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Robin Buckley was the average teenaged band kid, nothing being different or particularly interesting about her. The only surprising skill she grasped was the ability to play the French horn for long periods of time without losing much breath. Even then, that would only be considered cool to a loser like her.
New York’s Hawkins High was also a very average school, holding mostly very below average douche bags who prided rather their high athleticism over their low intelligence. This was a very average problem, that being the geeky kids constantly getting eaten up by the jaws of useless scholarship wielding muscle that was the basketball team.
However, Robin wasn’t much a victim of this. She was a senior, so close to crawling out of the hell hole that was the comedic villain ridden streets of New York. She could taste the freedom, well, as of right now she could only taste the bland mush mixture of ‘yuck’ and ‘bleh’ that was the cafeteria food.
“You should totally join band,” a short haired red head with dangling earrings sits next to her, conversing with the metal head esc man on the other side of the table.
“I may be a loser of sorts, but oh dear Vickie, I am not going down to that level of dork.” He points his fork with mush piled atop of it at her, his waving motion splattering the watery potato back onto his tray. Vickie enthusiastically rolls her eyes, “you have that guitar, what’s another instrument gonna do?”
“Right, because an electric guitar is on the same level as a trumpet and trombone.”
Robin chuckles at his sarcastic remark, “match made in heaven.”
Vickie frowns, “you aren’t helping my recruiting process that much,” she shoves her foot against Robin’s ankle.
“Hey I’m the middle man here,” she raises her free hand as if swearing. “Yeah well I’ve been pretty busy with hellfire campaigns, if I wasn’t then I would join for you guys,” he mocks as if in deep thought, “okay, that’s a lie, I still wouldn’t.” Vickie grins, “It’s fine Eddie, I wasn’t really expecting you to say yes anyways—I just assumed it was worth a shot because then you’d get an excuse to watch Steve Harrington at the games.”
“Now that’s a dangerous play right there orphan Annie, don’t make me tell daddy Warbucks on you.” Robin grimaces, “ew—don’t say the word daddy ever again.” He cocks his head before looking down at his food with a smirk, “don’t worry, you won’t be the one hearing it next time.”
“Oh my god,” the red head slowly pushes her food tray away in a sudden loss of appetite, “I should have sat by the garbage can.” Eddie forks a mouthful of food in order to get it over with, rolling his eyes. “I jest, I jest,” his tone plays in a smoothness before his eyes land on a nearing Blonde.
The demeanor shifts as she stops mid walk to look at the three, remorse flitting in her eyes as her brows tense. Her head shoots the opposite direction as someone calls her, sparing them one last glance before rushing off to another table. Vickie sighs.
“Don’t feel bad for her, she chose reputation over us—we’re clearly not a priority,” he stabs his meal, “being our friend means that we taint her popularity.” Eddie’s knuckles whiten as his unnatural grasp around the utensil tightens, he wasn’t necessarily wrong.
“You—you can’t just say that, she’s still Chrissy, she’s still our—“ she pauses.
“Friend? Not for a long while she hasn’t been,” his voice mellows, “she still may be Chrissy—but not the one we know.” Vickie’s scowled expression softens with a sadness to it, Robin peers off to see the socially awkward blonde quietly laugh along with the array of more confident girls she’s sat with. A man firmly wraps an arm over Chrissy’s shoulder, spooking the girl as she fidgets with the hem of her skirt while he speaks to her.
“I’m worried about her, the way she acts around that Jason guy makes me scared that he’s done things,” Robin says with a low and careful voice. Vickie clicks her tongue, “me too… though as sad as it is—it’s not our place to say anything, she wouldn’t listen if we tried anyways.”
The red head clears her throat, “on a lighter note, we have the game tonight so maybe you could come?” She turns to Eddie, Robin’s gaze shifts to another girl at nearby table.
The frizzy messy hair that shaped around her head like the rapid splash of a waterfall was always the first thing Robin noticed about Nancy Wheeler. The second being the stern expression usually coaxed across her face, usually relieved by a thin lipped smile that made fireworks burst in her chest even if they were never directed at her specially.
That would be a crazy combination, the awkward nothing burger band kid and the popular school newspaper journalist that was well loved yet still existed as her own person. Buckley herself was no celebrity but the other girl turned heads, well—specifically Robin’s. Nancy’s frame appeared dainty yet held such a powerful intimidating aura that made even the most macho-macho man with an ‘I heart mom’ tattoo quake in his leather buckled boots.
