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Robin had faced off crazy Russians, coming out to what he thought would be a homophobic man but turned out to be her best friend, had thrown Molotov cocktails at Vecna —while she was in the Upside Down, mind you— and had lived to tell the tale (which she would, to any grandkid who was willing to listen, NDAs be dammed)
Robin was a brave woman, or at least liked to consider herself one, but the thought of driving terrified her.
She theorized with Steve once that it could be because the only concept of driving she had was one Christmas afternoon when she was eight, when she visited her family in Brooklyn and one of her cousins tried to teach her how to drive, which ended in a broken arm and the threat of no presents if she ever pulled a stunt like that again by her father.
As it could be clear, Robin Buckley hated driving. Going shotgun was fun, simple, and it was something you could do without having to be stressed out constantly —which, she already was most of the time all by herself, thank you very much. So when Steve called her to offer some free driving lessons, her first thought was to say no and hang up. Maybe even call him up to laugh at him, call him a dingus and hang up again.
But instead, she said yes and agreed to meet him at the old parking place the following day.
And so Robin went to sleep, woke up, took a shower, got dressed and walked towards the parking spot. It was almost like she was on autopilot, and didn’t wake up until he saw Steve’s car and his recognizable stupid hair, which he took hours to fix every morning.
Robin was however more surprised when she saw bright red hair leaning over the car. Max Mayfield, the zoomer of the little shits’ party. That was her official title, she had told her one day while she still had a cast on her leg everyone —including Hopper and Joyce— had sighed. Robin was telling her what the others had written, and when she had looked up, she had seen she had tears in those oh so blue and oh so dead eyes. Robin had asked if she wanted her to write something else on the cast, and when Max had told her the “official title”, she had done it even though they were taking it off the following week.
Ever since, the brunette had felt a sort of fondness over the girl every time she looked at her, even though the redhead had a big mouth that had gotten Robin and Steve in trouble more times than she could count. But she saw herself in Max; not in her surety, or the capacity to fit in no matter what —an ability that Robin lacked, which her mother made sure she remembered whenever she did something awkward or talked a little too fast in front of her. No. Max was also awkward in her own way, and bad with feeling, and behind all that front, she was so similar to Robin, they had both been surprised by it.
After the incident at Starcourt Mall, Robin had promised herself she wouldn’t be like Steve; a loser whose friends were little kids. But Max was cool, probably a little too cool to be fourteen, and she had realized then they might look like kids, but their experiences had forced them to grow too fast. Those kids were borderline adults, probably more mature than her and Steve.
That had been almost years ago, and despite the fact that Max had barely grown in height, she had changed a lot. Her hair was longer, free of any tie or braid like it had been when they first met. One might think the main difference was her eyes, but it was the way she carried herself; she looked free, and happy, but aware of the dangers in the world.
“Robin’s here,” she heard Steve said, leaning a little over so Max could hear him. The redhead nodded and used his hand for guidance as she moved a little away from the car to meet with Robin.
It was sweet, seeing the closed up girl showing vulnerability, but not so strange after Vecna had made her realize that needing help wasn’t something she should be ashamed of: despite the walking stick, which was now a permanent accessory for the redhead, Max was using Steve to guide her through the old parking spot. Robin knew that Max did it so Steve would feel useful. It was his job now, he always said whenever someone told him he was being a little too overbearing with her.
In a way it was, because after the earthquake that resulted from Vecna’s death, Susan Hargrove had been found dead in her trailer. Max’s father, whoever that asshole might be (and believe her, if Robin ever saw that man she would hit him straight on the nose without even talking first) had rejected the custody, alleging he couldn’t look after her since she was a disabled kid with too many problems; Steve had gone that same night to Hopper’s house and asked for help, because he didn’t want Max to end up in an orphanage or something worse. After a lot of headaches, the solution had come as a temporary adoption form, which the former chief of police managed to make work even though Steve was barely a man himself. Robin could still remember the coldness of the metal pen as she helped Max sign the papers in the police station.
“Look at you two,” Robin said, crossing her arms when they met halfway. Max finally let go of Steve’s arm, but he wrapped it around her shoulders instead. Through the sunglasses, Robin could see Max rolling her eyes.
