Jenny Fischer's house was…large. Much larger than Christine had expected it to be. For only living a few blocks away, Jenny was clearly in a different tax bracket. The lawn was sprawling, covered hap hazardously with parked cars and plastic cups. They were only an hour and a half late, but clearly the party was in full swing.
It had taken them another hour to escape the Wheelers' house, Nancy's mother not fully satisfied they were going to study as much as they were saying. Nancy had smuggled out her outfit in her backpack—a cute pair of jeans and a shirt she'd bought earlier in the day.
Christine had no such luxury. It had taken forever to pick her closet apart, looking for something that would be even remotely suitable for the situation. The jeans were fine, her boots a given, but she wasn't satisfied with any of the sweaters or blouses she owned. Steve had seen her in worse, of course. He saw her in her normal clothes every day—and nothing would look so awful as her work uniform. Still, she wanted to look especially…something.
After an eternity of looking, she'd settled on a white tank top, one of her father's worn flannels, and an oversized denim jacket. The layers, she figured, would give her a chance to alter her look after she got to the party, once she got a look at what everyone else was wearing. Then Nancy had helped her with her makeup, which she had much more experience with.
Christine had been going for effortless grunge, cute without trying too hard. But now, standing in front of Jenny Fischer's too large house with the music playing too loud inside, the only thing she felt was disheveled and nauseous.
Nancy kicked an empty beer can on the curb, and Christine picked at the edges of her cuffs. Neither of them moved, just staring at the impossible feat that lay before them. Christine broke the silence.
"Alright, I'm gonna say it," she sighed, throwing her arms in the air. "I can't do this. I can't go in there."
"What? No!" Nancy turned to her, adamant. "You have to go in there. Steve asked you to go in there!"
"I know! But I can't. He should probably know that. There's no way I can do this."
"Christine, of course you can do this. You're gonna be fine."
"Right," she scoffed, shaking her head. "That's easy for you to say. You're smart, you're funny, and you're great under pressure. I am not like that. I turn into goo under pressure. I'm gonna go in there and freeze, and I'm gonna make an idiot of myself. Again."
"Hey, stop." Nancy sighed, gently taking Christine's arm and tugging her around to face her. "You are super smart, you're super funny, and as for performing under pressure…well, you're working on it. You had a whole conversation with Steve today, didn't you?"
"Yeah. Starting to think that's enough social interaction for the day."
Nancy was unamused. Changing tactics, she released Christine's arm, fixing her with a commanding glare instead.
"No, you know what? You dragged me all the way to this party. I put off studying for my test, I lied to my parents, I rode on the back of your stupid bike and then walked all the way here—all because you asked me to. So you are going to go in there and give Steve Harrington everything you've got. Make him regret every second of physics he's spent not talking to you. Got it?"
Christine sighed, wringing her hands together as she stared at the house.
"Got it, Christine?"
"Fine! Yes! I've—I've got it. Sorry."
Nancy's annoyance dropped instantly, and she offered Christine her arm. "Come on. I've got you."
Christine linked her arm through Nancy's and held onto her like a lifeline. Together they walked up the lawn, between all the cars and cans, and pieced their way up to the door. Christine shot Nancy a side glance.
"Do…Do we knock, or do you think we just…?"
Nancy laughed, and pushed the door open.
There were more people than Christine had imagined. It looked like every single teenager in Hawkins was there, crammed into one house. Still, part of her expected the party to stop the moment she walked in, for everyone to turn and look at her like the fish out of water that she was.
But nobody did. Everyone just went around their business, running down the hallways, screaming conversations over the loud music, drunkenly dancing in the living room. An overplayed Duran Duran song was practically shaking the floor. It was overwhelming. She had no idea where to start.
Nancy, thankfully, took the lead. Squeezing Christine's hand gently, she began weaving through the partygoers, making her way into the house and tugging Christine along with her. Still, it didn't seem like they were moving in any particular direction. They looped the first floor, casing the building for someone they might know. And just when Christine was starting to worry, she heard that all too familiar voice.
"Hey, you made it!"
Steve materialized out of nowhere, swooping down on them with a smile a mile wide. He was wearing the same clothes he had been earlier, but he still seemed to fit right in with the crowd. Christine tugged nervously on her jean jacket, trying not to think about how many times she'd changed her outfit.
"Hi, Steve," Nancy said with an easy smile, immediately drawing his gaze.
"Miss Wheeler," he said, giving her a small bow. "Miss Walcott."