That was especially the case when Robin noticed Nancy was holding the eye contact, her expression softening in real time as Robin’s heart fluttered away like a bird and doing justice to her name. She can feel a quirky toothy grin twitch its way onto her lips, sheepishly lifting a hand. Nancy Wheeler smiles. Not the small ones she did when clearly uninterested in a topic but wanted to seem enthusiastic, she really smiled, her lips recreating the moon in its crescent formation.
Robin’s world was turning upside down and right side up, except continuously spinning as a butterfly feeling rolls in her stomach. Vickie nudges her shoulder which brings Robin back from her soaring flight, she looks to Eddie who was also focused the same direction, except he was staring at the man sat near Nancy.
“I swear you guys are hopeless, you look like you’re hunting pray—practically frothing at the mouth. Why don’t you just talk to them?” She leans on an elbow, picking through the somewhat appealing parts of her meal away from the rest.
“You can’t just—talk to people like Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington, they are, like—next level, they make the whole cheerleader and basketball ball team combined look elementary—minus like, Billy Hargrove. Quite literally the ring leaders without being the ring leaders.” Vickie raises a brow, “what I mean is that everyone wants to either be them or be with them—there’s too much competition. Even attempting is like being thrown into shark infested waters, we’re practically just chum.”
Robin steals a glance back to her table, slightly disappointed that Nancy was now focused on conversation with a scrawnier boy standing over her, black hair messily flayed in resemblance to hers. She watches as he scowls and flips her off, walking to a further table and sitting next to a brunette with a layered bowl cut who wraps an arm behind the childishly pouting boy.
“Way to be positive, that sounds pretty dramatic. I’m sure you’re overthinking at least a—vast, majority of it.” Robin bites her untouched sandwich, “so you partly agree.” Vickie shoves her, “at least finish chewing before talking,” she lectures with a sneer even though most of her expressions looked either stunned, unserious, or just unsure.
“I’ll come to the game, I suppose my D&D planning can wait,” Eddie says as the bell rings. He groans, tossing his fork and sitting up. Vickie follows, politely standing and grabbing her plate that looked as if a painting of horror and dubious mixture. The shuffling of trays and people echo the space of the cafeteria, Robin sighs at her very unfinished sandwich.
—
For her it was always a bit overwhelming, the combination of cheer girl chants, instruments, and clapping crowds all topped off with the buzzing of the instantaneous score board. It was an auditory mosh pit at basketball games, but she was able to manage it with the help of Vickie always standing next her and sparing glances to check in. That was part of the reason why she made a good captain, as well as the ability to keep everyone in check; mainly at the sole fact that people were scared to see the stressed out side of her after the ping pong ball and mellophone incident. Not much elaboration needed there.
Robin glanced over the sweaty men squeaking across the court, landing to the blonde cheerleader shifting forwards and backwards with shaking pom-poms. At the edge of the floor near the bleachers, a woman in a striped sweater with rolled up sleeves held a clip board. Her head shifting down to look at it and write after periods of times as another man stood near her with a camera, lifting it to take pictures every so often.
She reminiscences the boy’s name to be Jonathan, she had usually talked to him when in the class that had no one she knew. He was awkward like her in a way, except instead of rambling on he was more of the silent listening type.
Her eyes land back to the journalist, the one that was so obviously Nancy. Robin remembers Jonathan mentioning her in the sense of a friendly ex after her mouth had accidentally slipped her name. So it seems she did date nerds, but also jocks; that specific jock being Steve Harrington.
In her peripheral she sees the man himself with bouncy hair score a hoop, the crowd cheers as he wipes his brow. Robin was sure they weren’t dating anymore either but they usually came as a package deal in the school hallways, that had made it hard to tell if they were just platonic buddies or still had leftover romantic tension.
The repetitive motions of her fingers pressing against the French horn was just muscle memory by now, not particularly challenging which allowed her to go off into these long thoughts. The scoreboard goes off and Robin sees a head turn from the bleachers, Eddie looks to them while continuously raising his brows as the sweaty mess of Steve Harrington starts to douse himself with his water bottle.
Robin slightly cocks her head in response, sarcastically rolling her eyes even though she found Eddie amusing. Someone sits next to him, messy curly hair spilling from his cap and the two begin talking. She figures it’s one of his little hellfire minions as he taps his back, she’d have to make fun of him for having so many freshman friends. The cheerleaders commence a chant as Vickie looks over to her, Robin watches Chrissy get lifted into a flip, something that would fold and snap her like a measly twig.
