Armed with nothing but a GED and a small sum of inheritance money, you move to Hawkins, Indiana in March 1985 for a fresh start.

It is not your first choice in new places to live—not by a long shot. But when you threw a dart at a map of America and it landed outside of Indianapolis, your research led you to Hawkins. It seems that the town has a strange history with science experiments and government cover-ups, but that's all in the past.

When the new shopping mall opens in Hawkins over Easter weekend, you start your position as a stocker at Waldenbooks. It's monotonous and the customers can be grating, but it's a job and it earns you money and it allows you to afford your shitty one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of town.

Three weeks into your new position, you walk the service hallways of the mall having just finished your shift. Before you reach the exit, you hear: "Excuse me?"

You turn and stifle a laugh. A young man, probably about your age, is dressed like a sailor in navy blue shorts, a blue shirt with a red tie, and a matching, goofy hat that says "Ahoy!" in a garish font.

"Oh, hi," you say. Unable to resist, you quip: "Looking for port authority?"

The boy narrows his eyes at you.

"Ha-ha, real funny. Do you know how I can get to Scoops Ahoy? I have a shift starting, like, now but when I came for the interview, I used the front entrance, and these hallways are like a freaking maze, and I have no idea where I'm going."

You almost make another joke—something about how a real sailor can follow the stars for navigation—but he looks so stressed, you resist.

"Sure," you say. "I'll walk you."

You head toward the direction of the Scoops Ahoy employee entrance and give him your name.

"Steve," he says, shaking your hand as the two of you walk past door after door. "I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"I'm new to town. Just moved here in March and started at Waldenbooks earlier this month."

"Do you like it so far?"

"Hawkins or my job?"

"Both," he says.

You shrug.

"It's better than where I was," you say, not offering any more details. "Here we are."

You gesture to a door with the Scoops logo spray-painted on it.

"Thanks a million," Steve says with a relieved smile. "I owe you one."

Before you can say anything else, he darts inside, and you hear one of his coworkers say, "Late on the first day, dingus? Not a good look."

You chuckle and head toward the exit, thrilled at the prospect of a new friend in town.

***

On a hot, miserable day in July, you lazily flip through a magazine in the food court during your lunch break.

You hear bickering by a potted plant and glance that way. You raise an eyebrow at the sight: your friend Steve and one of the kids he babysits peering at mall-goers through a pair of binoculars.

You snap your magazine shut and walk over.

"What are you guys doing?" you ask, startling them.

"Oh, hey!" Steve says. Eyes wide, he looks a bit embarrassed at being caught, and he doesn't answer your question. "Uhh, what's up?"

"Shhhh!" the younger boy says. "Keep your voices down!"

He grabs your arm and yanks you to the floor with them. You grimace and glare.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry," the boy says. "But it's vital that Steve and I don't be seen."

"Seen doing what? Being peeping toms?"

"We aren't peeping," Steve says quickly, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks at the insinuation.

"Well, you're watching people from behind plants with binoculars, so forgive me for making that assumption."

"We're hunting for—"

"Dustin," Steve warns. "Don't—"

"Evil Russian spies," Dustin finishes, dropping his voice to a stage whisper.

"Russian spies?" you say, voice dripping with derision. "Oh, you can't be serious. It's called the Cold War for a reason."

"I can't give more details," Dustin says. "But I have it on good authority that there are spies here, at Starcourt."

"And you think the Russians would just walk around the mall?" you say. "Out in the open?"

"They have to go from place to place somehow, don't they?" Dustin says. He lifts the binoculars to his eyes once more and looks around.

You give Steve a is-this-kid-serious? look. Steve offers a shrug and an eye roll, spinning his finger by his temple to imply that Dustin is crazy and Steve can't do anything to stop his antics.

Suddenly, Dustin gasps.

"Target acquired!" he says.

"Where?!" Steve says urgently. You scoff—no way Steve actually believed Dustin? He had to be just playing along. Right?

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's."

Steve snatches the binoculars from the younger boy and finds the target. You glance over. The man is tall and carrying a duffel bag. His eyes are obscured by aviators. He looks cool as a cucumber and doesn't exactly scream "evil" to you. Actually, he looks kind of familiar...

"Duffel bag!" Steve says. He and Dustin share a somber look and say: "Evil Russian."

"Wait, this isn't a game?" you ask, brow furrowed. "You really think he's dangerous?"

They ignore you, following their spy through the mall. You check your watch: you still have ten minutes of a lunch break left. You may as well go along with this. If it is just a dumb game, it's more entertaining than your magazine.

You and the boys weave in and out of the mall guests.

"I swear I've seen that guy before," you murmur, gaze trained on the man.

"He and his commie buddies have probably been hiding out in the mall since it opened!" Dustin hisses. "Who knows? Maybe you've passed by them every day and not realized."

The thought seems unlikely. You continue scanning your memories, wondering where this handsome (potentially dangerous) stranger fits into them.

Steve accidentally bumps into someone, who snaps at him harshly. The noise causes the spy to pause and turn.

Dustin dives for a payphone, pretending to be deep in conversation. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you into a small alcove out of sight.

Your heart hammers away in your chest—you aren't sure if it's due to the potential peril or the close proximity.

Once the man continues his mall walk, the three of you keep following. As he approaches the Jazzercise studio, you gasp.

"Oh my God! I know who he is! That's Chaz."

"Who's Chaz?" Dustin asks. "And why are you on a first-name basis with a spy?"

"Chaz is not a spy," you say with a laugh. "He's the most popular Jazzercise instructor in all of Hawkins." You point and the boys groan in disgust and disappointment as they watch their "Russian spy" peel off his sunglasses and jacket and unearth a boombox from his duffel bag.

"I take his Saturday morning classes," you add. "He's pretty good. Knows how to work up a sweat, and he always picks the best workout music."

Proving your point, the women in the studio begin following Chaz's lead, gyrating their hips to the beat of a Wham! song.

Dustin looks horrified. Steve, on the other hand, is mesmerized watching the women.

You snap your fingers in front of his face. He flinches.

"I wasn't staring," Steve says defensively, before you can accuse him of doing just that. "I just zoned out for a second."

"Uh-huh," you tease. "Sure, Harrington."

Your watch beeps.

"Shit. I've got to get back to the store. Good luck on your 'spy mission.'"

Steve and Dustin wish you well as you head back to work.

***

A few hours later, you finish up your closing duties. As you pull down the metal security grate to Waldenbooks, Dustin runs over and calls your name.

"We've got a lead!" he says excitedly.

"A lead...on your evil Russian?" you ask. You snort. "You sure it's not another dance instructor?"

"Nope. This is a real, certifiable lead," Dustin says with a proud grin. "Steve, Robin, and I are about to head up to the roof for a little recon. Want to come with?"

You blink once, twice, and say, "It's raining."

"So?"

"So, I'd rather not get soaked to the bone when it's highly, highly doubtful there's any spy activity going on in this town."

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Dustin asks. "Steve's been saying he wants to spend more time with you."

Your heart flutters.

"Really?" you say, trying to keep from sounding too excited.

"Really. Before you joined us today, I was telling him all about how you're the perfect person for him and that he needs to man up and ask you out before someone else does."

Your heart has been replaced with a hummingbird in your ribcage. You glance over at Scoops Ahoy, where Steve waits with his coworker. As if he can sense your gaze, he glances your way and smiles.

You smile back. Maybe a night out on a rainy rooftop chasing supposed spies wouldn't be such a bad thing after all, if you got to spend it with Steve.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

A. GO WITH STEVE, DUSTIN, AND ROBIN - go to page 2

B. DO NOT GO WITH THEM - go to page 10