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Amidst the wreckage, the carnage and death, the smell of burning flesh and cries of local townspeople, a Scoops Ahoy pop-up shop opened downtown.
The CEO of Scoops Ahoy, a native Indianan, had decided to open the little shop, with all funds going to charities in need of the money – Hawkins Fire Dept., Hawkins’ Homeless, Hawkins Natural Disaster Committee, and so on.
The CEO of Scoops Ahoy also just so happened to have a list of every employee at the old Hawkins Scoops Ahoy, who he eagerly reemployed.
So, Steve and Robin had a job, again; this time at the ice-creamery that, albeit slightly smaller than the one in Starcourt, still had a thick atmosphere of refreshing sweetness and joy – wacky flavored and colored ice-cream stacked in the chilling display freezer, nauseatingly blue stripes that decked the walls, the nautical, classic Scoops Ahoy sign outside.
Robin sighed as the clock struck three o’clock, her wrist already tender and the scooper already bent backwards by the sheer frozenness of the newly-imported ice-cream. The bell above the door jingled as someone strode in – Robin already knew who by the way his converse squeaked against the brand-new and sparkly polished tiles; awkward and jarringly loud in the quiet store.
“Hi,” Mike smiled at Robin. “just one tub of chocolate ice cream, please.”
“Coming right up.” Robin droned, striding over to the freezer with pre-packaged cartons of ice-cream. “So, what brings you here, Wheeler 2.0?”
“Oh, not much. Just, uh-…movie night at the Byers’.”
Mike looked like he’d been staring at the sun for a solid 5 hours and gotten an awful sunburn.
“Mini-Byers likes chocolate ice cream, no?” Robin asked, handing over the carton. Mike ducked his head, still stumbling over his words.
“I guess- I think-…yeah, he does.”
“What movies are you watching?”
“Police Academy 3.”
“Oh! Cool. Cool.” Robin grinned at Mike, and was almost astounded at how easily she could read him. Clearly, something…something personal was troubling Wheeler 2.0, and Robin has a faint inkling of what it may be.
And just like Mr. Hauser before her, Robin will very gladly take it upon herself to be this kid’s mentor.
“You know, we got this new flavor in. WB.”
“WB?”
“It doesn’t stand for Warner Brothers, or Will Byers, by the way. It’s really weird – waffle and bacon.”
“Waffle and bacon?!” Mike seems utterly horrified at the ludicrous flavor. “That’s- that’s-…that’s evil.”
“You may think so, but I really like it.” Robin shrugged, gesturing to the oddly colored ice-cream, untouched in its container. “Pretty sure the entire town hates me for it.”
Mike laughs, and it’s almost like a bark; not forced, but not natural, either. He agrees, but maybe he doesn’t want to.
“Here, gotta try before you deny.” The girl teases, handing him the small, sample spoon. Mike hesitates, still a bit put-off and disgusted, but takes the tiny plastic spoon and tries it anyways.
“It just tastes like breakfast,” he shrugs. “It’s good. Better than I thought. How did they get the pork flavor, though?”
“You think I know? I might be able to solve Russian codes and somewhat defeat interdimensional monsters, but trying to find out how Scoops Ahoy replicated the flavor of bacon is a mystery to me.”
Okay, this awful metaphor isn’t going the way Robin so genius-ly thought it would.
“L-…Like I said, everyone at Hawkins High hated me for liking the flavor. But-…but it’s okay, y’know? To like different things, even if everyone tells you not to.”
Mike smiles softly in her direction, tilting his head so slightly that Robin’s sharp eye doesn’t catch it at first. But she knows, as she returns the smile, that he’s beginning to understand what she’s trying to say.
“Well, I like it, I think, more than the usual flavor I get – vanilla.”
“You like vanilla? That’s so…banal.”
“I know!” Mike shakes his head, laughing. “It is kinda boring. But you’re right. The flavor is okay, even if it’s…really weird.”
“Yeah. Anyways, here’s your ice cream. Have fun watching your movies.”
“I will,” Mike bobbed his head, snatching the carton and turning on his heel to leave, before pausing suddenly. “H- How…” He spins on his heel, awkwardly finger gunning at Robin. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Know that you-..that you were someone who…who…um,” he floundered for words, like a fish out of water, glaring at the painfully white tiles. “someone who liked…liked…waffle and bacon flavored ice cream.” He finally spits out; with notes of despondency. “You said everyone in Hawkins hated it, except for you.”
“Oh,” Robin smirked, an all-knowing creeping onto her smug face. “yeah. I mean, uh…”
Great going, Robin. You wanted this to happen, and now you can’t even respond to another kid in a crisis? Real good mentor you are.
“I…it was overwhelming. People who, um, like weirdly flavored ice-cream…they all discover that about themselves at different times. I found out I liked that ice cream flavor when I was your age, maybe a bit older.” Robin babbles, watching Mike’s inky eyes trained on her, like some kind of frightened deer in headlights, cautious of his every move. “like I said, a lot of people are going to hate you or judge you for it, which sounds strange, but…but when you find the ice-cream flavor that’s, albeit, weird, but you really like? It doesn’t really matter anymore. You’ll know when you know – it’s a pretty specific and strong feeling. And at that point in time, you’ll know it’s okay, too. That…you like ice cream so much that you don’t care too much about what people think anymore. Does that sound weird?”
Mike pursued his lips together, before eventually shaking his head, stressed tendrils of onyx hair shifting with the movement.
“No. Not at all…” he offers, once again, a soft smile – different to the one Nancy possesses. It’s almost more domestic, kind, sincere, compared to Nancy’s strong and certain one. “…thank you. It means…a lot…that you say this. Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem, Wheeler 2.0,” Robin shakes the scooper in his direction. “glad I could help.”
And with that, Mike turns on his heel, his converse squeaking on the tiles, and opens the door – a gust of sweltering summer air bursting through – and leaves Robin in the empty ice-creamery, with the faulty A/C that burred in the background and the hushed music playing on the obsolete speaker; and a smile on her face.