SEASON TWO
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SEASON TWO
THE JUNIOR NOVELIZATION
Adapted
by
Matthew J. Gilbert
Based on the television series Stranger ings, created by e Du er Brothers.
Based on the episodes “MADMAX” and “Trick or Treat, Freak,” written by e Du er Brothers; “ e Pollywog” and “Will the Wise,” written by Shawn Levy; “Dig Dug” and “ e Spy,” written by Andrew Stanton; “ e Lost Sister,” written by Rebecca omas; and “ e Mind Flayer” and “ e Gate” written by e Du er Brothers.
OCTOBER
28, 1984
Halloween was a few days away, and yet there were people wearing masks in Pittsburgh that night. One of them, a girl with a kitty cat mask, was waiting in a van for her friends. She sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded, and four masked monsters came sprinting out of a nearby building. ey piled into Kitty Cat’s van. A guy with a mohawk and a mummy mask was the last one in. He slammed the door shut, and Kitty Cat hit the gas. e van screeched down the street as police sirens began to wail.
A Pittsburgh PD patrol car swerved out of the darkness a er them, lights ashing.
Inside the van, the masks came o . e car’s occupants weren’t monsters, of course—just a gang of young punks in Halloween costumes. eir mysterious leader, Kali, sat up front in the passenger seat with her eyes calmly xed on the road.
“ e alley, to your right,” Kali ordered.
And the driver did as she was told—accelerating the wrong way up a one-way street. ere were cars coming straight at
them! e driver dodged, crashing through trash cans and rolling over curbs.
But still, the police followed.
Any other gang would be as good as caught with this much heat. But those gangs didn’t have someone like Kali. Someone di erent.
While she stayed focused on the road, the others in the van started to panic.
“Do something, Kali!” the mohawk guy pleaded, his heart racing as he saw more cop cars joining the pursuit.
“Next right, there’s a tunnel,” Kali told the driver. “Take it.”
As the van raced into the tunnel, Kali shut her eyes and slowly made a st.
“Boom,” she whispered.
Suddenly, the entrance to the tunnel collapsed. e van sped away safely as chunks of debris came crashing down in a cloud of dust behind them. e police cars screeched to a halt. e chase was over.
“What is wrong with you, Adams? What are you doing?!” one angry o cer yelled at his partner. “Why’d you stop?” e confused partner didn’t answer. He got out of his car in a daze. He looked up in disbelief at what he was seeing—or what he wasn’t seeing. ere was no explosion.
e tunnel hadn’t collapsed. e confused cop only thought it had.
And all because Kali had planted a thought.
Inside the van, her friends laughed and celebrated their daring escape, letting out sighs of relief.
But not Kali. She sat quietly and stared ahead. A trickle of blood spilled out from her nose. She was used to that happening whenever she used her gi s.
She wiped the blood away, revealing three numbers tattooed on her wrist: 008.
ere were more like her. But how many of them were still alive? How many of them were out there in the world making strange things happen?
ere was no way to be sure, but still . . . Kali felt like the only one.
Chapter One
Aneerie glow could be seen on the streets of Hawkins, Indiana.
Most people put up a few fake cobwebs, but the Henderson house was lit up by glowing gravestones and plastic ghosts. One illuminated window caught the shadow of a running gure. is shadow wasn’t part of the Halloween display. It was
MADMAX
thirteen-year-old Dustin Henderson, searching for spare change to spend at the arcade.
“Another stupid penny!” Dustin sco ed. He tossed it over his shoulder without looking. A cat whined in the background.
“Dusty, watch it!” his mom said, clutching the orange cat to her chest. “You almost hit Mews.”
Dustin was unfazed. “Can I check under your cushions? Mom, please, it’s an emergency.”
Dustin’s mom reluctantly agreed and stood up from her recliner. Dustin searched the cushion and pulled up two shiny quarters.
His eyes lit up. “Love you, Mom!”
He didn’t wait for her response. He rushed past her to his room and wired up his trusty walkie-talkie. “Lucas, do you copy? I’ve got four quarters. What’s your haul?”
Lucas Sinclair, one of Dustin’s best friends, answered back on his radio. “Take your puny haul and multiply it by ve.”
“How?”
“While you were scrounging around like a bum, I mowed Old Man Humphrey’s lawn.”
