LIKE CLOCKWORK.
triggers: implied child neglect, smoking.
a/n: um.. if u think..  whitney won't be calling nancy 'nanny' anytime she sees her... ur wrong

MELISSA SCOTT WOKE UP EARLY the next morning. Early enough she was hoping she could talk to her mom before she left for work, and yet, when she looked, the house was empty.

Mel sighed quietly. She glanced at the clock. She had time to spare. So, with this is mind, she walked into the kitchen, and began scavenging the pantries for food. She stopped when she noticed a near empty package of bread. She nodded to herself, grabbing it. She opened up the package, pulling two slices out, then waking over to her toaster and putting them in.

As she waited, she put the bread back up, and walked over to the fridge. She opened the door, the cold air hitting her. She let out a small sigh, and began moving shit around to find her mom's homemade jam. That's what she usually went with for breakfast when her mom wasn't home.

She eventually found it, and pulled it out, right as the toaster went off. She hummed to herself, opening the panty above the toaster and grabbing a paper plate, before putting her two slices of toast on the plate.

Five minutes later, she was sat at the kitchen table, silently eating her strawberry jam covered toast.

She went threw this what was probably every morning and it never seemed to change. It was like clockwork.

•

Once Melissa finished her breakfast, she got dressed in a t-shirt with the Coca Cola logo on it and a pair of mom jeans, then she was able to get on her way.

She walked back downstairs after changing, and opened her front door, taking a step out. She stood there for a second, before closing the door behind her. She looked at the sidewalk, and just in time to watch Nancy Wheeler walk out her house.

Mel waved at her, and Nancy gave her a smile.

"Hey, Nance." Mel greeted as Nancy walked up to her.

"Hi, Mel," The other hummed in response, "Walk to school together?"

"Like usual." Mel grinned in response.

That's really all that Mel looked forward too when it came to school days. Walking with Nancy. They could talk the while way there or not speak a word. Though Mel did prefer the first. She enjoyed hearing Nancy's voice. God, she'd let Nancy rant to her about Steve Harrington all day if it meant she could hear her voice.

Though, much to Mel's dismay, today seemed to be a day Nancy kept whatever she was thinking to herself.

As they walked their way to Hawkins High in silence, Mel couldn't help but feel something was off. She wasn't sure what, but whatever it was, she just shrugged it off as paranoia.

( God, you should've listened to your gut! )

Melissa glanced over at Nancy, then away again. Her eyes focused on the ground below her, on her feet walking, anywhere but into Nancy's.

•

Mel walked up to Hawkins High, Nancy behind her. Mel looked over at the other and gave her a smile, to which Nancy smiled back before walking inside the building. Mel followed behind her, but soon they were separated. Barb Holland had grabbed Nancy's attention, and Mel began walking to her locker.

Barb. She was nice. A little strange in Melissa's eyes, but nice.

Speaking of eyes, Mel had hers locker on the ground below her. She was trying to make her way to the bathroom, but being crowded by a bunch of teenagers didn't help. She wouldn't think it was that big of a deal when she accidentally bumped into someone, but Whitney Smith thought different.

"Hey! Watch it." Whitney turned around to face Melissa.

Mel scoffed, "Sorry, sorry." She murmered to herself.

God,

•

Some people. Whitney thought to herself as she rolled her eyes. She continued making her way through the crowded hallways, trying to make her way to the bathroom. Was it to smoke in peace? Maybe. Besides that, she eventually did reach it. Thank God.

She made her way into a stall, right in time to here the door open once again.

The sound of something lightly hitting the wall rang in her ears. She raised her eyebrows in confusion at first, then almost sighed aloud. Kids making out again. The normal.

She pulled her feet up so they weren't noticed, clutched her books to her chest, and despite how much she wanted to open the package of cigarettes that was in her jacket pocket, she knew she had to wait until the couple left.

"Steve.." A female voice murmered, it was quiet, and she couldn't really recognize it. The name Steve was familar. Steve Harrington?

"Mmm-mmm?" The supposed Steve replied.

"I have to go." The girl pointed out. Familar voice. Nanny Wheeler? No, that's a stupid name. Who would name their child-

"In a minute." Steve protested.

The sound of the bell ringing interrupted their conversation. Whitney almost groaned. Now she was gonna be late, again.

"Steve. I really like.." 'Nanny' began, "I seriously need to go."

The sound of what was probably 'Nanny' pulling away from Steve rang in Whitney's ears. Finally, they were leaving.

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's..." Steve began, trailing off for a second, "Come on, let's do something, yeah?" He suggested.

Whitney sighed and her head fell back. Could these two horny rabbits leave already? She needed to get to class.

"Uh, no. I can't. I have to study for Kaminsky's test." 'Nanny' reminded the boy.

"Oh, come on. What's your GPA again 3.999..."

At this point, Whitney gave up on listening and waiting. If they caught her, fuck it. Not like it hadn't happened before. She pulled her package of cigarettes out of her coat pocket, as well as her lighter.

She brought the object to her lips, then lit it. Sucked in, inhaled, exhaled. Like clockwork. Like normal.

She knew smoke was visible, but the couple outside didn't seem to be noticing. After another good three minutes, 'Nanny' left. The late bell rang, and Steve left as well.

Fucking finally.

She stood up, and threw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. She knew she didn't get in the best smoke, but she needed to get to class. Whitney bent down and picked up the object. She unlocked the stall door, walked out, tossing the cigarette in the trashcan as she did so.

Now, she needed to get to class.