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The first time Robin Buckley ever got to “properly” speak with Chrissy Cunningham was during the second week of band on her first year in high school as a senior. Up until then, Robin didn’t even know what she looked like, only vague descriptions and anecdotes from people around her, though when she heard the name, she always imagined some blonde or brunette with fancy jewelry and flashy clothes like all the other popular kids, so Robin made sure to keep her eyes open for that so she could avoid it. Robin never spent extra time in school than what was necessary before.
It was just after school just before band practice.
Instead of meeting at the usual room to practice, they were all stationed at the gym instead, left sitting at the bleachers for the rest of the hours they’d spend playing. Why the Music Room was off-limits, Robin did not bother enough to know, and all she did was pack her trumpet, put on her band hat, and redirect herself to the venue with a little drag in her step.
The weekend was getting closer, it being Wednesday, and she’d have to clock in at Family Video then.
Despite her unlikely best friend Steve being there with her, Robin felt oddly dull this week and even the chance to tease the guy didn’t seem to bring her back from whatever boring routine she was in. She remembers Vickie would be there when she gets to the gym but even that barely does anything to bring back the gait in her usual persona.
She turns a corner as she heads to the gym entrance, and as she enters, the first thing she notices is how bare the whole room is. Late sunlight spills from the windows and onto the squeaky shiny floor that Robin fumbled and near slipped on during the first day they gathered for orientation, earning a snort from Vickie, a snort that Robin decided then was cute. The difference then on that day was that there were people in the gym, seniors crowding the whole room that they all faded and merged with each other.
Robin stops, ponders for a moment if she was in the right place, if they were actually supposed to be meeting here and that her brain just hadn’t deluded her into thinking that, when she spots another person sitting alone on the bleachers, her hands folded primly on her lap, arms covered with the sleeves of her cheer sweatshirt. She blended in so well Robin almost didn’t notice. Still, Robin stays standing by the gym doors, wondering if she should walk in.
She doesn’t notice that she’s staring at the other girl until she and the girl make eye contact, and Robin quickly tries to pretend they didn’t, eyes zapping to the basketball hoop and pretending to find something interesting there.
It doesn’t work.
The girl waves at her and because Robin doesn’t want to be mistaken for rude, she waves back, just small enough for the other to notice. The girl at the bleachers goes back to sitting quietly, hands wringing each other on her lap, and Robin starts feeling awkward standing at the door, so she walks forward and towards the girl in the preppy get-up.
“Uh, hi,” Robin says when she gets near, “is— are rehearsals—“ she stumbles over her words, internally chastising herself for opening her mouth before thinking of something solid to say. Thankfully, the girl seems to understand, perking up, her bangs bouncing slightly.
“Oh! Yeah, you’re at the right place.” she says kindly, softly. Robin pauses. Then she nods slowly, pursing her lips as her gaze slides off to the side.
“Cool.”
A moment of silence hangs over them, before the girl offers Robin a spot beside her to sit.
“I think we’re a little early, so you should sit down while we wait.”
“Oh, um…yeah, no, it’s cool. I’m—it’s fine. I mean, I can sit down—“ Robin breathes, collects herself, “I meant…yeah.”
Robin cringes but the girl smiles, all dopey, showing off teeth and Robin sits down before she does anything else she can chew Steve’s ear off later on. Her mind wanders the moment she sits down, and it stops to a few moments before, when the girl in cheerleading practice attire (the skirt a modest addition) said ‘we’ to the girl carrying the trumpet and wearing a hat that’s so clearly from band.
“Uh, sorry,” Robin says once she’s considered the outcomes, “you said ‘we’?”
The girl nods, smile still in place.
“But you’re a cheerleader.” Robin says intelligently. The girl bursts in a giggle.
“Yes, I am.” confirms the girl, cheeks stretched and red.
“No!” Robin exclaims before she thinks better of it, “No, I mean, I know. It’s just, I’m here for band practice—“ Robin corrects herself, grabbing the hat on her head to emphasize her point, and if she accidentally hits her face doing that, no she didn’t, not in front of the girl, “—and we’re practicing too. A-are you practicing too…?” her sentences fade at the end, her point escaping her as her confidence dwindles, but she hopes the other girl can understand anyways.
Robin now realizes how dumb she must look with the hat on.
She isn’t wearing her band uniform because it’s just practice, so she’s only wearing the hat because it needs fixing and she was now thinking of bringing it home to do that. The rest of her uniform was sitting perfectly at home where her hat could’ve been, but she stupidly brought her hat to school to ask the band director what to do about it.
She blames Steve, but she knows she should’ve never listened to Steve in the first place.
