepped closer to the mirror. Her breath fogged as she stared at the frost.
And then…
Her reflection blinked at her.
Except Lena didn't blink.
She reached out, slowly, her fingertips inches from the surface. Will grabbed her wrist.
"Don't."
"I need to see," she whispered.
Before he could stop her, her palm pressed to the glass.
The mirror pulsed like a heartbeat. The frost cracked. A sound like shattering ice rang through the room.
Suddenly, the entire glass surface turned black.
Not a mirror anymore.
A window.
And through it, they saw a vision—not the Upside Down, but a place in between. A hallway of flickering red lights. Shadows shifted behind each door. And in the middle stood a boy—maybe thirteen, hair buzzed short, skin pale like paper. His eyes were solid black.
He turned and looked directly at Lena.
And smiled.
Then the mirror exploded.
---
The next few seconds were chaos.
Glass rained down around them, but didn't touch them—as if some invisible barrier shielded them both. Will pulled Lena back, shielding her with his body as the last shards hit the floor.
The room was silent.
Then Lena whispered, "Did you see him?"
Will nodded slowly. "Who was that?"
"I don't know," Lena said. Her voice was hollow. "But I've dreamed of him. For years."
---
Later that day, Principal Coleman announced that the art room mirror had "mysteriously cracked from structural pressure," and the room was closed until further notice.
Lena didn't go home. Neither did Will.
They ended up sitting on the swings behind the old church on Elm Street—one of the only places in Hawkins where you could see the stars clearly.
Will kicked the dirt with his heel. "You're not just some girl from Chicago, are you?"
Lena shook her head. "No."
He looked at her, waiting.
She hesitated. Then: "I don't remember a lot. But my mom told me I had seizures when I was little. That I'd black out and draw things—places that didn't exist. Government people came once. Asked questions. She told them to leave. Then we moved."
Will's jaw clenched. "That sounds familiar."
"Yeah?"
"There's a lab in Hawkins," he said slowly. "They did things to kids. Experiments. There was a girl—El. She escaped. She has powers."
Lena raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"She can move things with her mind. Find people. Fight... things."
Lena gave a short laugh. "Well, I can't flip vans or anything. But sometimes I see places that aren't here. Feel when something is wrong. And... when I touch glass, it reacts."
Will looked at her, his expression unreadable. "I think the gate is opening again."
"No," Lena said. "It's worse than that."
Will frowned. "Worse?"
"There's something new trying to break through. Something between the worlds. Something that can use us."
Will's voice trembled. "Like puppets?"
She shook her head. "Like keys."
---
As they walked home, Will glanced sideways at her.
"You know," he said quietly, "when I was gone—in the Upside Down—I used to imagine someone out there could hear me."
Lena looked at him. "I did."
He blinked.
She continued, "I heard someone calling for help. I didn't know your name. I thought I was crazy."
Will smiled. Just barely. "Maybe we're both crazy."
"Maybe," she said, smiling back.
Their fingers brushed once. Then again.
And finally, they just held hands—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, the monsters didn't matter.
---
But far away, in the deepest part of the woods, a figure stood in a clearing. The boy with black eyes. The one from the mirror.
He tilted his head, listening to a voice only he could hear.
> "The keys are waking."
He smiled.
And the sky above him began to bleed red.
---
End of Chapter 2