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How to broach a tough subject: a memoir by Nancy Wheeler.
Shouldn't be that hard. Just slip it casually into conversation, that usually works.
Just be like, "Oh, hey! Nice work on our last exam, we got an A-- by the way is there any possibility that you might or might not be a creature of the night? Specifically a vampire? Just wanted to be sure, my mom's a little heavy-handed on the garlic."
It was still in the works as a draft, but it still sounded stupid even in her own head.
Was that insensitive, to assume that Jonathan couldn't eat garlic? It's not like she's ever seen him eat something with garlic in it. Maybe it'd just make him sick.
Regardless, she didn't want to mess this all up just because she had a theory. One that could be proven wrong, at any time.
For all she knows, she's being stupid about all of this, and she's worrying for nothing. Maybe Jonathan just had some of those fake teeth in. Or maybe there was a draft, and that's why Jonathan's hand was so cold holding hers back at the haunted house. He did tell her a long time ago that his circulation has always been shit, so there you go. A perfectly logical, scientific explanation. Nothing undead about it.
She wants to bang her head against the door so bad, but that would make a scene. Not to mention it would be rude, and she refuses to stoop that low.
So instead she knocks on the Byers door three times and waits, clutching her coat tighter to her while she watches her breath fog the air.
And before she even has a second to consider trying again, the door whips open, revealing Jonathan on the other side.
"Oh! Hey Nancy, didn't expect you here so early." He tries for a calm sort of nonchalance, but the tension in his body shows otherwise. His shoulders are stiff, his fingers nervously drum over the doorknob, and a vein in his neck looks like it's about to pop out. Not that she was paying that much attention, no. Just making some observations, for his health. No other motive beyond that.
She scoffs, flushes a bit and grips her book tight to her chest for something to hold onto.
"Do you even know me?"
And with that, the stress melts away and he grins, opening the door for her to walk in. A perfect gentlemen as she makes her way into the living room.
Now, if she was being honest? It wouldn't be the first time she walked into the Byers home and felt like something was off about it. Not that it wasn't homey, or that it wasn't cozy and warm, it was! (Most days of the week.) And if it was cold, it's not like Nancy would say anything about it. Heating bills were expensive, and it's no one's fault that they live here, in Hawkins. Where you're lucky if you don't have to pry your fingers from the car door handle when it's at it's worst.
"Course i am," she continues, always priding herself on being punctual, "This project's about 50% of our grade, remember?"
He sighs, his response completely deadpan. "How could i forget. Mr. Neumann wouldn't stop cramming it down our throats."
She couldn't help but agree. "Oh yeah, real killjoy he is," she checks her hip with his, "How we survive his brutality is beyond me."
"Exactly!" he chuckles, "You get it," and right then she's struck for the thousandth time in her life, with just how warm the room becomes when he laughs.
And, not wanting to assess that too deeply Nancy decides to look around. Tells her fluttery heart to shut up as she takes in the new coffee table and knickknacks Joyce must've set up. Settles into the loveseat and shuts her eyes.
For a brief moment.
"Wait," she says in a panic, "Where's Will?"
"At the arcade."
She nods, convinced. "Where's your mom?"
"At work." He turns his head towards the clock, "Said she'd be back around 4:15."
"Oh." Nancy knew she needed to get a grip. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything. They would just be here, by themselves. Yeah, and you'll be alone with a vampire. How's that feel, her brain supplies, like a traitor.
This is bullshit. She needed to focus, and put her theories to rest for the evening.
So she adjusts her pillow, lays back down, and pats the seat next to her in invitation.
"So, how about we get started."
--
A couple hours pass, and not a lot gets done.
"So," Jonathan draws out, pointing towards something in his textbook, "Any idea what this means?"
"Not a clue."
Nancy's getting tired of this. They were going nowhere fast, at the rate they were headed. So she sighs, throws down her pen, and puts a bookmark in her place for later.
"I'm gonna go get something to drink, you need anything?"
"I'm good, thanks."
And in a flash she's off the couch, making a b line towards the kitchen. And yeah, even though she heard him say he didn't need anything, she snatches him an apple from the fruit bowl anyway. Knew without a doubt in her mind that he needed to keep up his strength if they were ever going to finish this project.
She pries open the fridge and digs through it's contents, hoping to find some orange juice but comes up short. Not even a lone Sprite can for her efforts, or a juice box. So, finally giving up on her search, Nancy decides to go back to basics, and pulls one of the milk cartons out. Why they needed three different kinds was beyond her. It wasn't like the Byers had any allergies... that she was aware of. (Might also explain why his teeth looked so sharp. Maybe all that stuff about milk and bone density held some validity after all.)
And, because Nancy wasn't an animal, she checks the expiration dates on the milk, and finds that she's still got a couple more days until it goes bad.
Just for good measure though she pinches it open, and goes to double check-- but she barely gets halfway when a strong iron smell hits her senses and almost causes her to wretch.
She peers down into the container, and sees red. A deep, dark, rich red.
Well, that throws a wrench in one theory she had.
"Hey uh, Jonathan?"
"Yeah?" He calls from the living room, still looking for something he lost in the cushions of the couch.
"Is this milk for one of Will's science experiments, or?" she holds out the carton so he can see it. "It, smells like it's gone bad."
