𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐒 (REDDIE.)

two.

THE next morning was dark and muggy.

The sky was painted dark grey and black with storm clouds hanging over my head.

My body felt like I was extremely hungover and horribly sleepy deprived like a person with seasonal depression.

But I still hesitantly dragged my lazy ass out of bed and tugged on a band shirt, ripped black skinny jeans and a pair of scuffed navy blue converse that I got from the thrift store with Beverly.

A cliché outfit? I know right. Only for the angstiest of teenagers like me.

I found myself wandering past the mirror, suddenly caring about my appearance.

I played around with my raven hair, of course it never stayed in the place I wanted it to. It was like I constantly had horrid bed head.

My throat started to get a bit scratchy, so I opened my medicine cabinet and scavenged around for a cough lozenge.

When I closed my medicine cabinet, the red scratches that painted my neck, caught my eye.

My eyes widened. "Shit!" I hissed, scanning the room for any form of coverage that could be laying around.

Eventually I found a tube of my mother's concealer. I lathered the skin toned cover up over the marks on my neck, sighing in defeat.

The concealer only helped the scratches fade merely. Not helping at all.

Sooner or later I decided that I should better get to school and haul ass or I'd be truant and get another detention which was bullshit.

I trudged down my creaky stairs that were basically falling apart and grabbed the keys hanging from a nail that was stuck lazily in the wall.

I stuffed it into my bag that was placed on the kitchen table, slinging the bag on my back.

I slammed my door on the way out and slipped onto my bike, pedalling my way up the street to Stans house.

He conveniently walked his bike out of his cracking driveway as soon as I reached the curb.

"Hey Staniel" I attempted to joke.

"Hey Rich. Holy shit! What the hell happened to your neck!?" He exclaimed, freezing in his spot as he looked at my neck up and down, looking at the faded scratches.

I rolled my eyes behind my thick rimmed glasses, making my eyes ache ever so slightly.

I biked around the street corner that was commonly used for teenage hookers, Stan following close behind me.

"I don't know, alright? Don't bug me about it" I groaned. Stan and Bev were always the nosiest of the group. They always needed to know what was going on in everyone's life, it's physically exhausting.

Stan softly sighed, knowing he'd never get me to tell him by the sound of my tone. "Fine. Whatever"

Him and I biked our old rusty bikes down the street and behind the school, to the bleachers.

As soon as we all started the ninth grade, we decided that the bleachers were our meeting spot. It was pretty well placed because the convenience store was just down the road and the football field was in front of it.

I think Beverly just wanted it to be our spot because she's in love with that football captain, Tom Rogan.

In my opinion he's not even good looking.

I dropped my bike at the fence, it making a disgusting screeching sound, with all the others that were locked up and hopped onto the metal bleachers.

"Hey bitches" I spoke with a small grin.

Everyones gazes stared upon me, looking rather confused or fascinated.

I scoffed. "Alright. Fucktwits. Why're you staring?" I asked, accidentally way too aggressive then I meant it to be. I sat down on the bleachers beside Bill, the cold metal stinging my skin through my jeans.

"W-Well uhm R-Rich-" Bill stuttered, obviously trying not to be an awkward hormonal mess, which he was vastly failing at.

"Basically you have big red scratch marks on your neck and it's quite concerning. Also you have giant bags under your eyes. Those glasses aren't fooling anyone" Bev said honestly.

I could feel my face go pale. "O-Oh. Uh-" I started to try to bargain my way out of this but I knew that was going to be somewhat impossible because I'm friends with Beverly Marsh.

"So Richard. Tell us. Why are there red and bulging scratches on your neck?" Bev asked, leaning forward in fascination. God damn it, she annoyed the hell out of me.

Eddie made his way to the spot on the bleachers, which of course happened to be beside me.

"Hey guys!" He exclaimed rather excitedly. He was so adorable when he was excited.

"Hey Eds! Aren't you tired? You were up so late last night" I replied, ruffling his dark brown hair.

"No no, 'M fine Rich. What's up?" He asked, digging through his backpack, for what I assumed was homework.

"We are currently inquiring why Richie has big scratch marks on his neck"

Eddies eyes flicked up quickly and landed on my neck. "Holy shit! Rich! What happened? Are you okay?!" Eddie freaked out, reaching out to touch the marks.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, calm down" I scoffed and rolled my eyes, pulling his hand away from my neck. This was ridiculous, it was like I was being interrogated by the cops.

"Care to tell us Richie?" Stan added with a devilish smirk on his lips.

"Cat scratch?" I suggested. It was more like a question than a statement at this point.

"Richie, dumbass, you don't have a cat" Stan argued.

"I-"

"Guys stop bugging him about it" Ben whispered, almost inaudible.

"See! Thank you Benjamin!" I gestured to the pudgy boy, favouring him in this moment.

"Oh shut it Ben, you only are being nice to him because he owes you a Twinkie from last weeks loogie spit!" Stan stated loudly.

"Hey Stan? Shut the hell up!" Bev exclaimed angrily.

Stan and Bev started briefly bickering like they always do.

"Guys! Stop it!" Eddie squeaked.

"G-Guys you know the b-bell just rang?" Bill stammered, standing up and slinging his Jansport bag on his back.

I quickly stood up, grabbing my bag and rushing up the pavement and into the school and I've never been more excited to be in a classroom.

a/n: this chapter is really bad and short, i'm so sorry lol