He bowed again, and threw her a small smirk when he looked up. Any nerve Christine had built up to say hello immediately went out the window. Steve didn't seem to mind though.
"Let's get you ladies some drinks, huh?"
He stepped between them, breaking their connection and throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. Christine let out a small squeak as he tugged her against his side, pulling her with him as he moved through the crowd. She could only pray that he hadn't heard her.
Steve led them to the kitchen, where it was slightly less crowded. Empty bowls that had once contained snacks lined the counter, but the food was long gone. All that remained were a few packages of beer, stacks of cups, and a large bowl of alarmingly red liquid.
"So what can I get you?" asked Steve, stepping behind the counter. "We've got beer, punch, some beer, and uh…oh, look at that. Some punch."
Nancy laughed softly, and answered for both of them. "Punch is fine, thanks."
He grabbed two of the cups, scooping generous portions of the red liquid into them and holding them out. Nancy reached for hers, only for Steve to pull it back at the last second.
"Oh, uh, I should mention—you've gotta chug the first drink." He smirked, jiggling the cups in front of them. "House rules."
Christine shared a worried look with Nancy. She didn't have to look inside the cup to know that it held more alcohol than she'd ever had in a drink. She'd had a few sips of her dad's drinks, sure, maybe spilt a couple of beers. But she'd never chugged a drink in her life.
Nancy shot Steve a very unamused look, but accepted the cup. She took a deep breath, and then threw her head back, draining the cup in one shot. It took her a few seconds, and she came up coughing, but there was still a bright smile on her face.
"Alright!" Steve cheered, holding his free hand up in surrender. "Damn, Wheeler."
"Thanks," she mumbled, refilling her cup.
"Walcott," said Steve, offering the cup again. "Come on, right down the hatch. You'll be great."
Christine was fairly certain she would not be great, but she didn't see much of a choice after Nancy's show. She could refuse, and look like a loser, or she could try and fail, and still look like a loser. But she'd made it this far. There was no going back.
She took the cup from Steve, trying not to think about how much punch there was. Instead she focused on the science of it. It wasn't carbonated, which was one thing in her favor. All she had to do was relax her throat and make sure it went down her esophagus instead of her trachea. Easy.
Nancy sent her a supportive smile, Steve another smirk—and she threw her head back.
It was disgusting. Easily one of the most disgusting things she'd ever tasted. The punch part was too sugary sweet, the alcohol so bitter she was afraid she might vomit on the spot. It was like drinking nail polish remover. She tried to hold her breath, hoping it would help the taste. She could feel the punch dripping down her chin as she leaned back too far, but she was too desperate for it to be over to really care.
And just when she thought she'd reached the end, she choked.
Christine spluttered forcing down the punch that was still in her mouth and doubling over as it fought to come back out. She hacked uncontrollably, eyes filling with water. She could barely make out Nancy's shoes next to her, so it was probably her that was patter her back. The cup disappeared from her hand, and she clamped it over her mouth. It didn't do much to smother her coughing, and it was still a few seconds before she could get her breath back.
"Are you okay?" asked Nancy, helping her upright again.
"Yeah," Christine lied, though the sound barely croaked out. "Too fast."
"Here," Steve offered, passing her back a full cup. "That'll help. Take it easy, champ."
Christine couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eye.
They followed Steve down the hall and into the den, where Tommy and Carol were tucked away in a far corner. Carol was slung across his lap in an armchair, and there was a loveseat where Steve must've been sitting before. He ushered the two of them onto the couch, and returned a moment later with a chair he'd procured for himself.
"See?" he said, nodding to his friends in the chair. "Told ya she'd come. Pay up, asshole."
"Yeah, yeah," Tommy grumbled.
He weaseled a hand into his back pocket, making Carol squeal and jump in his lap. He fished out a wad of bills, which he passed to a grinning Steve.
Christine's heart sank further. "You made a bet?"
"Oh, not until like twenty minutes ago," said Steve, waving off her concern as he pocketed the cash. "Tommy wasn't sure you two would show. Ye of little faith."
He aimed a kick at Tommy's ankle, and Tommy angrily kicked him back. Carol had to smack him on the shoulder to get him still again.
"Actually that was my fault," said Nancy. "My parents wouldn't let me go until after dinner."
"Your parents know you're here?" asked Tommy, surprised.
"Oh, no way," Nancy laughed. "Are you kidding? They'd kill me?"
"What'd you tell them?" asked Steve.
"That I was going to Christine's. She's supposed to help me study for my chem test."
