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Kissing Vickie is more exhilarating than Robin ever imagined.
They’re in Robin’s basement, paying no attention to Real Genius playing on the ancient television in front of them. She invited Vickie over to watch the movie, but their attention turned unexpectedly and delightedly elsewhere. The glow from the TV, their combined slow movement, and the dimmed lights provide a dreamlike quality, and Robin, pulse racing Robin stares in disbelief as the gorgeous redhead pressed against her.
Robin pulls herself up to straddle Vickie’s lap, sinking her knees in the threadbare couch cushions. She runs a finger along Robin’s cheek, and even the lightest touch makes Robin quiver. In a mad rush of lust, Robin peppers her with kisses; her lips, her cheek, down to her neck, feeling the vibration of Vickie’s throat as she lets out a long, ecstatic moan.
In the back of Robin’s mind, she thinks of her mother upstairs in the kitchen but shakes that away. Mom doesn’t suspect a thing. Heat and desire fuel her as she comes back up to give her a deep, probing kiss.
“Bubbicious?” Vickie says when she pulls away.
“What?”
“Your gum, I know my gums, and you taste like Bubbilcious.”
Even though Vickie’s right, it’s so absurd, that Robin can’t help but laugh. “Of all the things to say right now, you’re focused on my gum?”
“It might be my new favorite flavor. Or maybe it’s you.” She pulls Robin’s face down to hers, gazing into her eyes. “I’ll have to try it a few more times.”
And then there’s a lot less talking.
–
When Robin tells Steve everything the next day on the way to the high school, he nearly veers off the road.
“Holy shit! See, I told you she was into girls.” Steve says. “So how was it? How far did you get? Please tell me you got to second base.”
“Shut up! It was just kissing.” Robin can’t stop grinning. Just kissing didn’t do it justice.
“At least one of us needs to be seeing boobs.” Steve pulls into the high school parking lot. “What are you waiting for?”
Robin shrugs. “Um, it’s like, I haven’t done that before. With anyone.”
“Really?”
“Do you think I have a lot of opportunities? It’s not like I’ve got girls lining up to go out with me like you do!” Though right now, just kissing her was enough. No, it wasn’t enough. It was like an addiction. An addiction she would fuel very soon.
Steve tries to catch up with Robin as she’s practically jogging across the half-empty parking lot. “But they’re not coming back for seconds. Sounds like Vickie might be.” He’s almost as delighted as Robin is.
Robin practically jogs across the parking lot, and Steve has trouble keeping up with her. “Slow down, you’ll see your girlfriend in like two minutes. Also, I better not catch you two running off to make out today.”
“Hey,” Robin stops to give him a light shove. “I’ll behave.”
“Behave over what?” A sharp voice behind them. Robin turns around to see Nancy in the school doorway. The weight of Nancy’s disapproving gaze is enough to make her squirm.
Steve opens his mouth, but Robin elbows him before he can say anything. Chances are, Nancy won’t hate her for what she is, but the odds, no matter how small, is enough to keep Robin quiet. She lurks in a no man’s land of uncertainty. “Oh, we’re just joking about. Did Will say anything more about the Mind Flayer or the spooky pollen?”
“Nothing yet.” Nancy’s been a fixture at Hopper’s house, where the Byerses are hiding out. “Might as well volunteer today.”
“Cool! You can be on lunch duty with Vickie and me.”
Nancy sniffs. “I was thinking I’d sort out the Red Cross donations.” Without another word, Nancy flounces off into Hawkins High.
“Dude, what’s she pissed about?”
“How should I know?”
“She’s your ex-girlfriend!”
“Like a million years ago. The rest of us, that aren’t getting boobs, is a little on edge right now, you know, with the Upside Down things pelting the ground and all the dead kids.”
“I’m not getting boobs! “ Robin zips up her jacket to her neck, even though they’re just outside the school doors. It’s cold outside, too cold for April. The wind whips around, cutting through her thin windbreaker. “Does she think we’re together? I’ve told her, platonic, a million times.
“Besides, she’s got Jonathan.” The flicker of disappointment across Steve’s features is barely noticeable. “Let’s get inside before we become popsicles.”
Vickie’s already set up the industrial-size coffee pot. But when Robin approaches, she gives a staccato “Hi” before turning away.
