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Nancy Wheeler tries to be good, mostly. Her parents tried their best to raise her on the straight and narrow path, what with early curfews and expectations of academic excellence and church every Sunday. She learned to keep her head down and her mouth shut and to paste a smile on her face, even when all she wanted to do was scream. She did everything a good girl was supposed to do, and somehow she caught the attention of the notorious Steve “the hair” Harrington her sophomore year. And of course she fell for him, because that’s what any good girl is supposed to do when she catches the interest of the local bad boy. Even her first rebellion – it seems so small now, but at the time her 16-year-old heart almost burst with the thrill of it – had been something out of one of the cheesy movies she and her mom watch after Holly goes to bed (Mike always sulks off to his room when they turn one on, because those movies are “gross,” and her father just laughs at them before he goes to bed). She’ll never forget that first rebellion – can’t forget it, because it killed her best friend.
Rationally, Nancy knows that what happened to Barb isn’t really her fault. She didn’t know anything about alternate dimensions or demogorgons or the incredible danger that found a home in Hawkins. But late at night, she still wonders sometimes. If she had been good, if she had listened to Barb, if she hadn’t shotgunned a beer or had sex, would it have changed?
Being “good” went out the window pretty quickly once she learned about the Upside Down. That was when Nancy learned how to shoot a gun, when she realized it was kill or be killed. And after it was all over, when the demogorgon was gone (but so was El, so was Barb), being “good” came a lot less naturally to Nancy. She glared, she talked back, she made herself heard. She decided she was going to be a journalist – she was going to find the truth and tell stories and inform people. She wasn’t going to let people in power keep children in labs and cover up deaths and summon extradimensional demons without any accountability. It felt like the least she could do after everything she had witnessed. And, for the first time in a long time, she was doing something because she really, truly, honestly liked it. Not because her parents wanted her to or because her teachers said so or because she was “supposed” to. She was a reporter because she wanted to be, much to the dismay of her mother, who made it no secret that she had hoped her daughter would pursue a quieter life.
Even in her defiance, Nancy still finds herself trying to be good. She ends things with Steve, but then starts dating Jonathan, because that’s what she’s supposed to do after the two of them almost died together. And she likes Jonathan, the same way she liked Steve, but this time she’s going to make the relationship work. It’s what good girls do, after all.
Things with Jonathan last until California. He leaves, and their calls slowly get shorter and shorter, with Jonathan talking more and more about his friend Argyle all while listening less and less to Nancy. She thinks he might be high during a few of their phone calls – something that the Jonathan she met in Hawkins never would have done. Or at least, she thinks he never would have done something like that. She can’t say for sure. As their relationship unravels, Nancy wonders how well she ever knew her boyfriend. And she starts to think that maybe Jonathan has become like Steve now – someone she loves, but not someone she’s in love with.
The next time they talk, Nancy ends things. Jonathan doesn’t cry or grovel, just says “okay,” and she hangs up the phone. She can’t decide if she wants him to call back.
And then Jonathan is the last thing on her mind, because there’s Vecna and Fred is dead and Max is possessed and Robin Buckley is going to make Nancy rip her hair out. She’s always known vaguely of Robin’s existence – Barb had mentioned her a few times – but Nancy had never met the girl until she showed up at Starcourt with Steve on the Fourth of July, rambling about soccer broken bones without so much as introducing herself.
Robin has been under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch ever since Nancy demanded to know who she was that night at the mall. Everything about her irked Nancy – her boyish clothing, her messy hair, her crooked smile, her constant rambling, her sarcastic tone. In her quiet moments, much to her annoyance, Nancy often found her mind wandering to Robin. She just didn’t get the girl, much less understand what’s going on with her and Steve. Because even though they both keep telling her that the two of them are just platonic “with a capital P,” Nancy feels like there’s something she’s missing. She doesn’t know if it’s journalistic instinct or just a gut feeling, but Nancy is positive the two of them are hiding something from her. And no matter how much they tell her nothing is going on, she’s determined to find out the little secret the two of them are keeping.