The music comes to an end as the cheerleaders exit their formation, Robin lowers her instrument along with Vickie. The timer nears zero as an opposing team mate with the ball gets cornered, it almost gets taken from its dribble before he unrealistically shoots it across the court. The crowd goes silent in anticipation as the ball nears the hoop and hits, circling the rim as two players on the same team compete to rush ahead in preparation to take it. It slows, pausing before falling the opposite direction and labeling the shot as a miss.
Before it reaches the ground, a man who Robin recognizes as Billy Hargrove takes a bold jump to catch it. He fails by miscalculation as someone else quickly swoops by and snatches it in quick speed. Billy turns in confusion before a scowl stains his face, watching Steve force through and dodge the advances of his competitors. He starts to near a spot that is an assured standstill and so without stopping, he jumps for extra height and throws the ball.
By some miracle, it’s a perfect satisfying swoosh. The crowd roars from the stands and the scoreboard goes off, his teammates jump toward Steve in excitement as he seems unfazed and depleted.
The intercoms static, “with that, Hawkins High tigers takes the win against the Jordan High falcons!”
A player runs from the court, wrapping around Chrissy and pulling her into a forced kiss. She slightly pulls back, ending it and awkwardly smiling as Jason raises a fist to the stands.
Vickie and Robin share a look, “yikes,” she says and the red head kicks her despite agreeing. The sounds settle down and people start to slowly drain from the stands, the boy in the cap rushes towards Steve as the girls walk up to Eddie.
“You’re right, I should come to the games more often,” he points a thumb behind himself, “not everyday you get a shot like that.” He pauses, “or a shot like the one I’m seeing right now— you guys look like green nut crackers.” Robin scoffs as Eddie laughs a little, “seriously, I feel like I’m going to get arrested and sent to the guillotine.”
“Nice to see you too, you sure you still don’t wanna join band and get a chance to wear this lovely garb? Truly missing out.” Robin nudges him with her fist, Vickie snorts.
She rests a hand on her hip, “yeah, he’s just totally jealous that he’s not in the same shade as Kermit the frog right now.”
“Oh how tempting, but I’m sure that protecting the gates and reading scrolls to the king—or whatever it is that you do, isn’t the life for me.” Eddie tosses his head to the side with a smirk, landing his eyes somewhere else. “You know what, I think I’m going to go court said king now—have fun without me peasants,” he mocks a pageant princess wave and walks off.
Someone politely clears their throat from behind, the girls turn around to the sight of Nancy Wheeler clutching her clipboard to her chest.
“Hi, I’m Nancy and write for the school newsletter. I assume you’re Vickie, the band team captain?” Her voice speaks in soft formality and Vickie spares a wide glance to Robin. “Oh—totally, yeah, that’s me,” a nervous grin flits onto her face.
Robin watches the interaction, frozen at the fact that she was existing in the same space as her. “I was wondering if I could do a little interview? I’ve realized we haven’t added enough representation about our Hawkins band so I was hoping to get the opportunity to talk to someone on the team.”
“Oh! That’s pretty cool of you, of course,” Vickie turns her head to Robin, “I actually have the perfect person, Robin here would be great for you, super talkative and always has stuff to say.” She nudges her, “and now that I think about it, I need to check on the other members so you guys have fun with that!”
“Great,” Nancy turns to her and Robin’s mouth gapes slightly open as she watches Vickie walk off with a wink. She clicks her pen, “Robin was it?” Blood rushes to her face as she looks at her.
“Right, yup—like the bird,” she internally curses herself. “Let’s start with something simple, something like, why you joined? Why should others?” The dread in her mind slightly loosens, she can work with that.
“Oh totally, yeah, great question. I’ve played the French horn since I was like—five, so when my friend Vickie, before she was captain, asked me to join it was basically a given. Kinda strange, I mean, uh—for some reason I didn’t even really know that there was a band team? Which little me would have clicked her heels and joined in a heartbeat if she did, but that was probably because I didn’t really ever go to the games.” Nancy’s demeanor shifts from professional to more of personal interest, quickly jotting with her pen.
