A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for clicking on my story. I used to write a long time ago, and I've discovered just how much I missed it. I would really appreciate any opinions or suggestions that you may have—feedback and encouragement really do help. I do not own Stand By Me and any of its characters or storylines. I hope you all enjoy!


October 1958

"Okay, the name of the game is 'Mother May I?'! So get in line!" Martha Whittaker ordered bossily, a toothy, evil grin on her face, "You ask me if you can move forward, and I'll either say yes or tell you to do something different. Whoever gets to me first wins."

Robin sighed with exhaustion as she knelt down to retie her left saddle shoe, her straight black hair falling into her face. This wasn't going to be fun. As the other girls lined up horizontally in a large patch of grass in the schoolyard, she glanced over her shoulder at Diane, who gave her a weak smile. Robin flung her hair behind her shoulders and quickly moved to the end of the line next to Diane. Martha stood about 25 feet away with her back to them. Robin begrudgingly admitted that her blonde hair looked even more beautiful shining in the sun.

"Someone go," Martha demanded impatiently.

"Mother, may I take 5 steps forward?" asked Sue Prewitt.

"Yes, you may," Martha allowed.

"Mother, may I run forward for 5 seconds?" questioned Carol Bradford, a smirk on her pale, freckled face.

"Of course, my dear," Martha replied cheerfully.

Robin watched with narrowed eyes as Carol ran gracefully towards Martha, stopping mid-way between Martha and the starting line.

"Mother, may I…" Diane paused, mulling over her next choice of words, "May I take 10 crabwalks forward?"

Robin snickered at the request. Leave it to Diane to ask for permission for such a wacky movement, and she knew that her friend did this on purpose to subtly undermine Martha.

"Um, yes. Yes, you may..." Martha answered with confusion in her voice, "Only for creativity."

Diane gave Robin a quick wink before lowering to her hands and feet, turning backwards, lifting her small body, and crab-walking towards the rest of the other girls, her dark blonde hair so long that it touched the ground as she moved. As the other girls giggled approvingly at Diane, Robin took a deep breath and rubbed the bump in the bridge of her nose with her index finger. It was her turn.

"Mother, may I take 8 baby steps forward?" she asked timidly.

A pause.

"I don't think so," Martha drawled in a sickly sweet tone that made Robin want to vomit, "But you may walk back to our classroom, grab my cardigan for me, and return to the starting line."

Robin grumbled and turned on her heel. Why did she think that there was even the slightest chance that she would have been granted her request?

"Oh, and Robin?" Martha called, turning her head to reveal half a smirk, "Take your nose with you, would you?"

A hand immediately went to Robin's nose. The other girls fell about with vicious laughter, except for Diane who looked worriedly and sympathetically at her. Robin stomped through groups of children playing on the blacktop and into the school, attempting to contain both her anger and the tears forming in her eyes.

She had been playing with those girls for most of her life, but it was only recently that they began bullying her, except for Diane. They had become even more brutal as her 12th birthday came and went this year. She knew that it was partly because Martha and Sue were from The View, and they felt they were superior to everyone else for the simple fact that they lived on such coveted real estate.

Robin had already begun to resent them for their snotty attitude when she came to the sinking realization that she was also an easy target for cruel comments. She was constantly made fun of for raising her hand in class to answer every question; some classmates would openly groan while she recited an answer word-for-word from the textbook after another student had gotten the question wrong. They all thought she was a know-it-all. But Martha and the others had recently taken a liking to mocking her appearance—especially her deviated septum.

Robin again gingerly ran two fingers over the bridge of her nose as she wandered down the deserted hallway. Their words punctured her, their harsh laughter rang in her ears. Whoever said, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me" was a fucking liar.

A few tears slipped from her green eyes. At least her father would be there when she came home from school. Her father was always there to wrap her in his arms and tell her that she was smart, that she could do anything that she wanted, that she and her nose were beautiful and unique.

