nancydrewheeler

[nancydrewheeler]

Nancy wasn't used to this, the simple exchange of facts between them. It felt like they were back at the start, when they'd never exchanged much more than simple greetings before deciding they worked better together than apart. She still didn't know how to revert back to this, like the years they'd spent together were simply better left unmentioned, as though they'd never happened at all; just siblings of their brother's best friend.

She gave a nod in response to it all. "I can handle it," she countered, not quite in disagreement with the workload. A classic, Jonathan-structured compliment followed: a simple statement, as though his opinion was just something to casually point out. "Everyone else's just ... busy this weekend." Busy attending the things she was on the clock for: childless and spouseless, Nancy's plans fell to the bottom of the list of importance.

Some things never changed. They'd always been treated differently at the Post; Jonathan with one of the busiest weekends of the summer off, and Nancy covering everything on the calendar. "Well, I--I'll leave you to your weekend off, then," she offered, saving them both from continuing the small talk.

Jonathan nodded slowly and plopped the cigarette into his shirt pocket. “I’m not on rotation today,” he said, voice even. His eyes tracked toward the edge of the parking lot where a couple of young kids were passing around a soda on the curbside. “Didn’t really push for it,” he added after a second, shrugging. “The wedding was just a one-off, a buddy got me the gig.” He scratched the side of his neck, unsure of how to explain why he was still out here sitting on his tailgate instead of heading home.

His gaze shifted back to her, then dropped to the recorder again. The thing looked almost identical to the one he used to see on his bedside … or perhaps even the passenger seat of his car, coiled in the seatbelt and on its way to getting lost in the abyss near his console. It used to annoy the crap out of him, but now it just felt like a throwback. Jonathan kicked his heel against the back bumper once, absently.

“You’re covering it all, then? – Solo?” He paused. “Feels like a lot.” There was no judgment in the statement. He didn’t mean it as a dig. It sounded like a weird kind of praise, if anything. “You were always pretty good at, you know. Heavy lifting.” Jonathan scratched the edge of his brow, almost offhand. He didn’t add anything else. Didn’t need to. "And - no, I uh, I'm off duty this weekend."

[nancydrewheeler]

She had to agree with the redhead: there was nothing less appealing she could think of than spending the day at Hawkins Community Pool, especially not after having seen the oceans on the East Coast, or the rocky beaches of Ireland. But, hey! People must've enjoyed it enough for the staple establishment to stay open this long. There simply weren't enough people in town who've gotten out and seen better.

Nancy threw her hands up in defense. "I'm just asking." It wasn't often that she saw one member of the Party without the others, especially not wandering down Main like this. "You just travel in packs, is all." Unless, of course, Max was simply here to wreak havoc on the lives of small shop owners without implicating anyone else, in which case, Nancy had to commend her, at least a little!

"Are you ready for school Monday?" she asked, shifting the conversation to what she hoped wouldn't be taken so accusatorially. "Not that I think anyone's really ready for senior year to start." It was Nancy's small attempt at making sure Max knew she was here for her, in the same way that she tried to be for all of Mike's friends after all they'd seen together.

The thought of an overcrowded pool by itself made Max's expression curl up. She loved the sun, and swimming, but no amount of chlorine could disinfect people's sweat and sunscreen leeching into the water. Not to mention the dead bugs floating in the water. Yuck. She preferred going out to Lover's Lake, or even better, a real beach. Which Hawkins, of course, didn't have. Plus there were also a handful of memories backdropped by the Hawkins Community Pool Max didn't care to revisit. The masses could have closing day at the pool all to themselves. "Nothing like getting overcharged at the snack shack and dunking your head in piss water, am I right?" Whoever was in charge of planning city events should maybe start spacing them out. She didn't know if she believed Nancy that was all she had to report on, but she didn't care enough to pry further. Hawkins had gone back to being a normal, quaint town. And maybe that was for the best. Something Max could be thankful for or whatever. Max always thought Nancy was cool. First with her guns, then with getting out of Hawkins for college, seeing the world. But some of these questions? Not cool. She would have to poke at Jonathan to see if Nancy had a history of being tone deaf like her brother. "I'm here alone." For now she was, but she had a point to make! "Is that a problem?" She narrowed her eyes at Nancy Wheeler, "Something worth reporting about?"

[nancydrewheeler]

Mike didn't really get excited about anything, much less something related to school. She nearly reached forward to place a hand on his forehead and jokingly ask if he was okay, but instead, Nancy accepted his answer quietly, letting him finish. She remembered the jitters she'd felt before the first day of her own senior year, feeling like there was a mountain of expectations to climb in front of her. Sitting here, now, what once felt that monumental had simply only been practice for what she wanted out of adulthood.

