Work Text:
Robin was sitting in her calculus class as the teacher’s voice droned in the background. She copied the work on the board without really absorbing any of the information. No, she was focused on the redheaded girl in front of her, Vickie. She was dressed in mismatched floral patterns that various shades of blue and green. They complemented her vibrant hair and freckled skin. Her arm moved swiftly as she diligently copied the work.
Robin could honestly watch her for hours; her movements were gracefully mesmerizing, and Robin was completely entranced. So much so that she nearly fell of seat by how hard she jolted when the last bell of the day rung. A few of her peers gave her odd looks and a few giggled to their friends, but most clambered their way out of the classroom to go to wherever it was they went in their infinitely boring town. She scrambled to gather her stuff but ended up knocking her papers over.
They scattered over the brown tiles, Robin groaned loudly. She darted across the room doing her best to avoid bumping into the moving bodies surrounding her, her effort was in vain. She knocked into someone as she rose from her crouching stance, papers clutched to her chest.
“Sorry,” she sputtered. Her face flushed with embarrassment when she saw Vickie standing there. She had a few of Robin’s papers and gently handed them over.
“Thanks,” Robin said sheepishly.
“It was really no problem,” she replied cheerfully. Robin stared at her like a total idiot, not saying anything. For what was probably the first time in her life her mind was completely blank, and she had absolutely nothing to say.
She was startled again by the teacher loudly clearing his throat.
“Don’t you kids have somewhere to be,” he voiced from the seat behind his desk.
“Sorry,” Robin muttered.
“Well, I have to go, see you at band practice, Robin,” Vickie waved goodbye as she left the room.
“Yeah, I’ll see you there,” she called after her. She stuffed her papers into her bag and darted out of the room before the teacher could say another word.
She wandered down the empty halls, the heels of her worn out sneakers shuffed against the tile. On her way out she passed Mike and Dustin waddling after Eddie Munson like baby ducklings.
“Hey, dingus,” she greeted, as she waved franticly to Dustin.
“Hey, Robin,” he called after her. Mike scowled in her direction as they both ducked into the old AV room.
Robin burst through the heavy steel doors, the friged November air made her fingers curl into her jacket sleeves. Steve was leaning against his car with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His hair was as perfect as ever, it was hardly ruffled by the wind, not with the amount of product Steve put in it.
He was frowning lost in thought as Robin sidled beside him.
“Don’t think too hard or your head will explode,” she teased. Steve only frowned harder.
“Who’s that guy,” he asked. Robin rolled her eyes.
“You have to be more specific. You know how many guys live here?” Steve huffed.
“You know what I mean, the guy the kids are always following around,”
“You mean Eddie Munson, they play DND together,” Steve’s nose twitched.
“Isn’t he a little to old looking to be a freshman,” he remarked.
“That’s because he’s not,” Robin corrected. “He’s only a year older you, but he got held back a few times. Do you really not remember him?” she asked.
“I guess not,” he shrugged his shoulders, he avoided her gaze and continued to look at the school entrance.
“How do you know him anyway,” he asked suddenly.
“We run in the same circles,”
After a short drive Steve rolled into the parking lot in front of the video store. Robin closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, mentally preparing herself for what was about to be a nightmare of a shift.
A few other cars were already parked alongside Steve's, and through the large front window of the store she could see a gaggle of people browsing the shelves.
“You ready,” Steve asked gently.
“Yep,” she replied simply, popping the p. They left the car and stepped into the store. They made their way to the breakroom in the back.
Their manager, Keith was sprawled out on the battered couch, wiggling a pen between his fingers. His eyes were red rimmed, and laser focused on the pen. Robin sighed, he wasn’t going to be any help.
Robin shucked her jacket and bag off and tossed the on the floor beside the couch. She took her green vest off it’s hook and pulled it over her shoulders. Over her right breast was the golden rectangle of the nametag.
Wearing a nametag in such a small town seemed completely pointless, but some reason Keith insisted. “Gotta keep things professional,” he’d say. She knelt beside her bag, opening the zipper, she dug into the bottom where she knew her walkman and headphones were.
When Robin found them, she stopped in the entrance and took another deep breath in the doorway, when she was ready, she marched out of the breakroom.
