CARLA'S SHIFT FELT LIKE A DRAG.

Usually, she was content with going to the library for the entirety of her day, spending her hours helping and sending smiles to people, and just getting to be in a quiet spot.  In simple words, she generally liked working at the library, but today, she just couldn't.

All her smiles were rather forced, and she felt herself slacking off.  She was sure it was because of the nightmare she'd had, still lingering in the back of her mind, waiting to haunt when it got the chance, or just based off the fact that she would rather be literally anywhere else than in the shelf-filled room.  Because of this mood, her shift felt as if it couldn't go by any faster.   Like her break was hours away rather than thirty minutes.

For the first four hours she'd been there, Carla had been forcing herself to do things, whether it be re-stacking books, cleaning shelves or just sending smiles towards busy students and adults, faces in books—she also felt bad about abruptly leaving her shift the day prior, and decided to make it up by working extra around the place.

But now, with her break so close, Carla couldn't force herself to do shit anymore—if there was even anything more to do.   Whether or not she still felt bad for leaving her manager, she just couldn't.  So, here she was, fingers tapping upon the counter as she counted down the minutes until her break started.

Thirty minutes.

Twenty-nine minutes.

Twenty-eight minutes.

Twenty-seven minutes.

Carla knew exactly what she would spend her break doing.  She'd quickly rush out and take the bus ride to Starcourt Mall and spend the half and hour she had hanging out with Steve, or she supposes now, figuring out this Russian message was supposed to mean.   It was obviously a code, but what the code meant was up for debate, and it would be up to Steve, Robin, Dustin and herself to figure it out.

Now, sure, Carla believed that there was some weird shit going down in Hawkins—when wasn't there?—and she wouldn't be totally fazed if it had to do with Russians.....but this was not how the Wheeler wanted to spend her summer.   She didn't want to spend her breaks and nights locked in Scoops Ahoy trying to figure out some code when she, instead, could be spending quality time with her boyfriend and friends somewhere else.

Everything had been perfect, and here she was, back inside a mess, as her and her friends somehow manage to find themselves in yearly.  In 1983, it had been bad luck—what had happened to Will could have been avoided, it was just an unlucky roll of the dice—in 1984, it had been coincidence but this was the third time. Three times now that Carla had found herself wrapped up in seemingly impossible shit.  Now that couldn't just be fate randomly picking. Not anymore.

As Carla continued the countdown in her head, the library phone rang, causing the girl to slightly jump at the unexpected sound.  Sighing, she picked up the item and set it to her ear, putting fake enthusiasm in her voice, "Hawkins Library, Carla speaking, how may I help you?"

"Hi, Carla."

The brunette didn't expect the voice that came through the phone, "El?"

"Hi."

Carla wasn't sure why the Hopper girl was calling her.  The only person she called on the daily was Mike, but based on the fact that her brother was still in the house, she assumed they were still not talking, "What's up?"

"Have you seen Billy?"

Flashbacks to her dreams came back to her mind—Billy holding an unconscious Heather, tying her up and allowing that monster to do whatever the hell in had done to her—but then again, that was just a dream, "Last time I actually saw him was when I picked Max up from her house a few days ago.  Why?"

"Max was wondering." Eleven replied, before speaking to who Carla assumed was the Mayfield girl, her voice coming through the phone anyway. "She said that the last time she actually saw him was when she picked you up."  The girl was quiet for a moment before replying back with another question, "Max asks what you mean by 'actually'"

"Well, uh, I had a dream last night and he was in it, that's all." the Wheeler replied.

"Was he acting weird in your dream?"

"I mean, yes? But that was just a dream—why do you need this info?" Carla's eyes narrowed as the Hopper girl went quiet again, filling in Max with the Wheeler's words, "Is Billy acting weird towards you guys or something?"

"I had a sleepover with Max and I used my powers to find Billy and I saw something....off." 

"Like what?" the brunette was letting her curiosity get the better of her.

"He was on the floor talking to someone, and there was screaming and he saw me." Eleven explained to the older girl.

"That was, uh, what happened in my dream, too." Carla bit her lip, nails beginning to click against the counter once more. Was it possible that what happened in her dream wasn't entirely fake? That maybe....maybe something was wrong with Billy, and that Heather was hurt by that creature? The Wheeler didn't want to think about that possibility, "Did anything else happen, El?"

