Chapter Text
First period is free today, a quiet reprieve from the usual craziness’s of history class. Robin sinks into her seat, notebooks stacked neatly in front of her, while Steve slides in beside her.
“I didn’t finish my work from yesterday,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward her.
Robin nods, letting him scribble quietly while her own attention wanders. She can’t help but listen to the murmurs and whispers drifting through the classroom.
“Did you hear about Nancy and Mia?” one girl whispers across the room.
“I know, right?” another replies. “Mia totally went overboard, but Nancy—come on! She barely deserved it.”
“Exactly!” someone else says. “I mean, Nancy didn’t even start it. She just defended herself. Mia was the one being dramatic.”
Robin raises an eyebrow, subtly listening to how everyone shapes the story. The words roll like a wave,Nancy is brilliant, Nancy is perfect, Nancy doesn’t deserve this. The narrative is so one-sided it makes Robin’s stomach twist.
The whole classroom seems to defend Nancy without pause, praising her grades, her leadership, her “perfect” image,while completely overlooking what actually happened.
Robin leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. They think she’s untouchable,she thinks. But perfection doesn’t excuse her actions.
The whispers continue, the wave of admiration for Nancy rolling over the room. Robin keeps her eyes on her notebook, listening, absorbing, mentally noting how skewed everyone’s perspective is.
Robin huffs under her breath, keeping her eyes on her notebook but flicking glances up repeatedly, just enough so Steve can see. She leans a little closer, lowering her voice so only he can hear.
“Do you notice how everyone’s defending Nancy like she isn’t completely in the wrong?” she mutters, her eyes rolling, her expression somewhere between disgust and disbelief.
Steve snorts, shaking his head with a laugh. “Yeah… would you expect anything else from the ‘nasty Wheeler’? This is what always happens. Why do you think I haven’t told anyone she cheated on me? Exactly this.”
Robin lets out a bitter laugh, gripping her pencil tighter. “Yeah, I know… but it’s bullshit. Why can’t anyone think she can do wrong? It’s so fucking ridiculous. I don’t care what I did, I’d get slaughtered if everyone saw me like this.”
Steve leans back in his chair, still smirking, but his eyes soften a little toward her. “Yeah… welcome to the Nancy Wheeler effect. People see her as untouchable.”
Robin scowls, shaking her head. “Untouchable… as if she’s perfect. And it makes me so… pissed, I don’t even know how to deal with it.”
She slams her palm lightly against her forehead, groaning. “Ugh, if you told everyone she cheated on you, they’d probably say… you probably did something to make her cheat, and that you shouldn’t even be mad.”
Steve chuckles dryly, nodding. “Yeah… that’s exactly what I just said.”
Robin mutters under her breath, frustration bubbling up. “It’s so fucked up. Everyone always twists it around.”
She lets out a sharp sigh, hitting her notebook this time, not out of anger at Steve, but because everything about the situation just makes her blood boil.
Robin keeps tapping her pencil, but now the rhythm slows, like she’s debating whether to say something.
Steve notices. “What?”
Robin leans a little closer, lowering her voice. “Nancy’s actually mad about her punishment.”
Steve blinks. “Wait—she got one?”
“From Coach Reynolds,” Robin says. “Not the principal.”
Steve sets his pencil down completely. “Okay… what happened?”
Robin shifts in her seat. “Coach Reynolds is benching her for the rival game and making her sit through practices without playing. Nancy thinks it’s unfair because the principal already gave her detention.”
Steve lets out a short laugh. “Oh my god.”
“I know,” Robin mutters. “She was telling me yesterday like it was the worst thing ever.”
Steve smirks. “Detention wasn’t enough, apparently.”
“That’s exactly what she said,” Robin replies, rolling her eyes. “She kept saying, ‘I already got punished, why am I being punished again?’”
Steve shakes his head slowly. “Because that’s how team rules work?”
Robin nods. “Right. But she doesn’t see it that way. She thinks Coach Reynolds is overreacting.”