“To be fair, the team has been short of members recently so if anyone did join it would be—like, extremely helpful. I think that when I did it was an outlet of sorts? Because to be honest, I mean, I didn’t really fit in and let’s be real, I still don’t. But with band, it gives me a place in the school, kinda like how basketball—or writing for the school newspaper would, for example. At first it was an attempt at normalcy, in a way, but I guess overtime I realized it was more so about self expression than that.”
Nancy smiles at her paper and Robin could feel her stomach tingle with butterflies. “Sorry, that was probably, too much, uh, was—was that, good?” She places a hand at the nape of her neck, anticipating her response as Nancy finishes up her train of thought on the paper.
“No yeah, that was—that was great,” she looks up to her. A wobbly grin rises against her cheeks, “oh, cool—awesome.” Her gaze shifts to the group of cheerleaders behind them as Nancy asks the next question, every girl was there except for Chrissy.
“You seem very passionate, does—do you have an influence of music outside of band?” Her board slightly lowers, the question seeming more genuine than practiced. Robin’s eyes snap back to her, “of course, I mean, my buddy Eddie back there,” she points turning her head to see that Steve Harrington was gone from the scene as Eddie was talking to the boy in the cap again.
“Uh, he plays electric guitar, has his own band called Corroded Coffin so I sometimes go see his local concerts. Oh! He also runs the hellfire club and they play, you know, dungeons and dragons. So if you ever need a new fresh section, you should totally talk to him.” Nancy nods her head slightly, except instead of writing she was just watching Robin intently.
“Your friend wasn’t lying when she said you always know what to say,” Nancy clicks her pen and lays it on the board. “Oh—uhm, sorry, yeah just a habit, I tend to start talking and don’t really know when to shut up. It’s pretty much a curse but probably nice for you journalists, I mean I’m just gushing headlines aren’t I?” Robin nervously chuckles, Nancy slightly winces with a wide smile.
“You don’t need to be sorry, I mean I may be a hypocrite because I’m one of those said journalists, but I find it pretty charming,” she softly clears her throat. “Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler,” she holds a spare hand out.
She takes it, “Buckley, Robin Buckley.”
“I guess I better head over to the players and cheerleaders who are still around, thank you for your time—or, uh, it was nice, talking to you.” They release hands, “same here.”
“I’ll see you around Robin,” she turns as Robin sheepishly waves, watching her walk towards the group of girls and grab their attention. Vickie appears from where she was previously awkwardly standing by the bleachers, probably having realized the fact that all of the band members had already left.
“She said she’ll see me around, she thinks I’m charming,” Robin grabbed her by the shoulders and starts shaking as if she was a magic eight ball that would give her all the answers.
“You’re so totally welcome—okay, stop that, I—I get it—let me go,” Robin releases her, “right, sorry.” She takes a glance back to the cheerleaders, “do you think she went home?”
Vickie parts her lips, “I don’t know—I mean, I was going to walk up to her but Chrissy was so focused on her phone, like someone was spamming her or something. She seemed really upset so I decided not to bother.” Robin clicks her tongue, “hopefully she’s okay,” she nods. “What about Eddie? Did you see what happened?”
Vickie snorts, “honestly who didn’t? The so called king of Hawkins High’s face turned so red that it could have caused a whole global warming, he seemed in a hurry though so he excused himself and bolted through the doors—but only after Eddie slipped him what I assume was his number.”
“Wow—that’s, actually priceless,” she glanced his way and he returns it with a psyched thumbs up. Vickie’s expression lightens with remembrance, “did you need a ride home?”
“Nah, I still have my good ol’ bicycle,” she places two firm hands on her hips in pride. Vickie sneers, “that thing is sure to fall apart on you someday, you’re sure? I mean, it’s kind of dark…”
She shrugs, “don’t worry, I’ll leave behind a trail of bread crumbs incase I get lost.”
—
Robin stands corrected as she drags her hunk of crap along by her side on the sidewalk of New York. It’s okay though as she figures if anyone looks at her wrong then she’ll just bark at them.
Even at night the city still found a way to be lively, and pretty damn loud at that. She curses herself for buying that candy bar at the vending machine, being a few dollars short for a taxi. She doesn’t want to give Vickie the advantage of making fun of her over this for the next week, so initially, she decides to never bring this embarrassment up in conversation.
Something makes it over the loud honking of standstill drivers, her heart skips a beat as a nearby explosion slightly vibrates underneath the sidewalk.