"Nice," said Carol, quirking an eyebrow. "Didn't know you had it in you, princess."
Tommy jolted his knee under her, and Carol quickly shut her mouth. But Nancy was already shifting uncomfortably.
"What about you, Chrissy?" asked Steve. "Where do your parents think you are?"
"Oh, uh…" Christine cleared her throat, raising her voice to a volume that might actually be audible. "Actually it's just me and my dad. And he's on a business trip."
"Wooh! Party at Walcott's!" Tommy whooped. "So we're going to yours next, right?"
Christine forced herself to smile awkwardly. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that. So she took a deep gulp of her punch. It wasn't so bad when she knew what to expect.
"Actually, your dad probably wouldn't mind," Nancy mused. "He's always talking about drinking responsibly and getting out more."
"Nance, do we always have to talk about my dad?"
"Why?" Carol demanded, sitting up a little straighter. "Is your dad hot?"
"Damn, Wheeler's into older dudes," Tommy laughed. He kicked Steve's leg again, and winked. "Sorry, man. Looks like you're not her type."
Christine had never seen Steve Harrington look mortified before. She wasn't entirely sure that he could look mortified. But that was the best word she could think of for the horror on his face when Tommy spoke. It was shock, it was anger, it was panic, and it was gone as quickly as it came.
Steve turned to Christine, a carefree smile on his face that was at odds with his rushed words.
"Oh, by the way, Chrissy—you were so right about the movie. It sucked. I'm so sorry you have to listen to that every weekend. I really should've asked for my money back."
"Uh…sorry," Christine offered lamely.
"No, no, no, totally not your fault. It just—It really sucked. Uh…how was the rest of your shift?"
"Fine."
There wasn't much else to say on the subject. She'd only been at work for an hour after he'd left, something he already knew. It seemed an odd question to ask, all things considered.
"You sell any more Bottlecaps?" Tommy snickered. "Oh, sorry. I mean Gobstoppers."
"Dude, let it go, alright?" Steve snapped. "She made a mistake."
But Tommy was still laughing at his own joke. Just like Christine had known he was going to. And even though she'd known it was coming, she still couldn't think of anything to say. She shook her head, pretending that it was more annoying than hurtful, and took another few gulps of punch.
Nancy was watching her closely, and suddenly cleared her throat.
"Yeah, Tommy. Or maybe she was telling you to stop talking, and you just can't take a hint."
Everyone gaped at her. It was hard to tell who was more shocked—Tommy who looked like he'd just been slapped, Steve, who looked like Christmas had come a month early, or Christine, who had never heard anyone talk back to someone like Tommy H in her life.
After several seconds of silence, Carol burst into laughter. Steve was quick to join in, and even Tommy let out a surprised chuckle.
"Shit, Tommy, you better watch out," Carol giggled. "Looks like the princess has got claws."
"I will drink to that," said Steve proudly.
He leaned out of his chair, knocking his cup into Nancy's before chugging everything he had left. Tommy and Carol were whooping, Nancy laughing delicately behind her hand. Christine took another sip of her punch, and tried to ignore the sour feeling in her stomach. She was already starting to regret coming to this party.
She wished she could say it got easier after that. There was definitely less tension in the rest of group—they all talked and laughed without pause—but Christine was still having a hard time thinking of anything to stay. Her brain seemed to be moving at half the speed of the discourse. By the time she thought of something interesting to contribute, she'd realize everyone else was already two topics further along. Even if someone asked her something directly—usually Nancy or Steve—she only got a few words out before someone else would chime in.
The longer the party went on, the less she seemed to be talking. And the less she talked, the more she drank. It was nice to have something to do besides stare as the conversation slipped past her. The punch wasn't even that bad once she got used to it. In fact, it was kind of addicting.
The first time she went for a refill, Nancy insisted on coming with her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, once they were safely out of earshot.
"Yeah, fine," Christine sighed. "You know, just completely blowing my shot. As usual."
"Hey, don't let them bother you. Tommy's an idiot, and Carol's a jerk. Just be you."
"Well, 'me' tends to clam up and not have anything interesting to say." Christine rolled her eyes at herself as she scooped up more punch. She sipped it slowly, bumping her hip gently into Nancy's. "Thanks for sticking up for me, though. That was like, insanely cool."
"God, I don't even know where that came from," Nancy laughed. "Was I way harsh?"
"Um, no? Like you said, Tommy's an idiot. Anyway, Steve seemed to think it was pretty amazing."
