September 1964
The first day of school always brought up mixed emotions for Robin. On one hand, she had been pretty much at the top of her class since grade school, and this only continued throughout the years. The rush she received from raising her hand, answering a question, and being told "Correct!" was invigorating and validating; the smell of newly purchased pencils and books comforting and inviting. Not to mention, this was the last first day of school that Robin would ever have to experience in Castle Rock, Oregon.
On the other hand, however, high school always meant being confined with the kind of ignorant, cruel, and narrow-minded fools that only a middle-of-nowhere town like Castle Rock could produce. Though she was so close to being free of them all, she was unfortunately stuck with their stupidity for another year.
Robin sighed upon entering through the open double doors to the school building, the noise engulfing her. The place was crawling with teenagers, all talking animatedly about their summers and what this school year would bring. Her green eyes took in the girls hugging each other and the guys laughing raucously. No one was alone. Except her.
Robin briefly touched the bump in her nose before trudging through the hallway, dodging around throngs of students. Once she made it to her homeroom, where history class would take place right after, she began to relax. She took a seat in the front row, attempting to ignore the idiotic chattering of her classmates behind her. She placed her U.S. history book on her desk next to her notebook and laid out three no. 2 pencils in a straight line in front of her. She was ready.
"Alright kids, your summer break officially ends here," Mr. Fletcher declared with a teasing smile, "It's the first day of your last year at Castle Rock High, and the only day I've been anticipating more than this one is graduation."
Robin couldn't help but smile. Mr. Fletcher could be dry and witty. And frankly, she felt the same way he did about graduation: it couldn't come soon enough.
"Announcements: each of you will be meeting with Mrs. Bradbury in the upcoming weeks to discuss your plans after completing high school," Mr. Fletcher informed, "She will speak with you regarding your grades and the college application process. Most applications will be due in January, so start thinking about where you may want to apply."
Robin felt anxious excitement bubbling in her stomach. She didn't need to think about where she would apply. In fact, she already knew where she would be this time next year: Stanford. Her father had always told her that with her intelligence, she could get into the best school on the West Coast. The fact that Stanford was less than an hour outside of San Francisco made it all the better.
"We also have an announcement from Robin Hayes..." Mr. Fletcher said slowly and carefully, as if warning the other students to play nice, "...regarding a new club. Ms. Hayes?"
Robin took a deep breath, rose out of her seat, and stood to face the class. Even though they were all a bunch of simpletons, she had to try to reach them and get them to care about something other than their clothes, The Beatles, and who was going steady with whom.
"Well, it's not a club, per se," Robin corrected, "It's a meeting, a forum. To discuss the conflict in Vietnam and the atrocities that are already beginning to take place there. The Gulf of Tonkin tragedy just this last month is revealing the ugly truth that people are dying, and if the President wants to escalate the war—"
"Ms. Hayes, no political commentary in class," Mr. Fletcher warned, but he gave her a sympathetic look, "Please reserve your opinions for your club—"
"Forum," Robin rebuked through gritted teeth, attempting to ignore the look he gave her, "Anyway. The first meeting will take place this Friday at 3 PM, after school, in this classroom. If you're interested in learning and talking about what is actually going on in the world, all you have to do is show up."
There was a brief moment of silence as the other students just stared at her-until a loud fart exploded from the back of the room. Some of the guys erupted into laughter, some of the girls began whining about the smell. Robin closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the bridge of her nose. How did she expect anything different from these imbeciles?
"Very amusing, Mr. Nelson," Mr. Fletcher chided, "I hope your childish gimmick was worth detention this afternoon. Ms. Hayes, can you please take a seat?"
"Yes," Robin mumbled under her breath.
She flopped dejectedly into her chair and tuned out the rest of Mr. Fletcher's announcements and the first half of his lecture. Today was all review from the end of junior year, which she knew backwards and forwards.
Boy, she couldn't wait to get out of here. She was sick of everyone in Castle Rock. No one seemed to give a damn about anything important. Everyone was either superficial and self-absorbed or vapid and vindictive. No one cared about the conflict in Vietnam, no one cared about what was happening down in the southern states, no one cared about the fact that women were paid less than men. Even going over the American Revolution for the umpteenth time in history instead of talking about The Civil Rights Act that was just signed was proof in the pudding. Stanford and San Francisco were calling her name.
"When did the American Revolutionary War officially end?"
It was a reflex. Robin's hand immediately shot into the air, and she barely waited to be called on.
"September, 3rd, 1783."
"Yes," Mr. Fletcher responded, "And what event marked the end of the war?"
Robin's hand again waved in the air, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw another hand raised.
"Go ahead," Mr. Fletcher nodded towards the other hand.
"The signing of the Treaty of Paris," Chris Chambers's voice answered smoothly.
"Very good," Mr. Fletcher said approvingly.
Robin was filled with frustration.
"And who helped draft the Treaty and later became Pres—"
"John Adams," Robin and Chris answered swiftly in unison.
