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Karen barely heard the thud of the heavy door closing behind her as her eyes squinted against the fluorescent lights. She paused just inside, letting them adjust. The hallway buzzed faintly around her, the kind of quiet that felt louder than it should.
This walk was familiar enough. She remembered Nancy’s first day of kindergarten well. She didn’t remember this same tightness in her chest, but Nancy had always been an easy kid.
All morning, the drop-off had played on a loop. The damp patches on her shirt from his tears. His fingers curled through the fence at the edge of the playground. The way his eyes had followed her until she turned the corner. And then her own walk home afterward, where she wiped at her face quickly before anyone could notice.
Now he’s in specials… I hope lunch went okay…
She shifted her purse higher on her shoulder, the strap digging into her skin.
Ted hadn’t helped. His distracted, “I’m sure he’s fine. You need to stop coddling him,” had landed flat, doing nothing to quiet her mind.
As the classroom came into view, Karen slowed. She stepped closer and peered through the narrow window, her breath fogging the glass. A blur of small bodies moved inside, voices blending into one another.
Her eyes searched and landed on his dark curls first. They were messier now than this morning. He sat cross-legged on the rug, one leg bouncing. His hands moved, quick and animated, while he talked to a classmate beside him.
His teacher caught Karen's eye and waved, crouching to say something to him. He looked up and his eyes found hers, bright and already smiling. He looked so much different than he did a few hours ago.
Karen pulled the door open as his smile broke wide across his face. He slid something into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and scrambled to his feet.
“Mom!”
He crashed into a hug around her legs.
“Michael!” She echoed, her hand settled on his back. “I can’t wait to hear all about your day.”
“The first day can be tough—especially at drop-off,” his teacher said warmly. “But he had a great day. Isn’t that right, Mike?”
Karen’s eyebrows lifted slightly at that, but before she could say anything, he was nodding fast.
“Yeah!”
They traded quick thank yous and see you tomorrows before the classroom door clicked shut behind them.
Karen slipped his backpack over her arm and held out her hand. He took it easily, the way he always had. His fingers were warm and a little sticky.
Karen gave his arm a gentle shake. “I’m so glad you had a good day. What was your favorite part?”
His grin came fast. “Swinging with my friend. He can swing really high.”
She smiled despite herself. “I’m so glad you made a friend. What’s his name?”
They stepped outside and the sunlight hit them all at once, warm and bright after the dim hallway. Mike loosened beside her immediately.
“Will.”
Karen thought of the class list on their fridge—William Byers—and figured it must be Joyce’s boy. Hawkins was small, after all.
As they started down the sidewalk, Mike let go of her hand and drifted ahead, then slowed when something caught his eye. A dandelion pushed up through the grass along the fence. He crouched, picked it carefully, and turned it between his fingers before falling back into step beside her.
“He jumped off the swings,” Mike said, suddenly demonstrating with a leap of his own, landing a little off-balance. “It was really high.”
Karen chuckled and steadied him with a hand at his shoulder. “Very fun. So what did you have for lunch?”
They passed the playground. It was empty now, but Mike kept looking anyway.
A few more steps and he bent down again. Another dandelion. He added it to the first without really looking.
“Uhh—a sandwich,” he said, pointing toward the fence. “That’s the swings where Will was swinging so high.”
“I see. What kind of sandwich?”
“I got peanut butter, and Will got turkey, so we switched.”
Karen glanced down at him, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “But you like peanut butter.”
He drifted toward the edge of the sidewalk again, scanning the grass. A third dandelion. Then another.
“Will likes peanut butter,” he said, like that settled it.
Karen let out a small breath through her nose. “Did you like your teacher?”
“I told her my new name.”
She blinked. “Your new name?”
“Mike.” His eyes held on the flowers in his hand, careful not to drop any.
“Oh.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “That’s… nice, honey.”
“Will asked if I like just Mike. He likes just Will.”
Karen nodded slowly. “Alright. Well, Mike—I like it.”
As their street came into view, Mike knelt down again to pluck another few flowers to add to his growing collection.
“What special did you have today?”
“Art. Will is a really good colorer.”
“Did you like art?”
His head snapped up with a small gasp. “I need to show you something in my backpack.”
“You can show me when we get home. We’re almost there.”
As they turned onto their road, Karen slipped into routine. “When we get inside, we can have a snack and play for a little bit, but we have to leave to pick up Nancy in an hour.”
Mike started talking before she finished, his words spilling out. “…Will saved a bug… His favorite color is yellow…” He held up the dandelions— a small, uneven bunch. “He will like these ’cause they’re his favorite color.”
Karen smiled at the cluster of flowers in his grasp. “So when did you and Will become friends?”
Mike watched the dandelions sway with each step he took.
“He was on the swings. He didn’t have a friend. I said, ‘Do you wanna be friends?’” His smile stretched wider. “He said yes.”
Karen’s throat tightened remembering all the afternoons in the park when they had practiced that line. All those gentle pushes that never quite stuck. And now he had done it himself.