“Hi,” Robin’s stomach sinks. She’s afraid of this happening. Vickie’s having regrets, she was just messing around, but part of her hopes Vickie’s just distracted or busy. “Hey,” she draws out the word.
The hiss of the coffee maker and chatter around the gym fills in the stony silence. Robin keeps her hands busy with filling coffee cups, but every thought swings back to Vickie, whom she watches like a hawk.
“Vickie, please.” Robin lowers her voice. “Are you upset about what happened last night?”
Vickie’s red curls sway as she shakes her head, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at Robin. Instead, she’s looking at the banners hanging above the rafters, orange block lettering on green felt. “That banner up there? 1954 champs? That was my dad’s team. My whole family is in Hawkins. We’ve been here as long as anybody can remember. And if any of them found out…” she trails off. “We have to be careful.”
Twin arrows of relief and disappointment shoot through Robin... She expected what happened between them would be a secret–she would have insisted on it herself. But hearing Vickie say it makes her pause the slightest bit before she says, “Trust me, I will be super careful.
Vickie meets her eyes. “Are you ashamed of me?”
Robin reaches for her hand under the table, feeling it fit in place with her own. “Never.”
–
Over the next few weeks, Hawkins gets back on its feet. The relief center closes and classes resume. Repair work begins in earnest, with Steve volunteering to take on some demolition. The town is immersed in a thick malaise, a half state of wanting to return to normal, but still grieving for its losses. But for Robin, the days are filled with Vickie, Passing notes folded into tiny triangles to each other. Laughs during band practice. Vickie stops by the video store, and Steve covers while they share a few minutes alone in the back room. Robin’s not so sure they need to be careful at school anymore; the place is a ghost town. So many students and teachers are gone, either dead or relocated. The ones who stay are stubborn, or like the Buckleys, have no place to go.
“I’ve got something to show you,” Robin says. They're in her room and Robin glances at the door to make sure it’s closed before reaching between her mattress and box spring.
“The Works. It’s a magazine, you know, for people like us.” Her fingers tremble with excitement as she hands Vickie the thin booklet. She’d gotten it last year at an adult bookstore in Springville, with a hitched ride and a fake ID.
They flip through the magazine together, laying on their stomachs in Robin’s bed. Most of the content is geared towards men, but Robin memorized every single item about lesbians. The typewritten pages with grainy black and white photos look no more sophisticated than the school newspaper, but describe a world far more open and alive than Hawkins. Music festivals. Protests. Bars.
“It reminds me of the Windy City Times,” Vickie says when she finally looks up. “ It’s a gay newspaper in Chicago. I visited my sister at Northwestern last year, and we went into the city because Northwestern isn’t in Chicago, it’s in Evanston. We walked through Boystown, which is the big gay neighborhood, and there was stuff like this all over the place. And bars, and rainbow flags hanging in shops. Mannequins dressed in leather and wearing boas. And I really wanted to go back, but Mom and Dad were in a hurry to get to the zoo and rushed through it. I never really knew why I liked it…until I met you.” She nuzzles into Robin’s shoulder.
“We should go there someday. Or hell, even Indianapolis.”
Vickie lights up. “So you know how I’m getting a car for graduation? We could go over the summer! Make it a road trip.”
Robin’s not sure she can afford a road trip. She’s saving her paychecks for community college. Unlike Vickie, who’s attending IU, this is all she can afford. But the lure of the places in the magazine pulls at her. “God, I wish we could go now. This last month of school is taking an eternity. And it’s so pointless. How often am I going to need pre-Calc?”
“I just want to be with you.” Vickie says. She’s quiet for a moment, a silence Robin can’t read.
“What’s up?”
“I have a crazy idea.” Vickie says. “I bought prom tickets when Dan and I were still going out. You and I could go.”
Robin’s skeptical. “We can’t go together. They’d never allow it.”
“We’ll go together, but not together together. We’ll get boy dates, but we can all go together and it’ll be like it’s you and me.” Vickie leans against Robin, and her curls spread across Robin’s bare arm. You could ask Steve, and I can ask one of the band guys.”
Robin’s never considered prom. She’s always been the class weirdo, “I don’t know…”
“Please, Robin. It’s our senior prom. And there’s no one I’d rather go with than you.”
