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Robin’s shoes squeaked along the hallway floor as she made her way to the storage room. School had ended half an hour ago, students fleeing the building the moment they got chance. Loose paper lay on the floor, old food wrappers crunched underfoot, the bins were overfilling as usual, releasing foul smelling odours which were almost as bad as the smell of the boy’s changing rooms (Robin had never actually stepped foot in those changing rooms and never would after having been unfortunate enough to be standing in front of the doors when they opened, exposing her to tear pricking stenches).
It was a Wednesday which meant Robin had band practise for two whole hours. Normally, Robin would hate being stuck in school for any additional amount of time but she actually enjoys playing the trumpet… and maybe she likes seeing a certain red-headed girl, just a little bit, at practise. Watching her laugh with her friends, watching her smile at something Robin couldn’t hear, watching her brows furrow as she tried to perfect something on her instrument, maybe, just maybe, focussing on the way her pink, glossy lips stuck to her trumpet… No, of course not, she’d never be so creepy. That’s left to the photography club people.
It’s actually because of this girl Robin is in the halls instead of the music room, trudging towards the dingy storage closet which hasn’t been cleaned since the school opened and couples are always caught making out in. She grimaces slightly at that thought as she stops in front of the door, not able to see anything beyond its small glass window. Robin remembers what the red head had asked her in a sweetly intoxicating voice which left her pleasantly startled - the blonde had been cleaning her instrument when the other girl tapped her on the shoulder, which might’ve made Robin jump but who cares. She’d smiled like they’d known each other for years, even though Robin only knew her through stolen glances and her own wild imagination. She’d said one of her friends were missing their drumsticks and was wondering if Robin could go get a spare pair from the utility - the blonde stammered out a late reply, too busy staring, unblinking, at the girl’s eyes, before moving her lanky frame out the door and into the hall. Her face was warm, even now outside the closet.
She opened the door and coughed at the dust she breathed in. She tried pulling the light switch but it simply let out a click. She pulled again to the same result. Robin groaned internally and moved to search the dark room - the girl kept one foot in the doorway to keep the door open so at least some light could get into the small space. After a couple minutes of groping around in the near pitch black she clasped her hand around someone cold, metal and cylindrical. Robin murmured a triumphant, ‘score,’ as she smiled at the flashlight in her hand. It came to life with a satisfying flick and the blonde pointed it around the room exposing many dark, damp boxes with smudged labels written in pen and loose items scattered along metal shelves. The door shut softly behind her as she moved to the back, looking for what she needed. After a moment she settled on a box labelled, ‘BAND,’ and set the flashlight down to rifle through it. A spare hat, a spare uniform, a random pair of cymbals, scraps of old music sheet paper and…
‘Drumsticks!’ Robin held the battered pair to her chest with a relieved smile before a throat cleared behind her - the drumsticks fell to the ground with a clatter.
‘Sorry if I uh… scared you… I just need to look at the box right there,’ a hand pointed to the box above Robin from a person with a soft yet firm, high pitched voice. Robin found the voice surprisingly familiar and knew this person must be from her year - she scrambled to pick up the drumsticks and her discarded flashlight, pointing it towards the ceiling revealing the person to be… Nancy goddamn Wheeler. In the flesh. Soft, lush curls so close Robin could run her hands through them. Arms crossed over her chest and with scrunched eyebrows, in concern or irritation Robin couldn’t decipher. Robin’s face flushed instantly and she let out a nervous chuckle.
‘Oh yeah- that’s my bad was just looking for uh… was just looking for uhm…’
‘Drumsticks?’
‘Yeah those old things, haha! Anyways, I’ll be going. Yep, I’ll be uhm… going now,’ Robin shuffled away from Nancy’s burning gaze and towards sanctuary of the hall, away from any pretty girls bound to make her heart combust. She was about to turn the door handle when Nancy let out an annoyed huff and said, ‘Wait.’
The blonde went rigid and turned with an anxious, tight smile. She turned the flashlight to the ground so she couldn’t see Nancy’s face.
‘What’s up?’ What’s up? God she sounded so stupid right now.