"Later." Eleven's voice came through, "I'll tell you later."

"Okay...." Carla trailed off, getting cut off by the girl on the other end before she could say anything else.

"Oh, what are happy screams?"

Eyes widened with both confusion and slight surprise, she replied, "Excuse me?"

"Happy screams."  Eleven repeated casually, "Max told me that when Billy is with girls, they make happy screams.  She said you'd know what they were."  

At those words, the Wheeler let out a small scoff, holding the phone away from her mouth so the girl wouldn't hear her, "Oh, that little shit-head."  Of course Max would say something like that whether, it was to avoid the question herself or just to make fun of the fact that Carla was involved with Steve.

So, with a small eye roll, Carla sighed, "You'll learn when you're older."

"I am older."

"I mean my age, El." the Wheeler girl replied, "I'm gonna get back to my shift, but I'll find you if I see Billy at all, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Carla."

"Stay safe you two." she replied before setting the phone back down.  With the words Eleven had spoken about Billy, Carla couldn't help but get anxious.  Were her dreams more than just dreams? Had Billy captured Heather and let the monster—she didn't even want to think about what the monster had done to the innocent girl.

Luckily, Marissa's voice ended her train of thought, "Who was on the phone?"

"Oh, uh, just this kid I babysit." Carla shrugged, sending a small smile towards her boss, a smile that was more fake than genuine, "She just had a few questions. Do you need any help?"

Marissa shook her head, "Are you okay, honey? You seem exhausted."

"No, I'm okay—"

Clearly not buying her act, Marissa gave a light smile, "Here, how about you go on break early.  Get yourself something to eat."

The Wheeler was quick to reject, "Oh, Marissa you don't have to do that. I'm okay, really—"

"For your own good, Carla." Marissa raised her eyebrows, Carla giving in with a thankful look.   While she didn't want to burden her boss and leave early, she really needed a break.  She was tired and anxious, and that didn't mix well when it came to greeting people.

"Thank you." the Wheeler grabbed her purse and umbrella leaving the front desk and heading for the entrance.  It had started pouring during the few hours Carla had spent working, rain falling down from the dim sky in harsh streams.  With her umbrella over her head to keep from getting soaked, Carla made her way to the bus-stop—she didn't have a car, as Steve had dropped her off—just as she did most days when it came to her breaks.   The bus stop wasn't too far, and the bus was quick to show up, the girl entering without hesitation.

Despite the rainy weather, the bus was just as packed, people of all ages huddled together, their umbrellas dripping on to the floor of the bus as they waited out the trip to Starcourt.  Joining the crowd, Carla hopped into the vehicle, staring aimlessly as she waited for the bus to stop.

Meanwhile, at Starcourt Mall, Steve found himself in the rather odd situation of spying for Russians.  Odd, right?  If you'd told him all the way back in 1983 that his future involved—poorly—hiding behind a plant with a thirteen year old searching for Russians,  he probably would have asked if you were on drugs, but now, after fighting monsters........he was sure he could be doing something weirder than this.

With a pair of binoculars hung around his neck, Steve sat crouched uncomfortably behind a plant, trying to search for 'Evil Russians' which was rather difficult, as what the hell were 'Evil Russians' even supposed to look like? If he were honest, Steve was just about done with the whole transmission thing, he was only staying for Carla's sake.  If she believed—truly believed—there was more behind this than just some misplaced transmission, then he'd be there to solve it with her.

"You see anything?" Dustin asked from beside the older boy, waiting for someone, anyone, to look slightly suspicious.

"Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for." Steve replied.

"Evil Russians."

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an 'Evil Russian' looks like."

Dustin began naming off some characteristics of an 'Evil Russian', the adjectives passing in through one of Steve's ears and out through the other.  The only thing he'd heard was 'duffel bags' so, to do something for the greater good, he decided to scan the perimeter for someone with a duffel bag.

Though his original goal had been trying to find someone suspicious with a duffel bag, his eyes instead found a flower shop.  Should he get flowers for Carla?  That was probably the last thought he should be thinking at the moment, but in all honesty, he'd been thinking about her all day.  Ever since her nightmare, he'd been thinking of her, hoping that anxiety about it wasn't eating her up.

He knew her nightmare wasn't just her mind randomly scaring her.  Whenever she had a nightmare, it meant something.  And while he didn't know all the details, he knew enough.  Something big could be lurking in Hawkins, waiting to strike and Carla's dreams could be trying to warn them.