Robin’s still not entirely convinced. Who wants to stand around in a crepe-papered gym and drink spiked punch? But it’s hard for her to say no to Vickie “Okay, I’m in. But you owe me.”
“Of course,” Vickie murmurs. Her curls brush against Robin’s arm as she turns her head to plant a trail of kisses, up to her shoulder. “What would you like?”
“Mmmmm..more of that is nice.” She forces her eyes open, to look at the girl kissing her. “Keep this up and I’ll have to start charging you interest.”
–
Steve is on board with being Robin’s prom date, naturally. Vickie gets a date with Nelson, the last remaining trombone player. Fairly dull, somewhat nerdy, but has no illusions he and Vickie are going as anything other than friends. Word gets out Robin’s going to prom with Steve. Her classmates stare at her like a scientist examining a specimen, trying to figure out: why you? Except for Nancy, who's brusque at every attempted conversation, much to Robin’s chagrin. Jonathan can’t go to prom, since it would involve him entering civilization. But Robin has more pressing matters to deal with, namely her mom’s single-handed crusade to princessify her.
The moment Robin announced to her parents she was going to prom, Mom was over the moon. She insists on going to a boutique in Bloomington, where Robin cringes at the barrage of poofy dresses with giant shoulders. She’s never liked dresses. When she was little, she immediately tore off her church dress the minute she got home, even though it meant running through the house naked. She finally settles on a slinky floor-length dress, the color of midnight, with spaghetti straps. It’s the least objectionable of the lot. The saleslady gushes about how gorgeous she is, but Robin mostly feels naked. On the way back to Hawkins, Robin leans against the car window, half listening as her mom carries on about hair and makeup and nails, which Robin wants no part of. But she reminds herself this is for Vickie.
As prom draws nearer, Robin finds herself looking forward to it. She imagines dressing like Annie Lennox, in a suit and suspenders, escorting Vickie in the biggest, poofiest dress straight out of a Disney movie. And everything else fades into the background.
–
“How did alterations go?” Robin’s rummaging through the pantry while on the phone with Vickie. The cord is stretched tight across the kitchen, and she’s sadly out of reach of the Doritos. Warmth courses through her at the sound of Vickie’s voice, even though they saw each other at school four hours ago.
“They’re perfect. Oh my god, this week is going to take forever.” It’s Monday, and the prom is in four days. “I can’t wait for you to see my dress.”
“I don’t get why it’s such a secret.” She’s gone to the extent of hiding it when Robin comes over. “Why can’t you just show it to me?”
“You’ll have to see it on prom night,” Vickie teases. “I want you to be stunned.”
“How could I not be? It’s you. You better be careful, or Nelson will have to pry me off of you.”
“Mmm, I like that,” Vickie lowers her voice, sounding sultry. Robin doesn’t worry about being heard. Dad won’t be home from the factory until midnight, and Mom is napping. “And be careful, you might do the same thing to me.”
Robin bites her lip. Her mind drifts to Friday night. And what often happens after prom. It’s something they haven’t done yet, something she’s been too hesitant to bring up, but not for a lack of want. But Vickie’s not the only one who can tease. “By the way, I have a surprise of my own.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to see it on prom night.” Backing out of the pantry, Robin opens the refrigerator door, gazing on a white paper bag. Inside is a corsage for Vickie, a cluster of violets interspersed with baby’s breath. She “helpfully” volunteered to pick it out for Nelson, but it’s really from her. One part of their evening won’t be a farce.
“That’s not fair!”
“You have a lot of room to talk!” Robin giggles. Mom’s slow footsteps pod down the hall. “My mom’s up, I need to go.”
“Yeah, it’s almost dinner time here. See you tomorrow.”
–
But Robin doesn’t.
The next day at school, Vickie’s not at band rehearsal, she’s not in the halls, and she’s not in any of her classes. Robin asks around, and nobody’s heard from her.
By lunchtime, Robin’s worried. She calls Vickie’s house again, the same as she’s done after every period. No answer. She hangs up before the fourth ring to get her quarter back. She tries to tell herself Vickie’s fine. But her gut feeling tells her something is wrong.
Vecna.
She pictures Vickie, distorted limbs and empty eye sockets, and almost loses her breakfast.
