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December 13th, 1987 is Holly’s 10th birthday. Though Nancy’s certain her mother doesn’t fully understand why, Holly invites only the other children that had been stolen away with her to Camazotz, even Derek Turnbow, who weirdly seems to have become one of Holly’s new best friends - and Max, of course, plus the rest of Mike’s friends. Holly’s a sweet kid, and she actually asks Nancy if it’s ok with her if Jonathan comes to the party. I don’t want things to be weird for you, Nancy, I promise I won’t invite him if you would hate it!
Nancy thinks of Anna Karenina and John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. She thinks about articles that were never as good as she wanted them to be and the very last bag of Purple Palm Tree Delight swirling down the pipes of the Byers' toilet; she tells Holly it’s fine, and is pleased to find that she actually means it.
Robin and Steve have also made it onto the list. Holly is obsessed with the Squawk, and ever since Robin started doing weekly shout-outs to her on air in the form of Tiffany, it’s only gotten worse. And Robin and Steve are a package deal, or so Robin keeps claiming, and Holly blushes and asks Nancy if she thinks she’ll go back to Steve, now that things with Jonathan are finished for good.
She tells Holly the same thing she’d told Jonathan. Steve is a great guy, really. But no. Not him. It was never him.
She suspects, too, that Holly’s got a cute little kid-crush on Steve and that’s partially why she’d invited him, but Nancy wisely keeps her mouth shut about that.
The party is Alice In Wonderland-themed (as much as Holly loves A Wrinkle In Time, Nancy’s pretty sure she’s had enough of Madeleine L’Engle and all her whos and whatsits for right now) and Holly, of course, dresses in white tights and a blue apron skirt to be Alice. Most of the other kids show up in nice clothes their parents probably wrestled them into wearing, but Mary, who’d spent the night previous up late giggling with Holly, has a black dress covered in little red hearts and a plastic tiara atop her hair, screaming Off with your head! whenever she catches Mike inching too close to the tray of cupcakes before it’s time. Even Derek managed to rustle up a velvet hat from the bottom of the Wheelers’ old costume chest and seems to be using the excuse of being “mad” to allow some of his old dipshit tendencies to resurface, but no one really seems to care.
To her own credit, Nancy's thrown together a studious skirted number from her journalist clothes, looped the silver chain of Grandpa Childress’ old pocketwatch into the pocket of her vest, and borrowed a cheap pair of bunny ears from Erica to stick on top of her head. It’s not anything special, and she feels a little silly parading around like this as a grown woman, but Holly had been overjoyed to see her and, well, it is her birthday after all.
She’s not really expecting anyone else to show up in costume, but when a familiar rhythmic knock sounds at the front door and Nancy opens it, Steve and Robin are waiting to greet her from the step, and Robin, Nancy notices, is decidedly not dressed how she usually would be.
“Sorry to be late,” Robin chirps, leaning in quick to give Nancy a hug before nudging Steve playfully in the ribs with her elbow. “Someone took forever on his hair, but what’s new?”
“Shut up,” says Steve, no real heat behind it. "Hey, Nance."
“You haven’t missed dessert,” Nancy says airily, and nods to the small rectangle in Steve’s hands, wrapped up in Scooby-Doo paper with a hastily-tied sky blue bow on top. “Gift table’s in the back. Holly’ll be overjoyed to get something from Steve Harrington himself.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but his lips kinda twitch. “It’s from both of us,” he says, and pushes past her to step inside.
Robin follows Nancy in, shutting the door swiftly behind her. “I picked it out,” she elaborates. “But Steve paid for it.” She beams at Nancy, surveying her up and down in a way that makes Nancy’s skin itch. “White Rabbit, huh? You late for a very important date, Wheeler?”
Nancy laughs, shaking her head. “I mean, Holly will love this,” she says, gesturing to Robin’s pink and purple get-up. The fuzzy cat ears on her head look more expensive than Nancy’s, and her purple blouse pairs well with her plaid multicolored skirt and a matching pink sweater. Not normally something Robin would be wearing, for sure, but Nancy feels warmth begin to bloom in the pit of her stomach. No one had told Robin to dress up - but here she is, for Holly’s birthday, and it’s - it’s a really sweet gesture, is all, and Nancy can’t help but appreciate it.