“Hey,” Max said, smiling softly. She put her walking stick on the ground and pushed Steve’s arm away.
“You came,” Robin said, giving Steve a hard look. As much as she loved Max, that girl could really be mean when she wanted to —that was the last thing she needed at the moment.
“Of course I did,” Max said, putting a hand on her chest. “When I heard Steve talking to you, I knew in my heart I had to come and show you my never-ending support.”
“You wanted to watch me fail,” Robin said.
“Watch? I don't do much of that these days,” Max said in a hoarse voice, pretending to smoke a cigarette. “More like hear as you cry when you irrevocably fail.”
“Don’t you have a date with Lucas today?” Robin asked, raising her hand to hit Max on the side of the head.
“Be careful,” Steve said. He has fully turned into a mom. There’s no saving him.
Max turned a little to the direction of her voice, eyebrows raised. “How do you know that? Are you stalking me or something?”
“Yeah, Robin,” Steve said. He was smiling, and the older woman was sure it was because he was seeing Max smile and be carefree. Robin was glad too; god knew she deserved it. “How come you know?”
“I know because he has been making it everyone’s problem the entire week. ‘ Oh guys, what should I get Max? Should I wear this? Nevermind she hates ties. Blah, blah, blah’ So annoying,” she rolled her eyes.
“I think it’s adorable,” Steve said.
“Yeah, me too,” Max said, hitting the side of Robin’s arm even though she hadn’t been fully turned when she had faced her. It seemed that blindness had not taken away her perfect aim. Either that or she was faking it to have an excuse to miss out DnD campaigns and have Lucas all over her. “And only I can make fun of him. Capeesh?”
“Aye, my captain,” Robin said, nodding her head.
“Besides,” Max said. She was playing around with her walking stick, moving from side to side the same way the doctors had told her not to because it could break. “The date is tomorrow,” Robin looked at Steve, who was already smiling fondly, when she noticed Max was blushing.
“Uuuh,” Robin said, swinging an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Somebody’s got a date.”
“Shut up,” Max said. It was starting to be almost impossible to tell apart her hair and her face.
“Enough teasing, let’s go. But first,” Steve said, stopping Max as she began to move towards the car with Robin, “some security rules.”
“Security rules,” repeated Max and Robin.
“Yes. I don’t want to repeat the week you got discharged,” Steve said.
If someone was hearing his looming tone, they would have thought something bad happened in what Steve had begun to call The Dark Week. In reality, it had been quite fun; once Max had gone through rehab for both her arms and legs and got the okay to walk again, she had been free to go. She had been given a wheelchair (something Doctor Owens had apparently arranged for Hawkins’ Hero, as he called Max) and the redhead had used it to run over Mike’s foot every chance she got. No one else’s, only Mike’s. It had come to a point where Steve had been woken up at five am to a call from the boy, complaining, which had forced him to get the two together for some serious talk; Max had apologized, but on the way out she had run over his feet again, claiming she was blind and hadn’t noticed. She was milking that blindness a little too much, but it put a smile on her face and Steve hadn’t had the heart to even consider telling her to stop again, even if it meant having to hear Mike complain even more than usual.
Oh, The Dark Week… What an awful time for his stress levels. He dreaded the day they went back to school and Max began to make Mike trip with her walking stick. He had caught her practicing with Erica once when she came over to visit the redhead.
“I loved it,” Max said, taking off her sunglasses. She had a look on her face, the same old people have when they reminisce about the good ol’ times. “I kinda wish I still had the wheelchair.”
“Max,” Steve said, exasperated. “You still needing a wheelchair would mean you can’t walk.”
“Yeah, I know, dumbass,” Max said, and had the nerve to roll her eyes at him. “It would also mean I get to run over Mike’s foot whenever I want.”
“You can always make him trip with your walking stick,” Robin said, and because Steve turned to give her an angry look, she missed the smile that appeared on Max’s face.
“Don’t support her ideas!” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. Steve the Hair. Yeah, he would be lucky if he made it to his thirties with at least one hair on his head. Being a parent shouldn’t be that stressful.
