𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 • Robin Buckley

Chapter 3

It had been five days since that car ride. Four long and sleepless nights spent recalling the crinkles at the outer corner of those glistening brown eyes every time she laughed a little too hard, the way her head swayed and her fingers drummed against the steering wheel to her favourite song. It all led Robin here, a Halloween party with hormonal teenagers pressed against walls and drunkenly dancing to Mötley Crüe.

Robin worried her grey tie and black suit ensemble along with the eye makeup and lipstick was a little much, but when she pushed her way through the rowdy through-lounge, no one batted an eye. She could have committed and sprayed her hair a sharp red and no one would have looked once let alone twice. Especially not with Billy's name being chanted loud enough to shake the entire neighbourhood.

"Why did we have to come to this again?" Milton asks, still on her tail. He had shaded goggles on, a painted stache and goaty that really tied his own grey tie and black suit look together.

It was Robin's idea to come as the Eurythmics after passing a video store that had "Sweet Dreams" playing on a television in the window.

"I never said you had to come," Robin says without looking over her shoulder. The house had been TP'd all over, but everyone was so indifferent and lost in an intoxicated high.

"You practically cornered me!"

"Well suck it up because there's no turning back now." Robin stops, turning around now that Milton had been forced to stop too. He was scrawny, mousy-haired and a little smaller than her. "Besides, these are memorable! Do you really want to get to the end of your high school career and realise you never went to one of Tina Sullivan's notorious ragers?"

"Honestly, that doesn't sound particularly daunting."

"Don't be so lame!" Robin backhands his shoulder. "It's one night." She began to retreat into the crowd, throwing her arms up in the air, "Get trashed and let loose!"

"Where are you going?" Milton calls out.

"I'm just making the rounds."

What Milton didn't know was that Robin really meant she was looking for Monica Haring. When she turned back around, a little lost in the crowd of dancing teenagers, loosely apologising every time a hand thwacked her or an elbow jostled her, she let her head turn in every direction. She didn't even know what the blonde would be wearing. She didn't even know if she still had blonde hair tonight.

Brick Douglas was dressed up as Julius Caesar, there was a kid in a sombrero, a few Madonnas, an imbecile with googly eyes by Springsteen making out with Kate Bush. The more people she spotted, the less hope she had that she'd find Monica at all.

"Nice threads."

Robin spun around and there she was with a head of curls, small hoop earrings, cherry red lipstick and leather ornamenting her body from her shoulders down to her toes. She already had a red solo cup in her hand, meaning she had been there for quite some time already, and she was smirking that devilish smirk that cost Robin her own breath.

"You look..."

"Thanks. You too," Monica leaned forward a little so she wouldn't have to yell over the booming rock music. "Annie Lennox?"

"Yeah!" Robin rose her voice a little over the guitar. "Milton and I did a joint costume. Sandy from Grease? Or Olivia Newton-John, but semantics, I guess."

"That's right," Monica grinned, her pearly smile almost as bright as her eyes. "Yours is way cooler than mine and it doesn't run the risk of people constantly making the mistake that you did a joint costume with Billy Hargrove. Like, come the fuck on! Danny Zuko would never leave his house without a shirt on."