Maybe she should’ve left it in the locker room but band rehearsal’s the last stop for the day and she wasn’t in the mood to go back just to get the hat, so she’s forced to lug it around.
“For cheer, yes, I am practicing.” the girl replies to Robin’s earlier statement, her eyes go down to her feet for one quick second, at the pom-poms lying on the floor. Robin wonders if they were always there. And to help Robin, the girl adds, “Since I’m on the cheer team.”
The girl smiles and Robin’s face falls with comprehension, eyes wide, brows shot up, and mouth slightly agape in that awkward double-take smile, and she remembers that she’s the stranger here. She’s the outcast because of course the gym is where the cheer team would practice besides for the soccer field. The embarrassment that soars through her system is almost indescribable. Instead of crying to this poor girl about that, she instead gracefully says, “Oh.”
The girl’s gaze doesn’t move from awkward and bumbling Robin, and she keeps smiling at her, eyes becoming small behind her flushed cheeks. There doesn’t seem to be anything malicious there, all innocent and cute is all Robin sees.
She stops at that thought and, indiscreetly, looks at the girl, now not looking at her and is instead watching the empty expanse of the gym. The sunlight is streaming through near their spot at the bleachers, and the light is making the girl’s strawberry blonde hair go golden. Her lashes shine too from what Robin can see.
She is cute, Robin thinks. She realizes she’s sitting too close, her clothes delicately skirting the edges of the other cute girl’s skirt and sweatshirt, and she also realizes that she doesn’t know her name but asking that is too much. After all, they’re only waiting for everyone else to come so they can practice. But the pretty girl sitting next to Robin is sweet and cute, small from what Robin can see, and she wants to know.
She preps herself up for a bit, twiddling with her fingers and the chipped nail polish, before she opens her mouth to ask, hands shaking slightly, when the doors open and seemingly the whole bunch who need to use the gym, band members and cheerleaders alike, all flock into the room, carrying their pom-poms and instruments, and the pretty girl next to Robin starts to get her stuff too.
Robin should probably do that, brushing off how she wants to know the cheerleader’s name because, after all, they were just waiting for practice to start.
She probably isn’t even like that, Robin thinks, digging for a silver lining. That’s what Steve would say in hindsight.
So she stands up, maybe way too fast because her hat tips over, and she drops her trumpet too when she foolishly thought she could timely grab the hat while still holding the instrument in her jittery hands.
They both fall to the floor, the trumpet making a noise and some people turn to look, and Robin just groans as she bends to pick them both up. She grabs the hat, holding onto the chinstrap instead of putting it back on her head, and reaches for the trumpet when another hand grabs it too.
The pretty cheerleader is crouching, one knee on the floor, her hand holding the near end of the trumpet slide while Robin’s is tight on the pipe. Neither of them let go, both standing up and holding onto the trumpet on different ends.
“Um, thanks...” Robin says gently, ignoring the breathiness that shows in her voice.
The pretty girl smiles and lets the instrument go, careful until Robin is fully properly holding it, their fingers brushing for a moment.
“It’s no big deal, really.” then she shakes her head very primly and says, with a tone that means she’s fixing a mistake, “You’re welcome.” with another covert smile, her eyes shining.
Robin takes a breath and nods, hair mussing and strands of her bangs poking her eyes. So she doesn’t make a fool of herself in front of this pretty and cute girl again, she sets both the things she’s carrying on the bench before cleaning her hair.
The pretty girl still hasn’t left yet, still standing inches next to Robin, posture straight and feet bouncing up and down from her heels.
“Uh,” Robin starts, “why are you still here?”
That sounded rude. Shit.
“I mean—shouldn’t you be over there?” Robin rephrases quickly, turning to the group of cheerleaders warming up and the band team setting down plastic chairs. The pretty girl shakes her head.
“Yeah...but I thought we could head there together. In case you might need some more help.”
Robin doesn’t know how to feel. This pretty girl wants to walk with her to practice, practice that is only a few feet away so it isn’t even that far of a walk but she still wants to go and walk with her. But this pretty girl also just implied that Robin is a total klutz that she feels it’s decent to not leave her on her own.
Robin spends a moment standing still, face blank, before she nods, muttering a “Yeah.” and then going to collect her things, putting her band hat on her head because she doesn’t know where else to put it.
When she’s all set, they start towards the two groups, side by side, shoulder brushing at every moment.
“I-I’m not usually like this, you know,” Robin tries to remedy, “I guess my mind’s just been going crazy...you know?”
No, Robin thinks, no, she doesn’t.
“Yeah, I know.”
Oh.