He had only been in the Korean War for 1 year when she was 5 years old, but she could remember wandering around the house looking for him, not understanding where he had gone. But he had made it back, and he had made it back relatively unscathed. Thankfully now he was just in the standby reserves, and only for another 2-3 years according to The Reserve Forces Act.

Though Robin was close to Diane, her only real confidant at school, her father was her true best friend. Despite what the other kids said about her, he believed in her, he loved her, and most importantly, he told her those things every day.

Feeling soothed by the thought of seeing her father later that afternoon, Robin wiped her eyes and took a deep breath as she approached her classroom. Everyone would be at recess, either in the cafeteria eating or out in the schoolyard playing. That included Ms. Simons, who usually spent her lunch period fawning all over the male teachers, begging for their attention. So once she made it to the open doorway, she was taken by surprise when her eyes fell upon a fellow classmate, a boy, in the room. He was standing by Ms. Simons's desk. His back was turned, his navy blue t-shirt untidily tucked into his faded jeans. A white envelope was clumsily jammed into his right back pocket. Robin knew exactly what was in that envelope. And she knew exactly who that boy was.

She hesitated, rooted to the spot. She considered going back to the schoolyard and facing Martha's wrath, but before she could will herself to walk away, the boy turned and faced her, sensing that he was no longer alone. His face faltered, but only for a moment. He plastered on a tight, closed-lip smile as his blue eyes blinked at her, taking her in.

"Hello, Robin," he greeted evenly.

"Hi…" Robin trailed off awkwardly. They had been in class together for as long as she could remember, but they had never spoken to each other before.

They stared at each other briefly as he continued to smile with his lips pressed together. He then made his way towards her-and the door. He was just about to stroll past her when the gravity of what he was doing hit her. She stepped slightly over to the left, blocking his path.

"I know what you're doing," Robin said firmly, finding her voice.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"And…?" he asked her impatiently.

Her brow furrowed. He wasn't even trying to deny it.

"It's wrong," Robin pointed out reproachfully, putting her hands on her hips, "You shouldn't do it."

He blinked at her again, expressionless. He then reached into his back pocket, pulling out the white envelope. He sifted through its contents and pulled out two shiny, silver quarters. Robin's eyes widened as he held the coins in his open palm, which he stretched out towards her in offering. She backed a few steps away from him.

"You can't buy my silence!" Robin cried indignantly, shaking her head.

An amused smile crossed his face.

"Fair enough," he acknowledged with a small chuckle as he put the coins back in the envelope, which he then returned to his back pocket. He looked back up at her, once again blinking his unreadable blue eyes at her.

"So, are you going to tell?" he questioned matter-of-factly.

Robin's eyes continued to widen in shock. How could he be so casual about it? She weighed her options. What would be the point of telling on him? He would still basically be committing a crime; he would still be doing something wrong. That's what really mattered, and her telling on him or not wasn't going to change that.

"...No," Robin answered decidedly, placing her hands back on her hips, "But I still don't think you should do it. And I don't think it's fair that now you're asking me to keep this a secret. Now I'm an accessory."

Robin wasn't sure what it was, but something in his eyes shifted. She began to feel uncomfortable as a long silence consumed them, and his blue eyes bore into her.

"I'm—I'm not," he stammered, an almost hurt expression appearing on his face, "You...you can tell if you want to-if you feel like you need to. You gotta do what you feel is right."

He then brushed past her towards the exit, their arms briefly and lightly touching as he passed. Robin turned around so she faced his retreating backside.

"True, and I don't think telling on you is right," she admitted, "but you gotta do what you feel is right too."

He stopped dead in his tracks. A few moments passed before he flipped around to face her again, a defeated look in his blue eyes.

"Yeah…" he trailed off. He then gave her a weak smile. "I'll think about it. I promise," he said, sincerity ringing in his voice.

Robin watched with curiosity and confusion as Christopher Chambers walked away, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped.