Chapter Text
When Nancy is four years old, her babysitter is the television set in her family’s living room. Well, when both of her parents aren’t home, her babysitter is a random girl from the local high school who carries one too many strawberry Lip Smackers in her purse. But, when her dad is busy at work and her mom is preoccupied with her baby brother Mike (who will not stop crying), she is plopped down in front of the staticky television with a colouring book in hopes that it will keep her occupied. It is a day just like that one, when four-year-old Nancy Wheeler watches The Red Shoes for the first time.
In her little corduroy dress with the white Peter Pan collar, threading the shaggy brown carpet through her chubby toddler fingers, Nancy becomes enraptured in the world of Julian and Vicky. She falls in love with Victoria’s flowing white dress, imagining how the tulle would feel on her body if she could twirl like the ballerina. Her wide blue eyes focus on the ever-turning fouettés, trace the lines of the arabesques, and follow the path of the ballerina highlighted by the spotlight as she dances across the stage with a tombé pas-de-bourrée, glissade, jeté. Throughout it all, the ballet is accompanied by music. Music that engulfs her tiny frame with more emotion than it can hold: the sweeping violins and whistling flutes of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake transform Nancy’s world – restricted to the Wheeler’s living room – into something of magic and wonder.
The next day, as her mother, balancing Mike on her hip, pours her a bowl of cereal, Nancy professes, with more confidence than a four-year-old should be able to muster, that she is going to be a ballerina. Her father, a cup of coffee in hand and his nose stuck in the morning paper, scoffs and proclaims that a career in the arts will get her nowhere in life. He warns her, not too kindly, that she should stick to a respectable career or, better yet, no career at all – she won’t need one when she’s married anyway. If anything, that makes the pre-schooler even more determined, stubbornly refusing to change her mind. Regardless, much to her father’s displeasure, her mother signs her up for ballet classes at the only dance studio in Hawkins, secretly pleased that she has one less child to care for during all 24 hours of the day.
With her soft hair pulled back in a tiny bun (because that’s how real ballerinas do their hair) and dressed in a black leotard and pale pink tights, Nancy attends her first ballet class that very same week. Instantly, she falls in love. She thrives under the rigid rules of the art form. Rules that provide her with much needed stability she can’t find anywhere else. The fluidity of the movements contrasts greatly with the strictness of her instructor and the unwavering demand of perfection, but Nancy is nothing if not dichotomous. Quick on her feet, she learns how to adapt when the situation calls for it – trains her body to gently ebb and flow like the lapping of waves along the shore while her mind recalls each step and technique with precision. She learns how to push herself to strive for greatness and she can’t seem to get enough.
She returns to class the next week. And the week after that. And she continues to return for all of the years following.
A pile of too-small ballet slippers, tights ruined with wear-and-tear, and sheer pink skirts begins to form in the corner of her closet. Pictures of her in tutus and stage makeup start finding their way into family photo albums: her first recital, the year her studio tried to put on a production of The Nutcracker and failed miserably (but at least she got to play Clara), and the days her mom simply found her so pretty in her ballet outfits that she couldn’t help but document the moment.
At age thirteen, two pairs of pointe shoes join the closet’s back corner, sitting beside the pile. They become well-loved and visibly cared for; their soles broken in and their platforms frayed. She loves pointe most of all. The burn in her calves when she balances on relevé for minutes at a time is addicting. When she manages to cleanly finish a double pirouette on pointe, she splurges 25 cents for an ice cream cone on her walk home. Everything they learn in class becomes more difficult and Nancy is ready for the challenge – she aches for it.
Her best friend goes missing when she is fifteen and Nancy skips a ballet class for the very first time. It starts to become a common occurrence. The pile in her closet stops growing.
By age seventeen, she stops going to ballet classes entirely, trading her dream of being a prima ballerina for a gun hidden underneath her bed and more unresolved trauma than she knows what to do with. In fact, she all but forgets the years she spent dedicated to the art, pushing the memories to the farthest recesses of her mind. Though, if someone actually takes the time to look, the skills ingrained in her are obvious: how she carries herself with picture perfect posture, how she can make her way through any location (including the vine infested Upside Down) with impeccable balance and grace, and how, when she stands still, her feet are always in a slightly turned out first position.