She needs to find Steve.
With shaking hands, she dials Steve’s number, only to be told by a cheerful Mrs. Harrington Steve is out helping with earthquake cleanup. Robin slams down the phone, roaming the cafeteria.
As soon as she spots Nancy in the back of the cafeteria, she breaks into a run. Nancy’s by herself, thank God, bent over a notebook.
“Nancy! I need your help finding Vickie.”
Nancy gives her an exasperated look. “What?"
“She didn’t come to school today. She’s not answering her phone. She was fine yesterday. I need you to drive me out to her place.”
Nancy scoffs. “In the middle of the school day? Are you crazy?”
“What if it’s Vecna?”
Nancy stills, horror creeping across her features. Robin can tell she’s remembering getting dragged into Vecna’s realm. In a flat voice, she says, “We killed Vecna. Vickie’s probably just sick, or playing hooky.”
Robin leans forward. “We never found the body. Vickie’s a straight A student. She wouldn’t blow off school for nothing. Please, Nancy. If Vecna’s back, we need to stop him.”
“Okay, fine. But if you’re wrong, and I miss my French test this afternoon…”
“I’ll help you study for the makeup. Come on, let’s go.” Robin grabs her arm and practically pulls her out of the cafeteria.
–
“Left at Coxhill Road.” Robin points. “And go faster!”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Nancy says through clenched teeth as she swerves around a pothole. “The roads aren’t exactly drivable.”
“When we see Vecna, the first thing I’ll do is give him shit about our infrastructure.” Robin dumps the contents of her backpack on her lap.
Nancy glares at Robin. “What are you doing?! Don’t you dare leave this mess in my car!”
“Finding Vickie’s favorite song.” It’s on a mix tape she made for Robin. Finding the case, slides the tape into her Walkman, and hits play. It’s playing a little slow. Jesus, of all the times for the batteries to die out….
“Did Vickie seem sad? Troubled?”
“No, she was happy. Looking forward to prom. We’re all going together.” Robin fiddles with the Walkman in her hands. Though at the back of Robin’s mind, a thought chills her: Vickie was worried about us being caught. If that’s what drew Vecna to her, Robin will never forgive herself.
“I know that,” Nancy flies over a bump in the road, sending Robin out of her seat. “So what song?”
“‘Cities in Dust’, Siouxsie and the Banshees.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s rad,” Robin says, indignant. They’re coming up on the turn to Vickie’s subdivision. “Coxhill Road! Left, here!"
"You could have given me more notice!" The brakes squeal as Nancy makes a wide turn, nearly hitting a mailbox on the corner. "Shit, I hope we make it in time."
–
As soon as Vickie’s mom opens the door, Robin knows something is seriously wrong.
Vickie’s mom looks like an older version of her, with red hair fading to gray wrapped in a severe bun. Her eyes, bluer than Vickies, cast a look of suspicion at the girls. “Yes?”
“We’re here to see Vickie. I brought her homework.” Robin lifts her backpack. Nancy shoots Robin a look. It’s a ridiculous excuse, but the first thing that popped into her head. She waits to be invited in, but Vickie’s mom doesn’t move.
“She’s not here.” The words are stiff and uncompromising. It’s not the crushing sorrow of a bereaved mother, even though there are traces of grief in her expression. But the anger and suspicion cloud over everything else.
“When will she be back?” Nancy ventures.
“She won’t be. Not for a long time”
“Two weeks before the end of the school year?”
“Vickie has wandered into sin. Sin and weakness. And she’s been sent away to have every bit of it removed from her.”
“What are you talking about? Because of Hellfire? It’s not a cult, it’s a stupid game.” Nancy starts in, but Robin’s mouth has gone dry. She can’t move. She can’t speak. She knows. She’s heard this all too many times, from every Sunday morning sermon, every preacher of hellfire, every mention of Sodom. She’s been tuned to it like a radio from the time she figured out who she is. Robin’s legs have turned to Jello. She knows exactly what type of place Vickie's been sent to. Of all night prayer sessions and punishments and electric shocks.
The older woman’s gaze falls on Robin. “It was you, wasn’t it? You did this to her. Who put thoughts of unnatural acts in her mind? Before Vickie met you, she had a boyfriend. A future.”