Steve leans back in his chair. “Does she at least think what she did was wrong?”
Robin hesitates.
“…She says she’s taking accountability,” Robin says carefully. “But it didn’t really sound like it.”
Steve raises an eyebrow.
“She kept comparing it,” Robin continues. “Like, ‘I already got detention, so sitting out games is too much.’”
Steve exhales. “That’s not how consequences work.”
Robin shrugs slightly, staring at the desk. “That’s what I tried to say.”
Steve glances at her. “And?”
Robin gives a small, dry laugh. “It turned into an argument.”
Steve nods once, like he expected that answer.
Across the classroom, the whispers about Nancy start up again, and Robin’s expression tightens.
“She just… really thinks she’s not the problem,” Robin says quietly.
Steve tilts his head. “What’d you actually say?”
Robin lets out a breath. “Just that the punishment made sense. That if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be complaining.”
Steve gives a quiet yeah under his breath.
“And then she started acting like I was attacking her,” Robin continues. “Like I’m supposed to automatically take her side.”
Steve taps his notebook. “Nancy’s not used to people disagreeing with her.”
Robin nods slowly, staring at the desk. “That’s exactly what it felt like.”
Across the room, another group starts talking about the incident again—louder this time.
“ Mia’s just always causing problems.”
Robin’s eyes flick up immediately.
Steve notices and mutters, “There it is again.”
Robin presses her lips together. “That’s what I mean.”
Robin leans closer to Steve. “It just sucks.”
“What does?”
“That now it’s weird,” she says. “I didn’t want it to be weird.”
Steve nods. “Give it a day or two.”
Robin doesn’t look convinced.
“Listen, Robin—you guys argue all the time. That obviously doesn’t stop you two from forgiving each other.”
“This one’s different,” she says quietly.
Steve shrugs. “You say that every time.”
Robin rolls her eyes a little, but there’s no real attitude behind it. “No, I mean it. This wasn’t just… normal arguing. She looked at me like I was—like I betrayed her or something.”
“You didn’t betray her. You just didn’t agree with her.”
Robin hesitates.
“Yeah,” she says slowly. “Exactly.”
Steve glances at her again. “Did you say anything that bad?”
Robin thinks about it for a second.
“…I told her people treat her differently because they want to be her.”
Steve lets out a small oof sound. “Okay, yeah. That’ll do it.”
Robin groans. “I wasn’t trying to be mean!”
“I know,” Steve says. “But that’s definitely something Nancy’s not gonna love hearing.”
Robin runs a hand through her hair. “I just wanted her to understand why everyone keeps defending her.”
“She probably does understand,” he says. “She just doesn’t want to.”
Robin blinks.
“So what,” Robin mutters, “I just pretend everything’s fine?”
Steve shakes his head. “No. You give it a day. Then one of you makes a sarcastic comment, and somehow you’re friends again.”
Robin snorts despite herself. “That is disturbingly accurate.”
Steve smirks. “I’ve known both long enough.”
Robin jogs down the hallway toward her locker, realizing halfway there that she forgot her math textbook.
“Great,” she mutters under her breath.
She spins the dial quickly, tugging the locker open and digging through the messy stack of notebooks and loose papers. Just as she pulls the textbook free, she hears footsteps slow beside her.
“Hey.”
Robin looks up.
Vicky is standing there, one hand hooked around the strap of her bag, giving a small, careful smile.
Robin’s stomach tightens.
“Hey,” she says back.
For a second, neither of them says anything. The hallway noise fills the space between them, lockers slamming, people laughing, someone shouting across the corridor. The awkwardness is obvious. They were supposed to talk days ago about everything, and neither of them ever did.
Robin shifts her textbook against her chest. “I—”
Vicky speaks at the same time.
“Can we talk later?”
Robin nods immediately. “Yeah—yeah, of course. I’m so sorry I haven’t called or texted or, like, made any effort to talk. I’ve just been really busy and stressed and—”
“It’s okay,” Vicky cuts in gently.
Robin stops talking.
