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Marcelle knows it's an act of cowardice when she asks Will Byers to dance. In a better world, she could be out there, dancing with Jennifer Hayes, but— well. This isn't that world, and Jennifer is dancing with Markus Jacobs.
She has to dance with someone. Marcelle would stick out like a sore thumb if she didn't, and that's too risky.
Marcelle and her parents moved to Hawkins so people wouldn't find out about the M on her birth certificate. She's risked too much already, when she's never even been a risk-taker in the first place.
So, yes, unfortunately she had to pick a boy to dance with. And, well, who other than Will Byers?
Marcelle knows what they say about him. She's heard the rumors. Whether they're true or not, dancing with him will help both of them out.
As they dance, though— Will's eyes aren't on her.
She follows his gaze to find they're on his best friend, who's dancing with a girl. Marcelle winces. Yikes.
Will's friend and his mystery partner turn with the music, and all the oxygen is stolen from Marcelle's lungs.
The girl that he's dancing with is beautiful.
She has dark hair. Black or brown, Marcelle can't tell— the dance isn't lit well at all. Her curls, about chin-length, are elegantly styled. One curl is swirled right in the middle of her forehead. She's wearing pink eyeshadow— purple? No, it's definitely pink. Her dress is blue, with a bright pink belt. Her eyes are a deep brown; they're big and curious, they're adorable.
Blood rushes to her face, warming it and definitely reddening it as well.
"Who's that girl," Marcelle asks, before she can stop herself, "dancing with..."
"With Mike?" Will guesses as she trails off.
Marcelle nods in confirmation, unwilling to look away from the girl.
"Jane. She's Mike's girlfriend."
She forces herself to tear her eyes away. "Oh."
Will smiles at her in pity, although he appears to be in the same situation himself. He looks back at the couple.
He then gasps, turning back to her— "She's looking at you. She's looking at you!"
When Marcelle's eyes find Jane's, her cute face flushes pink.
Jane steps away from Mike.
"Oh— Will, I'm gonna—"
Will smiles, the sweetest thing, and Marcelle hopes they can become friends after this. "Go on."
Jane's hands grasp Marcelle's. "Hello," she says, tone weirdly stilted. "I am Jane."
Unconsciously, the corners of her mouth raise into a smile. "I'm Marcelle."
Jane's body shines as the lights twinkle. Body glitter.
"Dance," Jane says, more of a statement than a question.
Marcelle glances around, afraid someone might hear them. Luckily, no one is watching.
...She does notice, however, that Will and his friend— Mike, was it? Are both gone. Good for them.
"We can't dance in here," she whispers.
Hurt flashes in Jane's deep brown eyes. "Why not?"
"...We're girls."
"I do not understand."
What? "Um... girls aren't really allowed to do that type of things. Romantic things. With other girls."
"Why?"
"I dunno. People are stupid."
"Stupid!"
"Yeah."
Jane's gaze darkens. "Mouth breathers?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Come," Jane demands, dragging Marcelle out of the gym by the hand.
She drags her to an empty math classroom.
"Dance... in here?" Jane asks, her deep brown eyes poring into Marcelle's own brown.
"Yeah," she grins, "dance in here."
They can't really hear the music in here, it's too far from the gym, but that's alright. They slow dance to the sound of their shoes click-clacking against the tile floor. They're both somewhat clumsy dancers, stumbling over their own (and sometimes each others') feet.
It's not much, but it's theirs.
The door flies open. Jane and Marcelle fly apart. Her hands tremble; her heart pounds at a thousand miles per hour. Two girls walk into the room.
The shorter one has sharp features, her brown curls are pinned up in a bun. She's wearing a black and red patterned dress.
The taller one has softer features. Her blonde hair goes midway down her back, although Marcelle gets the impression she'd be more comfortable with shorter hair. Her dress is a light lavender purple with lots of frills. Again, she seems to not be super comfortable in it.
Both of the girls have striking blue eyes. More importantly, though, their hands are grasped tightly around one another, and the brunette's sparkly lip gloss is smudged over the blonde's lips.
Jane speaks first. "Nancy?"
The brunette's— Nancy's?— voice, when it comes, is incredibly strained. "Oh, hey... uh—" She glances at Marcelle— "...Jane?"
Voice shaky, Marcelle asks, "Are you guys... uh... you know..."
The blonde heaves a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing against her companion. "Oh, thank god. Yeah."
Jane blinks.
"Can we... join you guys?" Nancy asks.
Marcelle looks at Jane. "I don't see why not."