It takes a second for Robin to nod, eyes on the smaller girl. Robin thinks she can tell because her head perks up to look at her, and she gives her a sweet, closed smile, and Robin smiles too. Robin lingers on the moment, not saying anything else to rupture it, until they make it to the impasse where they have to part ways. Robin to the band geeks and the pretty girl to the cheerleaders.
Before they fully separate, Robin turns to the pretty girl.
“Um, thanks, by the way—for helping me out.”
The pretty girl, still smiling, eyes fond, tells her, “No big deal.”
Robin smiles back and then someone’s yelling ‘Chrissy!’ from the cheerleaders’ side. Both Robin and the pretty girl turn to look and it’s a girl in the cheer practice outfit, running to the two of them but she doesn’t acknowledge Robin, only the pretty girl from the bleachers.
“You coming over or what?” the other girl—a bit taller than both of them, dark, and hair styled in a straight bob—says but there really isn’t any sign of annoyance or any bit of negativity in the question.
The pretty girl nods as she says, “I’ll be there. You go ahead.”
And the other girl leaves, and when the pretty girl turns around to Robin, Robin sees the embroidery on the girl’s sweatshirt. In pretty cursive, with the colors of Hawkins High, is the name “Chrissy.”
Was that always there?
And…wait. Chrissy?
“Chrissy?” Robin utters, “You’re Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham?”
The pretty girl—Chrissy apparently—nods with another smile.
“Yeah. Were you expecting someone else?” Chrissy sweetly jibes.
“No, it’s just…” you’re not what I thought you’d be like. Robin does not say that part. I’d thought you’d be more prissy and stuff. Robin most definitely does not say that part.
“I’m not usually what people expect, I know.” Chrissy prefaces. Robin shakes her head.
“No, it’s just…you’re sweet.”
Chrissy does not reply, just smiles bashfully and looks away. Robin feels some part of herself pause.
A whistle breaks the moment, and they remember why they came here in the first place.
“We should go.” Chrissy says what they’re both thinking. Robin agrees wordlessly. And they do.
They part ways, and Robin’s gaze lingers a bit as Chrissy walks towards the cheer team. She gathers herself before her eyes flits over the rest of the band team, trying to get a glimpse of red hair. When she doesn’t spot it, she deflates a bit as she takes her seat, putting her bag down just next to her for easy grabbing, pushing it closer to give space because the chairs are arranged tight. A guy a year older than Robin approaches her and tells her to put her hat on the bleachers for the time being, and Robin remembers she’s wearing the hat in the first place.
“Can’t I just put it…here?” Robin queries, putting a pause between ‘it’ and ‘here’ as she demonstrates setting the hat down on the small space on the floor next to her bag. The guy shakes his head, saying something about having it getting stepped on or something else of the like.
“You can just get it later.” he says and Robin acquiesces.
When she heads back to her seat, she gives another hopeful glance around the group but doesn’t find Vickie anywhere. There’s nothing to keep Robin up on her toes this time, she thinks with a droop in her shoulders.
Or that’s what Robin thinks.
Band practice passes like a flash to her, Robin just sitting and playing what she’s told, while her eyes stay on the group opposite of theirs practicing cheer, eyes stopping at a particular cheerleader whose ponytail is shining in the golden afternoon sunlight, almost like a little halo if she squints hard enough, smiles and all imprinting onto Robin’s brain. If ever Robin messes up on a note and sets the whole band back, she brushes it off and tries again, but her eyes always go back to watching the other team.
When band rehearsal ends, cheer also ends a few moments after, and they all pack up their things and head for the school exit.
As Robin walks down the hallway, her gait feels lighter.
Upon coming to the school entrance, Robin spots a familiar car waiting for her, the driver’s side window pulled all the way down where her ride’s waiting, waving for her to hurry up.
She crosses the driveway and shoves her backpack and trumpet in the backseat and as she’s doing that, a head full of big hair pops out from the car front.
“See? Told you they’d take care of it.” Steve says with deign. Robin gives him a look, judging.
“Take care of what?”
“The hat.” Steve deadpans.
The hat?
And Robin remembers a voice from band telling her to set her hat off to the side before practice.
“Shit.”
“Robin?”
“I think I left my hat inside.”
“Well then, go get it!”
“I will! God!”
“You didn’t give it to the band director—?” Steve shouts from inside the car.
“What would they do with the hat, dingus?!” Robin shouts back before he finishes his grilling.
She turns but before she can cross the road, another person is already walking towards her, a band hat in her hand, ponytail swaying back and forth.
Robin meets her halfway, jogging a little to cross the short distance between her, Steve’s car, and Chrissy.