They stepped inside and the house settled around them.
In the kitchen Mike dropped his backpack to the floor and immediately tugged the zipper open. The dandelions landed in a loose pile on the counter.
She set her things down beside the flowers, careful not to crush them.
He pulled out a piece of light blue construction paper, careful not to bend the edges.
“What did you want to show me, bud?”
He turned it slowly.
Two stick figures, one drawn in yellow crayon and the other in blue. A sun in the corner and small flowers scattered across the page. The blue one had Mike’s curls. And that meant the little yellow guy with a bowl cut must be Will.
Her chest tightened, but softer now. When she looked up, Mike was watching her.
“Can we put it somewhere special?”
☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎
Karen glanced at the clock. 7:00am. The uneasy feeling from yesterday morning had already crept back in sometime during the night.
She checked herself again in the hallway mirror, smoothing down her shirt before heading toward the bedrooms.
Her knuckles tapped lightly against Nancy’s door first. “Time to start getting up. I’m going downstairs to make breakfast.” A muffled groan answered her, and Karen smiled faintly before continuing down the hall.
Mike’s door was already slightly open.
She eased it wider and found him exactly where she expected—sprawled across the bed, dark hair pressed into the pillow.
For a second, yesterday hit her all over again. Tears before leaving the bed. The panic building minute by minute. Shoes half-on while she tried to soothe him through his sobs and coax him toward the front door. Her chest tightened.
Then her eyes landed on the drawing taped front and center on his wall, albeit slightly crooked. Even from across the room the blue and yellow stood out.
Karen crossed quietly and sat on the edge of the bed beside him, her hand resting lightly on his back. He didn’t stir right away—his breath remained slow and steady.
Finally, she gently rubbed his back. “Hey, Mike,” she said softly. “Time to get up for school. I’m gonna go start breakfast, okay? I’ll be back in a minute and we’ll get ready.”
His eyelashes fluttered slightly.
Yesterday, the word school had been enough to bring him to tears immediately. Today he only turned his face deeper into the pillow with a small sleepy noise. Something in her loosened just a little.
Downstairs, pale morning light stretched across the kitchen counter.
The dandelions sat in a glass near the window. Seven stems leaned in different directions with small yellow petals beginning to curl at the ends.
Karen picked the glass up and moved it to the center island so they wouldn’t get forgotten in the morning rush.
She turned the glass slightly. For a second, she just looked at them.
They weren’t much to look at. Thin stems, uneven and wild. They were weeds really.
But he had picked every single one. Not because someone told him to. Not because she suggested it. Just because he wanted Will to have them.
She reached over and gently straightened one of the bent stems.
Once breakfast was on the table, Karen headed back upstairs.
“It’s time to—”
The rest of her sentence disappeared.
Mike was awake. He was standing inches away from the drawing that hung at his eye-level.
His PJs were in a small pile beside his bed. He was dressed in the outfit they’d picked out last night. The clothes hung slightly crooked and one sock was still bunched down around his ankle.
He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled wide. “Time to go?”
“Oh—um, almost. You still need breakfast.”
Mike rushed past her into the hallway.
“Hey!” she called after him. “You still need to brush your teeth!”
“Already did!”
A slow smile spread across her face as she headed toward Nancy’s room again.
☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎
“Bye! See you after school!”
Nancy waved back.
Mike echoed a quick “Bye!” without looking away from the playground ahead of them.
His backpack bounced against his legs as he walked, dandelions gripped tightly in one hand, eyes scanning ahead before they’d even reached the fence.
They joined the line at the chain-link fence. His fingers slipped from her hand as he was pressed forward, fingers curling through the fence as his eyes searched the playground.
The line moved slowly. Somewhere ahead, a rough voice cut through the morning noise.
“William, your mom’s picking you up today.”
Karen glanced up automatically, the tone catching her off guard, and caught a glimpse of the man near the gate adjusting a small boy’s backpack a little too quickly.
The line shifted forward again.
Mike went still beside her, then pressed in closer to the fence. “There!”
He watched as the boy set down his backpack along the fence.
They were at the gate and Mike didn’t hesitate. He turned fast, wrapped his arms around Karen’s legs for just a second, flashed a bright smile and shouted, “Love you, Mom!” and was gone through the gate.
“Love you too!" Karen blinked after him. "Have a good day!”
The teacher gave her a small, knowing smile as Mike ran past.
Karen barely registered it. Her attention stayed on him as he crossed the playground headed straight toward the boy by the backpacks.
He had a yellow shirt, a brunette bowl cut, and his face lit up when he saw Mike coming.
Will.
Mike held the dandelions out immediately. Will took them carefully, both hands closing around them so he didn’t crush the stems.
Karen lingered near the fence a moment longer, watching as Will carefully tucked the flowers into his backpack while Mike waited beside him, practically bouncing in place.
Then the two of them took off toward the swings together.
Mike never looked back.
Karen smiled to herself and started the walk home.