Chapter Text
“Robin!”
The eyeliner glided across her bottom eyeline smoothly then she used a gentle, unpainted finger to blend it out.
“You’re gonna be late!”
Robin erratically grabbed her beat-to-hell Jansport backbag and her converse as she sprinted out her bedroom.
“Rob- Oh thank goodness! You’re running late, sweetie,” Melissa chided.
“I know, mom,”
“Remember to try on the new church dress I got you and let me know if it fits well,”
“Yes, mom,”
“If it doesn’t, I can take it to Karen Wheeler down the street, she does wonderful alterations,”
“I gotta go, mom,”
“Yes of course-Oh! Remember to speak to your guidance counselor today!”
The teenager gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek as she hurriedly put her shoes one, hopping towards the garage on one foot. “Bye, ma! Love you!”
“Be safe!”
“Never!”
Robin quickly wheeled her bike out of the garage before mounting on it and shooting down the street.
Tuesdays were the worst.
Robin Buckley, freshly sixteen, made her way to Hawkins High, the bane of her existence.
Absentmindedly feeling her front pocket of her bag, the teen quickly realized she forgot her Walkman. Groaning to herself, Robin continued her dreaded bike ride to school.
Gliding through the crowds of students, Robin made quick work of locking her bike to the rack and began her walk through the front doors. Following routine, she kept her head down, and shoulders hunched, minimizing the space she occupied. It didn’t take the brunette very long into her high school career to learn how she needs to present herself.
Invisible.
With any luck, no issues will arise as she walks to her class. However, Robin has never been known for her luck.
A familiar giggle flooded her ears to the right, causing her to quicken her pace.
“Dressed dyke-ish per usual, Buckley,” Carol Perkins jeered. Her boyfriend, Tommy, laughed as she passed the couple. Their friend and apparent leader of their “group” just stood back and said nothing.
Stepping over the outstretched, heeled foot obviously meant to trip her, Robin continued to her first-period class.
Lunch was the hardest part of the day. It’s hard to stay out of sight when everyone is cramped in one room and expected to share tables.
It took until her junior year, but Robin finally gained the confidence to actually sit in the lunchroom. She used to hide in the bathroom to eat her lunch. Sitting down at a small table in the corner of the room, Robin finally bit into her apple. She could never keep large meals down. Her doctor said it’s anxiety, her dad says she’s picky.
Looking around the large room, Robin allowed herself to soak in the view. She would never be able to fit in with these people. She was different. Not in a “nerd vs jock” way, either. Robin felt like an outcast to her peers and to the world around her. Like a sock that shrank and squeezes your leg too much. Only feeling right when it’s gone.
Robin quickly finished her apple and hurried out of the lunchroom to meet with her guidance counselor.
Mr. Brun had smiley faces and pamphlets decorating the outside of his door. Robin used to find the appearance comforting, now she just feels annoyance.
The man himself stood up as Robin entered his office.
“Miss Buckley! Thank you for coming to see me,” Mr. Brun also had a pearly white smile that grated on Robin’s nerves. “Would you like a cookie? My wife made them this morning,”
What an asshole.
“I’m okay, thank you, Mr. Brun,” Robin said.
Nodding, Mr. Brun sat back down, “Robin, I would like to discuss a job I would like you to accept,” he said, straight to business, “You’re a very bright girl - top of your class – but you don’t participate in any clubs or extracurriculars outside of marching band,” Robin nodded along as he stated the obvious, “I’ve been concerned with your lack of friend group,” now she began blushing.
What a dickhead! Pointing out that she didn’t have friends like she wasn’t already aware?!
“I would like you to tutor a student for me.”
Robin sat up, “You want me to tutor someone?”
“Yes ma’am, that is what I’m saying.”
“B-But I’m not, like, good with people, Mr. Brun.”