"Correct," Mr. Fletcher confirmed with a smile, "My two star students. Who would've thought?"
Robin scowled. Really, who would've thought? She knew Mr. Fletcher had meant, Who would've thought a Chambers would turn out to be so smart? But Robin didn't mean it like that. It became undoubtedly clear by the end of junior high that Christopher Chambers was smart. Very smart. And it seemed like he only got smarter. Ever since the middle of freshman year, he and Robin were always the top 2 in their class. Low income and a bad family obviously didn't correlate with low intelligence. No, what Robin meant was, Who would've thought that I'd have to vie for Valedictorian?
The rest of the morning was uneventful. It wasn't until the bell rang for lunch at the end of Biology that Robin was faced with a rude awakening.
"Ms. Hayes, would you mind staying back for a moment?"
As the rest of the students rushed out of the room, Robin gathered her belongings and walked to Mrs. Turner's desk.
"Robin, you are one of the best students I have ever taught," Mrs. Turner complimented.
"Thank you, Mrs. Turner," Robin said with a satisfied smile.
"As such...you'd also be the best tutor."
The smile was instantly wiped off her face.
"Mrs. Turner, I really don't have time to tutor anyone," Robin protested, "I'm trying to keep my grades up, I've got to focus on my application for Stanford-"
"Your application is going to be fine, I already wrote your recommendation letter," Mrs. Turner assured her, "Plus, you get extra credit for tutoring, and you can put it on your application."
Hmm. She hadn't thought of that. She supposed that meeting up with a neanderthal once a week for an hour to teach him basic biology so he could remain on the football team would be worth it if it helped her stand out to Stanford Admissions.
"Okay, I'll do it," Robin agreed, "Who am I tutoring?"
"Well…" Mrs. Turner started cautiously, "Students who are in the shop courses still have to pass basic English, math, history, and science classes in order to graduate—"
"Why the hell is this cutting into my lunch period?"
Robin turned to face the person who had rudely interrupted Mrs. Turner, and the first thing she noticed was a pair of giant, coke-bottle glasses. The brown eyes behind them locked with her green ones and began to dance with amusement.
She had known Teddy Duchamp since grade school, but they certainly hadn't been friends. Really, she remembered him being a bit of a troublemaker. Once junior high came, they never shared any classes together as he went into the shop courses, but in high school, she always knew of his reputation for getting stoned.
His eyes began to roam the rest of her face and her body, making her feel uncomfortable. She felt as if every inch of her was being examined, as if he were sizing her up.
"Well," Teddy said definitively, a wolfish grin breaking out on his face, "Knowing you're gonna be my tutor has me 'Glad All Over.'"
Robin cringed. She felt disgusted yet oddly impressed that he was able to make wildly inappropriate comments about both of their bodies while simultaneously turning The Dave Clark Five's innocent-sounding hit song into nothing short of nauseating.
"You're vile," Robin hissed.
"Thank you!"
"Mr. Duchamp, would you please cooperate?" Mrs. Turner asked, rubbing her temples, "Robin is one of Castle Rock High's brightest, you could learn a thing or two from her."
"Yeah, maybe," he admitted, "But I bet she could learn a thing or two from me."
He then wiggled his eyebrows at Robin suggestively. Before she could retort, Mrs. Turner had stood up from her desk.
"Mr. Duchamp," she said in a low, dangerous tone, "Any more talk like that in my classroom, and I will fail you faster than you would inevitably fail yourself."
Though Robin was glad that this shut him up, she was a little taken aback to hear Mrs. Turner speak like that to a student.
"Is that clear, young man?"
Teddy's face and eyes went completely blank as he stared at Mrs. Turner, but Robin could sense the rage building inside of him. It made her nervous. After a drawn out silence, he finally responded.
"Crystal," he sneered.
"Good," Mrs. Turner said a little more kindly, "All you need is a C+, and I know Robin can help you get there."
"Solid," Teddy answered in a monotone. He then turned to Robin. "Meet you here this Thursday, after school?"
"Okay," Robin agreed halfheartedly.
He nodded curtly in reply before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.
"Thank you, Robin," Mrs. Turner said, relief crossing her face, "Teddy Duchamp's a handful."
Robin's eyes remained fixed to the spot where he had stood, an anxious feeling settling into her stomach. He sure seemed like a handful, alright.
Robin's least favorite time of the day was lunch. She hated being in the crowded cafeteria, and the noise level was almost unbearable. As quickly as possible, she sat down at a table by herself, opened her brown bag, and shoved her sandwich and celery sticks into her mouth. As soon as she finished eating, she threw her trash away, gathered her books and pencil box, and made a beeline for the exit.
She felt like she could breathe again when she entered the hallway. She slowed her pace down as she made her way to her locker, rounding the corner and—WHAM!
Robin hit the floor, her belongings flying out of her arms as she landed on her bottom with a thud. She pushed her black hair out of her face and looked up at her assailant.
"Oh, Robin, I'm so sorry," Martha Whittaker apologized insincerely, looking down at her with an evil smile.