“C’mon, Stevie,” Max said. She reached out for his arm and when she found it, she wrapped her hand around it and leaned into him. It was subtle, but Steve understood all the same: her legs were getting tired —they sometimes did when she stood still for a while. “It was some harmless fun.”
“Mike had a black toenail. I had to take him to the podiatrist.”
“Completely unrelated,” Max said.
“It was not,” Steve said. Before she could open her mouth, Steve moved his head towards the car. “C’mon.”
Steve gave Robin the keys and helped Max get in the backseat. Robin looked at the shiny object and back at Steve. “What am I supposed to do with this?” She asked, dangling them around as she walked to him.
“They’re keys. Use them?” Steve deadpanned.
“Yeah, but like…” Robin moved her hands around. “How?”
“Is she for real?” Max asked, putting her head out through the window. “Because if she is, I'm leaving immediately. I’m already blind, I don’t want to go around collecting disabilities.”
“She’s only joking, Max.”
“I’m really not,” Robin said, looking at the keys.
“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Max said, searching for the door handle.
“No, no. Oh, c’mon, Max,” Steve said, leaning over the window. “Don’t be so dramatic. We all need to learn.”
“Yeah, really sweet, but I don’t want to die again. Because, I don’t know if you guys remember, but I’ve died before. Once is enough.”
“Hey, I’m not going to kill you,” Robin said, hands on her hips. “His car is just too fancy.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Max asked in disbelief.
“Don’t be like that,” Steve scolded her. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Totally agree,” Max said. “I just don’t want to be present for said mistakes.”
“You’re one to talk,” Robin said, sitting in the front seat.
“I’m really good at driving, actually.”
“You ran over a mailbox,” Steve said, sitting shotgun.
“You let her drive?” Robin said, turning to look at Steve. “She’s like twelve.”
“I ran over a mailbox because you and Lucas were screaming like little kids,” Max used her walking stick to nudge Robin in the shoulder. “And I’m sixteen. In fact, my friends are all getting their driver's license,” she made a face.
Steve wondered how she was feeling about it. He knew Will refused to learn how to drive (Max had made a joke about gays and driving, but Steve hadn’t understood —maybe he should ask Robin later) but Mike and Dustin were learning. Even Hopper was teaching Eleven on the weekends. Lucas got his a few months ago, first try much to Steve’s annoyance because he had to try six times, but got no car to drive which he considered fair; Lucas couldn’t be that good at everything. (He is, said a voice in his mind that sounded similar to one of a certain redhead)
But it had never occurred to him that maybe Max missed it; she had always liked the adrenaline of rushing, whether it was on her skateboard or in Billy’s car or on a bike —even when she was on her wheelchair, she was always moving it as fast as it could go. Maybe that was why she had decided to go along with him, to make herself believe she was the one learning, the one driving.
“You’re twelve,” Robin said, pulling Steve away from his thoughts.
“And blind, and still I’m better at driving than you.”
“You’re a little shit, you know that, right?”
“I’ve heard a few of those,” Max said, but she put on her seatbelt and leaned into the window. “The general consensus is that I’m awesome.”
“Only Lucas says that.”
“And Eleven too,” Max said. “And Dustin. And Will. Mike doesn’t because he’s stupid.”
“Or maybe because you ran over his foot a million times,” Robin said. She still hadn’t put the key in, and was gripping the steering wheel.
“It was twenty six glorious times.”
“Jesus,” Robin said. Steve gave her a look, as if to say, I know what you’re trying to do. Stop wasting time and let’s go.
“Okay, so you pull this in here,” Steve said.
“That’s what she said,” Max said, chuckling.
“Are you sure you’re not twelve?” Robin said. Her grip was getting tighter.
“Out of ten? Then yes.”
“You put the key in the keyhole,” Steve said louder, giving Robin a long look. “And turn it— the other way— there we go.”
“If I die, tell Eleven I love her,” Max said.
“What about Lucas?” Steve said, turning around. Robin gripped the steering wheel and pretended she wasn’t freaking out.
“Nah, he knows—” Max let out a scream when Robin pressed on the gas and the car jumped forward. She held onto the car’s handle above the window and hugged her walking stick to her chest. “Nevermind. Tell him, tell him.”
“Robin,” Steve said, out of breath. “You can’t just press on the gas. It can cause the car to do something like that.”