Dustin’s jaw dropped. “Old Man Humphrey’s got that kind of cash?”
“Just call Mike already,” Lucas said.
“You call Mike.”
“I have to go take a shower from doing real work, like a man. Over and out.”
Dustin switched frequencies. “Mike, do you copy?”
A few houses away, Mike Wheeler heard Dustin’s voice come over the radio. But he didn’t seem happy about it.
Truth was, Mike wasn’t happy about much these days. He was sulking in his basement, sitting alone in a blanket fort he’d made almost a year ago.
Missing her.
He knew if he didn’t answer, Dustin would just keep repeating himself. Mike drew a weary breath and responded. “Yeah, I copy.”
“Lucas and I have six bucks total. What’s your haul?”
Mike had completely forgotten the plan. “Shoot! I don’t know yet!”
“What do you mean you don’t know yet?”
“Just hold on. Call Will!”
Mike ran upstairs and began to do a little digging of his own. He snuck into his big sister Nancy’s room, found her pink piggy bank, and turned it upside down. Coins came spilling out.
“What the heck are you doing?”
Mike turned to see Nancy standing in the doorway. He’d been caught red-handed.
“I’ll pay you back!” he promised. Mike shoved the coins
into his pockets and rushed past her. “Bye!”
“Mike! Get back here!” Nancy yelled.
She chased him down the stairs and through the kitchen, where their parents were making dinner. Mike raced past them, ignoring their reminders that there was “No running in the house!”
Nancy chased a er him, but Mike was too fast. She watched him scoop up his bike and pedal into the darkness.
A brand-new neon sign spun over downtown Hawkins, glowing like a beacon in the night.
THE PALACE ARCADE
Mike, Lucas, and Dustin rode up together, coins jangling in their pockets. Familiar faces were waiting for them in the parking lot.
Joyce Byers waved to the boys as she dropped her son Will o for a night of fun and video games. e guys waved him over and they went inside.
Lucas, Mike, and Will nervously watched as Dustin attempted to rescue Princess Daphne in their favorite game, Dragon’s Lair. It was one of the most expensive games in the arcade, so there was no room for error.
A er some close calls, Dustin reached a new level. “I’m in uncharted territory here, guys.”
“Down! Down! Down!” Lucas yelled.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Dustin yelled back. He frantically moved the joystick down, then le , then right— But it was too late. He’d waited a moment too long to tap the Attack button, and the game’s animated dragon spewed a stream of re. e boys watched in horror as Dustin’s character was reduced to a skeleton.
“I hate this overpriced crap!” Dustin said, kicking the arcade cabinet.
“You’re not nimble enough,” Lucas said. “You’ll get there one day. But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine.”
“Whatever. I’m still tops on Centipede and Dig Dug.”
“You sure about that?” someone teased. at someone was Keith, a pimply kid who worked at the arcade.
“Sure about what?” Dustin asked him, quickly realizing it could only mean one thing—his high score was in trouble! He rushed over to the Dig Dug cabinet.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Dustin screamed, seeing that his name had fallen to second place on the leaderboard. A new high scorer reigned supreme . . .
“751,300 points!” Will said, marveling at MADMAX’s stats.
“ at’s impossible!” Mike exclaimed.
Dustin turned to Keith for answers. “Who is MADMAX?”
“Better than you.” Keith smirked.
“Is it you?” Will asked him.
Keith sco ed at the question. “You know I despise Dig Dug.”
“ en who is it?” Lucas asked.
“Yeah, spill it, Keith!” Dustin demanded.
Keith thought it over, seeing an opportunity here. “You want information, then I need something in return.”
He slyly looked over at Mike. Like many guys his age, Keith had a crush on Mike’s sister, Nancy.
Will, Dustin, and Lucas watched Mike piece this together like a puzzle. “No way, you’re not getting a date with her.”
“Mike, come on,” Lucas said, trying to persuade him. “Just get him the date.”
“I’m not giving him my sister!”
“But it’s for a good cause.”
“No, don’t get him the date,” Dustin interjected. “Know why? He’ll spread his rash to your whole family.”
Now it was Keith who looked insulted. “Acne isn’t a rash and it isn’t contagious, you prepubescent wastoid.”
