Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Twenty-Three. Looking For Dart

TWENTY-THREE
— looking for dart

         SHE HAD NEVER been good at searching for things. It was like her eyes shot straight past the desired object, all of her focus being pulled away from what she was longing for. "If it was a snake, it would've bit you"— those words left Jim's mouth too often. If the remote control was missing, the Hoppers knew to not put Lucy on the search mission; if they did, it would never be found. So, why was she looking for this pollywog, when she was no good at looking for anything? She'd be no use. Her eyes were already sore.

    She had been paired with Mike, oddly enough, and they didn't make the most fantastic team— when Lucy tripped over her shoelaces, he called her a name, and she slapped him upside the head. Amongst their bickering, the chittering of Dart sounded from down the hall. By the time they made it to the source of the noise, the creature was gone— they were back to square one.

    "Where'd you go, you little bastard?" Mike whispered, walking with light and careful steps.

Lucy was frustrated. The dull headache never went away, it only grew— the tolerable pain had swelled, and her brain was pounding against her skull. With a low groan, she rubbed at her heavy eyes, and turned to look down the hallway to her left. Then, she came into view; Eleven was rushing her way.

Her jaw fell. Eyes darting forward, she watched as Mike continued down the hallway. With wide eyes, she discreetly turned the corner. "What are you doing here?"

    El's blinked. "Mike," she deadpanned.

    The older girl shook her head. "Dad's gonna scalp me!" she stressed. "Then, he'll kill Danny, and then you—" Lucy slapped a hand over her eyes. "I didn't see you, okay?"

She ignored her sisters rant. "Where is Mike?" El said, plainly, wide brown eyes staring into Lucy.

Her mind was racing. What was she supposed to say? She couldn't tell the truth, no, Mike knowing about Eleven would cause a whole new series of problems to unfold. If she lied, that would just be straight wrong— Lucy was trapped. "He went left," she blurted, eyes still wide. "So, go left, then turn around, and get your ass back home!"

El nodded. She took off left, curls bobbing with each step.

A frustrated shot echoed down the hall. Mike— who had turned right— called out for his babysitter, visibly annoyed. "Lucy!" he bellowed. "Come on!"

Her head snapped up. She took off, striding his way, her hazel eyes deer-wide. "Shut up!" Lucy spoke, between her teeth. Slapping a hand over Mike's mouth, she rapidly shook her head.

   He pried her hand off, scoffing in. "What is your problem?"

Huffing, Lucy pressed a finger to her lips. "Dart might hear us," she excused herself, speaking lowly as they walked on.

Mike rolled his eyes and continued, opening the door to the gymnasium. They walked through, and entered the boys locker room, Mike grabbing a mop as they did. A shiver fell down Lucy's spine— the locker room was, oddly, incredibly eery. Quivering, she moved forward, footsteps echoing. Then, a sharp clattering noise sounded from near the showers; they snapped their heads up, worried.