By this time, four years ago, Nancy had already toured campuses around the country, and had already hand-picked Emerson for herself and someone else. It didn't surprise her that her brother seemed to take a much more laid-back approach, as he did with most other things in life in comparison to Nancy. But, she wasn't here to be his guidance counselor, or his mother, for that matter. She'd come to his room to be his sister: a listening ear and a vessel for advice, whether he wanted to accept or ignore it.

"Well, that's a good start. Better than dread, I'd say," she agreed encouragingly. Nancy knew the feeling of wanting to get out of here, but not particularly because she couldn't stand the sight of her former classmates any longer. "You have time to decide, you know that, right? I mean, not a ton of it, but a few months, still." She nodded her head toward his book. "Do you have an all-nighter ahead of you to finish that?"

the night before school was typically a tough one for mike to get through. he usually didn't sleep, and since he knew his own pattern he wasn't even going to try this time. he had set out his clothes for the following morning - nerd behavior, he knew - and had his backpack already filled up with all of the first day necessities. he sincerely hoped he didn't get some weird stickler who assigned him homework on the first day. outside, the sun had already set and he assumed that most everyone was already in bed. then came nancy knocking on his door, padding her way inside before he could actually verbally grant her entrance. she must have known that he was going to say yes regardless, and he looked up at her from the page he had been dutifully reading. it was a book that was supposedly required reading before school started, but he wasn't all that worried about it. he was halfway through it, and that was going to have to do. he dog-eared the page he was on, then closed the book to give his sister his full attention. for once, he was going to have as nice a moment as he could with her. "i guess i would say...i'm feeling okay about it. i'm kind of excited for a change? after this year it's all over, and i like the fact that i won't have to deal with the other students of hawkins anymore," he admitted, and that last bit was probably his favorite part. he had never been popular nor had he ever wanted to be. he liked his friends, he liked not being considered the coolest person around, but he didn't like the bullying that they all had to endure. he knew hawkins was small and there wasn't much to do, but surely picking on people wasn't the best way to pass time. of course he knew that ever saying that in front of his peers would see him crucified, so he'd keep it to himself. "thanks for checking on me, though. i guess what i really need to be worried about is picking out colleges to apply to. i don't even want to deal with that."

[nancydrewheeler]

It was easy to see as someone who'd known him back when he'd reigned as king that Steve had changed. Nancy wasn't sure when it'd happened, exactly; she couldn't pinpoint the moment when he'd decided to take a step down from his throne and grow up a bit, but he was different than the boy she'd met in high school. Maybe it was the near-death encounters they'd both faced that had shoved him into adulthood, or just the simple progression toward maturity that had happened while she wasn't looking.

They felt chummy, friendly, even, in a way they hadn't in a long time. A hand on her shoulder, the ask of how she was doing, were both further than they'd gotten in years. Between his friendship with her brother's friends, forced proximity, and the boy who had come between them before out of her life, maybe they could be friends now, a feat Nancy hadn't considered possible years ago.

"Oh, I will. I think she requires twice the hairspray quota compared to every other woman in Hawkins, so, much appreciated." The question had been posed to her, but Nancy couldn't help but wonder how he was doing: still stuck in this town, working at a store that seemed to just barely be hanging on after years of threatening to close. It was enough to make Nancy feel a slight, shameful level of concern. But, they weren't that close--at least, they hadn't been in a long time, and they weren't again yet.

Nancy offered a shrug in response. "It's, y'know, Hawkins. Same as ever, except when it's not quiet around here." She should be grateful that it was, that maybe she and her friends could have a moment of peace, for once. "It's so weird, seeing them almost grown up. Mike was talking about college the other day." She was sure Steve felt the sentiment, having grown so close to the Party over the years. "I knew it would come sometime, but I just didn't expect it to feel so fast."

He'd toyed with the idea of not attending the barbecue, giving some flimsy, bullshit excuse like staying home to catch up on reading for the next semester he was never going to do in the first place. On the other hand he'd imagined making a great and grand entrance, slipping back into the persona of King Steve for one last hurrah, to prove to Nancy that he still held domain over this territory. Which was stupid, nonsensical, idiotic - childish in a way even Steve thought he'd put past him. Of course she had just as much of a right to be back in Hawkins as anyone else, and the days when he might have reigned over the town were long gone anyway - part of him can't help but think that, if they'd stuck together, if they had somehow made it by the skin of their teeth, he might have had the guts and gumption to leave too But besides, they were fine with each other, right? There'd been little interaction save for some chitchat in line at Best Buy, or at the register at Melvald's, yet somehow Steve had managed to make every single one of those interactions incredibly awkward, to the point that he'd begun suspecting it was concealed self-sabotage. They were cool, right? They'd parted on alright terms when Nancy had inevitably left for college and Steve had, inevtiably, stuck around. Then why was he working overtime to make things weird? Maybe he should quit his business major and switch to psychology, delve deep into the twisted mind of one Steve Harrington. He pitied the poor therapist he'd see one day - between absent and neglectful parents and being tortured in a secret underground Russian spy base it was hard to decide just where to start.