‘I can’t… I can’t reach the Weekly Streak box - could you please…’ Nancy made a gesture towards it which Robin could barely make out in the minimal light, ‘Could you give it to me?’
The blonde blinked slowly, feeling the warmth creep from her face to her neck - being in close proximity to someone like Nancy Wheeler always made her feel like she was slowly melting. It makes every room a potential oven.
‘Of course-,’ she cleared her throat, ‘I mean yeah sure,’ skin flushing further in embarrassment. She steps back towards the shelf and flicks the flashlight to find the right one. Sure enough, the Weekly Streak box (labelled ‘WEEKLY STREAK,’ funnily enough) was a couple shelves above the Band box, just out of Nancy’s reach. Robin holds out the flashlight for Nancy to take (which she does and Robin tries her best not to falter when their skin momentarily brushes) and reaches upwards for the box. Her hands carry the surprisingly heavy box down to the ground - Robin brushes her sweaty palms off on her shirt.
‘Ok, all done here - I mean I’m done at least you might be stuck here a little longer. I’ll take my leave-‘
‘You forgot the drumsticks.’
Robin turns back around and snatches the drumsticks off the shelf she left them on while grabbing the box.
‘Thanks very much, I appreciate your help Nancy, now I will… I’ll just…’ Robin rattles the door handle again and again. It doesn’t budge. She tried again, this time with more urgency - nothing happens. Her eyebrows knit together, a bead of sweat rolls down her neck, ‘Uh… we might be stuck in here.’
Nancy looks up from the box she had just begun rummaging through with a disgruntled expression, ‘What?’
‘I said I think we might be stuck in here.’
The brunette huffs once again, rising from her crouch on the ground and dusting her hands on her long, pastel skirt. She moves with smooth steps to Robin and ushers the girl to move aside, which she does with minimal persuasion. Her soft hands clasp the handle and attempt to move the door to no avail. Again and again and again until the actual horror of the situation settles into Robin’s bones. Stuck. In the storage room. With Nancy Wheeler. In the dark. Her chest seizes. This would be any average guy’s dream day, but Robin is not a guy and neither is Nancy. The blonde is reminded once more of how rotten she is, so thoroughly and naturally rotten.
‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit,’ Robin mutters under her breath and bunches some of her hair in her hands, pulling a little too harshly. She drops to the ground and cradles her knees to her chest. Nancy is still trying to push open the door, muttering, ‘come on, come on,’ but it’s jammed or broken or faulty or all of the above - it just won’t move. Each rattle makes Robin’s teeth hurt until she has to close her eyes to stop them from watering. Her heart is pounding so hard she can feel it in her throat, jostling her chest with each beat. Eventually the brunette gives up with an irritated yell and a kick to the door. It barely shudders. Shitty school doors.
She bangs her fist on the door a couple times, not so much in an attempt to force it open as it is a outlet for her anger, and leans her forehead on the coolness of the door’s window. She takes a minute to recollect herself before noticing the other girl curled in on herself by the wall. The flashlight is still alight and has been left, discarded, on its side on the ground. The drumsticks are no where to be found. She must be scared, Nancy thinks briefly. The brunette takes a deep breath, attempting to clear out the frustration steadily building in her chest and relinquish the tension in her shoulders, before moving to meet Robin eye to eye. She sits on her heels and watches the girl from a respectable distance.
The blonde’s eyes are wide but not looking at anything in particular. She’s wrapped her long arms around her legs to prop her head up on her knees, her lips are raw and slightly bloody. But, as the brunette settles in front of her, Robin refocuses on the girl and watches with eyes that look spooked. Her face actually reminds the brunette of the math’s class they’d shared together last term, when the teacher would call on random students for the fun of it. Well, one unfortunate time she’d caught Robin out and the blonde had had this exact look on her face - Nancy remembers it exactly. In fact, if she were able to see Robin’s face clearly right now she’s sure her face would be pale and her ears would be a stark red. Nancy offers a small smile to the girl, oblivious to the effect it has on her, before reaching over and giving her shoulder a tiny squeeze.