"Hello? Earth to Steve?" a hand suddenly flew in front of the binoculars, causing Steve to quickly refocus himself.

"Yeah, yeah, duffel bags." Steve muttered, shooing Dustin's hand away.

Dustin rolled his eyes, "Dude, you are gonna make the worst spy in history if you keep getting side-tracked." He grabbed the binoculars from Steve's hands, the strap around his neck also going with the small pull, causing the Harrington to pull it off before his neck was also yanked away by Dustin's harsh grip.  "Let me guess, Carla on the brain?"

"Yeah, I'm just worried about her."

"When are you not worried about her?" Dustin placed the binoculars up to his eyes, beginning to look around.  Ever since the two started dating, the Henderson always caught the Harrington getting lost in thought about something that had to do with his girlfriend, and he was getting awfully annoyed with it. "Gosh, you guys are so full of each other.  Suzie lives half-way across the country and we manage."

"Oh, Suzie." Steve begins, sarcasm mixed into his words, "Yeah, you mean 'hotter than Pheobe Cates' Suzie."  Despite the constant gloating about this so 'hotter than Phoebe Cates' girl, Steve had yet to see any proof that she truly existed—no photos or anything.  So, until he got some, Steve wasn't falling for this made-up girlfriend of Dustin's.  "And, uh, let's think about how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend? Oh yeah, with my advice.  So, I don't think you have a right to tell me how to feel about my girlfriend when I'm the reason you have yours." 

Dustin shrugged, "That's debatable. I just think you are always overly worried about her, like Carla is her own person—I've known her since I was in elementary school, she can take care of herself."

"I think I have a right to worry based on the fact that she's almost died twice in the past two years." Steve snapped back, thinking back to the years prior.  Dustin wouldn't know what it felt like to see the person you loved most pinned against a wall my a demogorgan, or on the floor bleeding out from her wrists, thinking she was going to die.  "You and Suzie haven't been through what we've been through, alright pea-brain?"

Before Dustin could reply, another voice popped into the conversation, "Suzie?"

Both boys quickly snap their heads to see who'd been eavesdropping in, only to find the girl they'd been speaking about in the first place standing behind them.  Twirling her umbrella around on the ground was Carla Wheeler, a look of confusion on her face.  "Who's Suzie?"

"My girlfriend." Dustin replied casually, turning back around with his binoculars.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?" she exclaimed.  Last time she checked, Dustin was still single, but then again, last time she'd truly talked with him about something other than Russians was a month ago, before he left for camp.  A lot could change it a month—she knew that too well.

"Supposedly." Steve sent her a look.

"Congrats, Dusty." Carla sent a smile his way before realizing how odd they looked, crouched behind a plant with binoculars in hand.  Noticing this odd position, she asked, "What are you guys doing? Shouldn't you be working on the transmission?"

"We are." Dustin didn't stray from the binoculars, keeping his gaze on the passing people. 

Carla's eyes narrowed, "By hiding behind a plant?"

"We're looking for Evil Russians." the Harrington gestured towards Dustin's binoculars, "Wanna join?"

Carla never expected to be asked whether or not she wanted to join a Russian search party —who would?—but then again, she hadn't expected a girl with powers or monsters to enter her life either.  So she shrugged, "Why not, I have nothing better to do.  What exactly am I looking for?"

"Tall, blonde, not smiling." Dustin described.

"Isn't that just type-casting?" she questioned, "Couldn't our Russian be a ginger who's on his way to teach Jazzercise?"

Dustin shook his head, "I don't think a Russian would be teaching Jazzercise, Carla."

"How would you know?" Carla retorted, Dustin letting out a sigh, continuing to search using his own head-cannon of what a Russian looked like.

"Get off early?" Steve asked as his girlfriend came to his side, sitting on her knees.  He'd basically memorized her schedule ever since she started library shifts, and caught on to the fact that she was here slightly early. 

She gave a small nod, "Yeah, Marissa said I looked like I needed an early break."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked more quietly than before.

The Wheeler tried to give her best reassuring look, though she wasn't sure she was truly alright.  That nightmare had shaken her up, and the fact that Eleven had seen Billy doing the same thing put her on even more edge than before. "I'm fine—"

"Alright, lovebirds, check-up time is over." Dustin butted in, nudging Steve with his elbow.  As the older boy looked towards him, Dustin continued, "Target acquired."

