I left Martin Brenner's, now mine, house with my wallet, my keys, a couple of dollars stuffed inside, and my coat zipped to the chin. The man who owned this place had been an evil man, no doubt about that. But the house itself wasn't. A bad man doesn't always make a bad house.
Stepping outside, I found myself on Maple Street. The trees were already turning, brown and golden, losing that lush green. Fall had settled in. The wind had that dry kind of bite that comes before real cold, and the leaves rustled with that faint crackle I'd come to expect from October in Hawkins. Or at least, what I thought October in Hawkins was supposed to feel like. I'd only been here a year, after all.
A couple of kids ran past, too wrapped up in their game to notice me. Further along, another group was laughing at something. One of them waved, and I waved back. Would've been rude not to. Everybody knew everybody here. I nodded to the neighbors too. Half out of habit, half to keep up appearances.
Soon I turned onto Cherry Street. It wasn't much different, just closer to the center of town. I could've easily taken the car, sure, but wasting gas on a small, calming trip like this would be far from worth it. Walking felt better anyway, is what I told myself as I pushed on.
After crossing Cherry, I made it to Second Street, passing by the old theater. The one where that Nancy girl had been slut-shamed. The red paint had been gone for more than a year and people had stopped talking about it, probably forgetting what had happened, or maybe not. But I didn't, not that it mattered much anyway. I just kept walking until I reached Melvald's General Store, a place I'd come to know over the year.
The bell over the door chimed as I entered. A cheerful chime in my monotonous life. Maybe that's why I loved coming here. Joyce came from behind the store, hair a little disheveled. She looked up as I walked in.
"Hi, Arlo," she said, eyes meeting mine.
"Hello, Ms. Byers," I replied. "I forgot to bring a bag," I added. "Mind if I get one?"
"Here you go," she said, pulling one out from under the counter and handing it to me with a small smile.
I made my way to the candy aisle. It was well-stocked since it was going to be Halloween, and having enough candy to sell to clients was most likely mandatory. And since I was already here, I didn't hold back. Reese's. M&M's. Snickers. Didn't matter what brand, as long as it tasted good, as long as I could carry it, and as long as I could afford it. Which meant everything. Still, I made sure not to go too overboard.
Once I was satisfied, I went back to the counter and set the bag down.
"Well, that's quite the haul, Arlo," Joyce said, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah," I muttered.
"For Halloween?" she asked, her voice casual but curious.
"Yeah. For the kids. Never done Halloween before. Well. Not like this, anyway. Always been on the receiving end in the festivities, as you might have expected."
She chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a sweet tooth and were using Halloween as an excuse."
I smiled, just a little.
Then someone stepped up beside her. A man, noticeably round but exuding a warm kind of air, like he brought comfort with him. He smiled wide, most likely whoever Joyce was "having fun" with in the back of the store.
"Hey, nice to meet ya. I'm Bob. Bob Newby," he said, holding out his hand.
I shook it. "Arlo."
He glanced at the candy bag and let out a surprised laugh. "Didn't expect this much. Really stocking up, huh?"
"Seems like it," I said.
"I work over at Radio Shack, if you ever need some repairs," he chuckled. "But I help out here too, sometimes for free. Think I've seen you once or twice, but we never talked. It's good we didn't stay strangers, am I right?"
I chuckled.
He didn't seem to mind the quiet. He just filled it himself.
"You and Ms. Byers seem close," I said, partly to change the subject.
Joyce answered before Bob could. "He's my boyfriend," she said.
I nodded. "Congratulations are in order, I guess."
"Thanks," Joyce replied sweetly, while Bob laughed.
Then Bob gave the candy another once-over. "Can't speak for the kids, but you've got good taste."
"Thanks," I said.
Joyce checked the total and said, "Well, that'll be two forty."
I reached into my coat, pulled out the bills and coins in my wallet, and handed them over.
"Thank you for coming over, Arlo. Have a nice day," she waved.
"You too, Ms. Byers," I replied.
The bell chimed again as I stepped back out. Wind had picked up, but it wasn't bitter. Not yet. I didn't turn around. No reason to. I had a place to be. Two bowls for the neighborhood kids. One with chocolate. One with sweets. And one bowl just for Eleven. That one had both.