Nancy joked, smiled, and Steve's hands grew clammy. And he felt nervous, all of a sudden, like he was about to take a big test. An exam on how to prove to your ex-girlfriend that you've changed and grown up, and that you've been absolutely okay since you guys broke up, even though she may or may not have been the best part of you for a while there. Steve smiled, hands on his hips as he trailed his gaze across the Wheeler's backyard. Half of Hawkins seemed to have gathered here. Ted Wheeler would hate this. "Well, they didn't call me King Steve for nothing", he joked back, and the quip came easily now. Everything began to feel strangely familiar, his surroundings, cracking jokes with Nance. "I'm telling you, that spot on the prom court, that's hard earned."

Absent-mindedly he'd begun scanning the place for familiar faces, yet looking for no one in particular, and he abandoned the task to turn back to Nancy. His gaze softened a little. "Yeah. It's good to see you, too", Steve nodded, tentatively raising his hand to give her shoulder a squeeze. Maybe, in a few months' time, they could transition into a hug? "And you can tell her I always keep an extra can stocked in the back, even if we've run out out front." He'd tell her himself when he caught her. Or when he'd gathered the courage to speak to her as if she wasn't the mother of the woman who'd broken his heart (deservedly so). The lingering grip on Nancy's shoulder almost made his fingers cramp up and he quickly grabbed a cup of - something - maybe lemonade? - to busy his hand. "What's it like being back? Must be a big change. Although I gotta say you fit right back in."

[nancydrewheeler]

Nancy had half expected to hear an earful about how much still needed to be done, or how rude it was of her to be hiding in the pantry while their guests were here, but instead, it seemed her mother didn't think her idea was all that bad. She handed over the plastic cup sheepishly as she hid a grin, simply grateful her mother wasn't chewing her out about avoiding socializing.

"I didn't mean to, um--" she started, searching for the words that would provide a sufficient explanation for her hiding out while avoiding the whole truth: that she was hiding from someone. Nancy had considered herself long healed from the crumbling of her relationship, but that was before she'd come home and seen the ghosts of her first love wandering around her house and half of Hawkins.

"I just--I saw him here, Jonathan, and I thought I could handle it." The rest went unsaid: but I can't, the admission that this was too hard, even when Nancy had insisted to herself that it wouldn't be. "But it's--I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just needed a moment, and ... that," she gestured to the cup in her mother's hands with a hint of a smile.

"Oh—!" The first instinct is to apologise, to back away with a ducked head and a murmured sorry. But then the realisation hits, that it's the pantry and not Nancy's own bedroom, which she learned a long time ago to knock before barging in. The redness that's quick to spread to her daughter's cheeks tells her all she needs to know about what's in the cup—and it makes Karen chuckle.

She's been in this scenario before, and she was only sixteen when her mother caught her sneaking a glass of port at Christmastime. There was an uproar about it, in her parents' unique way: she was given the silent treatment, grounded for a week, forbidden from going anywhere that wasn't school. A total overreaction in her eyes, even now, and it didn't stop her from doing it again, it just made her better at hiding it.

There's a glint of something mischievous shining away in her eyes, something that quirks the corners of her lips upward, and she reaches out for the Solo cup in her daughter's hand—not to confiscate, just to borrow. "Yeah, well, that makes two of us." Besides, Nancy's an adult!

[nancydrewheeler]

who: nancy & @harringtoninc where: the wheeler bbq!

It was a strange feeling to consider seeing Steve Harrington a relief these days. There was a time when she was sure he brought out the worst in her: the small, aching part of her heart that had once yearned for the kind of coolness he carried around him so effortlessly. Being cool didn't get her very far, though--if anything, it left her here, back in her childhood home, wondering why she'd ever felt the need to satisfy the magnetic pull she had to him back then when it had come with such a cost.

Things were cool between them now, though; at least, they had been the last time she'd been home, and the small conversations they'd had in passing in the few months since they'd been home. It was nice to know they could be friends again, even if Nancy wasn't sure she had it in her to say the same about the other former boyfriend of hers present at this party.

"Not even a five car pile-up can keep Steve Harrington from a party," she joked as they finally settled in. "Some things never change." That was the thing about him: wherever Steve was turned into somewhere everyone wanted to be, her mother's backyard apparently included. "It's good to see you, though," she added, this time more sincere. "Especially since the last time I saw you, I needed to run home with my mother's hairspray."