“That was the gas?”
“I can’t believe I survived Vecna to end up dying like this,” Max said, gripping the handle harder. When Robin saw it through the rear window, she rolled her eyes.
“Stop behind so dramatic,” Robin said, cutting Steve off as he tried to teach her the different pedals.
“Pay attention!” Steve said. “That’s the gas pedal, to go forward and increase speed—”
“You better not touch that one again,” Max said.
“And that one, on your left— your other left— yeah, that one.”
“God lord,” Max whispered, leaning forward. She however didn’t say anything else as Steve taught Robin the very basics about driving.
“Okay, you got it?” Steve asked, after fifteen boring minutes.
“I think so,” Robin said.
“Then start walking,” Steve said, putting a hand on her shoulder to show support.
Robin pressed softly on the gas and gasped when the car began to move. The radio was playing almost silently in the background, and it was getting on her nerves. In the backseat, Max was whispering the lyrics, tapping with her walking stick to the beat of the drums. She had recently taken to learning the piano, Steve had said when she saw him buying Braille music sheets —how a thing like that existed in Hawkins was still a mystery to them both.
“So if we’re not dying of a car crash we’re dying or boredom,” Max said. It startled Robin, and made her realize she was leaning over the steering wheel in a very uncomfortable position, forehead almost touching the windscreen.
“Be thankful I’m not crying,” Robin said.
“Now turn to—”
“There’s a car!” Robin cut off Steve. “Oh god! There’s a car in front of us —Steve, we’re going to die!”
“What the fuck?” Max said in a rush, sitting up straight.
“There’s a car twenty feet away from us,” Steve said, exasperated. “That’s why I was telling you to turn to the left.”
“Oh, right,” Robin said. “I guess my perception is off. Maybe I should get glasses. I need to make an appointment soon. When I get a job. But I need to get a job. Should I wait until I graduate?”
“You piece of shit,” Max said, slightly out of breath. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
“Language!” Steve said, turning around. “God, you have a filthy mouth.”
“That’s not what Lucas says.”
“I really don’t wanna know —Robin, turn to the left. I really don’t want to know anything about that.”
“You’re so boring.”
“Which one’s my left?” Robin asked, looking at her two hands. “Steve!”
“This one,” Steve said, not unkindly. He put his hand over her left one and helped her turn the steering wheel. “See? Not so hard, was it?”
“Okay,” Robin said, nodding. “I want to stop.”
“Hit the brakes,” Steve said.
“Where are they?”
“On your feet!” Max said. She was once again holding the walking stick close to her chest.
“Which feet!” Robin said, overturned by the panic. What if she didn’t stop on time and got into an accident? What if Max got hurt? Oh god—
“How many feet do you have, you idiot?” Max asked, exasperated.
“Two!” Robin said. It finally clicked that yeah, she knew where the brakes were. With a sigh of relief, she pressed on the pedal.
“Do it slowly,” Steve said.
“Slowly,” Robin repeated, nodding.
Once they reached a stop in the middle of the parklot, Max sighed dramatically and threw herself onto the backseat, laying on her back.
“I hope you know,” Max said. “I’m going to tell my therapist about this life-changing experience.”
“Me too,” Steve said.
Now that Robin could turn around, she managed to see Steve’s face was completely white. She rolled her eyes, stretching out her numb limbs, which had been set into a tense position the entire drive. “Don’t be so dramatic,” Robin said. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“You can’t tell your left from your right!” Max said.
“I’m dyslexic!” Robin said, turning around to look at the redhead. Her face was just as white.
“Jesus,” Max said, shaking her head. “I’m surprised we’re alive.”
“Well,” Steve said. His face had regained some colour. “That was fun.”
“Fun?” Max asked.
“Yeah,” Steve said, laughing. “It kinda was,” he cleared his throat and pretended he was holding a steering wheel. “Oh Steve! Which one’s my left!” He said, in a high pitched voice.
Max laughed, the sound resounding through the entire car. “Which feet?” She said, in the same mocking tone.
“Okay, that one’s on me,” Robin said, but felt no shame over her actions. She knew even though they would never say it, Steve and Max loved her; they would never make fun of her, at least in the mean way.
