INSTANT REPLAY | REDDIE

- 12 | INSTANT REPLAY

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There was not much of anything to do at all in his little room. Eddie had discovered that once they took his phone away. There was a television, though, so sometimes he liked to watch the cartoons or the news. It was mostly left on for a buzz in the background.

His mother had gone home after the first day, sending practically his whole wardrobe back as if she thought he was going to be staying there for his whole life. Greta assured him this was not the case, but he had trouble believing anything anyone said at this point. Sometimes he preferred dreaming, because all had been quiet in 1958 for the past week and a half. Most of his time had been spent by himself, but sometimes he hung out with Bill or with Richie. Dancing around his friend in his dreams had become painful to remember once he woke up; Eddie knew neither of them would ever do anything about it, not in a year where it was still very much looked down upon, and certainly not when Eddie was still remembering the two times that he had nearly been caught by the hobo and the leper.

When given the opportunity to request a guest, he immediately chose Richie. The doctors didn't think that was a good idea. Sonia flat out refused. Eddie was furious at this, and chose Beverly next, because other than him, she was the closest to his friend. But the doctors required him to choose someone who could catch him up in his schoolwork, and one look at Bev's gpa had them denying his request once again. So Eddie turned to Stan and Bill, requesting them both at once. There was reluctance, but none of the officials could find any excuse not to allow both boys to visit. Today was the day, Eddie thought bitterly. He had been provided with handheld puzzles, pads of paper to draw on (although he eventually requested coloring books instead, which he was happily provided with), and books of his choice.

"Mr. Kaspbrak, your friends are here to see you." Eddie looked up from the page he was coloring on. Stan and Bill were standing in the doorway, both very obviously confused and very much uncomfortable. Eddie smiled, putting his crayon back into the enormous box his mother had sent to his room along with his coloring books.

"Hi, guys," he greeted awkwardly. "Welcome to my prison." Stanley laughed at that, and Bill's shoulders seemed to relax. They each had a few folders in their arms, and they pulled up chairs to the edge of Eddie's bed, putting down all of their stuff. Stan eyed Eddie's right hand uncertainly, and Eddie looked down at his bandaged and shaking fist. He had apparently hit the wall harder than he first thought, and they had wrapped up his hand too keep it safe from infections. Sometimes it still aches a little bit, especially when it rained and his one window fogged up.

"S-S-Suh-So what's going o-on, E-Eddie?" Bill asked on a more serious note once everyone was settled. Greta was sitting in the corner of the room with watchful eyes. She had become something of a spy, as Eddie liked to call her. He wasn't ever allowed to be alone, and usually she was the one watching him.

"Just some things, Big Bill." Eddie averted his eyes, picking up one of the folders and opening his mathwork. "Crazy people things." He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but the sadness trickled through a little bit. "I miss you guys a lot."

"We miss you, too, Eddie," Stan piped up. "Richie's real messed up about it."

"Y-Yeah," Bill agreed. "He's b-b-been s-skih-skipping sc-school." Stan nodded, a grave look darkening his eyes. Eddie's heart sank into his stomach. He wished he had his phone.

"When we do see him, he doesn't talk much. He's gotten pale, and he doesn't look like he's been sleeping much." Stan lowered his voice, glancing at Greta before leaning in. "Skipping most classes to go off drinking and smoking with Bev." Bill nodded, and a worry line had begun to appear between his eyes. Eddie took a deep breath, offering them each a coloring book and opening his huge box of crayons. They each opened to a random page while he picked up a pencil and started on his math. The writing was sloppy due to his unsteady hand, but he was sure the teacher would understand his struggle.