[nancydrewheeler]

who: nancy wheeler & @dietmike where: the wheeler household

'Twas the night before the first day of school, and all through the house ... Karen Wheeler had been running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in order. Nancy could remember the fuss she'd made for her first day of senior year, and their mother had been keen on making sure each of her children felt the same kind of love and importance on special days like these. What differed was the level of embarrassment her brother suffered upon being dolled up for first day of school photos that would inevitably occur after their traditional pancake breakfast in the morning.

With a gentle knock on his door, Nancy poked her head inside her brother's room past their bedtime, while the two eldest Wheeler siblings were inevitably still awake. Maybe it was silly, but she was trying to be nice, to perform her sisterly duty of checking in on him before one of the more important days in his teenage life.

"Can I come in?" she asked in a whisper, sliding inside the door before he could give her an answer. Nancy took a seat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward as she peered over the edge of the book he was reading. "I just wanted to see how you were feeling, y'know, about tomorrow."

[nancydrewheeler]

who: nancy wheeler & @femystiq (mother) where: the wheeler household - pantry!

It was one thing for Nancy to see Jonathan at work, or around Hawkins, but it was another entirely to have her ex-boyfriend in her house. Karen Wheeler had made it clear she wasn't allowed to explicitly keep anyone off the guest list who wasn't her father, leaving the possibility that all of the Byers family might show. Maybe she should've better prepared herself for the worst, but Nancy had been banking on the hope that Jonathan would be too nervous to set foot in her house again, or too courteous to let her have one day without the fear of seeing his face.

The sight of him weaving through the halls of her childhood home had knotted her stomach in a way that Nancy could only think of one antidote that might cure it. With a Solo cup of Cabernet in her hand, she rested her head against a shelf of the pantry, taking the moment to herself to simply breathe. She took a sip, letting the warm, bitter wine rest on her tongue before she nearly choked at the sound of a knock on the wooden door.

"Just a minute!" she called out, the door swinging open before she could down the rest of the cup and rejoin the party. "Mom?" Nancy blurted at the sight of her mother, warmth flushing her cheeks as though she'd been a child caught red handed. "Sorry, I just--I needed a second."

[nancydrewheeler]

Preparations had been underway for the single most important event of the year at the Wheeler household. Even without her father there to help, the work was getting done seemingly at the same pace, a strange commentary on the usefulness of Ted Wheeler around his own house! Nancy remembered the barbecue being far more exciting when she was a child, getting to reap the benefits of her mother's hard work without having to practically share the party-planning duties.

"Hey, Lucas." The sight of one of her brother's friends on her front porch wasn't an unfamiliar one, but his reason for showing up had her wondering whether he had been severely grounded by his mother, and this was his clever way of sneaking in to spend time with Mike Before Nancy could call for him, she considered the offer, remembering the cases of soda cans in the back of her mother's car.

"You know, I might have something you can help with," she replied, gauging the level of disappointment on his face as she accepted his help. "It'll be really quick--I have a bunch of cases of soda in the back of my mom's car, if you wouldn't mind helping bring them in." If he was offering, might as well put the kid with twice as much muscle on him than Mike to good use!

who: Lucas & @nancydrewheeler where: The Wheeler's Front Porch what: Lucas Is Not a Jehovah's Witness

Mom and Dad had been on this weird kick about manhood ever since Lucas turned eighteen. Suddenly, if he didn't scrape every last pea in the trash before he rinsed off his plate, he was irresponsible and didn't know the first thing about maintaining a home... to which Lucas would say, yeah, he didn't-- if expressing his true thoughts on the matter wouldn't end in complete disaster. Today was no different: Sue Sinclair had a Certified Mom Lesson to dispense, this time on the topic of being a good neighbor.

It was at her behest that Lucas had turned up here, on Karen Wheeler's pristine porch, knocking like he wanted to share the Gospel or something. It was strange to come here for anyone other than Mike, who would expect for Lucas to just let himself in. Unfortunately, it didn't seem his best friend was home at the moment. That, or Mike was too preoccupied with whatever he was doing to open the door.

"Hi, Nancy!" Lucas chirped with as bright a smile as he could muster.

"I just wondered if... you might need a hand getting ready for the barbecue? A grocery run, or loading or unloading... things?" If Nancy could read his mind, she would say no, Lucas! We've got it under control! You should totally go down to the basement and play a few hours of Atari with Mike! But he doubted his telepathic signals were coming through.

