Mixtape

3

3

Richie isn't one to pay attention in school, everyone knows that. Usually too busy running his mouth to focus on the lesson, and yet, he still somehow manages to get good grades. His peers are baffled by this, but it makes sense to Richie. If he gets good grades, he will be something worth being proud of. He's had this mentality since the day he picked up his first book and started studying religiously.
Richie doesn't need to study much anymore, it's all already been drilled into his mind enough for him to grasp simple concepts as soon as they're given to him. However, that doesn't stop him from hanging out in the library most days. Beverly has a different lunch schedule than Richie, so instead of subjecting himself to sitting alone in the cafeteria, Richie finds solace in the quiet airs of the library. Not many kids come here, who would? Everyone has their friends to visit during lunch hours, not many people are introverts like Richie.
Except Ben Hanscom.
Richie sees him everyday, always in the same chair, but he doesn't bother going up to the kid dating his best friend. Instead, Richie keeps his head down and beelines to the very back table that is hidden by bookshelves. There's no particular reason that he avoids Ben, he just doesn't want to overstep boundaries and assume they are friends because of a certain redhead they have in common.
Today, Richie steps in and glances at the kid sitting in his usual place. He's pouring himself over a book thicker than Bev's dumb head, so Richie quickly ducks down and starts making his way to his usual table.
"Hey, Richie! Rich!" Ben calls out.
Richie stops, the hair on his neck standing up and goosebumps rising beneath his skin. He slowly turns, lifting his hand to adjust his glasses. He doesn't reply, but he does look at Ben to acknowledge he heard the other's calls.
"You're coming to Beverly's party this Saturday, right?" Ben asks.
"Yeah," Richie looks to the floor, then out the window. "Is that cool?"
"You hadn't RSVP'd, I wasn't sure," Ben says.
Richie looks at him so that the other boy can feel the guilt when he says "I didn't get an invitation. Bev asked me."
"Oh," Ben's round cheeks begin to flush red. "Do you think that she likes chocolate or vanilla cake?"
"Shouldn't you know? You're her boyfriend, for fucks sake," Richie looks away once more.
"But you're her best friend," Ben seems unaffected by Richie's cold attitude. "I trust your judgement better than my own."
Richie's jaw tightens as he grinds his teeth together, and through a clenched mouth, he mumbles "She likes red velvet."
"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," Ben writes something down on the back of his hand with a purple pen. "And ice cream?"
"Cookie dough," Richie sighs, his hands loosening on the straps of his backpack. Not everyone is out to get you, dumbass he tells himself.
"Wow, that's a contrast," Ben raises his eyebrows, and then says "She's a wild one, isn't she?"
"Yeah," Richie's entire defense falls, a small smile forming on his face as he thinks of the wild child that is Beverly Marsh. A lit firecracker of a girl. She's like dynamite. "Yeah, she is."
"Do you think that you could show up around six instead of seven? Me and the others are planning to surprise her."
"The others?" Richie tilts his head, his rough exterior hardening once again. He's reminded that this party will be absolute hell, he only knows one person there and he probably hates the rest.
"The Losers' Club," Ben says as if it's obvious. He makes another note on his hand, and then says "Actually, scratch that. Could you keep Bev busy until seven so that she doesn't show up early and ruin the surprise?"
"Okay," Richie says.
"No, I should have Mike do it. Less suspicious," Ben scribbles something out, flipping his hand over to write on his palm.
"Okay," Richie says again.
"Unless you want to wait with Beverly?"
"Okay."
"No, you should help set up. You know her best."
"Okay."
Richie glances at his lonely table, and then back at the seat across from Ben. Taking a deep breath in, Richie walks forward to take the seat across from the kid. Ben watches with wide eyes, while Richie digs in his bag to pull out a notebook.
"Here, you'll wash those plans right off your hand," Richie says, followed by "Or rub them off on your dick. Either way, write it down, Chubs."
Ben's eyes widen at Richie's comments, but he doesn't disobey. He quickly transcribes all of their plans, including which ice cream flavor their favorite ginger prefers. The two sit and make plans, including things like what board games to play in order to keep everybody from getting tired and which records to play on Ben's dad's record player.