"Yes, I'm sure you are," Robin said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"I didn't even see you, which is odd. With your nose I can usually see you coming from miles away."
The gaggle of girls behind Martha giggled. Robin narrowed her eyes at her.
"Well, it's gotta be hard to see anyone coming when you've got nothing but the football team's dicks in your face."
The girls immediately ceased their laughter, except a lone "HAHA!" escaped from one of them that Robin recognized: Diane.
"You little bitch," Martha hissed at Robin, "You're just jealous. No guy would ever touch you."
And with that, Martha flounced away, the other girls on her heels. Again, except for Diane. But before Diane could say anything, Robin finally noticed her belongings strewn all around her, including her plastic pencil box that must have sprang open upon impact with the floor.
"My pencils!" she cried in dismay.
She began crawling on the floor on her hands and knees, searching frantically for her beloved writing utensils. She quickly found three of them, and just as she was about to grab another, her eyes were met with a pair of leather boots. Robin looked up as Chris Chambers crouched down in front her, their faces now almost level. He gently picked up the pencil and extended it towards her wordlessly. She snatched it from his outstretched hand, glowering at him.
"Thanks," Robin said shortly, standing up.
Chris followed suit. They stood facing each other.
"You okay?" Chris asked her, "I saw what happened. That was quite the stiff-arm she gave you."
"Yeah well, she was bound to learn something about football," Robin couldn't help but quip as she dusted herself off, "What with it being her extra curricular activity and all."
"Yeah," Chris said, smirking at her, "Yeah, I heard that too. It was a good one. I would say you're quick on your feet but…"
"Ha-ha," Robin said sarcastically.
"But really, you sure you're okay?" Chris asked again, searching her face.
His blue eyes on her made her feel uncomfortable but in an entirely different way from when Teddy had been eyeing her earlier. Robin couldn't put her finger on the feeling and didn't quite know how to respond.
"Here's the last one!" Diane suddenly declared, walking over from the other side of the hallway and triumphantly waving the pencil high in the air.
Robin's face darkened.
"Thanks," Robin said in the same curt tone she had just used to thank Chris.
"Robin," Diane said timidly, "Are you alright? Your ass must hurt like a mother—"
"I'm fine," Robin cut her off sharply.
"I'm sorry—"
"You'd better scamper off to your leader. You don't want to get punished for insubordination," Robin seethed.
Hurt evident on her face, Diane shuffled away without another word.
Robin turned towards Chris, not realizing he had stayed for the whole exchange, but she sensed his eyes upon her again. He gave her a withering look.
"What are you looking at?" Robin snapped.
"Chris, come on, let's shake a leg!"
Robin peered down the hallway and saw Gordie Lachance standing a little ways away, choosing to remain removed from the situation.
"I'll see you," Chris told her with a nod before retreating towards his friend.
"Yeah," Robin muttered, although he was already out of earshot, "Whatever."
The final bell had rang at 3 PM, and Robin had made it home by 3:30. While she clearly didn't belong from The View, her two-story house was still located in a decent neighborhood about a mile from the school.
"Mom," Robin called, pushing the front door open, "I'm home."
While she heard no reply, she could smell the cooking wafting from the kitchen. She made her way there and leaned her head against the entryway, watching her mother stirring liquid on the stovetop.
Her mother glanced up at Robin and gave her a small smile.
"Hi sweetheart," she greeted softly, "I hope it wasn't too bad today."
Her mother didn't even need to ask how her day went.
"It was...alright," Robin answered hesitantly.
"Well, that's good."
A pause.
"Robin, would you want to cook with me? That way you could learn—"
"No," Robin replied awkwardly, "No thank you. I should probably study. Get ahead of all the other students, you know."
Her mother looked at her with tiredness evident in her eyes. Robin knew she had refused offers to really spend time together too many times before this for her mother to feel hurt now.
"I understand, sweetheart," her mother said, turning her head back towards the pot on the stove, "I'll call you when supper is ready."
Robin felt a twinge of guilt as she headed up the stairs to her bedroom. Though she knew her mother was used to being rebuffed at this point, she didn't want her to think that she hated her. Of course she didn't. Her mother was the only person in Castle Rock she still cared for, and she worked hard as a secretary to keep them afloat. But Robin couldn't spend too much time around her, couldn't let herself care too much: it would inevitably be too painful.
She flopped onto her bed and closed her eyes. Of all the facial expressions she was on the receiving end of today, Mr. Fletcher's condoling look when she was announcing the forum swam into view. It had been quick, but she had caught it despite her best efforts to ignore it. She knew why he had given her that look of sympathy. It wasn't because he knew that the other students wouldn't give a damn, and it wasn't because he agreed with her anti-Vietnam war sentiments. It was because of the emphasis she had placed on three words.
"People are dying…"
Robin felt a familiar heaviness in her chest which began to creep into her throat. She rubbed at the base of her throat to rid herself of the wretched feeling before it could make its way up to her eyes.
Her classmates didn't get it. But she did. All too well.