Richie had quit smoking mostly, only doing it when he was overly stressed and needed time to himself. After they ate breakfast, Richie asked Ben to hang out with Eddie, as he knew Eddie would be interested in Ben's poetry and writing, before running to his house to grab a pack of cigarettes.
The house seemed lonelier as he walked inside, the door unlocked as usual. It radiated loneliness, and Richie assumed that Eddie must feel that loneliness whenever he's in the mansion. He jogged up to his room and grabbed his secret stash of smokes, slipping the pack in his pocket. As he walked downstairs, a voice stopped him.
"Richard."
Richie turned to see his dad, Wentworth sitting in an arm chair, clutching what looked like a bottle of water. At least, Richie hoped that's what it was.
"Dad," Richie said, not desperate to keep a conversation.
"Where have you been?" Wentworth asked, sounding exhausted and awake all at once. The voice made Richie's skin crawl a bit.
"I've been staying with Bill. Mom called them and asked them to keep an eye on me until she comes home." Richie wasn't in the mood to deal with his father, and certainly didn't want him to know how much Maggie's situation was affecting him.
"She doesn't think I can take care of you?"
"Apparently not."
"Jesus Christ," Wentworth said with a sigh. "She's fucking depressed and she still thinks I'm the problem?"
"Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time she wouldn't be so depressed," Richie hissed, his anger bubbling over.
Wentworth looked calm for a second, before standing up and grabbing Richie by the front of his shirt. His breath reeked of Vodka, making Richie realize it wasn't water in that bottle.
"You think you can speak to me like that, boy?" Wentworth growled, fire in his eyes.
Richie was stubborn and wanted to fight back, but he knew how pissed off Stan and Bev would be if he told them he fought his father while he was drunk as shit.
"Put me down," Richie said in a weak voice, giving up. "I'm sorry."
Wentworth rolled his eyes and threw Richie to the ground. "Go to the hospital and see your mother, would you? She misses you."
Richie almost scoffed, feeling a bitter flavor coat the back of his throat. "She wants to see me? She was completely okay with leaving me alone in the world a day ago."
"Fine," was what he said aloud, turning to walk out the door.
Instead of heading toward the hospital, however, Richie walked to the quarry. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and was ready to smoke when he realized he didn't have a lighter.
"Fuck!" he yelled, laying down on the ground.
"Those things will kill you, you know," came a soft voice from behind him.
The comment made Richie immediately think of Eddie, but when he turned he saw Bev leaning against a tree. She had Richie's lighter in her hand, eyebrows raised.
"Stressed?" she asked, tossing him the lighter then walking over to take one of the cancer sticks herself.
"That's one way to put it," Richie answered, lighting the cigarette and inhaling the smoke. "What are you doing here Marsh?"
"Eddie was worried about you but I didn't want him out when he's injured, so I told him I'd find you. What's going on?"
Richie blew a cloud of smoke out in front of him, before turning to face Bev. "I don't know what to do. I need to protect him Bev. He's too innocent and sweet to have this happening to him, but he can't seem to have any hope for himself. I'd usually go to my mom with this kind of shit, but I don't really want to talk to her."
Bev nodded, knowing that Richie must be struggling. He was one of the best people she knew, and he always seemed so sure. Now that he had no clue what to do, he was at a loss.
She exhaled smoke from her lungs, looking at Richie. "Maybe you should talk to her."
"She was ready to leave me behind in this world all alone, Marsh. She's the only person I thought I could trust and count on, and she was okay with vanishing."
"It's probably not easy for her either, Rich." Richie opened his mouth to fight back, but Bev cut him off before he could. "I'm not justifying what she tried to do. I'm just saying that she loves you and you love her, and she cares about other people. Tell her about what's going on with Eddie and maybe she can help you or do something. She's trying to heal, and if you give her the cold shoulder, she might not."
Richie knew that Bev was right. It wasn't his mom's fault she was depressed, and his asshole dad wasn't doing much to help fix her.
"I want Eddie to come too, if I'm talking about him," Richie finally said, throwing his cigarette on the ground and pushing it into the ground with the tip of his shoe.
Bev smiled. "Then go get him, Tozier."
•••
Eddie was sitting with Ben, Bill, and Stan, and despite his worry for Richie, he was having an amazing time. Although he was nervous at first about telling them he was able to read but very inexperienced, the aftermath was great. The other three boys began launching into conversation about English and reading, with Ben showing Eddie all of his poems and Bill helping him read through some of the starting books that they had got when Georgie was younger.
To their surprise, Eddie read them quickly and easily, without any shame. He then started to ask Ben about how to incorporate more emotion into his poetry, hoping to add more to his own.
"You write poetry?" Ben asked, amazed by how Eddie had managed to teach himself without any instruction.
"Yes, when I can," Eddie replied, flipping through one of Ben's notebooks. "Richie gave me a journal to write in, and it's better than the binder I used to have. It's much smaller so I can hide it easier."
Eddie had shamefully told the three boys with him about how his mother had burned all of his writings and drawings when she discovered them. Needless to say, the boys were extremely sad for him and promised that he could hide anything of his at their houses. Especially if it would keep him safe.
"How d-did you l-learn to read?" Bill asked. He and the others knew it was a sensitive question and topic, but they were all so fascinated by Eddie's ability to teach himself to read when they all needed help.
Eddie turned a little red, but when he saw the soft eyes of his friends, he felt more comfortable. "I, uh, when I was younger I lived in Illinois. I was five at the time and I knew how to work a TV. I was too young to be able to entertain myself but old enough to know that I wasn't to talk. My mom would go to work and I'd sneak downstairs and turn on some kids shows and learned from there. Eventually I asked my mom for my birthday for a set of pens and paper so I could draw, when I really just wanted to write. It's how I got into drawing too, I guess."
"You're so smart, Eddie," Stan said, earning a confused look from Eddie. "I mean it. Like, you took risks so you could fucking learn and you're probably high school level. You're really smart."
Eddie had never been complimented for being intelligent before. His mom had always told him he was stupid to discourage him, but it didn't work. It didn't stop his excitement and the thrill that ran through him when he was being told he was smart.
They all continued to talk when the phone rang. Bill got up to answer it before handing it to Eddie.
"Hello?" Eddie asked, slightly confused.
"Hey Eddie, it's Bev. Richie's visiting his mom in the hospital and he wants you to come too. He wants to talk with her about your situation."
Eddie didn't want to open up to Maggie, even if she was the nicest adult he'd ever met. Yet, he found himself on the back of Bill's bike being escorted to the hospital.