Vicky gives her a reassuring look. “I understand. We can talk later, okay?”
Robin exhales, nodding again. “Okay.”
Fourth period.
The hallway buzzes with leftover gossip from yesterday, but Nancy walks through it like none of it matters, chin slightly lifted, posture perfect, expression calm and composed. If anyone didn’t know what happened, they’d think it was just another normal day.
She pushes open the door to journalism.
The moment she steps inside, the room shifts.
“Hey, Nancy!”
“Are you okay after everything?”
“You handled that so well yesterday.”
“I would’ve lost it way worse than you did.”
Nancy gives small smiles, setting her bag down at her desk like she’s used to this kind of attention.
“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” she says lightly, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I just tried to stay calm.”
A couple of students nod like she just said something inspiring.
“I mean, you were way more mature about it than Mia.”
Nancy shrugs, but there’s a hint of satisfaction in the way she presses her lips together.
“I just didn’t want to make it worse.”
Across the room, Robin, sits at her desk, staring down at her notebook.
Her pencil isn’t moving.
She’s listening.
Every compliment sounds louder than the last.
You handled it so well.
You didn’t do anything wrong.
You were just defending yourself.
Robin’s jaw tightens.
She glances up briefly, watching Nancy accept the praise like it’s completely normal, like none of the messy parts of the story even exist.
Nancy laughs softly at something someone says, shaking her head.
“It’s honestly already over,” she says. “I’m just ready to move on.”
Robin almost scoffs out loud.
Of course you are, she thinks.
From where she’s sitting, it feels ridiculous, like the entire room has decided on one version of the story and locked it in.
Nancy keeps responding politely, confidently, effortlessly, every answer smooth, every reaction controlled.
Perfect.
Untouchable.
Like always.
Robin presses her pencil harder against the paper, the tip nearly snapping.
The conversation keeps circling around Nancy, and she keeps playing the role everyone expects her to play.
When Nancy finally finishes answering everyone and slides into her seat, the room slowly settles back into its normal low chatter, the bell rings.
She pulls out her notebook, still wearing that calm, polished expression.
Robin’s pencil taps once.
Twice.
Then she speaks, quiet, flat.
“Wow.”
Nancy glances over. “What?”
Robin finally lifts her eyes, studying her like she’s trying to figure something out.
“That was… impressive.”
Nancy narrows her eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Robin shrugs, casual, but her tone isn’t.
“Just the way you turned that whole thing into a Nancy handled everything perfectly speech.”
Nancy’s expression tightens.
“I didn’t turn it into anything. They asked.”
Robin lets out a small breath through her nose.
“Yeah. And you didn’t correct them either.”
Nancy straightens in her chair. “Correct them about what?”
Robin tilts her head.
“About the part where you didn’t exactly do nothing.”
There’s a brief silence between them.
Nancy’s voice drops. “I already got punished.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Nancy turns fully toward her now, irritation starting to surface.
“Then what are you saying?”
Robin meets her eyes directly.
“I’m saying you’re acting like you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Nancy scoffs quietly. “Because it’s over.”
Robin’s expression hardens just a little.
“No. It’s over for you.”
Nancy’s eyebrows pull together.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Robin looks back down at her notebook, ending it before it turns into something bigger.
“It means,” she says calmly, “some people don’t get to walk into a room and have everyone clap for them.”
Nancy stares at her for a second longer than necessary.
Nancy exhales sharply, clearly annoyed now.
“What’s Mia gonna do when she comes back?” Robin continues, her voice low but tense. “People are already talking. And they’re not gonna say nice things to her. Unlike you, it’s gonna be insults.”
Nancy’s jaw tightens.
“Why do you care so much?”
Robin looks at her like the question actually catches her off guard for a second.
Then her expression shifts,frustration mixing with something more personal.
“Because the same thing happened to me.”
Nancy frowns slightly. “What?”
Robin leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.
“When you called me a name in front of the whole school, Nancy.” Her tone sharpens. “Everyone praised you. Everyone laughed. Everyone acted like you were justified.”