The counselor held out a placating hand, “Which is exactly why I’m asking this of you. I will provide you with a private study room in the library so that you can talk privately. You can meet during your free period. I’m hoping that this will help you to socialize and help this student with his or her grades,” Robin still looked hesitant, “I am not asking that you two become best friends or anything, I’m just asking for you to try.”
Robin sighed. It would give her something to do, for sure. And who knows, maybe the person she tutors will turn out to be a fun person to talk to.
Wednesday continued in a similar way. Robin woke up, gave her mom gray hairs over her lack of punctuality, biked to school, stayed invisible, ate her apple, and got all A’s. Thursday quickly approached and with that came a break in routine.
During her free period, Robin made her way to the library. There were four private study room in the corners of the library. #3 was the one Mr. Brun rented out for their tutoring. Quietly making her way through the library, Robin entered the empty room, she was first. Sighing and counting in her head to counter the nervous buzz she felt, Robin laid out all her books and papers. Having no clue what this person needed help with, she just resorted to bringing everything.
As she laid out her copy of The Alchemist, Robin heard the door open. Looking up, Robin saw one person she never expected to. Out of all the students in the school who needed academic help, she was paired with him.
Steve Harrington glanced around the hallway as Carol and Tommy talked about weekend plans. Every morning began the same: Steve wakes up, does his hair, drives to school, meets up with Carol and Tommy, ignores them while they tease other students passing by, and then he goes to class. Same thing every day. Listening to his friends be assholes to people passing by is always the hardest for him.
Ever since he and Nancy broke up, Steve has been trying to think about who he spends his time with. Nancy’s last words before leaving his house were, “You can be better than them, Steve. You don’t need to be around people who only give a shit about status.”
Now, Steve tries his best not to join in on the harassing or acts of “putting someone in their place”, as Tommy likes to call it.
“Harrington.”
Steve focuses in on Mr. Brun, the guidance counselor, “Yes sir?”
“Can I see you in my office, please?” Without even seeing if the teenager followed, Mr. Brun turned around to go back to his office.
“Ooo what’d you do this time, Stevie?” Tommy nagged him with a stupid smirk. Steve brushed him off and followed the counselor.
Steve shut the smiley face-covered door behind him and sat across from Mr. Brun.
“Mr. Harrington, I recently had a discussion with Mr. Kelly about your grades and he expressed concern for whether or not you will be able to play on the swim team this semester.”
“What?” Steve demanded, “My grades are good! What class are you talking about?”
“Your literature class, Steve. You currently have a D and without any major changes being done, you will fail this semester,” Mr. Brun said gravely.
Steve ran a hand through his hair, “What am I supposed to do?” he asked quietly.
Mr. Brun straightened his back, “I will provide you with a tutor who will attempt to help you raise your grade. You will meet every Tuesday and Thursday during your shared free-period in the library. I will schedule study room #3 for you two to work privately. Does that sound good to you?”
Steve took in all the information he’d just been given very abruptly. He couldn’t fail lit class. Not only would be sit out on the team but his dad would hear about it. Then he’d be in deep shit.
He nodded, “I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Mr. Brun clapped. Steve got up and started to open the door, “Wait, Steve,” he faced the counselor again, “be nice to her.”
Wednesday passed with the same routine. The same sick routine that made Steve nauseous just thinking of.
He laid in his bed, the night before his tutoring session, and thought about what he was doing.
He didn’t have to always spend time with Carol and Tommy. Really, what made him stay? Sure, they’re group was an established “popular” group and it helped him keep a reputation, but why does he have to care about that.
Rolling over on his bed, Steve looked out his bedroom door into the large hallway. A trophy case sat just outside his father’s office. All the trophies his father won in high school stood proudly on the top shelf and all the trophies Steve has won sat on the middle shelf.
Groaning, Steve rolled onto his back, exhausted by his raging thoughts.
Steve walked through the doors of the library. Ignoring the strange looks he got, the eighteen-year-old quickly made his way to study room #3. Through the crack, Steve was able to see a light on in the room. His tutor was already there.
Taking a deep breath, Steve opened the door.