Also, to not be the only adult at this thing in costume makes Nancy feel considerably less alone.
“The Cheshire Cat was always my favorite,” Robin replies, white teeth shining in a broad imitation of the character’s cheeky grin. “Had a few things lying around and figured I’d come dressed appropriately.” And all at once she reaches out and grabs Nancy’s hand, pulls it to rest on her shoulder and the rosy fabric of her sweater. “Feel how soft this is, isn’t it crazy? Got this at the thrift store for, like, fifteen bucks, which is highway robbery if you ask me, but it was too comfy to pass up. I love this thing.”
Nancy’s breath had stuttered in her chest when Robin had first touched her, and again at the feeling of Robin’s warm skin through all the layers of material, radiating upward into Nancy’s fingertips. But her lungs stop working altogether as Nancy realizes why something about Robin’s current look has been itching familiarly at the peripherals of her vision ever since she answered the door.
The sweater Robin’s wearing, the one she thrifted and that she loves for its softness…Nancy loved that sweater too, once. When it had been hers, when she had once worn it. The plush wool against her hand is as recognizable to her as her own face in the mirror.
Because there can be no doubt in Nancy’s mind that the sweater Robin is wearing is the very one Jonathan had confessed to donating to Goodwill, the one he hated for being pink, even though pink is Nancy’s favorite and always has been. And Robin, as far as Nancy can tell, seems to have utterly no idea that this is the case, judging by the way she continues to chatter on like everything is peachy-keen and normal.
Which - well, why can’t it be? It’s obviously a coincidence - an insane coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless - that Robin bought the sweater, that she just happened to wear it today for Nancy’s little sister’s birthday party. A silly coincidence, that’s all, and why should Nancy be thinking so much about it, anyway?
(Did Steve recognize it, Nancy wonders, from when they used to date? Somehow she suspects the answer is no)
“ - but I’m not so sure if Lewis Carroll was envisioning something so garishly cartoonish in design, for lack of better phrasing,” finishes Robin, and Nancy’s hand is still on her shoulder and she doesn’t seem to have yet noticed. “Anyway, where’s the birthday girl? I gotta get her take on my outfit.”
Nancy swallows, takes her hand from Robin’s shoulder but laces her fingers with Robin’s own as she begins to lead her further into the house. “Come on, I bet there’s still some onion dip left,” and she can’t help but smile and laugh at Robin’s answering, “Yesssssssssssss.”
“Cheshire Cat, no way!” Holly exclaims when they step into the crowded kitchen. She races towards Robin at high speed and slams into her midsection hard, making Robin grunt.
“Holly Wheeler, a decade old already?” Robin exclaims, grinning and slightly winded, wrapping her arms around Holly to return the hug all the same. “Curiouser and curiouser!” She leans back and ruffles slightly awkwardly at Holly’s hair, blue eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun slanting through the back windows and bringing out the freckles on her nose. “Happy birthday, kiddo. Did you open the gift Steve and I got you yet?”
Holly brightens even further, dashing over to where Steve is busy at the punch bowl and dragging him by the arm over to the end table, overflowing with presents in all their multi-colored hues. She produces Robin’s gift and swiftly tears into it with excited eyes, letting the wrapping paper fall to the floor - the blue ribbon, Nancy notices, ends up secreted away into the pocket of Holly’s apron.
“The Westing Game?” Holly frowns slightly. “I don’t think I’ve heard of this book…”
“Yeah, neither have I,” says Steve. “But Robs said you’d be into it, and the lady at the bookstore was going all gaga over it when she rang us up, so yeah. Happy birthday, kid.” And he smiles, which makes Holly beam and turn pink.