Nancy’s eyes flicker with recognition.
Robin lets out a small, bitter breath.
“But me?” She shakes her head. “God.”
There’s a brief silence.
Nancy looks down at her notebook, then back at Robin.
“That’s not the same thing.”
Robin gives a dry laugh.
“It never is with you.”
Nancy’s expression hardens. “I’m serious. That situation was different.”
Robin tilts her head.
“Different how?”
Nancy hesitates, just for a second too long.
Robin notices.
Her voice softens, but only slightly.
“You don’t even realize when you do it, do you?”
Nancy’s brows pull together. “Do what?”
Robin taps her pencil against the desk once.
“Say something harsh, or do something impulsive… and then somehow it turns into everyone else being the problem.”
Nancy scoffs quietly. “That’s not true.”
Robin meets her eyes.
“It kind of is.”
“God, Robin—every time you talk it’s so clear you dislike me. Just say it.”
A few nearby students glance up at the sudden edge in her voice.
Robin straightens slightly, eyebrows pulling together.
“I don’t dislike you. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Nancy lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Really? Because it sounds like you do.”
Robin shakes her head, trying to keep her voice steady.
“No, Nancy. I don’t dislike you. I dislike when you act like nothing you do is ever wrong.”
Nancy’s jaw tightens again.
“So now I’m just a terrible person?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“That’s basically what you’re implying.”
Robin exhales, clearly frustrated.
“See, this is what I mean. I say one thing and you twist it into something extreme.”
Nancy crosses her arms.
“Well maybe if you didn’t constantly come at me—”
“I’m not coming at you,” Robin cuts in, quieter but firmer. “You asked why I care. I answered.”
Nancy looks away for a second, blinking fast, then looks back.
“It just feels like you’re always against me.”
Robin’s expression softens, just a little.
“I’m not against you.”
There’s a pause.
“I just don’t always agree with you.”
Nancy doesn’t respond right away, but the defensive edge in her posture doesn’t fully drop either. The tension lingers, unresolved, as the classroom noise slowly fills the silence around them.
Everyone is listening.
Soft whispers ripple across the journalism room.
“Are they fighting?”
“What’s going on?”
“Is this about yesterday?”
Robin notices it, the way the air shifts, the way people are already leaning toward Nancy without even knowing what’s being said.
Something in her chest tightens.
She shakes her head slightly and mutters, almost more to herself than to Nancy:
“See… this is exactly what I’m talking about. every time something happens involving you, everyone automatically takes your side before even thinking about what actually happened.”
That does it.
A girl from across the room immediately speaks up.
“Because Nancy didn’t do anything wrong!”
Another voice joins in.
“Yeah, Mia literally started it.”
Someone else turns fully in their seat.
“Why are you acting like Nancy’s the problem?”
The whispers turn louder, sharper.
Robin blinks, caught off guard by how fast the room flips on her.
“I— I’m not saying she’s the problem,” Robin says, trying to stay calm. “I’m saying it’s not fair to pretend she’s never wrong.”
Nancy doesn’t say anything now,but the attention stays locked on Robin.
A boy near the windows scoffs.
“Sounds like you’re just jealous.”
Robin lets out a short, stunned laugh.
“Jealous? Of what?”
Another student shrugs.
“Of her. Obviously.”
More murmurs of agreement follow.
Robin feels her face heat, not from embarrassment, but from frustration.
“That’s not—okay, that’s exactly what I mean,” she says, gesturing lightly around the room. “You don’t even want to hear anything else. You just decided already.”
Nancy shifts in her seat, arms still crossed, but now she looks slightly uncomfortable with how intense everyone’s getting.
“Guys—” Nancy starts.
But someone cuts her off.
“No, because why is she coming at you like this?”
Robin presses her lips together, shaking her head slowly.
“I’m not coming at her.”
But no one’s really listening anymore. The room has already chosen a side.
One of the girls near the front turns fully around in her chair, eyebrows raised.
“Well maybe if you didn’t overreact to everything, people wouldn’t think you’re attacking her.”