As much as Nancy had dreaded dealing with Robin and Steve when they showed up while police questioned her about Fred, she has to admit that the pair had generally been on their best behavior. To her surprise, Robin even ditched Steve for a library mission with Nancy, something Nancy still had mixed feelings about. The girl annoyed her to no end, but some part of Nancy’s chest filled with glee when Robin chose her over Steve. That glee dwindles quickly when Nancy realizes Robin is incapable of silence, but she does find herself developing a sort of grudging respect for the taller girl. Nancy always thought The Weekly Watcher was a sham that stained the field of journalism, but Robin had insisted on checking their archives, landing the only lead of the day. Maybe that grudging respect is why Nancy insisted on bringing Robin with her to visit Victor – she can tell Steve is hurt she didn’t invite him, just as much as she can tell that Robin is shocked to have been included in the plan.
Steve’s disbelieving “She’s giving you academic scholar vibes?” rings in her head as she digs through her closet, searching for clothes Robin may be able to wear. Robin isn’t much bigger than Nancy, but she’s significantly taller. Nancy is able to outfit her in a blouse and skirt she rarely wears, and she takes a secret delight in seeing tomboy Robin dressed in feminine clothes – in her feminine clothes. The sight of Robin standing awkwardly in her clothes and smiling abashedly makes something flip in Nancy’s stomach, but she pushes the feeling down, crediting it as a sense of pride in her work and nothing more.
And then they’re in the director’s office at Pennhurst asylum, and Robin will. Not. Stop. Talking, and Nancy thinks she’s going to have to strangle her, but it gets them an audience with Creel, so she swallows the scathing words she had prepared and settles for a subtle high-five as they walk towards the cells. Briefly, she wonders what would happen if she laced their fingers together, but she quickly brushes the thought away. Surely it’s just because they’re friends, and holding hands is a thing that friends do.
(Are they friends? Nancy makes a note to ask).
Creel tells them what they need to know before the director is back with guards, escorting them out, and Nancy whispers to Robin that they should make a break for it, that they’re faster than the guards and can get to the car, to which Robin immediately begins protesting.
“It took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies,” she rambles in a way that Nancy is starting to find endearing (she’ll have to unpack that later), but there isn’t time. So Nancy does what she thought about doing earlier – she grabs Robin’s hand and runs, lacing their fingers as she takes off. They don’t stay connected for long because Robin really is a weird runner, but Nancy swears she can still feel the ghost of Robin’s hand in hers. She mentally files that bit of information away with the feeling she got seeing Robin in her clothes and promises herself that she’ll get to the bottom of all of this later.
She asks Robin if they’re friends in the woods, and Robin seems surprised by the question.
“Uh…yeah?” she stammers. “Right?”
Nancy smiles, but something still eats at her. Maybe it’s the fact that Robin seems to be trying to set her up with Steve, which confirms that they were both telling the truth about not dating, but Nancy can’t shake the feeling she’s missing something. She also feels oddly disappointed, for reasons she can’t quite put her finger on. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be friends with Robin – to Nancy’s surprise, she actually enjoys the other girl’s company. And surely she should want to date Steve, right? They’ve both grown so much since their last relationship, and Nancy is single now, and it wouldn’t hurt to date him, but something about it feels wrong. Robin said she wanted the happiness of her friends, but would it be weird if Nancy and Steve dated? Would Robin still be around, or would she leave them alone as a couple? The thought of losing her fragile friendship with Robin makes Nancy’s stomach twist unpleasantly, and she banishes the thought, only for another, heavier thought to creep in. Robin said she hoped for the happiness of her friends, but what about happiness of her own? Nancy glances at the taller girl out of the corner of her eye, watching the way Robin’s chin length hair bounces around her sharp cheekbones, the way her wide blue eyes flit around rapidly, attempting to take everything in. She doesn’t look sad, Nancy thinks. But she isn’t sure Robin looks happy either.
