MY TEARS RICOCHET 𛲕 STRANGER THINGS

16. Outnumbered

"Your name's not Raven?" pouted Daphne, cocking her head. "I really thought that was right."

"It's Robin," she informed her. "I suppose they are both a type of bird. So your confidence isn't totally misplaced."

"Sorry," shrugged Daphne. "I've never been very good with names." She paused, frowning at Robin. "Why are you sitting all the way back here anyway? Aren't there seats closer to the front?"

"I'm avoiding my friend's boyfriend," admitted Robin, clearing her throat awkwardly. "He's an asshole."

"So are most teenage boys," replied Daphne.

"That's true," she smiled. "Okay, can I ask you something now?" Daphne nodded, so she continued. "Why are you sitting up here and not starring in our... somewhat misguided take on Our Town?"

Daphne sighed. If it had been anyone else asking, she probably would have gotten defensive and snapped at them. But Robin... she didn't ask it in an intrusive way — she sounded genuinely curious, maybe even a little concerned. And Daphne remembered how the girl had gone out of her way to take her home after Steve's party even though she didn't know her and how much she had needed someone that night. So she decided it couldn't hurt to answer.

"My best friends would usually watch me in my plays," she said truthfully. "But one of them is de — missing, and the other's not speaking to me. So I guess it just doesn't feel right anymore."

"Oh shit, Daphne, I'm so sorry," Robin cursed worriedly, twisting around in her seat. "I completely forgot about Fern and everything. I shouldn't have said anything — I have this annoying habit of putting my foot in my mouth all the time..."

"It's fine," Daphne mumbled. "Fern would have loved to be the centre of attention. She always liked when people talked about her, even when it was for a bad reason. She always said she must be doing something right to get them to be so obsessed with her."

Robin's lips pressed together in a tight smile. "Why are you talking about her in the past tense? The police said she ran away, right? So she's still out there somewhere."

Daphne cleared her throat. "Yeah, that's right. My mistake."

Daphne knew Robin wanted to ask her more questions, but thankfully she was respectful enough not to. Daphne didn't think she could handle being interrogated about her dead best friend by someone who didn't even know she was dead. Soon enough, the intermission ended and the play started again, and the two girls lapsed into silence. A few minutes before the end, Daphne got up and left.

She didn't bother saying anything to Robin. They weren't friends. Daphne didn't have many of those left.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

November 24th, 1983: Davenport Home

Thanksgiving rolled around before Daphne knew it. She had been going through her days on autopilot; a ghost of her former self, not really taking anything in. Meera had still not forgiven her and she was still forcing herself through guilt ridden dinners with Fern's family.

They had started inviting her around two weeks after Fern's disappearance. Of course, she hadn't wanted to go only to be forced to lie through gritted teeth, but how could she say no without looking guilty? So she went once a week without fail, Steve often accompanying her, lying until her cheeks hurt and feeling as though every ounce of sympathy she emitted was as phoney as she was.