Nancy blushed, and wrapped an arm around Christine's waist. "Come on. Let's find something you know you can talk about."
True to her word, Nancy had deliberately steered the conversation toward movies. Christine had seen just about everything that had come out in the past two years, and she was at the rental store at least twice a month. She had plenty of material to go on.
Unfortunately, that conversation didn't go exactly as planned.
"We all stayed over Christine's house last night to watch Friday the Thirteenth," Nancy announced. "It's her favorite."
"What's that? Horror?" asked Steve.
"Uh, yeah," Christine answered. "It came out a couple years ago. I've seen it like…nine times."
"Cool. So what's it about?"
"Well, it's…"
"Oh shit, is that the camp one?" Tommy interrupted. "Yeah! All these kids go away to some shut down summer camp, and then Jason comes back from the dead and slaughters them all. Bleeeaargh!"
He rattled Carol in his lap, miming slicing her throat while he laughed. She snorted.
"Gross. I hate all that horror shit. Blood and guts and girls that won't stop fucking screaming. Ahh! Ahhhhhhh! Oh no, please don't kill me!"
"Actually we were just talking about that the other day," said Nancy, giving Christine a pointed look. "Chrissy, what were you saying about horror movies having rules or something?"
Everyone turned to look at her and Christine felt her throat go dry. It was one thing to talk about her nerdy theories in the comfort of her own living room. But telling the popular kids that her favorite pass time was watching the popular kids get murdered in horror movies? Seriously?
Nancy nudged her encouragingly, and she cleared her throat.
"Well…yeah, they are kind of stupid," she agreed, nodding at Carol. "The girls I mean. But that's usually why they end up getting killed. If—If you're stupid, or if you're mean, or if…if you sleep around or whatever, you usually get killed off. That's just the way it works."
"Dude," Tommy scoffed, grinning up at the ceiling. "I'd be so fucking dead."
"Oh for sure," Steve chuckled. "You're a triple threat, man—horny, mean, and stupid."
"Yeah, keep laughing, Harrington. Jason'd slice you up good, the amount of girls you've screwed."
"Not these two, though," said Carol, sneering at Nancy and Christine. "Pristine little virgins that've never broken a rule in their lives."
Nancy flipped Carol the bird, which made everyone laugh. Christine returned to her punch.
"Hey, lay off," added Steve, swatting Carol's shoulder. "That just makes them hero material, you know? Someone's gotta save our asses."
"Yeah, some of us have pretty nice asses," Tommy agreed, before groping Carol. She squealed, and smacked him again, which somehow led to the two of them making out in their armchair.
Steve rolled his eyes, ignoring them. "So, Nancy, what's your favorite movie?"
"Oh, um…probably Risky Business?"
"Hey, I loved that movie! That guy was so good, that uh…"
"Tom Cruise, yeah. He's great."
"Yeah, he was the whole reason Carol dragged us to see All The Right Moves in the first place. What was the other thing he was in this year? Um…"
"The Outsiders. Which was also like, so good."
"Why does that sound familiar?"
"It's a book, by S.E. Hinton. It's pretty popular. You might've read it for class."
"Shit. I was probably supposed to read it for class."
He winked at her, and Nancy giggled. Still, Christine stared at her punch.
The second time she went for a refill, Nancy did not feel the need to come with her.
The third time she went, she returned only to find that Tommy and Carol had vanished from the armchair. She didn't bother asking where they'd gone. Chances were they'd finally moved their party upstairs and were commandeering on the of the Fischers' bedrooms. Or a bathroom if they weren't picky about space.
She'd plopped into the vacant chair, placing herself between Nancy and Steve, but it didn't have any effect. Nancy's eyes never left Steve's, and Steve's never left hers. They continued to talk about a bunch of classmates Christine didn't know—what their families were up to and how they'd changed since they were kids. Christine barely recognized any of the names.
The fourth time she refilled her cup, she came back to find Nancy sitting alone on the sofa. Christine's heart soared as she plopped down next to her, smiling for the first time in what felt like hours.
"Where'd everybody go?" she asked, leaning her head on the back of the couch.
"Well, Carol and Tommy aren't back yet," Nancy answered, "and Steve just went to the bathroom."
"Bathroom," Christine repeated. Then she giggled, for absolutely no reason at all. "That sounds like a good idea."
Nancy turned to her, eyes full of concern. "Christine, are you alright?"
"Mm, ya. Why?"
"How much of that punch have you had?"
"I don't know. I'm not exactly using a measuring cup here."