“Shit,” she mutters, pausing and glancing around as if the threat would just pop out. She hears a woman scream, familiarity ringing in her ears as she hears a swoosh play out over head.
“Holy triple shit!” She jumps as she catches a glimpse of a man in a red and dark blue patterned spandex swing overhead, a white spider plastered on the chest. “Spider-man!” She points, not necessarily talking to anyone specific but more so to process it herself.
Something flies around the corner and stops him, she cowers close to the floor in response to the action. She sees Spider-man sling a web towards the threat, that being a man on some hoverboard in a metallic silver and green get up with an elvish mask.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she ditches her bike and runs for cover in the nearest alley. Spider-man gets hit square in the abdomen with the flying saucer that the villain was standing atop of, holding some girl who she couldn’t make out.
He free falls towards the ground before webbing a surface to catch himself, shooting another at the girl in order to grab her. The villain continues flying, dragging Spider-man along with him until he slingshots himself forward and crashes into him. They all tumble to the ground, the girl left unconscious in between the distance of the two. He rushes to his feet before a device is tossed his way, blinking with a green light.
Spider-man freezes, glancing to the girl before quickly swinging himself upwards as the beeping intensifies. The villain reaches her and is already on the move as the device explodes, causing Robin’s ears to start to ring with an excruciating pain. She goes to cover them, the eruption had hit Spider-man despite his efforts and left behind a green mist that covered the tracks of the goblin. His taunting manic laugh echoes through the streets as he is nowhere to be seen, fading away in the distance.
It was so quick, yet so intense. Robin slightly shivers at the clearing fog which reveals a dent in the pavement, Spider-man already having fled the scene. She decides to do the same and jog the rest of the way home as sirens blare closer, avoiding becoming associated with any of this; plus, she could probably use the exercise.
—
As the day went on, an eeriness lingered between classes, she had expected to see a specific chair filled despite it being empty every time. Even as people were flooding into the cafeteria, the presence of a once so bubbly blonde was still missing.
In the lunch line, as slop was being spooned and plopped onto her plate, nowhere near the usual circle of girls was she to be found. She could make out soft murmurs and chatter, delicate enough that if you had breathed too sharply then it would disperse in an instant. Robin couldn’t hear what they were saying anyway, her ears had still been adjusting from the explosion last night.
It felt as if a target was not necessarily on her back, but lingering around the open space as she had walked up to her table. It seemed as if her friends were affected too, as they remained silent when she neared her seat. She wonders if there was a mandatory hive mind of communication that she missed when she first became a freshman.
“Hey guys,” she says as she sits down. It was odd because she never had to say anything of introduction when speaking to them, but it felt as if it was rude not to in the moment. Eddie didn’t look up from his tray, scraping his fork through broccoli and mashed potatoes in a slow motion. Vickie looks at her with a remorseful frown, eyes glimmering with sadness. Okay so what the hell did she miss?
“What’s going on, did something happen?” Robin lowers her voice, turning to glance behind her at all the people who were either moping or awkwardly sitting in the same confusion.
“You—didn’t hear the news?” Vickie leans forward to whisper, eyebrows knitting in concern. Robin shakes her head, the girl glances at Eddie who stops playing with his food.
“That so called hero killed Chrissy,” he blurts out disdainfully as his eyes remained unmoving from his plate. A scowl slightly etches Vickie’s expression before calming, “he didn’t—she was lost in the crossfire Eddie.”
“The crossfire that wouldn’t have happened if this Spider-man didn’t have to engage every time he saw a buffoon in tights and cosplay.”
Vickie’s face tightened, “she had a longer fighting chance because he was trying to help.”
Eddie scoffs, “look where that got her.”
“Chrissy… is dead?” Her voice cracks around the edges as they both look to her, somewhat surprise bubbling in their eyes as if they had forgotten she was there. Robin felt even more guilty, that familiar voice that screamed should have been evidence enough. She could have done something, heck, she could have thrown her bike at that hoverboard flying piece of scrap metal.
Vickie’s lips downturn in a way that had so painfully said yes, Robin could feel her insides collapse. “We didn’t even get—to say… goodbye,” she looks down at her meal as her throat constricts any feeling of appetite she may have had.
“I bet eighty percent of the people here didn’t even know her favorite color, they probably only knew that she was popular.” The words sting from Eddie’s lips as he bites down onto his food to cover the sensation, Robin’s gaze cautiously wanders across the environment at this statement.