[nancydrewheeler]

Despite her natural slip into sisterly scolding, it was hard to keep a small smile off her lips around Max, who always seemed to find the humor in even the bleakest of moments. Nancy stepped in the line of sight between her and the vendor, if for no other reason than to avoid the trouble of having to apologize for being a passive witness to petty theft.

With a shrug, Nancy nodded her head for Max to follow as she continued her walk toward the end of the block. "Honestly? Not much. The most noteworthy comment I received was that the pool was so crowded, they stopped letting people in, which explains why it's impossible to find a parking spot at this hour." It certainly wasn't newsworthy, not even as exciting as there being a new janitor like Max had fictionalized.

But, it was better than what they were both used to. They should've been glad there was nothing more threatening than finding parking on Main Street nowadays. Still, it served as the reminder why Nancy had wanted to get out in the first place, and had her wondering why she'd ever come back. "Speaking of togetherness, you're not here alone, are you?"

Max held the piece of wood out in front of her, which appeared to be a whistle, for fifteen dollars? Yeah. It deserved to be stolen. Still, Nancy had a point and she tucked it away willingly. "Thanks for being so calm, Nancy." She quipped, nose crinkling up. "Relax, you're not going to have a story, because nobody's going to get arrested." Hopefully that had been enough to assuage Nancy's concern, because Max glossed over it like it was nothing and proceeded, "So what is the scoop of the block party so far?" Something in her gut told her Nancy wasn't going to say, but she had to at least try. Max admired the journalist from afar. There was something aspirational about getting out of Hawkins and seeing the world, even just a little bit of it. Who didn't want to leave this place? It was cool. Which made Nancy cool. "It's probably nothing interesting, right? I can't imagine there being breaking news at a school sponsored event." Max took it a step further and joked, "Like, we got a new janitor guys! Call the Hawkins Post!" Though she supposed, it was a privilege to be able to joke about such dull things now. She took a deep breath and awkwardly amended, "Sorry, I'm just not crazy about this totally fake...togetherness."

[nancydrewheeler]

Nancy's grip remained close to her chest, as though she was holding tight to the reminder of why she was here. She couldn't exactly forbid anyone from showing up anywhere, but she'd made it a point to stay out of his way at work, to cover events around town that she knew he wouldn't be assigned to. "He was here earlier. I just thought ... I don't know, maybe he needed extra coverage, or something." Maybe it was wishful thinking, to hope that he would've had the same foresight to give her the same miles of space she'd put between them.

There had been a time she'd thought the two of them would have a wedding on a night just like this one: on the very edge of summer, when the skies turned more pink than blue, leaving the kind of orange glow Jonathan used to chase with his lens. Nancy nearly thought to ask how it'd gone, but kept the morbid curiosity at bay, instead opting to accept his answer with a simple nod.

"Yeah," she replied, "I'm supposed to cover everything this weekend." Being the most junior staff reporter meant covering the kind of suburban fluff that happened on weekends, when the rest of the men with decades on her got to sit home while their wives took their children to these kinds of things. "You're not, um, assigned to anything this weekend, are you?"

Jonathan’s spine straightened a little. Not because he was surprised. He wasn’t, really. Everyone showed up everywhere in Hawkins at some point. But still, Nancy’s presence gave him a type of vertigo. He didn’t stand up. Just shifted on the tailgate slightly as if unsure whether to be casual or disappear entirely. His eyes followed hers when they dropped to the camera bag by his feet.

“Oh – I’m not,” He admitted quickly, “Shooting it, I mean. That’s still … Hank. Or it was supposed to be.” His voice caught somewhere between wanting to explain himself and not wanting to explain anything at all. All the ruckus from Main Street caught his attention momentarily. Relief.

“I just wrapped a gig – wedding across the street.” He lifted the unlit cigarette faintly, hand dropping afterwards. “Not uh ... Not exactly newsworthy.”

Then came a softer beat. Jonathan reached down and flicked a crumb of cake off the plate beside him. Gave the faintest smile. He didn’t really have to ask what Nancy was doing here. The recorder clutched close to her chest was enough evidence of what she’d been up to. If he wasn’t nicotine deprived maybe he would have come up with something more elaborate to say. “They put you on block party?”  

[nancydrewheeler]

Nancy remembered when she had been assigned a freshman to take around the school; it was when Mike and his friends had been in the very grade of student she'd had to mentor. It was strange, now, to see them on the other side, to think that they might have some sort of advice or direction to give someone else when Nancy still saw them as the preteens in her basement.

Will had always been a shy kid, even before the supernatural had gotten ahold of him. Still, Nancy felt her lips curl into a frown, saddened by the thought that he somehow knew less about the high school experience than the rest of his friends just because his looked different. "Of course you do. Your classwork wasn't any different, right? And, you've been to the high school enough times to know your way around. I think that counts," she pointed out, encouraging.