“I think I’m a new person now,” Max said. Her eyes, that mix of white and blue, were looking at the car ceiling.
Robin gave her a long look, and then smiled. “How do you move the car seat?” She asked Steve.
“On your right there’s a small lever,” Steve instructed. “Push it up and press your back against the backseat.”
Robin did as she was told, and managed to move the seat away from her, creating enough space for what she had in mind.
“Perfect,” she said. “Hey, kid.”
Max raised her head, turning to the sound of her voice. “What now?”
“Come here,” Robin said. Steve gave her a confusing look, just like Max was. She pointed at her lap and somehow, Steve understood her without a word.
(Nancy always said they had telepathy because there was no way they just always knew what the other was thinking)
“Where?” Max said, sitting up.
“Here, let me help you,” Steve said quickly, getting out of the car and opening the back door.
“What’s going on?” Max asked, but didn’t think twice to grab his hand and let him push her out of the car.
Steve helped her sit down on Robin’s lap, and she moved her head around in confusion. “Don’t tell me this is going to turn into a weird porno.”
“How do you know about that?”
“So, what’s happening?” Max asked instead. She had her back pressed against Robin’s front, and jumped a little when Steve closed the door.
“Since I’m learning how to drive,” Robin said, grabbing Max’s hands and putting them against the steering wheel. “It’s only fair you try it too.”
Max’s face instantly lit up, but just as fast it looked crestfallen. “But I’m blind.”
Robin put her hands on the steering wheel at the bottom, and smiled.
“We’ll be your eyes,” Steve said, kindly.
“Sick,” Max said. She was smiling so brightly it could outshine the sun. “Where’s the key?”
“Wait, wait,” Steve said, opening the glove compartment and putting out a small camera. Robin recognized it immediately; it was the one Steve, Jonathan, Nancy and her had used when they had gone on vacation last month. Jonathan must had forgotten it there. “I want to immortalize the moment my kid learned how to drive.”
“I already know ho—”
“Say cheese.”
Robin and Max turned to look at Steve, and smiled for the camera. Max’s face was turned a little to the left, so she wasn’t directly looking at the lens, but the following week the photo would be developed in paper by Jonathan and framed to be hung in Steve’s house.
“Done?” Max asked. She sounded really excited, and Steve realized then he had been right; she missed rushing through life the way she used to. He should get her a new skateboard, even if it meant having to rush to the ER at three A.M. because she had broken an arm or cracked her head open.
“Yes,” Steve said, putting the camera on his lap.
“Cool,” Max said. She allowed Robin to guide her hand, and she turned the key on the first try. “Press the gas,” she said, and Robin for the first time considered if her idea was a mistake.
“Slowly,” Steve said.
“Press harder, Ro,” Max said. Her smile almost took over her entire face. “What’s in front of me?”
“Uh, nothing,” Robin said. “There’s a few cars to your right, still far away, so you can move around a little.”
“Hell yeah,” Max said, hitting Robin’s leg softly to indicate her she needed to press on the gas. Against her own trepidation, she did. “Now this is why life is worth living.”
“Jesus, Max,” Steve said, but was smiling either way. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“It’s kinda my thing,” Max said. “Roll down the window.”
“I don’t think tha—”
But Robin cut him off, rolling down the window so the air could hit Max in the face. “There we go,” Robin said, gripping the steering wheel when Max tried to make a harsh turn. “Wow, calm down, girl.”
“This is so cool,” Max said. “Let me turn to the left.”
“You should ask if there’s something there first,” Robin said. Her heart was beating a little faster.
“There isn’t,” Max said. “Or Steve would’ve screamed like a little girl.”
“Hey!” Steve said, taking the camera off his face.
He had taken another photo of the two girls smiling, which would end up in Lucas’ bedside table —a photo he would take with him when the Party left for college in the city, the same photo he would return with (different frame, because it had fallen when he was moving into his dorm) after they had all graduated. He would also take it with him the day he moved in with Max into their first apartment together in Hawkins.
None of them knew it by then, but one day Steve would come visit them and see that photo of Max and Robin; he would grab it from the wall and smile fondly, remembering the day he saw his baby sister driving like the madwoman she was.