The sound of Vickie’s fork clanging on the tray plays in the background of Robin’s mind like tires rolling on pavement as her eyes find Nancy at a different table, Steve Harrington slowing into the frame and taking a seat next to her. She seems to mutter him a question, looking around as if to check if anyone had heard. The man pauses with a still expression before it turns to something more tired and depressed, he avoids her eyes as he shakes his head at his lap. Did he know Chrissy? Robin can’t help but wonder, though It’s not her business.
Time miserably passes and the bell rings, cuing the shuffling of bodies to rush out of the room. Robin carries her tray to the drop off, moving slowly as if its heft was weighing her down. Someone hesitantly taps her shoulder and Robin turns to see Nancy standing behind her. She was wearing a deep purple sweater layered over a white tee and a brown belt that held up ashy black jeans.
“I heard about what happened,” she says as Robin diverts her eyes downwards. Nancy nervously rubs a thumb over her other palm, “I’m sorry about Chrissy, I mean—I’ve heard you guys were close, that you knew each other.”
Robin crosses an arm to hold her opposite elbow, “yeah—it sucks, pretty bad.” Nancy slightly frowns, taking a glance behind before shifting closer. “Okay, I know I have no right to ask you this and it’s pretty shitty of me because of what happened to your friend—,” she quirks a brow at Nancy’s suddenness. “I think I know who did it,” she pauses to look into her eyes for any reaction. Robin’s stomach sinks, she of all people would know. She was there.
Nancy takes her silence as an invitation to go on, “everybody keeps saying it was Spider-man or—or this Green Goblin, I mean it was, the goblin guy that is—but I’ve been working on this theory for a while and thought now would be the time to share as I have the window of opportunity.”
“What are you actually talking about?” Robin mutters, being the first time the tables had flipped and she was confused by someone else’s rambling. Nancy lets out a broken sigh, “I’ve scored two spots in a grand tour of Creelcorp Industries, they think I’m a renowned journalist because of my job at the New York Post—so if I go by myself I can’t pry, they’d get suspicious. I thought that you might have wanted to tag along for a way of finding justice, for Chrissy.”
“I—don’t understand, what does, any, of this have to do with what happened to Chrissy?” Robin slightly furrows her brows, Nancy holds out a hand in preparation for explanation.
“They have like a shit ton of money so it wouldn’t be off the budget to fund a hoverboard riding supervillain, the building always brags about conducting so called research but are super secretive despite their building being the eyesore of New York—so it wouldn’t be surprising either that they could provide the tech.” Robin can feel something in her expression slightly twitch, causing a crack.
“I—don’t… I don’t know Nancy, I’m sorry. I have—my class, I’ll see you around,” Robin passes but Nancy softly grabs her arm. She turns to be struck with the ever so pleading dark eyes of blue, “please just at least think about it,” she holds out a tiny paper with numbers on it.
Robin stares at it as she fights against the war raging in her mind, she sighs before ultimately taking it.
—
She couldn’t seem to let it escape her mind, even as she laid on her bed and stared at her ceiling, the paper taunted her. First the thought of messaging her for the selfish reason of getting close to Nancy wheeler had crossed, but on the other hand, she didn’t exactly know what was going on in the girl’s brain when she came to Robin of all people for a situation like this. Did she think that she was expendable, or was it that she believed she would have been able to do whatever task it was that she needed her for?
Robin’s head turns against her pillow for a better glance at the paper on her nightstand, surrounded by open discs and stacked cases. She reaches her arm, lazily grabbing it between her fingers to fully make out the numbers in the dark. Her eyes squint in debate if she should do it, if she should do whatever highly invasive idea that the other girl was planning.
If Nancy’s suspicions of this Creelcorp were correct, then it would be what Chrissy would have wanted, right?
She grabs her phone, powering it on as she figured that was a good enough reason to base her decision. Its brightness slightly blinds her, causing a slight flinch before narrowing her eyes at the screen.
Her finger taps the digits one at a time as she looks between the glowing brick and the neat handwriting that belonged to Nancy wheeler. She sighs as her thumb unsurely types out a message, hovering over the send button as she rethinks it.
Robin’s heart skips as the millimeter of contact between her finger and the screen is enough for the message to go through to the other person. The green hue of the bubble shines along with the white illuminating color, a little text that reads delivered underneath. Her breath hitches as not long after did it mark as read.
‘I’ll do it’
read 10:47 PM