“Hi.” Robin greets, breathless. Chrissy says ‘hi’ back.
“You left your hat.” Chrissy tells her, handing it over to Robin’s hands.
“Thank you.” says Robin, “Uh—I didn’t see you back there, heading out, I mean.”
Chrissy makes a face and her forehead tenses for a quick moment, but it isn’t aimed at Robin, before she shakes her head, clear sign she’s dismissing the topic. She instead nods to the hat in Robin’s hands.
“Saw it sitting on the bleachers all alone back there.”
“Yeah, this little guy’s been through a lot today.” she jokes and Chrissy smiles.
“I can tell.” and she smiles at Robin again, and Robin smiles back, more softer than the other times.
“You know I’d probably lose my head if it wasn’t, you know, stuck to my body and stuff.”
A pause, and then,
“It’d be good, you know? You won’t have to lose your mind if you lose your head.”
Robin considers this. Chrissy apparently seems to take the silence from Robin negatively because she shakes her head, apologizing.
“Sorry, that was weird to say.”
“No! It-it’s not. It makes sense. I agree,” Robin breathes, watching the wide and cautious eyes on Chrissy’s face, “Yeah.”
From beneath Chrissy’s bangs, her eyes are all on Robin but Robin can’t tell what it means, that squinting look she’s giving her.
Robin doesn't know why, but she says, "You were pretty good at, um, practice today. You were...you were good."
This gives a little tizzy reaction from Chrissy, who straightens up a bit and perks her head up and replies, "You were watching?", a little raise of pitch in her voice evident.
Robin's face starts growing itchy and hot, and her mouth opens way before her brain can think, "I mean, it was just across the room, so..." Yeah.
Chrissy nods slowly, and Robin adds, "And it's kinda hard to not notice you. I mean, like, you were really good up there. Just an observation."
Shut up, Robin, she thinks. Chrissy is looking more intently at her now, seemingly trying to hide behind her bangs and the hairs that frame her face, mouth slightly open to tell she wants to say something, feet fidgeting on her heels, but before she speaks, the car horn honks and Robin remembers that behind the wheel is a busy, busy man with more things left in his itinerary.
“Rob, I still gotta pick up Henderson and the others from that Hellclub thing they’re doing!” Steve reminds her from the car, honking the horn occasionally for further emphasis.
“Yeah, I’m on my way!”
When Robin looks back to Chrissy, she’s looking at the car like it just sprouted wings, perfect and pretty brows pulled together.
“That voice is…familiar.” Chrissy notes out loud and Robin remembers that the busy, busy man behind the wheel who is picking up kids from D&D club after school routinely, and who drives and picks up lesbo Robin to and from school, who works minimum wage at Family Video stacking movies on shelves, who Robin teases, insults, and calls “dingus” used to be the King Steve Harrington of Hawkins High.
And now Robin’s talking to the Queen of Hawkins High, acting like a bumbling idiot like it’s nothing, and the Queen is just smiling at her, with her.
Robin shrugs, smiles, and looks at Chrissy with bright eyes and says, “Weird world, huh?”
“Weird world.” Chrissy agrees with a pursed smile, and Steve honks the car again.
“Robin!” Steve calls, tone teetering close to annoyed and that Robin should be back within the next five seconds or else Steve wouldn’t be driving her home.
Robin gives one final look at Chrissy and wonders what she’s looking for.
“I should go.”
Chrissy hums as she nods her head, the corners of her eyes crinkled and cheeks tinted. Robin finally turns around, but not before looking back at Chrissy and shouting, “Bye!” and Chrissy waves her goodbye, smile wide—wide in a way Robin never thought she'd make someone like Chrissy smile before.
As Robin gets into the passenger seat and shuts the door, Steve is already talking as he pulls out of the driveway, circling to get to the place where the D&D sessions are held. Robin looks at the wing mirror to see Chrissy still standing at the spot, still and quiet.
“Why were you talking to Chrissy Cunningham?” Steve says like it’s not possible, playing around with the radio until he finds a station to settle on. Eventually, he picks one that’s playing The Velvet Underground, letting the sounds and the repeat of “Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane” flood the car.
“You’re like a dad, you know that?” Robin says absently. Steve finds this offensive, and he says as much.
The voices in the radio goes back to scream-singing “Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane” at some point during Steve’s tirade and Robin drops her head on the window with a little thump, and if her mind goes to a certain pretty girl wearing a cheer sweatshirt and tube socks during that part of the song, she doesn’t say anything, especially when Steve says,
“You’re looking all smiley and shit. Vickie talked to you today?”
Robin sighs, smiles, and nods.
“Mhm.”