Chapter Text
Nancy eyed the redhead standing in the hall - no, she raked the girl’s body with a look that could have killed. She approached, heels clicking on the linoleum with definitive taps, but the redhead didn’t look up. In a town as small as Hawkins, it was almost impossible for students in the same year not to know each other: leave it to Nancy Wheeler to have missed a single classmate. Leave it to Nancy Wheeler, class president and school journalist, to stop just out of reach and stare down the stranger in lieu of actually speaking.
Robin, the redhead in question, was too preoccupied - practically nose-to-mirror - to notice that Nancy had approached. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, makeup brush in one hand and locker door in the other, she would have recognized Nancy - no, not as the girl who stood at the head of every assembly and gave drawn out speeches of false hope and student promotion, but as the girl who sat three seats up and two seats over in English. She sat one seat ahead of Steve and was ever in the positive gaze of the teacher they had affectionately nicknamed Mrs. Click. She was also the girl who had put a burning hatred for Steve Harrington into Robin’s chest in their freshman year, though that had been long forgotten with coworker banter during their first summer as a team at Scoops Ahoy! and a now-established friendship.
Nancy stared for a moment longer, until a flush creeped over her cheeks - she was staring and waiting for this girl to notice her, she certainly wasn’t staring at the lip-liner being dragged over the redheads lips, or at the too-sharp jawline that made itself visible despite an overgrown bob. Her heart absolutely didn’t skip a beat when the tool pulled Robin’s lip to the side, accidental and yet appearing entirely deliberate. No, Nancy was staring because it was her duty to make note of anything that might be an issue for the faculty, and someone running late - three hours late, at that - was certainly a faculty issue. She set her shoulders back and folded her arms over her chest just as she cleared her throat.
The redhead tensed but continued the seemingly endless task of fixing the color on her face. Nancy ground her teeth together and moved to speak just as the sound fell over her ears:
“Can I help you?”
The voice wasn’t quite annoyed, Nancy quirked a brow - the redhead didn’t spare her a glance, not even as she spoke - and she cleared her throat again. The drawn out sigh that slipped past newly-colored lips dripped in the annoyance Nancy had wanted, a slow smirk spread across the brunette’s lips and the redhead’s gaze slowly, steadily, came to rest on her. The redhead rolled her hand in a gesture that Nancy could only interpret as ‘continue’ and her words confirmed the assumption.
“You ‘ ahemed’ ?”
“Yes. You’re out of class, looks like you’re running late as a whole, and first period started three-”
“I know.”
“-hours ago.”
“ I know. You think I don’t? I’m a senior too, Wheeler. Been here every school day for the last three-and-a-quarter years. My ride was late.”
Nancy snorted and rolled her eyes - the redhead knew her name, the flush on Nancy’s cheeks found a new source of kindling in that. She wasn’t embarrassed that the redhead knew her name while she didn’t know hers, no, there was something else . There was something in her tone: assertiveness, confidence, something that screamed “you don’t have to tell me; I know who you are, what you want, and how to give it to you.” Nancy, however, didn’t even know the redhead’s name.
“And where’s this ride of yours?”
“Mr. Hair is being a dweeb and actually attempting to pass his math class. Would you move on from this?”
Of course her ride was Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, Nancy’s smile almost faltered. She wasn’t disappointed, and she wasn’t jealous of this girl. She had moved on, Steve could date who he pleased. Nancy Wheeler had resumed her role as straight-laced Ms. Perfect: she was successful in school, a model volunteer, and her new boyfriend was the equally accomplished Jonathan Byers. There was no reason for envy to creep into her at the thought of Steve with another girl, another woman. There was no reason for her to envy the place that Ms. Can’t-Attend-Class now held. Nancy had a perfect life: parents who were hardly overbearing, too focused on work or her younger sister to fret over her; early admissions to the college of her dreams, for a top-notch journalism program, no less; grades, friends, and popularity that any student would be jealous of. Envy should have held no place in Nancy Wheeler’s mind.
“I never knew Harrington to care about his grades.”
“Yeah, well, with a bitch of an ex like you to beat out, who could blame him?”
There was no venom in the redhead's voice, none at all, and none in the look she gave as she ran her eyes over Nancy - the brunette could have sworn she saw pity in the look before the redhead turned her attention back to the tiny locker mirror. Nancy simply stared: what could you say to that? Argue that you’re not a bitch, it reinforces the idea; state that you know you are a bitch, it defeats the purpose of saying anything. So Nancy Wheeler turned on her heel and made a face as she walked down the hall: something full of bitterness, envy, and pride that turned into a look of constipation - emotional constipation, if nothing else.
Robin stared at the mirror in her locker until the clicking of Nancy’s heels disappeared into the administrative office, far out of view, then allowed herself to click the metal door closed. She leaned against the lockers and her shoulders fell. She was late, she was barely passing the classes she’d missed this morning - she missed them more than any others, she wasn’t going to be getting into college. More importantly: she wouldn’t be leaving Hawkins, Indiana. It took everything she had to swallow the growing dread and push away from the lockers, a smile that dripped with falseness plastered to her lips. Robin had decided that she would push forward, one day at a time, until Steve was well and truly on his way out of Hawkins: at least one of them would make it, and she would support him in every step of the way. Nancy Wheeler couldn’t prevent that, even if she did make Robin’s heart stutter just a bit, even if she was the one woman who could strike the fear of God into anybody’s heart - even the strange Byers boy who had taken up Steve’s space immediately after the breakup.