Nancy doesn’t get much time to ponder though, because a clock is tolling in her mind and she barely has time to think oh no before she loses touch with her surroundings.
Seeing Barb’s body in Steve’s pool makes Nancy’s stomach leap into her throat, and she fights back the urge to retch. Fresh waves of guilt wash over her as she takes in the lifeless eyes of her best friend, and Vecna is calling out to her and so she runs, runs like hell as she prays to any god that may be out there that someone knows her favorite song, or any music she likes, because all she can think is that she will not die in here. And then she makes it to the alternate Creel house – the place in Max’s drawing – and she realizes her friends need to do something now because there’s no way Vecna will let her live after she’s seen this – he’s in her head, he knows what she’s figured out, and now he’s showing her the story of his life because he is not going to let her out alive. And that’s when she hears the singing.
The voice is sweet and pleasantly raspy, and Nancy allows herself to follow it until she sees the gate – her listless body floats over her friends, whose faces are all frozen in a state of panic. Except for Robin, and as Nancy runs, she sees the other girl’s mouth move and realizes she’s singing. They don’t have a Walkman, so Robin is singing to her.
“An angel,” she remembers Victor Creel saying. And Robin certainly seems like one – eyes wide, hair messy, gaze fixed on Nancy as she sings words that are slowly becoming clearer. She hears Vecna’s rage behind her, but she doesn’t dare to look back as she presses forward.
“She rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her,” Robin sings, and Nancy’s stomach is doing all sorts of acrobatics that she dismisses because now is really not the time and then she’s through the gate and she’s falling. And everyone is staring at her like they’re scared to approach except for Robin who rushes to her, all gangly limbs and blue eyes and Nancy flings her arms around her shoulders and sobs as Robin returns the hug, pulling the smaller girl into her chest.
“How’d you know what song to sing?” she asks when the tears subside and she’s trembling slightly less, although she still hasn’t let go of Robin.
“Um…remember when you told me not to touch anything in your room? And I didn’t listen?” Robin looks embarrassed, despite the fact that her inability to follow directions had quite literally just saved Nancy’s life, and Nancy has to smile a little at that. “This was the only one I actually could remember the words to. It was luck, mostly. Sorry that’s super not optimistic but at least it worked? But we should definitely get a Walkman for you because I don’t know how long I can keep singing without losing my voice, and…”
Robin continues to ramble, but Nancy doesn’t listen – just burrows her face into the other girl’s shirt, ignoring the other eyes on her. She knows they have questions, and she wants to give them answers. But for now, she just needs this.
Vecna’s defeat feels almost anti-climactic after everything they’ve been through, but Nancy isn’t complaining. As much as she loves Fleetwood Mac, it’s a relief to not have to carry a Walkman everywhere as a safety precaution. It also lets her hang out with Robin without having to worry about saving the world, which Nancy appreciates. Currently, the two are sprawled on a beanbag in the back room of Family Video – Nancy has taken to dropping in during off-hours just to spend time with Steve and Robin. Mostly Robin. Even when Steve is there, he just sighs and moans about Nancy stealing his best friend before rolling his eyes and waving them off to the back where they watch movies. Robin normally picks new releases, but sometimes they turn on a movie they’ve both seen a hundred times and just talk. Those days are Nancy’s favorites.
Today, they’re watching Sixteen Candles. Robin thinks it’s cheesy and Nancy agrees, but it’s the perfect background noise to keep a particularly bored employee from eavesdropping.
Nancy’s arm is barely brushing against Robin’s side as she listens to the other girl rant about the movie, and Nancy is painfully, blissfully aware of every inch of contact.
“It’s ridiculous. Molly Ringwald could do so much better than any of the guys in that movie, but all she wants is attention from the cool senior boy. It’s insulting, frankly,” she huffs, causing Nancy to laugh.
“If your taste in men is so much better, what would you do if you were Molly Ringwald?” Nancy asks with a giggle, but Robin’s face makes the sound stop in her throat.