However, she doesn’t let anyone get close enough to see any of it. Barb knew she danced. She would come to every one of Nancy’s recitals, always giving her a flower when she emerged from the change room, feet aching and make up hastily wiped off. Even when she got older and her mom became too busy with hosting Mike’s friends in their basement or taking care of Holly (and her dad only ever came to her performances because her mom would drag him along), Barb was there. But then Barb dies, and Nancy gets stuck with the thankless job of saving the world every year.
Steve asks about it. Once. At the beginning of the second take of their relationship. He sees a pair of ballet tights in her locker - something she forgets to take out, because she is still used to having class directly after school. The change in her routine has not yet completely registered in her mind. He asks her what they are, because “that doesn’t look like the Hawkins High gym uniform, Nance?” In response, her voice flat and devoid of emotion, she says they’re for Holly; “She wants to play dress up.” And that’s that.
She manages to live peacefully in her pretend ignorance for two years. Two blissful years. Until Robin Buckley storms into her life, and her bedroom, like a whirlwind of infectious energy and never-ending babble. The tall girl, in her dark clothes and masculine stature, looks out of place surrounded by the pink walls and delicate white furniture. Nancy can’t help the twinge of displeasure she feels in her chest at the visible crack this girl is causing in the girl-next-door image she spent years trying to cultivate. She feels the bubbling of annoyance under her skin and a faint grimace appears on her face as the girl looks around her room with awe.
The Tom Cruise poster is the first thing that truly catches her attention. Nancy’s eye twitches when the girl pokes fun at her. We aren’t friends, she thinks. Why is she trying to joke around when our rapport is non-existent? She catches sight of Robin speeding over to bedside table, fiddling with the tapes she left there. Her ears heat up.
“Can you please not touch anything?” Nancy asks, her voice tight with irritation. She is trying to be polite, but it is so so hard when all the other girl does is roll her eyes and ignore her request.
She can see Robin making her way over to her dresser – making her way over to the music box. Nancy feels her blood run cold and her body stiffen, praying the girl will leave it alone. Of course, that’s too much to ask.
The tinkling sounds of her music box starting faintly playing in the dead air of her room. Robin’s blue eyes grow wide and start sparkling. A grin takes over her entire face and she excitedly exclaims, “Holy shit there’s a little ballerina in here!”
Robin’s teeth catch her bottom lip, trying to conceal her delight at the little piece of plastic spinning inside the box. She seems seconds away from bouncing up and down with childlike glee. For the briefest moment, Nancy thinks that the girl in front of her is absolutely gorgeous.
But that feeling dissipates quickly as her temper gets the best of her and she barks out a sharp, “I thought I said don’t touch anything.” Throwing the clothes she is holding onto her bedspread, she marches over to Robin and snatches the music box out from her hands. It is tucked into the back corner of her closet with the rest of her old dance attire, where it belongs. Her bedroom falls into silence.
The air becomes thick with an awkward tension. She can see Robin and Steve look at each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes. A short huff escapes her lips, and she turns away. Let them think what they want. It makes no difference to her.
Except a week passes and suddenly Nancy needs to know everything that they didn’t say in that moment.
Eddie died, Max is in a coma with no signs of waking, Hawkins broke into four pieces, and she can’t help but think that it’s her fault. If only she had come up with a better plan, if only she hadn’t let Max act as bait for Vecna, if only she had been faster. Her relationship with Jonathan is six feet under and she can’t even find the energy to be sad about it anymore. Meanwhile, she can feel her mother breathing down her neck, her eyes scrutinizing in a way they’ve never been before. A friendship with Robin and Steve (that doesn’t rely on the world ending) is now her only chance at regaining some sense of normalcy, but that will never happen if they still think she’s a priss.
And maybe, potentially, more than a friendship with one of them. It wasn’t like she was expecting to develop feelings for someone new while the world was going to hell in a handbasket, but it wasn’t as though it hadn’t happened to her before. What started off as annoyance and frustration in every interaction turned into complete adoration. Nancy could suppress her feelings during spring break, but after breaking up with Jonathan (which was mutual, no matter what Mike says), defeating Vecna, and returning to a half-functioning school (when they’re already guaranteed to pass because apparently the town splitting wide open made the schoolboard more lenient), nothing is left to distract her from her pre-teen crush type thoughts.