“It’s only the greatest mystery novel of all time!” Robin exclaims, hands splaying wide with excitement. “Seriously, Ellen Raskin is a total genius. There’s all these great characters that live in this same apartment building, and they’re all supposed to solve a mystery left in a dead millionaire’s will to see who’ll win the inheritance! It’s super funny, the mysteries aren’t so easy that you figure them out right away, and one of the main characters is a super-smart girl with a gorgeous older sister.” She winks at Holly then. “Sounds a lot like someone I know.”
Nancy tries not to focus too hard on the gorgeous compliment. Holly grins and says, “So there’s no fantasy or scary stuff in it or anything?”
Robin draws an X across her chest with the points of her index and middle fingers. “Cross my heart,” she says solemnly. “There’s one bit that’s got a dead body, but I think you can handle that, don’t you, Holly the Heroic?”
Holly nods, hugging her again. “I love it. Thank you.” She turns back to Steve, who’s been eying the platter of cheese and crackers for a second now, and briskly hugs him too. “Thanks so much. I can’t wait to read it!”
Someone shouts her name from over in the living room, and Holly places the book carefully back atop the pile of presents before skipping off to answer the call.
“Hey, good job, Buckley,” says Steve through a mouthful of Ritz and cheddar. “You were right. That kid's gonna love us forever now."
Robin rolls her eyes. “Was there ever any doubt?” Her eyes light on a figure entering through the doorway, and Robin waves. “Hey, Jonathan!”
Jonathan smiles crookedly at her, offers a polite nod in Steve’s direction. “Hey. Glad you guys could make it.” And then he too realizes just what it is Robin is wearing, and the blood seems to drain out of his already pale face. He looks at Nancy and Nancy stares straight back, daring him to say something, anything. Go on. Say it.
He doesn’t - but Nancy’s mother does, whisking into the kitchen toting a refill on veggies and dip with her hair pulled back by a festively green-and-red tartan bandana. “Steve, Robin, so good to see you, as always.” She offers the plate to Robin, who immediately grabs a carrot stick and digs in. “Holly says you got her another book? How are things down at the station?” And then she blinks, in her mascara and eyeshadow looking a little bit like an overly-makeupped owl, and says, “Oh, Nance, is that what happened to your sweater? You lended it to Robin? That’s sweet.”
And she breezes out of the room again with her vegetables and a cry of, “Children! Healthy foods!” as if she hasn’t just thrown Nancy’s entire carefully-practiced nonchalance around Robin completely out the window.
Jonathan mutters something about checking in on Will and practically races out of the kitchen. Nancy glances over at Steve and he’s frowning, eyebrows drawn, looking between her and Robin like he isn’t totally certain of what he’s supposed to be seeing.
Robin herself is gaping at Nancy like a beached fish. Her entire face is flushed red as a tomato, and Nancy’s stomach lurches at the sudden notion that she’d like to bury her nose in that red and burn her lips across Robin’s freckled skin.
“This - This is yours?” Robin asks, sounding slightly choked. “I - I swear to God, I didn’t know - did you give this away, why would you give this away, it suits you so well! Or, maybe it did, maybe it doesn’t anymore and that’s exactly why you donated it, I didn’t mean - Can - Can we even be sure this sweater is yours? I mean, how do we know I didn’t pick up the same brand of clothing by complete happenstance? Hey, I mean, for all I know, you didn’t give your sweater away, and it’s still sitting in your closet and what I’m wearing is completely and totally unrelated, and - “
Nancy realizes then that a choice stands before her. She could lie, and it would be so easy to. She could lie, and say it’s all just one big coincidental misunderstanding, and that Robin hasn’t offended her at all or anything like that. Robin’s practically done all the work for her already, all Nancy has to do is nod and say, Yep, totally unrelated, isn’t that so funny though?
Except it really wouldn’t be that easy, lying to Robin. It wouldn’t.
So even though it’ll undoubtedly make everything about this situation all the more awkward, and Robin might freak out and Nancy might end up saying or doing something she will almost certainly live to regret, Nancy chooses option B.
It's really the only option there is to choose.