Almost an hour later than Rachel had told Nancy she would, she finally showed up at Tina's Halloween party. A sigh escaped her lips as she slid the Pink Ladies jacket on over her Rizzo ensemble: a black collared top tucked into a matching pencil skirt, with a thick black belt to finish it off. She hadn't really been planning on going to this party, but she had this costume ready because she and Barb used to plan their Halloween outfits way ahead of time. They always coordinated, even back when Nancy's mom chose all of hers. Last year, they had planned this year's costumes to be from Grease: Rachel was going to be Rizzo, while Barbara had wanted to be Frenchy— "I'll find the perfect pink wig, I swear!" — and they'd planned on talking Nancy into being Sandy.

But things never worked out the way it was planned anymore. The perfect pink wig hung in Barbara Holland's closet, right next to her Pink Ladies jacket, both of which she would never get the chance to wear. And there Rachel was, entering Tina's house party alone, genuinely contemplating on turning right back around to leave.

"Rizzo!" A couple of her classmates exclaimed, grinning at her in approval for her choice of costume. She forced a smile at them and wove her way through the crowd, swiping a red solo cup from the stack and making her way out back to the keg.

She arrived outside just in time to see the new guy being cheered on. "We got ourselves a new Keg King!" Tommy H shouted as Billy Hargrove reveled in the attention he was getting. 

"That's how you do it, Hawkins!" He shouted, beer dripping down his exposed chest since all he wore was a sleeveless leather jacket.

Rachel rolled her eyes and slid past them, ignoring Billy's wandering gaze as she approached the keg and filled her cup. She had hoped her lack of attention would have warded off the continuation of his; however, she hadn't been that lucky. 

"Rizzo, huh?" The blonde asked with a smirk as Rachel finished filling her cup. "Gotta say, I think you're hotter than the original." She spared him a glance before turning to walk away. "You playin' hard to get?" Billy asked as he fell into step beside her. 

She scoffed. "Sorry to disappoint, but I have standards. They stand a little higher than some douche with a mullet whose ego gets boosted by shotgunning a keg."

To her surprise, Billy's smirk only widened. "You want to know what else would boost my ego?" He leaned in closer to her ear and told her quietly, "Making you scream my name."

Rachel smacked his chest and made him back away from her. "Not interested," the brunette snapped. "Try one of the resident sluts like Carol or Donna." She gestured toward the two girls standing off at a distance together, both of them gawking at Billy's exposed chest as if it were God's gift to women. In the time Billy took to look over at them, Rachel slipped away into the crowd and headed inside.

"Rachel!" Nancy's voice caught her attention over the loud music, and her brown eyes searched the crowd of dancing teenagers until she caught sight of her best friend and Steve both looking over at her. She hurried over to them as she chugged down the rest of her beer.

"Whoa, take it easy," Steve scolded lightly.

She laughed slightly. "Sorry. Just hoping the alcohol will erase the conversation I just had from my mind."

"Conversation with who?"

"There you are," Billy called out as his hand clamped down on Rachel's shoulder. She instantly shrugged it off and moved to stand next to her friends as Steve glared at Billy. "What'd you run off for, hot stuff?"

"Thought I made it clear I wasn't interested," Rachel told him flatly.

He merely smirked at her as Tommy H approached and slung his arm around his shoulders. "Got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington," he told Steve proudly.

"Yeah, that's right!" Eric, another total tool, piped up. "Eat it, Harrington!"

Nancy grabbed Rachel's wrist and pulled her through the crowd. "I need a drink," she informed her. "Plus, I figured you needed another reason to get away from Bigot Billy."

Rachel laughed. "Bigot Billy," she repeated in amusement. "Good one."

Nancy flashed her friend a smile before turning to one of their classmates who stood before a bowl of what looked like punch. "What's this?"

"Pure fuel," he shouted obnoxiously. "Pure fuel!"

The two girls exchanged a curious glance as he walked away, before Nancy shrugged and filled up a cup. She downed it quickly, winced a little at the strength of the drink, and then dove in for more. "Hey, whoa whoa whoa, take it easy," Steve told Nancy when he found them. "Take it easy. Nance, Nance, Nance!"

Nancy chugged down her second cup and glared at him. "We're just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn't that the deal?" She snapped. When Steve just stared at her in shock, she filled her cup for a third time and chugged it as she walked away.

Whatever buzz Rachel had been working on disappeared when she saw the state of her friend. It seemed that tonight would be the tipping point for Nancy. "I'm worried about her," she told Steve as they watched her disappear into the crowd of dancing teenagers.

"Yeah. Me, too," he agreed.

Two hours later, Nancy was stumbling back to the punch bowl for yet another cup when Steve and Rachel finally decided something should be done. "I got it," Steve muttered to the brunette, heading toward Nancy as Rachel watched quietly. "No, no, no."

Nancy pushed him away from her. "Get off."