“Robin didn’t do anything to her.”
“Nance, stop.” Robin manages. Her throat is like a desert, and she can barely speak. But she holds the older woman's gaze, blood pounding in her ears. "I did. But it wasn't unnatural, or wrong."
"How can you say that? Your kind destroys families and brings diseases. I can't have my baby mixed up in that."
"No," Robin says, louder. Everything has been building inside her like a pressure cooker and it all bursts forth in a flash. "She’s not your baby.” Robin says through clenched teeth. “We love each other more than anything. And you can never pray that away.”
She turns and leaves before Vickie’s mom can answer, ignoring Nancy’s confused looks as she walks back to the car in a daze. Neither of them says a word on the drive back to Robin’s house. She wonders how Vickie’s parents found out. Was it a note left out? An overheard conversation? Gossip at the supermarket? What could she have changed? Guilt claws at her. She should have turned down Vickie’s advances. She should have never spoken to Vickie at all.
“Robin?” Nancy’s voice jerks her out of her thoughts. She realizes Nancy’s driven her home. “Want me to come in with you?”
“Don’t you have to take your French test?”
"You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Because I’ll be a target for Vecna? Let him come!” She kicks the Walkman, useless at her feet Vickie was going to miss prom, graduation, maybe college, because of her. Her love is a poison that would destroy anyone it touched.
“You don’t mean that,” Nancy says.
"Yeah, I do. You don’t understand.!” Fat tears roll down her cheeks as she shudders with anger and ferocity, at Vickie’s parents, Hawkins, the world. And stupid Nancy Wheeler has never worried a day in her life about being condemned for who she is. “How can I live like this, Nance? If I try to love someone, I destroy them.”
“Robin,” Nancy repeats, softer. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Nancy leans over to hug her, tentatively at first but gripping her hard as the wailing sobs come.
After the last of her cries have petered out, Robin pulls away from Nancy to find a big wet splotch on her shoulder. “I’m…I’m sorry…I’m getting snot all over your blouse.” Robin sniffles.
“Good news: It’s not dry clean.” Nancy giggles and Robin manages a chuckle. This isn’t the way she ever intended to come out to her friend-to any of them, but at the moment, Nancy’s quiet acceptance is all she needs.
Robin leaves Hawkins the day after graduation.
She’s cashed in her savings and her favors. The plan: go to Chicago. Find an apartment and a job. Go to all the places she and Vickie were planning. She knows it won’t be perfect. But she can’t be in Hawkins. Not right now.
The morning she leaves, she’s standing in the driveway of her house, having hugged her parents goodbye. Steve slings Robin’s duffel bag into the trunk and slams it shut. He and Nancy are driving Robin to the Greyhound station in the next town. “Ready to go?”
“Just about,” Robin takes a long, wide look at her neighborhood, not loosening her grip on the white bag in her hand. The raised ranch she grew up in. Eighteen summers of fireworks and barbecues and running in sprinklers and laying out on the patio. And even if she returns, she’ll be transformed, no longer of Hawkins alone.
“We’ll keep looking for Vickie. We’ll get your message to her if we do,” Nancy assures her. In the week that’s passed, Nancy and Steve have tried to track down Vickie, asking her older sisters, prying around at the church, but have had no luck finding out where she’s been sent. “Mike was still insisting this morning I make you stay.”
“Tell him to give the Mind Flayer hell.” She said goodbye to the younger kids last night after graduation, though she didn’t give them the full story. Someday, she thinks, she’ll be able to tell them.
“We’re here for you. Anything you need,” Nancy reminds her.
“Can we get going? “ Steve slaps the car roof. “I am not driving you to Chicago if you miss your bus.”
Laughing, they get in the car. Robin stretches out in the backseat as Steve pulls out of the driveway, with Nancy riding shotgun. The sighs of her childhood pass by as they head to the highway. When they reach the on-ramp, she knows it’s time, and opens the white bag.
Steve catches sight of her in the rearview mirror. “What is that?”
“What I’m leaving behind.” She balances Vickie’s corsage on her lap, she rolls down the window. The petals are already dry and shriveled and break apart as she touches them. As the car picks up speed, Robin tears off the violet petals and lets them go, one by one, into the roadside dust.