In the time it had taken her to put on her ‘uniform’ more people had trickled in. She smoothed her hair down with flat palms and tried to subtly shake them out by her sides.
She plugged her headphones in and pulled them over her head, she pressed play on the tape that was already inside and let the stern French speaking wash over her. A stack of tapes were already waiting for her. She fired up the computer and began relogging the tapes, while Steve began checking the tapes out for the already long line of customers.
Some of them she recognized from school, like Chrissy Cuningham and her boyfriend Jason. She looked bright and cheery as always. She hung off Jason’s arms as he whispered in her ear. She giggled softly at everything he said, and he kissed her cheek in obnoxious displays of public affection.
Robin had nothing against public affection but the degree to which her peers did it was way overboard.
A tired looking mother stood behind them as her young child pestered her about the tape she was holding. The noise from everyone filled the room like fuzzy static. She clicked off the tape.
On a good day when she played her language tapes, she’d repeat every word carefully, perfecting her pronunciation. This shift was just too loud for her to focus. She kept her headphones on, they droned out the noise every so slightly and soft pressure over her ears was comforting.
She placed the large stack of tapes on the cart beside her and wheeled it out from behind the counter. She swerved around customers and into the thankfully wide isles. She put away the tapes in their respective places and occasionally answered a customer’s question. Where do I find this, where do I find that, so on and so forth.
When she returned to the counter she was greeted by a fresh stack of tapes. She started the tedious process of logging those in, as more people filtered in. It should honestly be illegal to have this many people in such a small space she thought.
The temperature swelled with all the warm bodies, she rubbed the back of her neck. Robin rolled up her sleeves, wishing she had worn something under her thick olive sweater.
Finally, after hours of what she imagined what hell would be like, the customers cleared out and the store was left mostly deserted save for a handful of stragglers. All the tapes had been logged and put away and Robin was stuck leaning against the counter observing those who remained, waiting for her shift to end.
She liked to observe people, she liked to see what things they were interested in and the people they chose and chose not to hang around. In her opinion you could learn so much by just watching. She found it endlessly fascinating even though she struggled to understand the reasoning behind their behavior.
It was like watching a nature documentary, and maybe that was a weird way to think about it, but it really was like that. If she focused hard enough, she could almost hear the soothing narration that was often present in a documentary.
She must have zoned out when Steve pestered her shoulder.
“What?” she demanded. He waved his arms around his face in exasperation before pointing to the recent releases section that rested diagonal from where they stood. He gestured to the red-headed girl standing with her back to them.
“Check the movie out for her,” he advised. Robin shook her head and was about to protest when Vickie started making her way over. Steve ushered her towards his place.
“I’m going to the breakroom,” he announced, Robin glared at him as he waltzed away.
She turned her attention nervously to Vickie who was now standing in front of her. She slid her tape across the counter, Robin went through the motions of checking it out for her, while she racked her suddenly useless brain for something to say.
“Fast Times,” she settled on. Vickie’s cheeks flushed a lovely pink.
“Yeah, I heard it was good, like some friends were talking about it and I found that I would check it out, just to see what all the fuss was about, you know,” she blustered.
“I heard that it was good to,” The tape laid on the counter in front of them. Robin twisted her ring around her finger as they lapsed into awkward silence. Vickie cleared her throat.
“Well, I should be going,”
“Yeah,” Robin said dumbly. “See you tomorrow.” Vickie waved goodbye to Robin for the second time that day. When she was out of sight, Robin let her head fall into her hands. She dragged her fingers down her face leaving vertical red streaks in its wake.
“How’d it go,” Steve popped out from the breakroom, he was no longer wearing his vest, and the store was blissfully empty.
“It went as well as it could have,” she bemoaned.
“It probably wasn’t that bad,” Steve reassured.
“No, it totally was,” Robin sighed. “Its like every time she comes up to me I either run my mouth the entire time, or I basically lose the ability to speak,”
“I honestly don’t know how you do it, and I’m not asking for your advice.” He frowned.
“Honestly, I don’t know how I did it either,” he admitted. “Like don’t get me wrong I still got all the moves,” Robin feigned gagging. “But every time I go on a date its like- the girls are nice they usually are, but I feel no connection, there’s no spark.” He ran his fingers through his stupid thick hair in a way that only added volume.