Robin tilts her head slightly.
“K. So let me throw a slice of greasy pizza in your face, and we can see what happens.”
A couple people shift awkwardly.
“Because suddenly it wouldn’t be funny anymore. It wouldn’t be ‘dramatic.’ You’d be mad too.”
Robin exhales slowly, like she’s trying to keep herself from snapping again ,but the frustration is still sitting heavy in her chest.
She turns her head toward Nancy.
“This is exactly what you did when we got partnered up,” Robin says, her voice low but sharp enough for the nearby desks to hear. “You wanted everyone’s validation.”
A few students glance between them.
Robin’s eyes stay locked on Nancy.
“It’s so embarrassing.”
The room goes quiet again,quieter than before,because this time it isn’t about the pizza or Mia or rumors.
Before Nancy can respond, the classroom door swings open.
Mr. Collins walks in quickly, a stack of papers tucked under his arm.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” he says, slightly out of breath as he sets the papers down on his desk. “Staff meeting ran longer than expected.”
The tension in the room snaps almost instantly.
Students turn back toward the front. Chairs shift. Notebooks open. The whispers die out like they were never there.
Robin looks down at her desk, gripping her pencil a little tighter.
Nancy faces forward too, her posture straight again, expression carefully neutral, like the conversation from seconds ago never happened.
Mr. Collins glances around the room, unaware of the charged silence he just walked into.
“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands once. “Let’s get started.”
The class falls completely quiet as he begins his lecture, but the tension between Robin and Nancy lingers.
The bell rings, and the classroom immediately fills with the sound of chairs scraping and backpacks zipping.
Robin is already standing. She stuffs her notebook into her bag quickly, not looking at anyone?, especially not at the desk beside her.
She moves fast toward the door.
Almost out.
“Robin—wait.”
A hand gently catches her arm.
Robin stops.
She turns.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The hallway noise spills into the classroom as other students pass around them.
Nancy lets go of her arm.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
Robin blinks.
Nancy exhales, like the words are harder than she expected.
“You’re right.”
Robin’s eyebrows lift slightly.
Nancy looks down for a second, then back at her.
“I shouldn’t have acted like… none of it mattered. And I shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you were just trying to be honest.”
Robin shifts her bag on her shoulder, still processing.
Nancy’s voice quiets.
“I didn’t realize how it looked.”
There’s a pause.
Robin studies her face, trying to figure out if this is real or just another attempt to smooth things over.
“…Okay,” Robin says carefully.
Nancy nods once, relieved but still a little tense.
“I just didn’t want us to keep fighting.”
Robin’s expression softens slightly.
“Yeah,” she says. “Me neither.”
Nancy hesitates for a second, like she’s deciding whether to say more.
Then she shifts her backpack onto her shoulder and looks at Robin again.
“Let’s go out and get lunch today,”
A small smile spreads across Robin’s face.
“Okay.”
They end up at a small fast-food spot called Burger Barn, the kind of place with faded red picnic tables and a drive thru that’s always a little too busy at lunchtime.
Instead of going inside, they sit on the curb in the parking lot, their food bags between them. Cars pass every few seconds, and the smell of fries hangs in the air.
For a while, neither of them says much.
Robin unwraps her burger. Nancy pulls a fry out of the carton and eats it slowly, like she’s thinking.
The silence isn’t tense anymore? just awkward.
After a few moments, Nancy finally speaks.
“We’re really behind on our project,” she says, glancing sideways at Robin. “You know that, right?”
Robin chews, then nods casually.
“I told you I’m a big procrastinator.”
Nancy lets out a small breath through her nose, half amused, half stressed.
“I thought you were joking.”
Robin shrugs. “I never joke about procrastination. That’s my brand.”
Nancy shakes her head slightly, but there’s a faint smile there now.
“Well, if we don’t start actually working on it, Mr. Collins is going to destroy our grades.”
Robin takes another bite of her burger. “Okay, but in my defense, we’ve had… a lot going on.”