Instead, she decides to face her feelings head-on and pay her favourite Family Video employees a visit. Mike has been pestering her to go rent a movie for him and his friends to watch now that the Byers are back in town, giving her the perfect excuse if Nancy’s motives for visiting the store are questioned.
Parking her mom’s station wagon in the near empty parking lot, Nancy lets out a sigh. She rests her forehead on her steering wheel, taking a second to breathe. This will be her first time seeing the two best friends since their fight against Vecna in the Upside Down. It feels significant, but she can’t quite put her finger on why.
The moment of silence in her car is enough to steel herself for what’s to come. She exits the car with purpose, her chin up and a glint in her eyes that dares someone to get in her way. Striding confidently into the store, she immediately spots Robin and Steve teasing each other behind the counter. Steve seems to be throwing M&Ms into Robin’s mouth – or rather, attempting to throw. And, of course, she was lucky enough to walk through the door the one time Robin manages to catch one. The bell above the door jingles merrily and she’s met with the tall girl’s blinding grin.
“Nance!” Robin exclaims, smiling brightly at her. She rushes out from behind the counter and picks her up in a hug. Nancy’s eyes go wide; since when was Robin strong enough to pick me up? She wonders, swooning just a little in her mind. Putting her down delicately, Robin’s gaze softens. “What’d ya come here for? Need help picking a movie?”
A smile, though small, slips its way onto Nancy’s face without her approval. “I’m actually here to pick out something for Mike and the rest of the kids,” she tells her. “They’re having a movie night tonight.”
Snapping her fingers in remembrance, Robin interjects, “Oh that’s right! The Byers are back in town. Little Byers and, um, the girl with the superpowers? Twelve?”
She can’t help the small huff of laughter that escapes her lips. “Eleven,” she corrects kindly, “but you have a decent memory for someone you’ve only met once.”
The taller girl scratches the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed. “Well,” she starts, “it’s kind of hard to forget someone who can move things with her mind.” With a shake of her head, realizing she knocked the conversation off track, she continues, “Sorry, that’s beside the point. Do you know what movie they’re looking for?”
Nancy shrugs. “They just told me to get something good,” she admits. In her opinion, she doesn’t understand why Mike didn’t tell her exactly what he wanted. He usually does. After all, their taste in movies widely differs. She much prefers Sixteen Candles and Roman Holiday to Ghostbusters and Empire Strikes Back to her brother’s chagrin.
“We can definitely help you find a movie then, Nance!” Steve pipes up from where he stands behind the counter, watching the girls’ entire exchange with an amused look on his face.
Robin gasps in mock offense. “Hey dingus,” she says, “which one of us has an ‘Ask Me’ pin on their uniform?” She looks down at her blazer with a cocky smirk and, pointing to the aforementioned button on her blazer, teases, “Oh would you look at that, it’s me.”
Steve sticks his tongue out her and Robin retaliates by doing the same thing. Nancy can’t help but giggle behind her hand. They’re both such idiots, she thinks sweetly – their antics growing on her over the course of the 7 days spent defending Hawkins. Robin’s head whips around at the sound and the smirk on her face turns genuine. Walking up to the shorter girl, Robin drapes her arm over her shoulders and, looking at Steve, claims, “As the movie expert” – a scoff from Steve at that – “I will help Nance with all her movie needs. You can man the register.”
“But Robin,” he whines, “there’s no one else in here.”
Steering Nancy over to the aisles freshly stocked with New Releases, Robin looks over her shoulder and grins, “Well that’s just too bad, isn’t it, Stevie?”
Over Robin’s laughter, Steve shouts, “I told you to stop calling me that!”
They stop in front of a random display. “Sooooo,” the girl drags out as she squats down to look at the bottom of the New Releases shelf, “you have any idea what type of movie the freaky children want?”
Her mouth opens to respond, but then Nancy catches sight of Robin deep in thought, brow furrowing and the tip of her tongue poking out of her lips. She just stands there, mouth slightly open, staring at Robin because wow, has she always been this cute?
The taller girl looks up from where she’s situated, and two sets of blue eyes meet. “Nance,” she says, her tone of voice questioning, “you alright there?”
It’s the worry in the other girl’s eyes that shakes Nancy out of her stupor. Her cheeks start to become flushed. “Yeah,” she laughs nervously, “all good!” She takes a second to regain her bearings before answering the original question asked, “And, no, absolutely no idea. All I know is that The NeverEnding Story is permanently banned from Party movie nights. So, not that one.”
