InsaneJournal

Eleven liked the beach a lot. She wasn't a stranger to salty water that could sometimes get in your mouth, and she had been taught to swim growing up in the laboratory with all the tank submersions they’d made her do. The wet sand beneath her feet felt nice and Vallo’s waters were crystal clear. It was easy to spot multi-colored fish, the crabs trucking along under the water, and occasionally, mermaids. Mermaids. (She tried not to stare too long, that was rude.)

All things that would earn the description of bitchin’, even if she outgrew that saying.

The summer had been fun. Better than the first one they’d spent together at Hawkins by a long shot; the dinosaur camp Atreus put together was the best, their part-time jobs didn’t suck, and she didn’t completely hate the constant pink on her cheeks from sunburn.

“Three more weeks until school,” she hummed, Mike’s hand in hers as they walked the shoreline. “What else should we do before the summer is over?”

“Get Hopper to make hamburgers again, for one,” Mike said. Say what you would about Jim Hopper, the dude made kickass hamburgers, and Mike was basically a bottomless pit that they could be thrown down ad infinitum. “Annnnnnd…I dunno, maybe we can squeeze in one more beach trip with the whole gang? I think everybody had enough fun last time that we could talk them into one more. Even Robin.”

Mike shared Eleven’s love of the beach, in part because it was so much fun to see her so happy. Yes, he had to slather himself with sunscreen religiously, but they always had such a good time there, especially when they could get everybody together. Their last trip, with the Sand Minas Tirith, had been especially epic and worth repeating.

“That will be easy to do,” El grinned, cheeks dimpling. “He is good at burgers. Other food? Not so much; but burgers and hot dogs, yes.” She supposed roasting meat over fire didn’t take a lot of steps like other meals did? Her dad tried, though. “I think we can do another group–”

The wind picked up, like the soft summer breeze they’d been hit with suddenly turned aggressive. It was brief, but strong enough to kick sand around and have it stick to their wet ankles and shins. Eleven had to push hair away from her face, wishing she just threw it up into a bun before coming out. “I think sand got in my mouth,” she bleched, trying to spit out the grittiness she suddenly felt on her tongue.

“Ugh, and in my ears,” Mike said, his eyes still clenched shut against sand invasion. He opened them hesitantly, and just then another furious gust of wind came—thank god for a good blink reflex. He didn’t get sand in his eyes, but it was surely in every other little crevice of his face, and he stopped in his tracks. Once again the gust died down quickly, but it felt…unnatural, somehow. Unusual, at least.

“Did that feel like, um…a warning to you? Or is that just me?”

More got into her mouth. Eleven suddenly had to do a lot more blech-ing, and as gross as it was she wiped her tongue with her hand. Call it desperation. “Yes,” she scowled. “That felt personal.”

She was beginning to feel a little unsettled. They weren’t the only ones at the beach but the couples and crowds were spread across the shoreline, and there was this feeling that something was close. That someone was watching. Waiting for another moment to strike.

“People have been talking about elements,” Eleven frowned, feet coming to a stop so she could look around them. “That they have been acting weird –”

Oh, that was a terrible thing to say. The wind swirled violently around it and with it, sand.

“Ow ow ow ow…” Mike winced as the whipping wind slapped him with sand. It felt like sandpaper on his skin, and he had a feeling that if he kept pushing it he was going to have problems. He hadn’t dressed for Tatooine sand storms when they came to the beach. “Okay, time to get out of here, right?”

This began to test Eleven’s temper. It always had a short fuse to begin with, and she knew she couldn’t just unleash a scream of telekinetic force around her without blasting Mike into the ocean by accident. So, instead, she would focus on aiming it with more precision and away from him because, right now, she was determined to choose violence.

Precision, though, really meant just choosing a specific direction to point her open hand at and shout loudly.

It was enough to cause the sandstorm (or was it a sand-nado?) around them to disperse. It also did nothing to make her feel less gritty, because she was sure she felt sand in her shorts. And in her shirt. “I was having a good time,” Eleven scowled, brows pinched together to make that look, focused and ready for a fight.

So apparently they were not going to be getting out of here. Mike made his peace with getting his skin sandblasted and pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth. Sand was still going to end up in places sand ought not to go, but he could at least avoid eating or breathing it.

“I think we’re dealing with an air elemental here,” he said through his t-shirt mask. “Or at least something a lot like one. So get ready to hit it hard if it re-forms.”

The t-shirt mask was a good call. Eleven sniffed, and there was sand that had gotten lodged up into her nose that she practically snorted but there was blood, too, from power usage. Sand began to fly around them again, she stepped back and pressed her back to Mike’s. “I think it is trying to,” she frowned, fingers twitching. “I will hit it, and then we should run. I don’t want to kill it or anything.”

Eleven had killed a lot of things, and she was trying to keep murder from being her first solution. The elemental didn’t seem explicitly evil. Just – it was being a bully.

“Good plan,” Mike readily agreed. The air elemental was clearly an asshole, but if they could just get out of range, that would be good enough. Not every victory had to be total victory. “Yell ‘go!’ when you think you’ve got it, and we can bolt for the boardwalk.”

El gave a single, firm nod and wiped at her face, some sand sticking with the minor smear of red she painted across her skin. It didn’t take long for the sand around them to gather up in one spot, like it was using it to give itself a visible shape that worked well for her. That meant she had a clear target.

“Go!” she shouted, in sync with the moment she gave it a hefty blast that shot them across the beach. The sand dispersed again, leaving the elemental invisible to the eye but now was the chance to run.

Unfortunately, running in the sand was just awkward. And hard.

“I hate this,” she sputtered, lifting her feet up high every time she took a sweeping step away from the shore. “I hate this a lot.”

“Me too!” Mike yelled, running as hard as the sand would let him while not passing Eleven. No, he wasn’t as powerful as she was. No, he wasn’t going to be much use if she got in trouble. Nonetheless, he wasn’t about to leave her even if his longer legs could outpace her. That was just…totally not cool.

He didn’t dare look back to see if the elemental sandstorm was chasing them. Focusing on El and running seemed the best plan.

Eventually, her feet met concrete – the sidewalk, a lot easier to move around on. Eleven was a little out of breath (she hated running for her life, how could anyone do that as an extracurricular?), and her hair was a grainy mess but the elemental didn’t seem to follow them. It either knew better, or maybe they just stepped into their personal space without realizing it.

Regardless, that was rude.

“I feel gross now,” she sighed, plucking at the front of her shirt to shake off some of the sand. “What an asshole. I think this was our last beach day if things stay weird like that.”

Mike shook his head like a dog, hoping it would knock some sand out. It did, but not nearly enough. They were going to need serious showers to get rid of all this sand.

“Total asshole,” he agreed. “Who goes around sandblasting people who’re minding their own business walking on the beach?”

Eleven’s face got all scrunched up as she used the hair tie on her wrist, pulling back the abomination of wind-swept and sand-swept hair. “If it comes after us, I will fight back harder,” she decided, eyes still set into a glare. It would be self-defense anyway, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Let’s go and find food. I don’t want to give it a chance to follow us. I am hungry, and I want to go home and shower for an hour.”

“You want to pick up something on the way home, or scavenge in the kitchen?” Mike asked. “Since we got attacked, we could probably get Steve to feel sorry for us and make us lunch.”

“I like that plan better,” Eleven replied after a thoughtful pause, and after remembering that she only had six dollars and a handful of quarters stuffed in the back pocket of her shorts. “Steve making us lunch is free. He will complain, but I think he likes it.”

“I think you’re right,” Mike agreed, and he slung an arm around El’s shoulders. “Let’s go do some wheedling.”