"Seriously?" the Wheeler exclaimed.

"Where?" Steve asks.

Dustin proceeds to point towards somewhere across from them, "Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's."

At his words, the couple looked in that direction, Steve grabbing the binoculars back so he could get a better look.  Putting a hand above her forehead, Carla eyes scanned around the perimeter of Sam Goody's, trying to spot whoever had caught the Henderson's eyes.  

Steve caught the target before her and exclaimed, "Shit. Duffel bag." His girlfriend's brows furrowed, unsure what that was supposed to mean.  He didn't bother to take another look before pulling the binoculars down and looking towards the boy beside him.  With the same thought in mind, they spoke in unison, "Evil Russian."

"Wait, are we sure—" Carla didn't have time to finish her sentence before she was yanked away by Steve, feet being forced to start picking up the pace.  Dustin is making a beeline for the escalators, the Harrington dragging his girlfriend along who is still unsure who they'd originally spotted in the first place. 

Running up the escalator, Steve follows after their suspect, hand intertwined with his girlfriends to make sure she didn't get lost in the crowd.  Muttering apologies as her shoulders brush into people, or as she cuts them off, Carla aimlessly follows.

As the three get close to their suspect, who Carla could now recognize as a man with shoulder length blonde hair, a black track-suit attire with bulky sunglasses and a large duffel bag strewn over his shoulder—all traits Dustin had used to describe 'Evil Russians'

"Slow down." Dustin chastised, not wanting their cover to be blown.

"We're losin' him."

"You're getting too close—" Dustin warns, his words getting cut off  by the sound shoulders ramming into each other.   Steve—who hadn't been watching where he was going, eyes set only on the target—had accidentally collided with another mall goer, who sent a sneer his way.

"Watch it, dickwad."

Carla, who'd been slightly pushed back at the impact, sent a middle finger his way in annoyance.  When she turns back to face the target, she watches as he stops in his tracks, beginning to slowly turn to see what the commotion had just been about. 

Before any comment could be made, Carla wrapped her hands around her boyfriends neck, pulling him in for an unexpected, yet passionate kiss.  Backing the two of them up towards the wall, the Wheeler made sure they were hidden, or at least looked like a couple infatuated with each other rather than spies.

Pulling them apart was Dustin—who'd previously been having a fake conversation on the phone. Tugging at the collar of Steve's uniform, the boy got the couples attention and nodded for them to keep following, which they did.

The three stopped behind a wall, peeking their heads out so they could still watch the man as he entered the Jazzercise studio, walking right past the women inside who stretched and chatted.  He set down the duffel bag to reveal a large stereo.....not weapons.  The frown on his face also disappeared as he unzipped his black jacket to reveal a loosely fit tank top, removing his sunglasses too.

That's when it hit Carla.  This dude wasn't a Russian; he was a Jazzercise instructor.

As the women inside the Jazzercise began copying their instructors movements, Carla let out a sigh, "What did I say?"

"Screw Jazzercise." Dustin muttered under his breath.

The three then walked back to Scoops, slightly disappointed and slightly relieved at the same time.  Steve was quick to tell Robin what had gone down once he entered the shop, "Yo, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian."

"You did too!"

"No I did not."

"Boys—" Carla was quickly cut off as Robin ran right past her, not bothering to give a heads up.  All three of their heads snapped to watch as the Buckley ran out of the place of her employment and into the middle of the mall, eyes darting around.   Whatever had caught Robin's eye seemed important, and Carla rushed out after her, yelling, "I'm gonna follow her!"

When she met up with the blonde girl, her fingers were pointing from shop to shop, her other hand holding a small notebook with rushed handwriting inside.  Despite the sloppy writing, Carla could still read what was written inside—the code.

"Holy shit, Robin, did you crack it?" Carla exclaimed, looking up at the girl.

"No, but I'm about too." Robin replied, looking down at her notebook to make sure she was restating the transmission correctly, "If you tread lightly."

 "If you tread—" As Robin muttered the words under her breath, Carla's eyes flew all over the place, realizing what the girl was getting at.  The shops in the mall matched up with the code perfectly. 

"If you tread lightly!" Carla cut the Buckley off, eyes catching the store-front that read Kaufman Shoes.  She lightly hit Robin's arm, pointing to the store as the blonde met her gaze. One more sentence and and the transmission was solved.