Nancy can’t argue with that.
She nods once. “Fair.”
Robin nudges the fry carton toward her.
“So,” Robin says lightly, “are we doing this today or are we continuing the proud tradition of avoiding responsibility?”
Nancy wipes her hands on a napkin, glancing over at Robin like she’s already planning everything out.
“How about we work on it all weekend? Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.”
Robin raises an eyebrow immediately.
“I think you forget I have a job.”
Nancy shakes her head. “Oh, I didn’t forget. I just know you usually work mornings and get home around four.”
Robin pauses mid-bite, slowly lowering her burger.
“…You pay way too much attention.”
Nancy shrugs lightly. “I like knowing my partner’s schedule.”
Robin narrows her eyes, but there’s a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“Okay, first of all, that sounded weird.”
Nancy rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”
Robin laughs quietly, then sighs.
“Alright. Friday and Saturday for sure. Sunday depends on how much we actually get done.”
Nancy nods, satisfied.
“Deal.”
Robin takes another bite, glancing out at the parking lot.
“Honestly, I think this is our first time not arguing for more than five minutes.”
Nancy huffs a quiet laugh, leaning back against the curb.
“That’s not true.”
Robin immediately turns toward her. “Oh, it absolutely is.”
Nancy shakes her head. “We worked together fine at the beginning.”
“For like… ten minutes,” Robin says. “Before you corrected my entire outline.”
“It needed correcting.”
Robin points at her. “See? This is how it starts.”
Nancy laughs again, softer this time.
“Okay, fair.”
There’s a brief pause.
“But… I’m glad we’re not arguing right now.”
Nancy glances at her, her expression relaxing.
“Me too.”
Robin nudges the fry carton slightly closer to the middle between them.
“Let’s try to keep it that way for at least the rest of lunch.”
Nancy smirks. “No promises.”
“How about we promise that we’re not gonna argue over stupid things?”
Nancy tilts her head slightly. “Define stupid things.”
Robin gives her a look. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Nancy thinks for a second, then nods slowly.
“Okay. No arguing over stupid things.”
Robin raises a finger. “And no getting defensive immediately.”
Nancy lifts an eyebrow. “That goes both ways.”
Robin smirks. “Fair.”
Nancy holds out her hand.
“Deal?”
Robin looks at it for a second like it’s dramatic, then shakes it.
“Deal.”
They both let go, and for a moment it feels almost normal, like the tension from the last few days has finally loosened.
Robin leans back on her hands again.
“Look at us being emotionally mature.”
Nancy laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Robin grins. “Yeah… give it twenty minutes.”
Nancy folds the empty napkin in her hands, glancing over.
“I meant what I said earlier,” she says quietly. “About not wanting us to keep fighting.”
Robin looks up. “I don’t like it either.”
Nancy nods. “You’re… important to me.”
Robin blinks, caught off guard by how direct that is.
Nancy keeps going before she can overthink it.
“And I know I don’t always show that in the best way.”
Robin’s expression softens.
“You do,” she says. “Just… sometimes with a lot of attitude.”
Nancy laughs softly.
“I just don’t want things to get weird between us.”
Nancy shakes her head slightly. “They won’t.”
Robin studies her for a second, like she’s checking if she believes that.
Then she smiles? small, but real.
“Good.”
Nancy nudges her lightly with her shoulder.
Robin glances over again.
“You know,” she says, “you’re a lot easier to talk to when we’re not in a classroom full of people.”
Nancy smirks. “Same.”
“Maybe we should just solve all our problems in parking lots.”
Nancy smiles, softer now.
“Maybe.”
Practice ends
The sky is already starting to dim when Nancy slides into the driver’s seat, dropping her bag at her feet with more force than necessary.
Robin gets into the passenger seat a second later, still tying her hair into a loose knot.
The car starts.
For about ten seconds, it’s quiet.
Then—
“This is miserable.”
Robin doesn’t even look over. “That didn’t take long.”
Nancy grips the steering wheel a little tighter as she pulls out of the parking lot.