Still, Nancy knew it wasn't the traditional high school path the rest of his close friends had taken, and even if he'd had El by his side, it wasn't the same. "If you ever need anything, though, you can always ask. Not that, um, I mean--I'm sure Jonathan would also happily help you. But, still." It was the acknowledgement that she was there for him, if he ever needed her, even if they didn't see each other as often nowadays.

"Hey, Nancy," he smiled, lips pulled tight by the hint of guilt he still couldn't help but feel. Breakups were hard enough, he assumed, without having to see your ex's little brother in your own house all the time. Despite Mike's assurance that it was fine, Will had been doing his best to stay out of Nancy's path-- besides, it's not like Mike was exactly known to everyone else for his sensitivity.

Will was relieved that Nancy seemed to be taking his question seriously. He supposed, out of everyone else he knew, she was the classic mentor figure. Straight A's, college scholarship, studying abroad-- maybe Will could connect his freshman to Nancy instead; She might be more useful.

Her answer, unexpected but undeniably true, prompted an airy laugh. "Yeah... that's a good one." Though he hoped none of the freshmen would learn that the hard way. Will sighed, twisting his lips into a half-frown at the idea of sitting across from a thirteen-year-old and acting like he had any advice about high school. "They're making us do this... mentorship thing. For the freshmen," Will explained, pressing his hands flat on the tabletop. "And it's not like... I don't have a problem with doing it. I just... don't know anything about high school."

[nancydrewheeler]

Of course it was her luck that she was stuck beside her former friend for the rest of the afternoon, as if the universe hadn't already given her enough grief this weekend after her run-in with Jonathan after the block party. Maybe they would come to the shared understanding that this was a one-time, chance encounter that was better left untouched; silence was preferred over small talk, at least, in Nancy's case.

It seemed. to Nancy's quiet disappointment, Chrissy was keen to fill the silence. She'd spent enough time with her to know that she wasn't trying to be mean, but Nancy had also hoped that the kind of quips that never quite sat right with her would have disappeared with age. They weren't quite digs, but scratches at the surface that still left a sting, no matter how thick Nancy thought her skin had gotten.

"Wouldn't miss it," she replied, her smile now tight-lipped. "She does, yeah. But, I'm here to cover for the Post, too, so, I figured I'd squeeze in a shift while I'm at it." A white lie to match the accusation that she'd gotten roped into this, as though her mother could make her do anything. "Is your mother around here somewhere, too?"

She wasn't used to taking orders, especially not on organization, and even less likely from Chrissy Cunningham, but Nancy was hardly in a position to argue; the longstanding rule of whoever'd gotten there first got their choice of the chore. "I can do that. You don't know if we're expecting anyone else to lend a hand, do you?"

Chrissy had seen Nancy's name on the volunteer sheet that morning. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Maybe that Nancy wouldn’t show. Maybe that they’d trade one of those polite half-smiles from a distance and that would be the end of it. After all, Chrissy had become very close with that move. Chrissy was halfway through organizing a pile of bright, neon highlighters when she felt Nancy slide in beside her.

“Hey, Nancy," Chrissy greeted as she blinked down at the highlighters like they might rearrange themselves. When she finally turned, her smile was already half-formed, soft around the edges. “Afternoon shift,” she answered, waving a neon pink highlighter around her hand.

“I saw your name on the board earlier,” she added, more to the pile of supplies than to Nancy herself. “Wasn’t sure if you’d actually - uh... make it.”

It wasn’t meant as a dig. Chrissy’s tone wasn’t cold. If anything, it was cautious. Honest. Like she was trying to meet Nancy somewhere in the middle. It wasn't often that Chrissy couldn't find or form the words of what she wanted to say, but even girls like her struggled with the whole how do you talk to someone who you once spent so much time with conundrum.

She glanced at her then, properly. It was strange. The last time they’d stood this close had probably been sophomore year. Maybe junior year, if you counted shared classrooms . Then she offered, a little more carefully, “Your mom still does the sign-up sheets, right? Guess some traditions never die.” A beat. “And I’m guessing you got roped in.”

“Want to divide and conquer? I’ll do the spiral notebooks if you can handle the three-ring binders. I swear they've been multiplying like rabbits.”

[nancydrewheeler]

who: nancy wheeler & @thequeenofhawkins where: school supply drive!

Nancy had been a staple volunteer at the school supply drive with her mother when she'd been a student at Hawkins High. In her summers away from home, Nancy had gotten away with skipping town toward Boston before she was dragged back to the high school parking lot, faced with having to make nice with everyone who she thought she'd get away with never seeing more than a passing glance of ever again. Just when she'd thought her lack of participation had slipped behind her mother this year, Karen had announced before she was out for the morning shift that she'd see Nancy in the afternoon.