“Its nice to know I’m not the only one who’s helpless,” she teased. Steve let out an exaggerated fake laugh, reminiscent of a bird hacking.
Steve pulled away from her house as she waved goodbye form the doorway. He always waited until she was practically inside the house before leaving as he was ever so chivalrous.
Her mother was sitting on a pink mat that rested on the floor. Her legs were extended out in front of her, as she raised her arms above her head then reached them towards her flexed feet.
“How was school,” she asked.
“It was good,” she answered not bothering to correct her on her whereabouts.
The house smelled strongly of essential oil, her mothers most recent obsession. ‘Its good for the soul’ she’d say when Robin complained of headaches from the onslaught of artificial lavender scent.
She swept past the living room and darted into her bedroom. She shut the door behind her and tossed her bag on the floor. The zipper unzipped and its contents spilled onto the brown carpet. She groaned loudly and flopped on her bed, burrowing her head underneath her pillows.
More often than not she slept at Steve’s house. She loved her parents but there were things she just could not tell them, literally the government made them all swear to secrecy.
Her parents didn’t care very much about her staying at Steve’s. They believed that children should be able to make own decisions. She was grateful for this it kept her out of impossible conversations, but sometimes she wished they would ask more about her life. Which she knew was unfair, because she couldn’t even tell them in the first place.
At some point- she didn’t know what time it was- she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar dark room, or more accurately a hallway. She was completely alone; flecks of white ash fell from the ceiling it floated around her in the stagnant freezing air. Her breath puffed out in pearly clouds and goosebumps rose along her arms.
Thick gray vines cascaded down the walls and sprawled across the floor. It expanded and deflated ever so slightly as though it were breathing. She was pressed against the hard wall between the thick vines, she couldn’t feel anything underneath her feet when she realized that the vines were wrapped around her. It restrained her arms at her sides and pressed her harder against the wall.
She couldn’t move, the vines slithered across her skin, tightening its grip to a painful degree. She tried to shout or make any noise, anything at all, but sound evaded her. Her ears rang, and a new vine joined the throng. This one wrapped around her neck; it squeezed tightly.
Robin couldn’t move she couldn’t breathe, only soundlessly gasp for air.
She jolted up in her bed, greedily inhaling air through her open mouth. Her heart pounded in her chest and echoed in her ears, as she grasped her neck, the sensation of thick tendrils still present.
She reached for the lamp on her side table, the soft orange light shrouded the room in its hazy glow. There were no vines, and it wasn’t cold, Robin whispered quietly to herself.
Robin creeped out of her room; she padded down the hallway until she arrived in the kitchen. She turned on the light. She reached for the phone that rested on the kitchen counter beside the house plant that her father dutifully watered everyday. She let the phone’s smooth cord curl around her wrist and fingers. She dialed the number she knew by heart and listened as the phone rang.
“Hello?” Steve answered.
“Its Robin,”
“Is everything ok, you’re not in trouble, are you?” Robin could practically see the pinched expression on Steve’s face.
“No, I just had that dream again,” she stated. They talked quietly until the exhaustion overpowered Robin’s anxiety. She hung the phone up and returned to her room.
A gentle frost had settled over the pale dying grass. Robin dragged her bike down the cracked pavement of her driveway. Her french horn when tucked safely in its case which was strapped to her back, the strap dug into the skin on her shoulder.
She put on her helmet, hopped on the uncomfortable banana seat and sped off. The air was crisp and dry, it lashed at the exposed skin of her face, it whipped her hair around until the short locks were tangled in a bird’s nest. The houses and trees blurred past her as she neared the school. She slowed her pace as she rolled into the parking lot and stopped in front the bike rack. She locked her bike up tightly and left her white helmet hanging off the handles.
She pushed through the steel doors and skirted past the gymnasium; she entered the bathroom. The lights gleamed dimly and casted the room with its ghastly glow. There was no one in there, the stall doors hung open. Water soaked the counter around one of the sinks and dripped onto the cracked achromatic tiles below.
Robin turned the tap on, the pipes shuddered in response. She wet her hands turned the tap off and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. She rubbed at her mascara-stained eyes, but the makeup would not budge. She sighed and began straightening up her cloths, she re-tucked her shirt back into her jeans. As she did so she felt a draft creep into the room.
