Work Text:
Mr. Hauser
It’s Robin. It’s been a year since… you know. You were ran out of town. I thought, you know, since I graduate soon, that I would give you an update. I think I should start with the least shocking of events. Honestly, that’s not an easy task. Maybe I should have waited a little bit after… everything to write this, so I could actually organize my thoughts. Or maybe I should have written to you more often so I don’t have to compile everything into one letter.
I’m not putting this in any specific order.
Feel free to write back if this makes no sense. It probably won’t make much sense. Or just write back in general. Let me know how everything is going after the whole move.
Anyways, I don’t think I should procrastinate this anymore.
Actually, I’ll start with probably the most shocking event. And that is a very high bar, as you will soon learn. I’m friends with Steve Harrington. Yes. That Steve Harrington. Who I took a million opportunities to complain about. You were right about him having layers. And 15 year old me was too naive to contemplate that. And Steve never really made it easy. But we worked at the new mall together (you may have heard that it was burned down? Oooh I have a story about that. Maybe another time), at this stupid ice cream place called Scoops Ahoy. Had this whole sailor getup with the weird hat and everything. Super weird, but the pay was decent and they didn’t expect me to be the super smiley customer service rep. So it was not too bad. I spent a lot of time making fun of the fact that Steve could NOT get a single girl (I had a board and everything to prove my point) but now we are ACTUALLY friends, not just coworkers who tolerate each other.
The way we got to that point was way weirder though.
Firstly: one of Steve’s friends (children) comes into scoops, with a tape, saying that the Russians were planning something. Cool, great. Steve and his friend (Dustin) bring the tape into the back and start trying to translate it. They did not plan on the different alphabet thing. So I helped, because I already wanted to learn Russian and figured it was the perfect opportunity to learn. Even without the language tapes. It was encoded, but I figured it out eventually. And then we found someone to go into the vents to get us to a shady Russian underground lab. And Steve and I got kidnapped. Turns out, getting bound to someone, then spilling our guts about high school, then spilling our guts from the drugs they gave us, then me spilling my guts about my crush on Tammy Thompson is a great way to get close.
I’m debating stopping the letter here because if I share anything else about that story I think you might think I’m crazy. So we’ll skip over the rest of that, since you’re probably already questioning my sanity.
But yeah, I think I am going to try again with Operation Croissant. With Steve. And our friend Eddie Munson (not as shocking of a friendship for me to have, but much more of a shocking friendship for Steve to have). Look at me Mr. Hauser! Not only do I have one person I’m going to bring with me, but two! And I didn’t have to search them out, or try and force myself to be okay with the idea of them coming. Turns out, planning a trip with the other members of a travel party already picked out is much easier. Or maybe it would have been easier to take a solo trip if you hadn’t convinced me to not go. Who knows.
I thought about adding Russia to the list of places I want to travel, but the more I think about it the worse of an idea it is. A bunch of Russians have seen me and Steve sneak into a secret Russian base. So we’d probably be put in jail the second we got into the country. So I won’t really be using my new Russian skills. But that’s fine! I’m content with just going to Italy, France, and Spain! I might even go to Switzerland since they speak French and Italian. And maybe while I’m there I can pick up some German! I think that would work really well.
Now I’m debating starting a new letter because of all of the Operation Croissant 2.0 planning I have going on in this one.
Oh well, I can try the planning again later. This is getting to be a bit rambly, but after my past few days, I think I deserve to get to ramble. Not like I didn’t go into your classroom just to monologue at you sometimes. Think of this as a new version of my lunch visits to your classroom, but probably more palatable (because you can set this letter down at any time) and crazier (I just talked about getting kidnapped by Russians).
Anyways, I think I should give some other updates.
Kate and I are co-existing nowadays. We talk sometimes, but with the Odd Squad broken up, we don’t have much to say.
Dash is off being an asshole somewhere, swearing up and down that nerds don’t have to be moral, ney, shouldn’t be moral, in order to get to the top. Maybe he found someone else to blackmail during his free periods.
And I still hang out with Milton, every once in a while when he comes back from college. Tammy Thompson went to Nashville to try and become a singer. She still sounds like a muppet. I couldn’t see it because I had a crush on her. I can see it now.
Steve and I are now working at the Family Video Store. Together. On purpose (see, we are really friends). I have a crush on a girl from band, named Vickie. Steve swears up and down she has a crush on me because she returned Fast Times paused at 53 minutes 5 seconds. I don’t buy it. And I don’t really know if I still have a crush on her anymore. A lot has happened, and maybe I have a thing for Nancy Wheeler. I know she’s kinda a priss but also she is amazing and a genius and- oh god I just wrote all of that. In pen. In a letter to my former teacher.
Steve is teasing me about the letter now. He hasn’t read it but he says my cheeks are even redder than normal, and asked if I was writing to Nancy. Thankfully I could truthfully say no, but that was wildly embarrassing.
I could throw this letter away. But I don’t think I will. I don’t know when I will muster this type of energy again. Or need to write a letter. At least a letter in English. Who knows.
Bye for now, Sincerely,
Robin Buckley
P.S., it was hard to admit you were right about Steve, but I‘m glad you were