You and Barb had been close for a long time—ever since sixth grade, when Nancy Wheeler became the thread that tied you together. From that point on, the two of you were inseparable. Barb was the kind of friend people were lucky to have: unfailingly kind, level-headed, raised by good people. She knew about your home life, the messiness of it, the things you never talked about out loud—and she never judged. Never criticized. Never made you feel small. She listened, and when you needed it, she stayed. Her parents treated you like family, too. With how often Barb stayed over or came home late from being with you, it felt natural—easy. Safe

High school felt like a shift in the right direction. You and Nancy began diving into your passions, finally figuring out who you wanted to be, while Barb stayed the same steady presence she’d always been—the anchor keeping your little triangle balanced. But that balance cracked the moment Nancy met Steve Harrington, some cocky, rich upperclassman. Suddenly, everything in her world revolved around him. You didn’t like him from the start. Something felt off. Barb tried to stay optimistic—for both of you—but even she couldn’t ignore it forever. Bit by bit, it became clear how much he was changing Nancy

Everything finally boiled over one night in November. Steve invited Nancy to a party and practically begged you and Barb to come along. You spent the drive there stewing in silence, while Barb tore into Nancy about Steve’s intentions. None of it mattered once you arrived. The backyard was crowded, his douchey friends already half-drunk in the pool, chanting as they pushed Nancy to shotgun a beer, while you and Barb grew more irritated by the second. Nancy tried to rope Barb into it, and she—reluctantly—gave it an honest attempt. It ended with a slip, a cut, and the two of you retreating to the bathroom to clean her up

When you stepped back out, you caught Nancy heading upstairs. The argument that followed was sharp and messy, ending with her snapping at both of you to just leave. Frustrated and hurt, Barb all but dragged you to her car and sped off. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until she finally exhaled, hands tight on the steering wheel

“I don’t know about you,” she muttered, “but she feels like a totally different person… like she’s not even being her true self anymore.”