Robin snickers at that. “Right,” she drawls as she reaches towards one of the tapes on the shelf, “don’t want Dustybun to break out into song again.” Nancy watches as the girl helping her grabs a few more tapes and suddenly she finds herself looking up at Robin once more.
With four tapes in her arms, Robin smiles at her and tilts her head toward the checkout counter. “I think I’ve got everything here,” she tells her. “Hopefully they like the movies. I mean, I enjoyed watching them, but I know my taste isn’t for everyone. And to be fair, I did watch one of the movies high on drugs.” Her eyes widen at that, and her heads whips around to face Nancy. “The Russian drugs, not my drugs! From when we were tortured under Starcourt last year! I don’t do drugs! Well, I’ve smoked a couple of times with Steve, but nothing serious, ya know? No heroine or crack or anything. Not that I’d know where to find that in Hawkins.” Her mouth snaps shut. The tips of her ears are bright red from embarrassment. “Anyway, shutting up now!”
Rolling her eyes playfully at the other girl’s rambling, Nancy tries to reassure her. “I’m sure they’ll love the movies, Robin,” she says kindly. “And if they don’t,” she shrugs, “I’ll just blame it on Steve.”
She hears a breathless laugh at that and can tell Robin has been successfully pulled out of her mind. The two girls make their way to the checkout counter – back to Steve, who perks up at the sight of them.
“Oh my god, you guys,” he bemoans, “you were gone for so long. I was starting to think you forgot about me.”
“We were gone for like, ten minutes, dingus.” Robin scoffs. “This is why you need more friends.”
“Hey, I have friends!”
“Fine, more friends who aren’t fifteen.”
“Says you!”
As much as Nancy would have loved to continue listening to their playful bickering, she really did need to get the tapes to Mike. If she doesn’t make it back home before his friends show up – before El and Will show up – he’ll become even more insufferable than usual. She clears her throat, causing two other teenagers to turn and look at her. Nodding at the pile of tapes Robin placed on the counter, she says, “The tapes?”
“Right!” Robin replies sheepishly, self-conscious of the squabbling Nancy just witnessed. She picks up the two of the tapes in pile. “So, these two are for movie night that I think all the kids’ll like. Back to the Future and Legend. They were playing at the theatre last year, but between saving the world and Hawkins being ages behind everywhere else in Indiana, we just got these tapes in a little while ago.” She inputted the cost of the two tapes into the cash register before sliding them to Nancy across the counter. Picking up the next tape she says, “This one is Youngblood. Now sports movies aren’t really my go-to, but I think Lucas would like it.”
She looks directly at Nancy with a small smile on her face. “And I know that Max thinks…” A brief pause. “Thought…” A shake of her head. “Thinks that Patrick Swayze is cute, so if you could slip this to Lucas without the other boys seeing?” Her voice lilts higher at the end of the sentence, turning it into a question. “He’s been bugging the nurses at the hospital to allow him to use the VHS player in Max’s room, so maybe this’ll help.”
Robin’s teeth are worrying her bottom lip as though she thinks Nancy will say no. As though Nancy will tell her that’s a terrible idea when she knows that this small gesture is more than most of the other kids have done for Lucas since that night.
Nancy swallows dryly at that, throat becoming tight with grief. “Yeah,” she rasps out. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Unlike the other two tapes, Robin doesn’t add the price to the total cost. Nancy looks at her with questioning eyes, but Robin just replies with a minute shake of her head. “My idea,” she tells her kindly, “I pay.”
Letting out a breath, Robin grabs the last tape from the countertop. “Okay,” she starts apprehensively, “those are all the movies for the kids.” Her thumb starts rubbing the case of the tape from where it’s clenched tightly in her grasp. “This one I thought you would like.”
Nervously, she sticks her arm out towards Nancy, handing her the VHS – the cover facing up. Looking down at tape now in her hands, she sees a large group of people dress in shiny yellow suits and leotards. All of the characters are in random poses, as though they’re putting on a show for the viewer before the movie has even started. In bright lettering, A Chorus Line stares back at her. She flips the case over where her eyes catch on a quote at the top: “It is the best dance film, and, for that matter, the best movie musical for years.”
Blood starts rushing in Nancy’s ears.