As much as she wanted to stay home and work on her piece from the night before, it felt objectively shitty not to show up and volunteer. The work could wait. As she approached the front of the school, she squinted toward a blackboard, finding her name next to the sorting table, and made a beeline there before having to make small talk with the head of the PTA.

Evidently, Nancy hadn't noticed the same table assigned to someone from her past, the kind of girl who also showed face at every kind of event like this one. She hadn't spoken to Chrissy Cunningham in years: she was the kind of girl who Nancy had gone from having team slumber parties with to walking past in the halls without so much as a glance.

With her breath held, Nancy approached the girl who might as well have been a stranger as she sorted through colored notebooks. "Hey," she greeted as she stepped behind the table, claiming her own stack of supplies to sort. "Are you here for the afternoon, or just finishing up?" Nancy asked, setting her expectations for the next few hours ahead of her.

[nancydrewheeler]

Nancy didn't like to think that she was avoiding the Melvald's booth, but rather, that she was waiting until the right time to stop by. With a certain member of the Byers family's whereabouts unknown, she'd found herself at the top and bottom of Main Street more times than she'd like to admit while she waited. When she was sure and certain it was only the youngest Byers brother at the booth, Nancy finally sucked in a breath and decided to approach.

"Hey, Will," she greeted, about to ask if his mom was around, or if he was excited for the start of senior year, before Will had a question of his own for her.

The Nancy Wheeler that existed back in freshman year of high school was unrecognizable from the one that stood in front of him now. Eight years ago, she'd never dreamt of leaving Hawkins, nor would she believe half of the things both she and Will had seen. Her old self probably would've placed her bets on not even making it this far; the belief in herself only a consequence of the things they'd survived along the way.

"Something I wish I knew as a freshman," she echoed. Nancy could deliver a whole laundry list if she thought hard enough, but there was just one that she truly believed every teenager should hear, one she was certain would resonate with Will, too. "Expect the unexpected. I hope you don't need me to elaborate on that one," Nancy added with a knowing smile. "Gathering all your best advice before you have to give it?"

who: will byers & open! where: back to school block party!

There were a lot of things to be worried about heading into senior year. For one, Will was already bracing himself for the same kind of torment he got in middle school. Sure, Lucas was popular now and Will at least had the Hellfire Club to fall back on in the friend category, but that didn't change his status as homeschooled-zombie-boy-freak. On top of that, Mom had just gotten an administration job at Hawkins High, which she swears is just a good opportunity-- but bring-your-mom-to-school day wasn't likely to score him any cool points, either. Not that Will particularly cared about being cool-- he mostly just wanted to be left alone.

Then they sent the letter home about Freshman Focus day, and assigned Will a freshman to mentor. He was more than a little panicked about this-- what the hell could he possibly tell an incoming freshman that would have any merit? Don't bike home at night? If you start seeing visions, tell someone because you might be possessed? Will sighed, hoisting a box of school supplies onto the folding chair behind the Melvald's booth and beginning to sort the notebooks according to color. Jonathan had stepped away for a smoke break, and Will didn't think any of his friends were here yet, so he didn't mind finishing the setup.

When a potential customer looked his way, Will offered a gentle smile, dropping his hand onto the table and smoothing out the forest green tablecloth. "Hi!" he greeted, watching them for a moment before asking, "Can I ask you sort of a weird question?" Will decided to go for it, desperate for any piece of wisdom he could dispense to his mentee on Saturday. "What's something you wish you knew as a freshman?"

[nancydrewheeler]

Notebook and tape recorder in hand, Nancy strolled down Main Street as her eyes wandered the booths, in search of a free vendor to interview. She'd already collected quotes from a few mothers with children in hand, but it wasn't enough yet to make the story a holistic one. Even if this was just fluff, Nancy would make it the best puff piece the Post had ever seen.

Perhaps the last people she expected to see while covering the block party were her brother and his friends, but one unmistakable glance at Max Mayfield's curly, fiery locks proved Nancy otherwise. She was about to make a mental note to try and track her down, if she could catch her, that was, as the redhead weaved down the block like no one was in her way.

From the booth beside her, Nancy heard a yell to get back here, and before she knew it, Max was at her side, a small, whittled piece of wood in her hand. With an apologetic smile, she shut her notebook, effectively finishing her interview before turning to the younger girl. "Max," she scolded, voice in a hush as Nancy covered her hand with her own. "I do not want to have to do a piece about someone getting arrested for theft at this thing, so, put that away before someone sees, will you?"