“Oh . . . I’m a wastoid? She wouldn’t go on a date with you! You make like, what, like . . . two- y an hour . . . ?”
e guys all gleefully watched Dustin trade insults with Keith. ey were so invested in the trash talk they didn’t
notice Will leave the group, slowly stepping away. e noise of the arcade seemed to fade. ere was nothing to distract him but the unusual sight of snow outside the Palace’s windows.
Snow? In October?
He turned to the others. “Hey, guys, do you see the—”
But in a blink, Will was alone. What was happening?
e lights ickered as the arcade changed into a dark landscape of shadows and oating spores and vines.
Vines like the ones he’d seen . . . back in the Upside Down. e arcade doors blasted open with a strong gust. Everything in Will’s body told him to look away, to hide, but he couldn’t help it.
Will Byers walked out to see a world he wished he could forget. Miles of moldy forms covering the town in a blanket of decay. It was a dark vision of Hawkins that wasn’t meant for this world. Black clouds swirled above, crackling with surges of red energy.
He watched it all, helpless and terri ed. Until he heard someone say . . .
“Will?!”
He blinked it all away.
Mike stood with him in the parking lot. “You okay?”
“I, uh . . .” Will was stunned to nd himself back in the real world. ere were no more swirling clouds and ominous
lightning, just the twinkle of stars on an ordinary October night.
And his friend waiting for him.
“I needed some air,” Will said. He didn’t mention what he’d seen to Mike.
Mike put his arm around Will. “C’mon, let’s take that top score back, huh?”
e next day, an eccentric man named Murray Bauman stood outside the Hawkins Police Station. He had to warn them about what was happening in this town right under their noses!
Murray had visited the precinct many times but had no idea he’d developed a reputation among the cops for spreading wild conspiracy theories: aliens, spies, and people with superpowers—all in Hawkins! is was why the o cers wanted nothing to do with him.
But Chief Jim Hopper didn’t have much of a choice. He’d taken an oath to serve this community, and that included everyone. Even Murray.
“We need to talk,” Murray said.
“Get away from me,” Hopper replied.
“ is isn’t a laughing matter, Jim. is is serious!” Murray’s
tone grew rm. “I really got something here, I’m telling you!”
O cers Powell and Callahan liked to mess with Murray.
“Got any proof on your butt-probin’ aliens yet, Murray?” Callahan joked, making Powell laugh.
Murray ignored them. “I believe there was, and may still be, a Russian spy presence in Hawkins.”
Hopper couldn’t help it. He had to laugh too. “Russian spies?”
“I’m talking multiple reports of a Russian child in Hawkins!” A child? Hopper wasn’t laughing anymore.
“What are you talking about?” Hopper asked him, dead serious.
“A girl,” Murray insisted. “Who may have psionic abilities.”
“Psionic?” Powell asked.
“Psychic,” Murray translated.
Hopper knew who that sounded like, but he wasn’t supposed to say. He had a secret to keep that no one in this o ce had knowledge of, a secret he’d sworn to protect from some very powerful people—the actual government people Murray wished he knew.
“What about the girl that made that kid pee himself?” Callahan said, remembering a complaint a woman had lodged last year about her son being bullied by a girl with “strange abilities.”
“A prank,” Hopper said, wanting to move this conversation
to a more private place. He turned to Murray. “You got ve minutes. Not a second more.”
A few moments later, Hopper did the unthinkable: he sat down with Murray Bauman for a private meeting. Murray spilled everything he knew about this supposed Russian child.
“I talked to a Big Buy ex-employee who said some little girl shattered the door with her mind,” he told Hopper.
Hopper remembered hearing about that. But he couldn’t let Murray know the truth . . . about Eleven.
“I heard that story,” Hopper replied, taking a bite of an apple. “Did you hear the one about the fat man with the beard who climbs down chimneys?”
“Last month, a coworker of Ted Wheeler’s claims some Russian girl with a shaved head was hiding in his basement. Ted now denies this.”
Hopper smiled like this was ridiculous, but of course, he knew this was true too. Eleven had lived in the Wheelers’ basement.
“Do you have any proof of this girl?” Hopper asked, carefully trying to get information out of Murray without him realizing it. “I mean, has anybody seen her recently?”
“No,” Murray said, growing impatient. “But these are separate—”
Brrriiiiiing! Saved by the bell. Hopper held up a nger to shush Murray and answered the phone. “Hello?”