“Nance…” Robin pauses. She isn’t looking at Nancy anymore, and her expression is deadly serious.
“Robin?” Nancy asks, hesitantly, once she decides she can’t take the silence anymore.
“Nancy, I…” Robin takes a deep breath. “We’re friends, right? And you probably won’t hate me if I say something that sounds crazy? Like, really, really crazy.”
“You’re scaring me, Robin,” Nancy says, watching her friend chew on her bottom lip and wring her hands. “Of course we’re friends. And you saved my life, remember? I won’t hate you.”
“It’s just…if I were Molly Ringwald and I could date anyone…I wouldn’t date guys.”
“So you wouldn’t date? Robin, that’s not crazy–”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t date,” Robin interrupts, her eyes squeezed shut like she’s expecting a blow and oh.
Nancy finally understands the frustrating dynamic between Steve and Robin that she had spent months dwelling on, the way there was something so intimate about their friendship despite both swearing it was strictly platonic. Steve must have known – he was protecting Robin. Robin, who likes girls and who is watching her with a look of complete and utter terror, looking ready to bolt at any moment.
“That’s…” Nancy wracks her brain for words, reeling from what Robin just said. “That’s cool,” she finishes lamely, and it’s clear that Robin isn’t convinced by her words. “I’m really glad you told me. That takes a lot of guts.”
Nancy fumbles over her words, but they seem to reassure the other girl, who relaxes by a few degrees. Robin gives her a weak smile and Nancy returns it before they both turn back to the movie in silence, although Nancy can’t focus on the screen at all, her brain preoccupied entirely by Robin, who likes girls, who is right next to her. And in a moment of bravery, Nancy presses herself flush against Robin’s side. Robin tenses briefly but doesn’t move away, instead turning her hand so it lays palm up, fingers spread ever so slightly. And Nancy doesn’t take it, but she watches that hand for the rest of the movie – it’s an invitation to rebel, to go against everything she’s grown up hearing and believing, and she knows it isn’t for her. But she finds herself jealous of the woman who is lucky enough to get to hold Robin Buckley’s hand.
It’s been a week since Robin’s confession to Nancy, and Nancy hasn’t stopped thinking about it. She hasn’t seen Robin since. It isn’t a bad thing that Robin likes girls, but Nancy keeps mulling that fact over, the way an oyster turns over an abrasive piece of sand until it becomes a pearl. Finally, Nancy calls Steve. He picks up on the second ring, and in lieu of a greeting she just asks, “You know about Robin?”
“Hello to you too, Nance,” Steve says sarcastically. “Yes, I know about Robin Buckley, but I’m guessing you aren’t asking me if I was aware of her existence.”
“Her dating,” she elaborates. “Because she told me and I can’t stop thinking about it. And it isn’t that there’s any problem, it’s just I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do all the stuff you do with a guy with a girl.”
“Nancy. Please tell me you didn’t call me to discuss Robin’s sex life,” he replies, and she can hear his exasperation through the phone.
“No, Steve, it isn’t that,” Nancy fumbles, trying to defend herself. “It’s like. I’ve only kissed guys. I’ve only held hands with guys. I’ve only been on dates with guys. But she’s going to do all of that with a girl? And I guess I didn’t know people really felt that way and –”
“You have a crush on her,” Steve interrupts, and Nancy’s blood burns hot and cold at the same time as she thinks back to all of the times being around Robin has sparked a storm of butterflies in her stomach, the number of times she’s flushed because Robin called her “Nance,” the nights she spent awake and seething that she couldn’t get Robin Buckley off of her mind.
“Oh my god,” Nancy whispers as a million little moments hit her like a truck. She remembers Robin’s extended hand in the back room of Family Video, and how she wasn’t brave enough to take it then. She thinks she may be brave enough now. Then she hangs up without a goodbye. Surely Steve will understand she has another call to make.