𝐖𝐇𝐎: max mayfield & YOU 🫵 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: back to school block party on mainstreet 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: max is bored, shenanigans ensue

Time was a funny thing. One day, four years ago, The Hargrove-Mayfield caravan rolled into town, and Max hated it. Hawkins showed it's true colors fairly quickly, in spite of it, she felt a sense of belonging for a brief period of time, then went back to hating it. Now, on the precipice of her senior year, Max still wasn't fond of Hawkins. Whoever said time heals all wounds, or she'd come around, or whatever bullshit, was a big fat liar. In theory, she was supposed to meet the rest of "The Party" (she didn't even play Dungeons and Dragons) behind the barricades that corralled in vendors on main. But she hadn't had a social life this robust in years, so she was comfortable taking her time before surrounding herself with Dustin, Lucas, and Mike and their nonsense for hours on end. Max set her skateboard down in the streets, weaving between booths and bodies freely, reveling in the glare or two she got. She'd miss Summer. Booth after booth flew past in bright blurs of green and gold until one thing, or rather person, stuck out. Max skidded to a stop at the familiar face doing their best, but failing miserably to haggle. Just her area of expertise! Like she'd done a million times before, she tucked her board beneath her arm and approached. "This is kind of pathetic." She informed the other person, then raised her brows to say now watch how it's really done. With the sweetest, most fabricated concern, Max chimed in to the vendor, "Excuse me, I think that kid just ran off with one of your products." She pointed in the opposite direction, and when the vendor naturally looked and began to yell, she snagged something off the table. She'd had worse days, worse deeds. Grinning, she slowly walked away from the booth, holding the item in her hand for the other to take, "See? Now it's free."

[nancydrewheeler]

The kind of puff pieces the Hawkins Post had Nancy writing nowadays was hardly the kind of journalism she'd gone to school for, but, it would do. Anything would be better than the kind of intern work she'd done a few summers ago, filling sandwich orders and empty coffee mugs like that was all she was good for. At the very least, her name went somewhere now, leaving something to show for four years of education.

Nancy clutched her notebook and recorder to her chest as she headed toward the parking lot, satisfied with what she'd gotten out of the party. She doubted anyone but the women over fifty in town was going to read the accounts of groundbreaking family fun that would hit the Lifestyle section, anyway. The sky had darkened, leaving just minutes of light left for her to drive home under.

She hadn't even noticed the figure at the back of its vehicle, but the first utter of an uneasy greeting had Nancy's blood turn cold. Perhaps an olive branch of sorts, an invitation to finally talk outside the walls of the Post building. Instead came the request for a light, something Jonathan knew she wouldn't have, and it was then that Nancy realized the greeting wasn't meant just for her.

"I'm afraid you've stopped the wrong person," she answered, their eyes only meeting as he recognized just who he'd stopped in their tracks. Nancy's gaze darted downward, finding the camera beside his feet. "I didn't realize you were shooting this. I thought it was Hank's event."

𝐖𝐇𝐎: Jonathan Byers & Open

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: Main Street Block Party - 8:30pm. Parking lot near St. Francis Parish Hall.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: Jonathan is wrapping up a freelance photography gig that so happens to coincide with a huge block party. How fun!

The wedding was still going when Jonathan ducked out. Last he saw, the flower girl was asleep under a folding chair and someone’s uncle was butchering TIME AFTER TIME at the mic. Jonathan wasn’t a guest … just the guy they’d hired to shoot it all. A freelance gig that he’d landed through word of mouth and, honestly, who could turn down a hundred bucks with a dinner plate included? He was in a nearby parking lot now, parked crooked along the back edge. His day had started early with portraits and ended somewhere more unfortunate with the bride crying with makeup halfway melted off. Jonathan sat on the tailgate of his car, tie loosened, camera bag by his feet, with a half-eaten slice of cake sweating through a paper plate beside him. Somewhere not far off in the distance there were fairy lights blinking behind the church hall. A couple of kids running around unsupervised. One of them was wearing a plastic crown while the other kept throwing wedding rice at the moon. The sound from the block party bled in from Main Street. A meeting of worlds. Laughter. Fireworks that weren’t part of anyone’s permit. Jonathan rubbed at his temple. It smeared a bit of sweat into his hairline but his shoulder ached oh so damn bad from holding the camera all day. All the film was already safely tucked away in his trunk – pretty good shots, he thought. Quiet ones. Unpolished. Then, he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and stared at it like it might light itself. It didn’t. “Shit,” he muttered. Jonathan fished through his pockets with one hand. Nothing … but just when almost all hope was lost, someone passed by. The timing was too perfect to ignore. He didn’t even check who it was. “H-hey,” he called out, a little hesitant at first. God, was that creepy? Too late to reconsider! He lifted the cigarette. “You got a light?”