It was his receptionist, Florence. “Merrill called, wants you to check out his pumpkins,” she told him. “Says they’ve been contaminated by his vengeful neighbor, Eugene.”
“All right,” Hopper said, grateful for the interruption. It was just the excuse he needed to end this Murray meeting before things got any weirder. “I hate to do this, but I gotta run. It’s an emergency.”
“You gave me ve minutes!” Murray said, counting the minutes.
Happy that Murray wasn’t anywhere close to knowing the real truth, Hopper gathered up his things to leave. “Listen, I liked your alien theory a lot better. You want my advice? Go home.”
Meanwhile, bells were also ringing at Hawkins Middle School. It was time to change classes. Will navigated the halls to his locker, surprised when he found something waiting inside for him.
An old newspaper article from a year ago about a young boy who had gone missing and was presumed dead. According to the story, his body was discovered oating in the black waters of the Sattler Quarry. But to the town’s shock, he was found alive soon a er, walking around in Hawkins. Alive.
State o cials later claimed they “misidenti ed” the body and that the boy was simply lost.
Will knew the real story, of course. His picture was front and center under the headline “ e Boy Who Came Back to Life.”
Whoever had slipped this into his locker added some little touches of their own. ere were X’s scribbled in over his eyes and a nickname scrawled across his picture, written in marker . . .
zombie boy.
ere had been a lot of news stories written about Will Byers over the past year. His mom, Joyce, had done her part to try to shield him from it all, but he knew how people around here looked at him. He could feel it.
To some people in Hawkins, he wasn’t a kid who’d had a near-death experience and lived to tell the tale. To them, he was just a freak.
“Meet the human brain!” Mr. Clarke said to his science class as he held up a scienti cally accurate plastic model. “Consider this: there are a hundred billion cells inside of this miracle of evolution. All working as one.”
Mr. Clarke truly loved science. Speaking like a spirited talk show host, he tried to hype up his class. “No, I did not misspeak. I did not stutter. A hundred BILLION.”
He waited for a reaction. He got none.
Mike, Lucas, and Dustin appreciated his showmanship. e other kids in class did not. ey made paper fortune tellers and blew bubbles with their gum.
e sound of the door opening nally got the class’s attention.
“Ah, this must be our new student,” Mr. Clarke said. Mike, Lucas, Will, and Dustin all looked over to see someone new enter the room. She had red hair and seemed like one of those quiet kids who was cool without even trying. She kept her head down and made her way to an empty seat.
“Hold up there,” Mr. Clarke said, stopping her. “You don’t get away that easy. Come on up. Don’t be shy.”
e redheaded girl reluctantly stood next to Mr. Clarke and hung her head in embarrassment. Mr. Clarke looked to Dustin. “Drumroll . . .”
On cue, Dustin closed his textbook and started drumming on the cover for Mr. Clarke’s big announcement. “Class,
please welcome, all the way from sunny California . . . the latest passenger to join us on our curiosity voyage, Maxine.”
“It’s Max,” she corrected him. “Nobody calls me Maxine. It’s Max.”
Max? e guys all tensed up at the name.
“Mad Max?” Lucas whispered.
“All aboard, Max.” Mr. Clarke smiled.
Max took her seat, feeling weird and self-conscious. But she was used to that.
Meanwhile, Hopper turned onto a stretch of farmland on the outskirts of town. Autumn leaves framed a brightly painted sign that welcomed visitors to . . .
Pick Your Own Pumpkins 2 for $3 is was Merrill’s farm.
Hopper parked his car and met with old man Merrill himself. e farmer was normally calm, but his demeanor today was as sour as the rotting gourds that lined his pumpkin patch. His crops had split open, spilling out what looked like thick
black goo. e decaying pumpkins released a foul odor in the air. Flies hovered over everything like a dark, buzzing mist.
Hopper couldn’t believe it. “You’re saying this was ne yesterday?”
“ ese were prizewinners, Chief. You should’ve seen ’em,” Farmer Merrill swore. “For the life of me, I couldn’t gure out what happened. en, I remembered . . . Eugene.”
Farmer Merrill went on to blame one of his competitors who happened to have his own pumpkin patch down the road where you could “pick your pumpkin.” ey’d been ghting over who started the trend for years.