Christine snorted, and took another sip of her drink. She grinned, scrunching up her face and patting Nancy on the knee to reassure her. For some reason, that didn't seem to work.
"You think maybe you should take a break?" she suggested gently. "Have some water instead?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Really. I finally found something I'm good at! You—You're good at talking to cute guys, and people, and having conversations, and I'm—I'm good at drinking. Quietly."
"Christine…"
"Nancy," she mimicked, heaving a dramatic sigh. She held up a hand, stalling Nancy's concern. "Seriously though, the—the bathroom sounds like a good idea. I'll be right back."
She stood up again, giggling as the music shifted the floor underneath her. Nancy grabbed her arm, already half out of her seat. But Christine was adamant. She forced Nancy back onto the couch, shushing her like a small child, and backed away the way she came.
"No, no, no. I'm good. I'm fine. Totally cool. Be right back. Bye. Hold on."
It took her a while to actually find a bathroom. Even then, the door was slammed in her face with screams of privacy. So she'd had to find another one. She, at least, was still sober enough to lock the door behind her.
'Drunk' was not a particularly good look on her. The bright bathroom light wasn't doing her any favors, but the party had clearly taken a toll on her. She hadn't done anything but move back and forth between two rooms and sit on a couch, and her hair was still all over the place, her skin flushed and sweaty, her carefully applied eyeliner creating thick rings around her eyes. The punch was staining her lips too—not in a cute lipstick way, but in a lopsided blur that she couldn't seem to scrub off. Her teeth were turning pink. It almost looked like she'd coughed up blood.
Christine shed her layers, tying the flannel around her waist and shrugging the jacket back on. It was too hot, but she wasn't ready to walk around in just her tank top. She splashed some water on her face as well. It didn't help her appearance, but it did make her feel a little better.
For a moment, she considered curling up on the cold tile floor. Something told her it would feel amazing, give her a chance to appreciate the thin curtain of silence that draped the room. But she also knew she'd be extremely reluctant to get up again. Maybe it would be better to cut her losses and call it a night.
Bracing herself for the crowd once more, Christine pushed her way out of the bathroom and back toward the den. She'd just tell Nancy she wanted to go home. That wouldn't be a shocker. Nancy already seemed to notice that she was two drinks too far into drinking her problems away. They'd go home, eat leftover pizza, and they could forget tonight ever happened.
She rounded the corner to the den, and stopped dead in the tracks. Nancy was still sitting exactly where she'd left her, but Steve was finally back. Steve, who had taken Christine's seat on the couch. Steve, who had one arm around Nancy's shoulders and the other on her waist. Steve, who was kissing her fiercely, and Nancy, who was kissing him back.
Suddenly, forgetting seemed like a very slim possibility.
"Ugh, gross," said a voice, and Tommy appeared on Christine's left. "Took 'em long enough."
Carol snorted on Christine's right, and patted her on the shoulder. "Better luck next time, Einstein. Tough break."
"Hey, plenty of fish in the sea, right?" Tommy slung an arm around her, shaking her roughly. "Yo, if you still wanna hook up with someone, I could probably find you a guy. I bet you're a real freak under that whole brainy thing."
Christine shoved him off her, pushing him so hard he collided with the wall. Her cup fell to the floor, leaving punch stains all over Carol's stockings and making the girl jump back.
"Hey! Watch it, psycho bitch!"
They were drawing too much attention. People were starting to look at her, people she didn't know. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Laugh? Apologize? Start swinging punches?
So Christine turned tail, and she ran. All she wanted to do was put as much distance between her and that house as possible—that house, and everyone inside of it.
Later, she would wonder how she'd made it so far so fast. The world around her was dark and blurry. She could barely feel her fingers, and her teeth were gently chattering. She clamped a hand over her mouth as she turned onto her street, slowing down to a jog, a walk, a stop. All she had to do was walk up the steps to her door. But her legs didn't want to move anymore.
Christine looked around the empty street. It was dark save for the streetlamps. The houses seemed vacant, sleeping. No one would mind if she stopped for just a minute.
She sank to the asphalt, sitting on the curb and hanging her head between her knees. It was stupid. The whole thing was so stupid, stupid, stupid. She was stupid. And now she was paying for it.
Tears streaked her cheeks, and it was hard to breathe through all the snot in her nose. She ripped the flannel from around her waist and tried to wipe her face, but it didn't make her feel any better.
She felt sick. She felt tired. She felt sad. More than anything, she felt alone.