Catching sight of the confused look on Nancy’s face, Robin starts twisting the plethora of silver rings on her fingers. “I mean, just,” she says, tripping over her words, “I remember that music box in your room. Th-the one with the little ballerina inside? And there was a picture of you next to it.” She smiles as she remembers, not noticing the whiteness of Nancy’s knuckles as her grip on the tape tightens. “You were little, and I think wearing a tutu? And I haven’t seen this movie yet – musicals aren’t really my go-to – b-b-but I’ve heard a lot of good things about it!” The smile on her face grows as she finally looks at Nancy, her eyes twinkling. “I heard it was about dance! And following your dreams and making it big – all that cheesy stuff that Hollywood eats up. But the dance part! It made me think of you!” Her hands are flying everywhere at this point, her voice speeding up in excitement. “And I just thought, Nance has got to see this! You know, because of all your ballet stuff!”
She finishes her rant with a huff. Still beaming, but nervous – waiting for Nancy to accept or reject her offer. Meanwhile, Nancy isn’t exactly sure what to do.
If this happened even four days earlier, she’d reject Robin’s tape with ease. Probably throw in some unnecessary snark – her walls built up high, not caring about the dejected look that would be sure to overtake Robin’s face.
But now, things are different. Even though she sort of wants to wring Robin’s neck at the mere suggestion of revisiting her childhood passion through film (unwilling to reopen that large chapter of her life), she also wants to hug her for the being the only person trying to connect the dots. Also, Nancy was no longer immune to the pleading look in those blue eyes.
And so, with Steve looking at her with thinly veiled confusion and Robin with hope in her eyes, Nancy lets out a sigh. A thin smile – tired, but not disingenuous – graces her lips and she loosens her grip on the tape, saying, “Thanks Robin. I’ll give it a watch.”
She pretends not to hear the loud exhale of relief that escapes Robin’s lips.
“Alright then Wheeler,” Robin grins at her, all tension gone, “That’ll be $5.00.”
Digging in her purse, she pulls out a slightly rumpled five-dollar bill and hands it to Robin. The girl behind the counter plucks it from her hands. “Why thank you, Ms. Wheeler,” she says with a teasing tone, tipping her imaginary hat. Nancy rolls her eyes affectionately at that. “Will that be all?”
Tapes in hand, Nancy replies, “Yep, that’s all.” She turns to leave, but Robin is still looking at her with an expectant look on her face. Nancy lets out a sigh. “Ms. Buckley," she finishes with a mix of levity and fond exhaustion at the other girl’s antics.
A grin overtakes Robin’s face the second the words leave Nancy’s lips. It is met with a thin smile in return. The store is still empty, the only person who witnessed the entire conversation is Steve, who is pretending to be rewinding tapes on the tv on the back corner of the counter. Scoffing to herself quietly, Nancy thinks, does he really think he’s doing a good job of hiding that he’s eavesdropping on this entire conversation?
As she’s walking out of the store, she risks taking a glance back at the two behind the counter. Steve is messing up Robin’s hair and she catches the word “dingus” being thrown around once or twice. The bell above the door jingles once more as she pulls it open. She’s about to step out the door when she hesitates. With three of the tapes in one hand, she holds up A Chorus Line with the other. Turning around, head titled, she raises her voice slightly. “Hey, Buckley,” she shouts.
Robin’s head whips around instantaneously. Steve behaves in kind. “Y-yeah, Nance?” she stutters out, nervously adjusting the tie she’s wearing.
Biting back the growing regret, Nancy asks the other girl coyly, “Are you busy tonight?”
Frozen in place, Robin’s mouth is just hanging open in an attempt to answer. Steve immediately interjects, “No, she’s free!”
“Would you wanna come over to watch this together?” Nancy asks, shaking the tape in her hand. “After your shift is over, that is.”
She sees Steve gently slap Robin’s shoulder, causing her to snap her mouth shut and look directly at Nancy. The eye contact, once made, is electrifying. Nancy can only assume that her face is burning just as bright as Robin’s visibly is. “Yeah, I would love that,” the girl responds breathlessly.
“Great!” Nancy exclaims and goes to leave again, tossing her head over shoulder. “It’s a date,” she proclaims with a wink. Finally walking out the door, she hears Steve shout, “Oh my god, Rob!” and continues to make her way to her car with a smile stuck on her face.