“You’re telling me that nice old Eugene came out here, a er dark, and doused your eld with poison?” Hopper asked, doubtful.
“Listen, Chief, I don’t go throwing around accusations lightly. You know me,” Farmer Merrill said. “But this happening the day before Halloween, when sales are peaking? at’s a heck of a coincidence.”
Across from the pumpkin patch, the tall stalks of a corn eld suddenly stirred.
Hopper noticed it right away. “You got someone working in the eld?”
Farmer Merrill shook his head no, a look of worry in his eyes. Hopper went into the corn eld, hearing the snap of branches. Someone else was here, all right.
He turned down a path—and froze at the sight of a tall gure, arms outstretched.
Hopper drew a breath.
It was only a scarecrow. Its head was a jack-o’-lantern.
Hopper relaxed. His imagination had gotten the better of him. But as he turned . . .
CAWW!!! A crow ew out of the stalks, scaring him.
It cawed at Hopper again, as if to say, Got you!
Even though it was Halloween, Hopper wasn’t in the mood for scares. He glared at the bird and said, “Yeah . . . got you, too.”
Back at Hawkins Middle, the mysterious Max spent recess gliding around the blacktop on her skateboard. She landed a few tricks but didn’t get any fanfare from the other students. She hadn’t said as much, but it was clear she didn’t feel like talking to anyone.
Which was good since neither Mike nor Lucas nor Dustin nor Will had the courage to say anything to her. ey just stood by the fences, spying.
“ ere’s no way that’s MADMAX,” Mike said.
“Yeah,” Will agreed. “Girls don’t play video games.”
“And even if they did, you can’t get 750,000 points on Dig
Dug,” Mike added, shaking his head. “It’s impossible.”
“But her name is Max,” Lucas said, staring.
“So what?” Mike shrugged.
“So . . . How many Maxes do you know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Zero. at’s how many.”
Dustin was beginning to see Lucas’s logic. “She shows up at school the day a er someone with her same name breaks our top score. I mean . . . you kidding me?”
“Exactly,” Lucas said. “So she’s gotta be MADMAX. She’s gotta be.”
Dustin went back to staring at Max in awe. “Plus, she skateboards so . . . she’s pretty awesome.”
Mike couldn’t believe the sudden admiration in Dustin’s voice. He didn’t know this girl. “Awesome? You haven’t even spoken a word to her.”
“I don’t have to,” Dustin explained. “Look at her . . .”
Dustin turned back to keep watching but was suddenly confused. “Crap, I’ve lost the target.”
Max was gone. No sign of her or her board anywhere. Will spotted her ascending the side stairs. “ ere!”
e guys all watched Max disappear into the school, but not before she tossed a crumpled ball of paper away in a trash can. ey quickly ran over, forming a wall around Dustin as he
shed the paper out of the garbage.
Dustin uncrumpled it, revealing a note. To them. It read . . . Stop spying on me, CREEPS!
“Well, crap,” Dustin groaned.
“William Byers?” someone said from behind them. ey all slowly turned to see the principal. Dustin hid the note behind his back, but the man wasn’t interested in that. He was talking only to Will.
“Your mother’s here,” the principal informed him.
Will sighed. He’d been dreading this moment all morning. It was time to leave school for his “appointment” across town.
Will stared out the window, longing to be anywhere else but in the car with his mother, on this country road.
“You feeling any better?” she asked him.
Will was in a daze, his eyes xed in a thousand-yard stare.
Joyce tried again. “Will?”
“Huh?” Will said. He answered on autopilot. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Hey, what did we talk about, huh? You’ve got to stop it with the sorries.”
“Sorry,” Will replied, catching himself making another
apology. “I mean . . . yeah, I know.”
Joyce hated seeing her son like this. She was aware of his fear getting the better of him, wearing him down.
“Listen, there’s nothing to be nervous about, you know? Just tell them what you felt last night and what you saw,” Joyce said, reminding Will about the memory he was trying to forget.
e dark vision at the arcade.
e storm on the horizon . . .
“I’m gonna be there the whole time,” Joyce continued. “So it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”
“Okay,” Will replied, still shaken.
He went back to staring out of the window as they arrived at the Hawkins Laboratory.
Hopper was already waiting there for them, standing by his police cruiser. A er the events of last year, and everything he’d seen inside this facility, he was just as much a part of this as they were.