‘Hey, it’ll be fine, I bet you we’ll be out of here soon,’ Nancy doesn’t believe what she says. Most of the teachers have already gone home. Robin scoffs. She doesn’t either, shuffling slightly out of Nancy’s reach.
‘Better hope you’re right because if I have to spend one more minute in this tiny goddamn room I swear….’ Robin chuckles to herself and doesn’t finish her sentence. Her eyes are akin to that of a trapped, wild animal. Nancy gives Robin a puzzled look before pulling herself away and leaning herself against the opposite shelf. She pouts into the shadows - she hadn’t anticipated Robin to be anything but a nervous wreck, considering that’s all she’s seen the girl be. Nancy feels the familiar tug of curiosity in the back of her mind, the tug which persuaded her to join the Weakly Streak and even pursue a career as a reporter, telling her to ask questions, find out more, discover who Robin Buckley really is. A strangely anxious girl? From what she’s observed, yes. A decent trumpet player? From the pep rallies she’s attended, also yes. Someone she should steer clear of? Something Nancy has yet to see and understand. Her eyes turns to face Robin - the blonde has her face turned to the ceiling. The meagre flit of light from the window is hitting her face so that she looks kind of pale and glowing. Ghostly even. Untouchable. The only proof of her being anything tangible in the lingering warmth on the brunette’s palm where she had gripped the girl’s shoulder. Nancy rips her gaze away. They both stay silent, listening for movement out in the hall.
___________
Neither girl knows how long it’s been. The flashlight has been propped up in the middle of the room to provide the most light possible to both of them. Since their last conversation, Nancy has lowered herself to the ground from her previous place leaning against the shelves. Robin has been silently rifling through a box of old VHS tapes for the past few minutes. The sound of her movement is pulling Nancy from her comfortable silence, making her lose her train of thought, irritating her slightly. She has to suppress the urge to snap at Robin to stop fidgeting so much. And to think, all Nancy had been looking for today was some old articles before going back home. She should be back home now. Not stuck in some random storage closet which reeks of rat piss and is surely contaminating her with some sort of unknown disease. And with Robin Buckley. Who could forget that?
The blonde has seemingly grown a lot from the last time Nancy had seen her in Sophomore year. Her limbs are clumsy and almost awkwardly long. She’s much taller. The freckles she used to have had faded away per the winter season, her blonde hair also being much lighter than it would in the summer. She keeps searching through the box, observing the different titles and organising them by some sort of code Nancy can’t decipher. After a few more moments of the brunette silently watching Robin, the girl leans her head back and lets out a long, grumbling sigh. Nancy directs her eyes to the floor.
‘God, I’m so hungry right now,’ Robin moans into the empty air, pressing her palms into her eyes before tilting her head to look at Nancy, ‘this is not how I wanted to spend my Wednesday evening… I mean no offence to you Nancy but, well, I mean-‘
‘Nope, I get it,’ Nancy pops the ‘p’ in her reply and clicks her tongue, leaning her head against the shelf behind her. Robin lets out an attempt at chuckle which just comes out as a weak groan. They stay silent for a couple more minutes until the blonde moves to put the VHS box back and turns to the Weekly Streak box. The girl finds a few interesting articles about new show releases and a strange disease killing animals in their town but most are boring, soccer matches, basketball matches, cheerleading squads, nationals, regionals blah blah blah. God, nothing interesting happens in Hawkins. The blonde struggles to speak for a moment before her intrigue wins her over.
‘What were you looking for?’
Nancy slowly turns her head from the door to Robin, an eyebrow half raised. The blonde swallows harshly. Her muscles tense slightly and she feels like she might bolt for the door (as if that would help) - something which happens whenever Nancy gives the blonde her attention.
‘What was that?’
She clears her throat before repeating herself, ‘What were you looking for?’ Robin waves her hand at the box in front of her, ‘You know, in this astoundingly interesting box of newspaper articles?’ She finishes in her own cracked sarcastic drawl, cringing at how her voice sounds. Nancy considers the girl for a moment, how her expression is clearly attempting to look casual while a bead of sweat drips down the side of her face. The sound of shuffling fills the quiet room as Nancy kneels herself beside Robin (who is now struggling to keep herself composed, afraid to even move. She’s so close that Robin can smell her perfume - flowery, strong) and reaches a hand into the box Robin has pulled in front of her. The blonde watches with intent at Nancy’s focussed face, the slope of her nose and the peaks of her scrunched lips highlighted by her being in perfect range of the window, inspecting each article.