It didn't take long before both girls set their gaze on a large clock, its hands colored in blue and yellow, just like the code stated—when blue and yellow meet in the west.  The two recite it, a small smile growing on their faces when it matches, "When blue meets yellow in the west."

Before they could celebrate, Steve's voice cut through, "Babe? Robin? What are you doing?"

"We cracked it." Carla smiles to herself.

"What?" Dustin's brows furrowed.

Robin's eyes were bright with excitement as she admitted, "We cracked the code."

After figuring out the code, Dustin declared they watch for the Russians on the roof that night, despite the rainy weather. Curious on the entire situation, Carla agreed, and showed up right after her shift, meeting her boyfriend and her other two friends on the roof of Starcourt Mall.

So, with a raincoat wrapped around her shivering body, Carla knelt on the gravel floor of the roof, skirt pulled up to her mid thighs so it didn't get ruined by the wet substance, her knees paying the price instead.

Robin's voice rang through the rain, "Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes."

Dustin, who had the binoculars, eyed a man in a bright yellow rain coat, pointing him out to the group, "They're with that whistling guy, ten o'clock."

Steve squinted to keep water from entering his eyes—his coat had no hood whatsoever, and allowed water to fall right on to his face. "What do you think's in there?"

"Guns, bombs." the Henderson suggested.

Robin added, "Chemical weapons?"

"It could be anything." Carla summarized, pulling the thin raincoat closer to her body. If it were her choice, she'd have her umbrella to keep herself from getting completely soaked—she was wearing a white t-shirt and a skirt, not rain material—but no. Dustin insisted she leave it inside despite the pouring, saying they'd be more visible with it. So, here she sat, freezing as water soaked through her shirt, dampened her hair and formed droplets on her skin.

"Whatever it is, they're armed to the teeth." Dustin stated.

"Great," Steve deadpanned, wiping water from his eyes, "That's great."

One of the guards pressed a key card into a machine, causing the doors to open, the yellow-coated man entering with the boxes. Robin exclaimed as she noticed, "Hey, what's in there?"

"It's just more boxes." Dustin stated, looking through his binoculars. Wanting to get a better look, the rain allowing him to see little, Steve reached out for the pair of binoculars, fumbling for them.

"Let me check it out."

Dustin grabbed them back, "No, I'm still looking—"

"Lemme see it—"

"Hang on—" the binoculars—thanks to the rain—slipped right out of the boys' arguing hands, loudly hitting the metal barrier they'd been hiding behind, the sound echoing through the storm. Definitely loud enough for the Russians below to hear.

Carla's reflexes acted instantly, and she quickly twisted so she was below the metal barrier, out of the Russians view—so much for trying to keep her skirt dry. The four stayed completely silent, fearful that any sound, no matter the volume, would catch the now aware Russian's ears.

After a few moments, the Wheeler picked up the yelling of a guard. He sounded rather angry, which put Carla even more on edge. The Russians now knew that someone or something had been watching and were probably looking for whatever had caused the sound.

Keeping her voice low, the brunette whispered, "They know we're up here."

"Since when do you understand Russian? That could have meant anything." Dustin fired back, pissed off that they were now in this situation.

"Keep your voice down," Robin whispered, "She has a point. We need to get back inside."

Steve gave a weary look, "Won't they see us?"

Carla spoke firmly, "If we don't move now, they're definitely gonna catch us. I think if we stay low enough, we'll be able to get back through those doors—the rain will muffle the sound."

"It's worth a shot." Steve said, before crawling towards the door they'd entered through, everyone else filing behind him. Staying quiet and low, they made it back to the safety of the mall in seconds, shutting the door quietly—the door muffling out whatever sound left there was.

Walking back through the staff only hallways—the same halls the kids had used days prior to sneak into the theater—Robin remarked, "Well, I think we found your Russians."

"Hell yeah, we did." Carla sighed in response, realizing this whole Russian situation was a lot bigger than expected.

mara's misc!

chapter five is finally here!

this chapter was just episode filler, so i think it ended up okayt!

all my big tests are finally done, but i do have this stupid ass social studies project she expects us to have done in like two weeks, (the other classes had like two months to do this, which i think is unfair, but oh well), so i'll write when i have the time.

and for reasons.....what do you think carla's favorite song would be? i need some ideas.

hope you enjoyed<3 see you back with chapter six!