When the bell rings and Richie grabs his bag off the floor, Ben says "You're not as bad as everyone says, Richie Tozier."
Richie stops, his hands freezing and growing heavy with anxiety. Not as bad? What are people saying?
"What do they say?" He asks curiously.
"N-Nothing..." Ben shakes his head, quickly gathering up his things and scurrying out of the library before Richie can press him for details. Richie stand cautiously, dazed and confused, but quickly shakes his head or else he will be lost in his thoughts all day.
Later that night, when Richie makes his free fall descent into the rose bushes below his window, and he meets Bev under that streetlight he's grown to love, she smiles and kisses his cheek.
"What was that for?" He asks, touching his jaw where her lips once were. "You finally got the hots for me, Beverly Marsh? Craving my magnum dong?"
She smiles at him, and under the faux lights, he can see her eyes twinkle so beautifully. The stars don't compare to Bev, nothing does.
"Ben told me about today," she says, holding her arm out and wrapping it around Richie's bicep. "Thank you for being nice to him."
Richie shrugs, embarrassed that word got back to Beverly, but not surprised. "Whatever. The nerd threatened to kill me with his samurai sword if I didn't help him."
"Help him? With what?" She tilts her head in confusion. It strikes Richie that Beverly doesn't know what they were talking about, nor will she know. Not until Saturday, at least.
"Math," Richie replies, guilt pawing at him as the two cross the street. The chilly November air pushes Beverly closer to Richie, the girl trying to find some kind of warmth within Richie's side. "Equations or some bullshit, I don't know."
"You don't know what you were talking about?" Beverly laughs.
"No," Richie shakes his head, opening the door for her. "I don't."
"Regardless, thank you for being nice to him. It really means a lot," she sighs so heavenly, the sweet air ghosting against Richie's neck. "I hope you guys can be friends. The Losers too. I think you would really like Bill."
"Stuttering Bill?" Richie shakes his head, following Bev down the chip aisle of the gas station. The girl piles junk food into her arms with no reply, and so Richie says "What kind of nerds call themselves losers?"
"Better to beat others to the punch. If they call themselves losers, it takes the fun out of it for others," she explains as if that logic makes any sort of sense.
"Weirdos," he scoffs, but then gives an apologetic look when Beverly punches him in the gut.
"My weirdos," she says defensively.
Richie nods, his throat going dry as soon as the words leave her mouth. Her weirdos. Her friends. Ben said that Richie is Beverly's best friend, but the insecurity that resides within Richie tells him otherwise. Bev doesn't need him. She doesn't even want him. She tolerates Richie, only because she feels bad for him. That must be it. She must pity him.
As Beverly leans down against the cookie rack, Richie opens his mouth to cancel his invitation to the sleepover. He's not going to subject himself to such suffering, he already knows he will be miserable all night.
But then, just then, as he's about to utter those words, Beverly looks up at him with her excited blue eyes and says "Don't act like you're not one of my weirdos either, ToTo. You happen to be my favorite one."
Richie's heart flutters at the nickname, one she hasn't let past her lips since they were thirteen. She could never remember how to pronounce Tozier, and so ToTo seemed like the only logical solution.
"Mhm," Richie looks over the aisle with ease, out the gas station windows, and over at their bikes collapsed beneath the street light.
Bev is silent for a moment, and then she says "Bill lost his brother, you know. He... He doesn't like being at home either."
Richie snaps his gaze back down to her, trying to figure out what exactly this girl is implying.
"What, you mean he can't just go to the store and get a new brother? Doesn't he know he can pick one up for the low price of $19.99 plus shipping?" Richie jokes, earning another punch from Bev.
"You ass! Don't say that shit around him, Richie!" She warns the boy, then says "I don't know. It would just be nice if we could invite him out with us. You and I both know how hard it is to be at home when home is no longer safe."
Richie's vision blurs, so he uses the excuse of cleaning his big glasses so that he can wipe at his eyes. He will never let Beverly see him cry, but tonight, he can't seem to help it.
She's already replacing him.