She goes to shut the fridge door, and her stomach immediately turns when she feels the resistance of the liquid in the container. A resistance that shouldn't be there if this was actually milk. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe this was just his mom trying out a Jello recipe and it hadn't set just right. Wouldn't be the first time either of their moms tried out something new with gelatin.
Jonathan freezes, turning towards the kitchen. "Which um, carton? The 2% or the whole--"
"The whole." God Nancy control yourself, it could be anything. Could even just be a smoothie. Made with... beets or something.
She eventually ends up spilling a drop or two thanks to her shaky hands, and watches the viscous red liquid stain the floor. They both just stare at it until it becomes a race to see who grabs a towel first. (God, is this why most of his towels are red or black? To cover up their trails?)
Jonathan manages to grab a rag and wipes it up, while Nancy sets the carton back on the counter.
"There," Jonathan says, "Good as new-- Nancy?"
She still hasn't recovered from her discovery, and she grips the counter to keep herself steady. Counts backwards until her breathing evens.
"Nancy, do you, do you need anything, or," Great, now his hands won't stop shaking.
"Some answers would be nice." Better to be blunt than sorry, she figures, and before he can say a word she cuts him off. "And i mean some actual answers, okay? I'm a big girl, i can handle it."
His hands twist around the towel in his grip, "Alright, well, Will needed to make a lava moat for his game, and me and mom went a little over the top--"
"Jonathan." As much as she wished she could joke about it, she wasn't in a place where she could right now. Not with this lump in her throat.
And he's quick to realize that, raising his hands up in defense.
"Kidding, kidding! Um," Jonathan decides to chuck out the easy approach. To make light of it in an effort to make things less tense. The cat's out of the bag, and he's screwed if mom finds out.
Now he's all nerves, and his brain won't supply him with anything that will help aid the situation. How exactly do you go about telling your friend you're a vampire? Tell them and hope they don't shun you? Prepare yourself to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life? Nancy was fucking sharp as a tack. She did her research, and if she had to defend herself? She would be nose deep in a book right now setting up shop. Learning how to carve an effective stake, checking what stores in town have silver bullets, steel traps. (Shame for her that half the books out there have got it all wrong, but he's not going to spill all his secrets in one day. Besides, she can disarm him without even having to lift a finger. Just being here's enough to throw him off.)
Out of all the people to find out, why did it have to be her?
"Where do I even start."
At that she softens, loosens her crossed shoulders and rubs her arm, and truly he's just glad that some of that rosy color's starting to return to her cheeks.
And really she wasn't trying to grill him over this. Nancy just wanted to know. Absolutely hated being left out of the loop, always has. And if every little piece of evidence up until now has been right? She's been left out of it for a long time. Did Mike know? That one of his best friends in the whole world was a vampire? She didn't really take her brother for someone who would lie about that sort of thing, but who knows.
"Look, if now's not a good time, we can talk about this later, really." she offers, extends a metaphorical hand out like an olive branch. If he wasn't comfortable, she could learn to lay off. Besides, this was Jonathan. The same Jonathan that helped her sew up her sweater when Chester took a bite out of it. The same Jonathan that watched scary movies with her growing up and held her tight during all the bad parts. He never took a bite then, even when he had every opportunity to. Didn't mean she would mind if he did, but she was all for a little warning first.
"Maybe we should get back to the project--" It's an out. She's offering him an out, and Jonathan doesn't know what possesses him to reject it.
"No! No you have every right to know, Nancy. I," he groans, takes out his frustrations on his hair and thinks. "It's just,"
"How long?"
"What?"
"How long has it been, since you've been, well," Nancy takes her coat and makes a mock-attempt at shrouding half her face, like it's a cape and she's the creature of the night.
It makes him laugh, so a score for her. "Oh, well... let's just say a long time."
"How about your mom, your brother?"
"A long time to."
"Oh." What else was there to say? "Well, then, how about that time when--"
He squirms, "Is it too late for me to back out of this and just say I have an iron deficiency?"
"Oh definitely." she laughs, couldn't help herself. "Now come on, spill."
"Well if you're gonna yank it out of me--"
The front door swings opens, and a paper sack falls to the ground.
"Hey guys!" Joyce greets, juggling two other bags in her grip, "How's the studying going?"
"Great, yeah," they both say, and Nancy's doing a much better job at hiding the way she sweats than Jonathan does. But if Joyce notices it, she doesn't say anything, humming a tune as she walks over to the kitchen. Jonathan makes sure to pick up the bag she dropped and heads back over to, and by the time he reaches the counter, he realizes how royally he's fucked up, when his mom stops putting pasta in the pantry.
He left the carton out.
When it was still open.
Panic rises and bubbles in his chest when all his mom does is grab the carton, wipe a spot of blood off the corner of the lip, and places it back in the fridge. She doesn't say anything, when she turns back around, but she does look over at Jonathan, wordlessly communicating that they'd talk later. When Nancy went home.
"I uh, was going to make dinner," Joyce says, "You guys hungry?"
"Starving," Nancy supplies, and Jonathan's immensely grateful that she does. Because he's sure that all that would come out is a squeak.
And once that ordeal is over and done with they both rush back to the couch, stealing some more time for a few minutes to jot down some final notes and pretend like what just happened didn't happen.
Least, that's what Nancy thinks for a blissful minute, before Jonathan turns his head towards her, and now Nancy's sure she won't survive the night as he leans down to whisper in her ear.
"Um, h-how about we talk about this upstairs."