‘I’ll have you know, this writing is all very interesting,’ Nancy says in a soft and snarky voice, which has Robin flushing once more. She panics to answer, afraid to have accidentally offended the girl, gesticulating wildly while also being careful to not hit the girl next to her;
‘Oh I didn’t mean that it was, like, bad or anything- I’m sorry whenever I’m uncomfortable or, or I mean nervous! Nervous, I say things I don’t really mean to try and be funny I…’ the next words die in her throat as she watches Nancy’s shoulders shake in soft laughter. Her eyes watch warily, thinking Nancy might be laughing at her, before she notices the fond smile on her face. Robin finds herself laughing too, not just to try and make the situation less awkward but because the girl’s laughter was actually contagious. Almost infuriatingly so.
‘You’re pretty funny Robin,’ the brunette grins at the other girl, failing to notice the sound of an already racing heart picking up its speed by a few notches. Robin thinks it’s insane, she can feel her heart in her mouth and all Nancy seems to see is her smile in response. It makes little shreds of disappointment fall into the pit of her stomach. But how stupid could she be to feel disappointed when she’s got Nancy Wheeler sitting directly next to her?
Robin is still lost in her own thoughts when Nancy produces a single, wrinkled piece of paper. It’s got thick blocks of writing all the way to about halfway down the sheet where it ends abruptly, giving way to stark white. The blondes interest is peaked as she takes in the way Nancy’s eyes soften looking at the paper - it must be important to her. She looks away before Nancy can catch her and her already red face.
‘We’re doing some comparison pieces for a board in the Hawkins High newspaper club, I was coming here to grab some of my old work from… God was this 1982? Feels like ages ago,’ Nancy’s eyes appear to glaze over slightly, lost in her reminiscing, and Robin took the opportunity to memorise the angularity and curves of the brunette’s face. There’s something more… harrowing to her expression compared to only a year ago but Robin dismisses that. She absently wonders how easily she could cup the girls face in her hands before she starts talking again, ‘anyways, this is it - an article I wrote when I was around 15 years old from my English class which was later passed onto the Hawkins High newspaper for them to look at. We’re trying to encourage young writers to join our club by showcasing how much we’ve all improved while working on the Weekly Streak, which in my case is… a lot.’
Robin snorts unconsciously and only realises what she’d done when Nancy turns to give her a confused look. The blonde mumbles an apology before saying, ‘If you’ve improved a lot more from where you’ve started I mean… Your writing is crazy good Nance - I’ve read some of your stuff, the pieces that are pinned near the Weekly Streak printing room… it’s… well it’s amazing.’ The girl finishes with a satisfied smile to the shelf opposite her. She’d actually managed to get all her thoughts (well… maybe not all of them) without rambling uncontrollably. Her face begins to warm and she turns her head to find Nancy staring at her with deep, curious eyes - focussed on her. She flushes once again, her palms clammy. It all catches up to her all at once - Robin had not only admitted that she had read Nancy’s articles in specific but had also called them amazing. And blushed. A lot.
‘Ah- I’m sorry if that came off too strong, I wouldn’t… I just wanted to say-‘
‘What did you call me?’ Nancy interjects
Robin blinks twice, pausing momentarily. Her mouth goes dry and she struggles to swallow - Nancy is still giving her that intense stare.
‘H-huh?’
‘That name - you called me Nance.’
‘Oh, did I? It… it must have just slipped out. I’m sorry if you don’t want me calling you that,’ the blonde clamps her mouth shut, preventing herself from speaking anymore. She feels the familiar sag of shame digging into her body. Shame and embarrassment. She’d managed to mess up again. Every time, every damn time she even attempts to become friends with someone she screws it up. It’s always, always, her.