Flecks of white fluttered from the ceiling in front of her, suddenly the temperature dropped further, the lights gave one final hum and flicked off. Her heart hammered in her chest as she gazed into the mirror. Through the glass she saw thick ropey vines sprawling across the stalls, across the tiles, across the counters and across the sinks.
She found herself paralyzed, frozen in place as the vines moved sluggishly across the counter towards her. She felt them snake around her ankle and grasp her tightly. She gasped soundlessly in the decrepit room. The tiles beneath her feet warped and changed into wooden planks. She was in the hallway with the midnight blue wallpaper and the darkened window at the end.
Her feet no longer touched the ground instead she hovered a few inches above, held in place by the vines, that thrummed all around her. The vines thrummed eagerly as though they were a starved animal finally catching its prey.
The door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. Light flooded into the room and the scene shifted so that she was back in the bathroom with her feet firmly planted on the ground as though she had never left.
Vickie stood beside her cheeks were flushed and rosy, whipped the cold wind outside. Her short red hair was curled delicately around her oval face. Robin stared at her, her heart was still beating rapidly as she tried to discreetly regain control over her breathing.
“Are you ok?” Vickie asked, she regarded Robin with her soft blue eyes. Robin nodded.
“Didn’t get enough sleep,” she forced out hoarsely. Vickie grimaced sympathetically and didn’t press any further. She ran her fingers through her hair again. Vickie slipped lip balm out over bag painted her already soft lips. Robin stood watching her, Vickie turned to face her and for a moment they starred at each other, neither of them attempting to speak.
They both startled when Kate burst through the door, Robin nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Practice is starting,” she declared and left them in stunned silence.
“After you,” Robin said gesturing to the door, then internally cringed at her words. But Vickie just smiled and let out a soft laugh that made Robin’s heart flutter.
Robin played her instrument with her group, she let the band teacher’s commands, and the abrasive noise of other band members wash over her like water. In between playing Kate and Milton would giggle and chat quietly about something Robin really wasn’t paying attention to.
She was focused on the way Vickie laughing to her friends. Her head tilted back ever so slightly and her eyes shinning. She had this unbreakable aura surrounding her, all Robin wanted to do was reach in and bask in her glow. She wanted Vickie to look at Robin the way she looked at her, and times it felt like maybe she did, but then again maybe not.
Maybe she could tell her how she felt just to get it off her chest, she could write a letter. She didn’t have to sign her name or anything, it wasn’t like she expected that Vickie would like her back. But no, she could never write a letter, the memory of dropping the letter she’d written for Tammy Thompson was seared painfully in her brain.
No, she couldn’t do that, what if it somehow happened again, but this time someone recognized her hand printing. How long would she have until she became a town pariah?
Besides even if she did its not like they even knew each other that well. No matter how much Robin wanted to its not like they talked that often. In all honesty Vickie only talked to her because they were classmates, they were in band together it was out politeness.
She came back to herself, and the world seemed dimmer. She noticed Vickie looking in her direction she wore a slight smile and Robin’s heart squeezed. She forced herself to turn away, something akin to guilt burned the back of her neck and bubbled beneath her skin. In a room full of people, she had never felt more alone.
She wondered if she would ever stop feeling this way. Hawkins was a monster that had sunken it’s sharp claws into her skin and wouldn’t let her go. Her blood dripped from her wounds and splattered on the floor as her soul drained along with it, until all that was left was an empty husk of who she once was.
Mr. Hauser had once looked at her so intensely as he told her that things did get better. To the core of her being she had wanted to believe his words, she wanted to stay true to herself, and she had for awhile. But she felt herself slipping again, she felt things moving faster than she could keep up, like she was being left behind.
The well meaning questions from Kate and Milton became harder to stave off, she didn’t know what to do other than to distance herself from them. She wanted to tell them, but the thought filled her with a renowned sense of dread, just because Steve was recitable to it doesn’t mean they would.
She was running out of air to breath and was stuck in place. All she ever wanted her entire life was to leave Hawkins the longer she stayed the more it felt like a distant dream that she would never achieve like so many others who stayed in the small town.