Nancy feels like she’s going to explode as she exits her car at Family Video. Phoning Robin had been a bust, so she decided to take a gamble that Robin would be working and Keith wouldn’t. Her gamble seemed to have paid off, and Nancy feels her heart start pounding against her ribs at the sight of a familiar head of dirty blonde hair.
“Robin!” She practically yells when she enters, drowning out the noise of the bell over the door. Robin whirls to face her, clearly startled.
“Jesus, Nance. We closed like ten minutes ago,” Robin says, and Nancy realizes she was so worried about finding Robin that it hadn’t occurred to her to check the store hours in the window.
“Should’ve locked the door if you wanted to keep people out,” she retorts, resorting to sarcasm to protect herself from the flurry of emotions in her chest. Robin still looks confused by Nancy’s presence, so she asks, “Do you want to come over?”
“Now?”
“You just said you’re closed. We can order pizza and watch a movie – your pick. You’re welcome to stay the night too, my parents won’t care and Mike is probably gonna be at Dustin’s for some Hellfire thing.”
Robin ponders the offer for a while before she answers. “Deal. But I’ll have to go home first to change out of this,” she says, gesturing to her uniform, causing Nancy to laugh.
It’s a date, Nancy almost says, but she chokes on the words, so instead she replies with “cool” and offers to put Robin’s bike in her car while Robin finishes her closing routine.
The credits for a movie Nancy didn’t watch are rolling across the screen of her TV as she sits in her bed next to Robin. She spent the last hour and a half watching Robin – how she would grin or scrunch her nose or roll her eyes at the action on screen – and now she’s been caught, because the movie is over and Nancy didn’t notice because she was too enthralled studying the constellations of freckles on Robin’s cheeks.
“Nance?” Robin’s voice is soft and confused, and Nancy realizes she wants nothing more than to kiss her. So she leans over and presses the tiniest peck to Robin’s cheek, watching the other girl flush. Robin opens her mouth to say something, but Nancy starts talking first.
“Remember when you told me you liked girls and I didn’t know what to say? It’s because I was having my own crisis,” Nancy rambles. “Because I was thinking about you like…all the time. And it drove me crazy and I thought I hated you because I would get so mad that I thought about you so much and how you were so smart and funny and genuine and then we had to save the world from Vecna and all I wanted to do was pair up with you even though you drove me crazy and then we were friends except I was still so jealous of Steve because I really thought you were dating and I hated how much time you spent together and I didn’t understand and I took it all out on you but the whole time I was jealous and I know I was an honest-to-god bitch but this whole time it was because I wanted something I didn’t think I could have and I didn’t even know I was allowed to want because I’ve spent my whole life trying to be good and make my parents happy and do what I’m supposed to, but that’s all bullshit, and–”
Robin kisses her. Properly, not a shy peck on her cheek like Nancy had given her. Robin’s lips are soft and Nancy can taste the barest hint of her chapstick. And Nancy has kissed people before, but somehow kissing Robin is something different and Nancy decides she could probably kiss her for hours if Robin would let her. Because Robin moves with her, like she’s dedicated to memorizing everything about Nancy, not like Steve or Jonathan, who kissed like they wanted to claim Nancy’s mouth as their own.
When they break apart, Robin is looking at Nancy with such an earnest expression that Nancy feels like she could cry. “I thought I ruined everything when I told you,” Robin finally whispers. “I was so scared to lose you, even if we were only friends. I didn’t want to make your life worse somehow by being gay.”
“You said you were invested in the happiness of your friends,” Nancy remembers. “You didn’t say anything about your own happiness.”
Robin smiles sadly. “I didn’t think I was allowed to have what I wanted. I never imagined…” She trails off, and her ruffled hair and big eyes and high cheekbones are so breathtaking that Nancy has to reach out to her, to cup Robin’s face in her hands and just look at her before finally kissing her again, slow and deep and sweet.
“You’re allowed to have this,” she whispers, laying her forehead against Robin’s so that they’re nose-to-nose. “We’re allowed to have this.”
Robin kisses her again.