"No, you've had enough, okay?" Steve told her firmly.

"Screw you!" Nancy slurred, snatching her cup back and filling it up.

"Nance, I'm serious. Hey, hey, hey, stop. No, I'm serious!" Steve tried to take the cup away from her, but Nancy wouldn't relinquish her grip on it. "Put it down. Nance, put it down."

"Steve, stop!" She shouted at him, yanking her cup one final time. Steve lost his grip on it, and the force of Nancy's pull caused the red liquid to splash all over her white sweater. Everyone around them paused and stared at the scene with wide eyes. "What the hell?" Nancy hissed before stumbling off toward the stairs. Steve and Rachel followed her, the latter of the two staying out in the hallway as Steve went in to talk to the drunken girl.

Not even three minutes had passed, however, when Steve emerged from the bathroom looking shell-shocked. He flew past Rachel without so much as a word, rushing down the stairs as if the house was on fire. "Nancy?" Rachel asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

"Go away!"

Frowning, Rachel made a split-second decision and hurried down the stairs after Steve. There was no way she'd be able to get through to Nancy when she was drunk like this, so the least she could do was check on Steve and see if he was okay. On her way through the crowd, she caught sight of Jonathan and stopped just long enough to say, "Check on Nancy, upstairs bathroom." Rachel didn't bother with making sure if he would or not― she was well aware of how Jonathan felt about Nancy and knew he'd only showed up for her, anyway.

She found Steve out front, sitting on the porch steps in silence. "Hey," she said quietly, sitting down beside him. "Wanna talk about it?"

He spared her a glance before looking back out over the yard, which was littered with red solo cups and candy wrappers. "Not really."

"Okay," Rachel responded simply, and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. 

Steve was taken by surprise at her response; if he'd said that to Nancy, the girl would have pressured him into talking about it either way. But Rachel was different. Maybe it was because Steve showed her the same courtesy when it came to her lack of decision to talk about everything that happened last year. Or maybe that was just the kind of person she was. Either way, he was grateful for it.

"Do you think I'm bullshit?" He blurted suddenly, looking at her as he waited for an answer.

Rachel frowned, not expecting a question like that but answering it nonetheless. "Not anymore."

Steve's eyebrows rose. "Not anymore?" He echoed questioningly.

"Yeah, I mean... Back when you followed whatever Tommy H and Carol did all the time, I always thought you were bullshit," Rachel told him honestly. "I just thought, Wow. Here's a guy who actually has potential to be a good person and make something out of himself, and he's wasting it trying to be like Dickhead Tommy. Such bullshit."

He laughed slightly, though secretly it was nice knowing that Rachel Henderson had always thought he had potential. "Yeah, I guess that does sound like bullshit."

Rachel hummed in agreement. "Where did that question come from?"

Steve's expression fell again. "Nancy said that I was bullshit. That our love was bullshit," he answered quietly. "She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"She's drunk, Steve... and she's been going through a lot. Maybe―"

"Yeah, well you're not exactly sober either but you're not losing your shit and hurting people that care about you," Steve cut her off pointedly. "Besides, you know what they say. Drunk words―"

"―sober thoughts," Rachel finished with him, sighing slightly. "I'm sorry, Steve."

"It's not your fault." He shrugged, pulling himself up to his feet and descending the porch steps. "And maybe it's for the best, you know? I always thought Nancy and I were on different pages. Guess this just kind of... confirmed that, or whatever." Rachel stared up at him, wishing there was something she could say to make him feel better but knowing there wasn't. Steve cleared his throat. "Anyway, I think I'm just gonna head home. If you want a ride I can drop you off on the way, or are you staying longer?"

"And give Bigot Billy another chance to hit on me?" Rachel stood up and followed him to his car. "No way."

Steve snorted. "Yeah, seemed like he was laying it on a bit thick."

"He's not my type anyway," Rachel said with a shrug as they got in the car. "Too full of himself, thinks he's God's gift to women."

He laughed. "Well, then what is your type?"

Her eyebrows furrowed as she honestly considered that question. "You know, I'm not even sure," she admitted. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Steve smiled slightly and shook his head as he drove away from the party. "Alright."

When Rachel got home, Dustin was lying on the living room floor with empty candy wrappers scattered around him and a bunch of unopened candy still in the bag next to him. Kicking the door closed with her foot, Rachel shrugged off her Pink Ladies jacket and walked over to her brother. "Punk." She kicked him in the leg.

"Ah!" Dustin jerked out of his slumber with wide eyes, and then glared at her accusingly. "What the hell?"

"Clean up your mess and drag your ass to bed, Stantz," Rachel told him, glancing at the costume he still wore proudly with an amused smirk.

He made a face at her as he sat up and tossed a handful of candy wrappers at her. "Fuck off, Rizzo."

"Whatever." Rachel laughed and brushed the candy wrappers off of her as she made her way toward the stairs. "Goodnight, punk."

"Goodnight, brat."