Inside an exam room, Will was tested and monitored. A nurse recorded his height, weight, and blood pressure. en electrodes were stuck to his head.
He already felt like a freak. Coming here made him feel like a science experiment.
A huge machine whirred to life and graphed Will’s brain waves in real time.
A er a few moments, the new head of Hawkins Lab, Dr. Sam Owens, entered the room. He carried himself like a friendly neighborhood doctor with a cheery disposition— the complete opposite of his predecessor, Dr. Brenner.
“Sir Will, how are you?” Dr. Owens said, checking Will’s chart. “I see you shaved o a pound since I saw you last. You must be making room for all that Halloween candy.”
He shrugged and waited for Owens’s real questions. Had he known there were lab techs and other Hawkins agents watching and listening from another room, he would have been totally unresponsive.
“All right, tell me what’s going on with you,” Dr. Owens said. “Tell me about this episode you had.”
Will drew a breath and prepared to recount the memory. “Well, my friends were there and then, they just weren’t. And I was . . . back there again.”
“In the Upside Down?” Owens clari ed.
Will nodded. e graph on the brain-wave machine began to climb as he continued: “I heard this noise, and so I went outside, and it was worse.”
“How was it worse?” Owens asked, his concern growing. “ ere was this storm.”
e memory of the red-energy storm ashed in Will’s mind, causing the graphs in the room to spike.
Owens studied Will closely. “So how did you feel when you saw the storm?”
“I felt . . . frozen,” Will answered.
“Frozen? Like, cold?”
“Just frozen. Like how you feel when you’re scared, and you can’t breathe or talk or do anything. I felt this evil, like it was looking at me.”
Dr. Owens cleared his throat and tried to understand. “Well, what do you think the evil wanted?”
“To kill,” Will said with an eerie calm.
“To kill you?”
“Not me. Everyone else.”
Owens’s cheery mood faded. He could see Will was grappling with something profound. is wasn’t going to be solved in a single appointment. Will Byers was haunted.
A short while later, Owens met privately with Joyce and Hopper in his o ce. He could see the panic on Joyce’s face.
“It’s probably going to get worse before it gets better,” he told her.
“Worse?” Joyce sighed. “He’s already had two episodes this month.”
“He’ll likely have more before the month is out. It’s called the Anniversary E ect. We’ve seen this with soldiers. e anniversary of an event brings back traumatic memories.”
Hopper appreciated what Owens was trying to say, but he felt like the Byerses had been through enough. ey didn’t need psychobabble. “So, what does this mean for the kid?” he asked. “He’s going to have more episodes, more nightmares?”
“Yeah,” Dr. Owens said. “He might get irritable. He might lash out. Be patient with him. Don’t pressure him to talk. Just let him lead the way.”
Joyce couldn’t accept that. Will was already being distant. She couldn’t let him pull away even more. “I’m sorry, what you’re saying is it’s going to get worse and worse and we’re just supposed to pretend like it’s not happening?”
“I assure you that is really the best thing you can do for him,” Owens said. He could sense she didn’t believe a word he was saying. “I understand what you went through last year, I get it,” Owens said. “But those people are gone. I need you to realize I’m on your side. I need you to trust me.”
A er school, Lucas and Dustin decided to study together— only what they were studying was Max. ey needed con rmation that she was the notorious MADMAX, so they staked out the arcade. Lucas kept watch through his army binoculars, scanning any cars that passed by.
Dustin checked his watch, noting that it was almost dinnertime. “Oh man, my mom’s gonna murder me.”
“So go home,” Lucas said. “I’ll radio if she comes.”
“Oh yeah, nice try. You just want me out of here so you can make your move.”
Lucas lowered his binoculars to size up Dustin.
“Oh, ’cause you’re such a threat,” Lucas teased.
“ at’s right, she will not be able to resist these pearls,” Dustin said, ashing his brand-new front teeth. He made a purring noise with his tongue that made Lucas wince.
Dustin looked back to the parking lot just as a black muscle car growled up to the arcade. “Ten o’clock, ten o’clock!”
It took Lucas a moment to realize Dustin wasn’t talking about the time again . . . He was telling him which direction to look! ere, outside the arcade, was Max. rough his binoculars, Lucas saw her get out and argue