“I still don’t think it’s fair that I have to sit there and watch everyone cheer.”
Robin shifts in her seat, already sensing where this is going.
“I mean, I already got detention,” Nancy continues. “And now I have to miss games too? It’s just—”
“Nancy.”
Robin’s tone isn’t harsh, just firm.
Nancy glances over, annoyed at being cut off.
“What?”
Robin keeps her voice calm.
“It’s a fair punishment.”
Nancy’s grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel.
There’s a short silence.
Nancy lets out a breath through her nose.
“…It’s still annoying,” Nancy mutters after a moment.
Robin gives a small shrug.
“Yeah. Punishments usually are.”
Nancy rolls her eyes, but there’s less attitude behind it now.
The car goes quiet again.
Not tense.
Just thoughtful.
Nancy exhales, softer this time.
“I hate when you make sense.”
Robin smiles slightly, leaning back in her seat.
“It’s a rare talent.”
A few seconds pass in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the engine filling the car.
Nancy keeps her eyes on the road, then glances over briefly.
“You know about my friends, Tell me about yours.”
Robin shifts slightly, confused. “My friends?”
Nancy nods. “Yeah. I mean… I only ever really see you around Vicky.”
“That’s because Vicky is, like, ninety percent of my social life.”
Nancy smiles a little. “That’s not a bad thing.”
Robin shrugs. “It’s not. She’s great.”
Nancy keeps driving, then adds more quietly:
“I just realized I don’t actually know that much about your life outside of school. Well I do but, only a little”
Robin keeps looking out the window for a moment before speaking again.
“Me and Vicky haven’t really talked much lately, Because of the rumor… and I’m still upset, obviously.”
Nancy glances over quickly. “Wow. You truly don’t ever forgive people.”
Robin turns toward her immediately.
“You’re still not forgiven, Nancy.”
Nancy blinks. “What?”
Robin shrugs slightly, but her tone stays calm.
“I’m just saying.”
Nancy lets out a quiet scoff, eyes back on the road.
“Okay.”
There’s a brief silence.
Then Robin adds, a little softer, “I’m working on it.”
Robin shifts in her seat, tucking one leg under the other as she looks out the window again.
For a moment, it seems like the conversation is over.
But then she keeps talking.
“Honestly… I don’t really have a lot of friends.”
She says it casually, but there’s something real underneath it.
Nancy glances over briefly before looking back at the road.
Robin continues.
“I never really cared about the whole… popularity thing. It always felt exhausting.”
She lets out a small breath.
“I like people one-on-one. Groups stress me out.”
Nancy smiles faintly. “That’s funny.”
Robin raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I’m the opposite. I like being busy. I like structure. I like knowing where I fit.”
Robin nods slowly.
“Yeah. I can tell.”
There’s no judgment in her voice, just observation.
Robin keeps going.
“And I overthink everything. Like… everything.”
Nancy laughs softly. “I already knew that.”
Robin smirks. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
She pauses, then adds more quietly:
“I just don’t open up to people very easily.”
Nancy doesn’t interrupt.
Robin glances at her for a second.
“But when I do… I care a lot.”
Nancy’s expression softens.
“I know.”
Robin leans back against the seat, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.
“And I hate fighting with people I care about.”
Nancy nods once, steady.
“Me too.”
Robin watches the road for a while, quiet again.
Then she speaks, slower this time.
“The less people I have in my life…”
She presses her lips together like she instantly regrets starting that sentence.
“…Never mind.”
Nancy glances over quickly. “No—what?”
Robin shakes her head, looking back out the window.
“No, never mind.”
Nancy keeps her eyes on the road, but her curiosity is obvious.
“Robin.”
Robin lets out a small breath, half laughing like she’s trying to brush it off.
“It’s nothing. I just say dramatic stuff when I’m tired.”
Nancy doesn’t fully believe that, but she doesn’t push.
“Okay,” she says softly.
The conversation fades again,but this time the silence feels heavier, like something important almost got said and then slipped away.