Nancy lets out a loud ‘hmm’ and finally releases Robin from her gaze instead giving her attention to the boxes in front of her. Robin’s legs are long enough that, stretched out in front of her, they reach the shelf opposite the two girls. Robin, who had just called her Nance, a nickname she’s received a number of times but its never made her heart pick up a beat like it just did. Robin who had just complimented her work, another thing she’s also had happen many times before but never has it made her mouth go dry and her lips part in rapt attention. Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to wrap her head around it - the only comparison she has for the feeling is… being chased through the woods by a monster from another dimension. The dropping of her stomach, the fluttering of her pulse in her body. Is she… scared of Robin? No, Nancy almost lets out a harsh laugh at that. A smile grows on her face, blood rushes to her cheeks.
‘You can call me Nance,’ the brunette decides.
Robin whips her head around, lips parted in shock.
‘Really?’
Nancy throws her head back in a laugh.
‘Yeah, of course,’ she places a hand on top of Robin’s shoulder and tilts her head at the blonde, ‘come on now, don’t look so shocked.’ The other girls flounders for a response, stammering out some indignant retort with a crease in between her eyebrows before she freezes completely. Nancy responds to the sudden pause instantly, her muscles going tense.
‘I hear…’ Robin whispers and looks at the ground, ‘I hear people! In the hall!’
Both girls scramble to their feet, Nancy offering her hand to Robin (who hesitates for a moment) and hauls her up to a stand. They rush to the door’s window, listening to the oncoming footsteps and seeing a person’s shadow growing larger and larger on the hallway floor.
‘Hey! Hey, can you get us out?’ Nancy slams her fist on the door and Robin watches with her mouth wide open, making a conscious effort to close it and swallow. The person comes into clearer view - it’s the janitor. Praise the lord.
‘Get us out man!’ Robin joins in and delivers a solid kick to the base of the door. The janitor pauses in his whistling, hearing voices from the storage closet. He cautiously steps towards the door before spotting the two girl’s faces and muttering a, ‘What the…’.
‘You seem to have caught us at the right time sir,’ Robin explains in a dry, raspy voice which Nancy is struggling not to gawk at, ‘you see, us two ladies were looking for some supplies in this very closet when the door became mysteriously locked so that none could dare escape! Crazy right? Now let us out please,’ she adds with a twinge of desperation. When the janitor begins jamming some keys into the lock and rattling it around both girls hurried out ‘thank you’s,’ the door finally being pushed open, letting light spill in and Robin and Nancy spill out.
‘Oh sweet God, I’d never imagine myself to be happy in these stupid halls,’ Robin wraps her arms around herself and smiles at Nancy. The brunette returns it with an equally bright smile. Robin was good company. The janitor looks between the girls with a raised brow before departing silently.
‘Same here,’ Nancy begins walking down the hall, a few metres to the nearest clock, ‘it’s been… two hours? Jesus…’ the brunette gives one final look, slightly sad thought she hid it well. Robin could still see through it, ‘I hope I start you seeing you around school more, Robin. Have a good evening despite… well you know,’ she gestures vaguely at the closet door and the space between them. The blonde lets out a soft sigh.
‘You too… Nance,’ she says it with a sense of finality she hadn’t expected the nickname to carry, ‘I’ll see you around.’ Even though Robin knew she wouldn’t - she couldn’t. Her heart couldn’t handle it. Being around a girl she knows she cant have, being around any girl that makes her feel the way Nancy Wheeler makes her feel. It isn’t right. Not to the girls she feels for, not to herself. It’s damaging and it’ll get her killed if it goes on - just look at what happened to that Byers kid a little while ago. Maybe he’s not dead but he… Robin doesn’t want to think about.
Nancy turns on her heel towards the direction of the photography club. Her skirt swooshes around her calves, her hair bounces with each step. For a moment time slows down for Robin. She allows herself just a couple more seconds to admire the girl before turning the other direction down the hall. It’s even more silent, the band kids must have already piled out for the night. In the darkness Robin almost thinks she can hear creatures roaming the woods. That’s impossible, she thinks absently before entering the cold outside.