Eddie
Richie got into a fight?
Back in 8th grade before I moved
Stanley
old news?
booorrrinnggg
Bill
^^
I remember that fight though, it was pretty bad
Stanley
the one against bowers?
Eddie
It was against Bowers?
Bill
Yeah
Broke Richie's thumb right?
Eddie
Yeah
What happened?
Bill
Stan was there, so he knows more
Stanley
only for part of it
richie was talking to conner and henry came over. he looked really mad and started yelling at richie
i left when henry punched him
Eddie
Who's Conner again?
Bill
Bower's cousin
Eddie
Oh
Why did they fight?
Bill
Beats me
Stanley
^
when are you coming back to school? there's a test in chemistry
Eddie
There is?
Fuck, I'll ask Richie to take us back
~~~
When the two boys snuck back into school through a backdoor, Eddie threw Richie a fleeting 'thank you for lunch!' before speed-walking and ducking around the corner. Richie had stood there for a few seconds, blinking in confusion. Was Eddie late for something? He only mentioned a test but that was during his last period of the day.. Richie only breathed out and followed after him, his footsteps echoing down the deserted hallway.
The final bell of the day rung and Richie stood at his locker, shoving notebooks and folders in when Beverly smacked a hand to the locker next to his. He jumped, momentary fear seizing him.
"You have some explaining to do, Rich," she said before Richie could tell her off for scaring him.
"I'm not telling you shit unless you buy me something to eat."
She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. "If food gets you to talk, so be it," she said.
The two made their way to the cafeteria, standing next to the vending machines and chanting silent hopes that Richie's m&m's wouldn't get caught on the metal spirals.
Richie and Beverly sat at the back of the cafeteria near the windows. Fogged condensation and cold hovered over the glass as little flurries of snow fell from the muted gray sky. Richie stared outside, noticing how everything in Derry seemed so gray. He wondered if there was anywhere else in the world where the color gray didn't exist. He wondered if he'd ever find that place.
"Are you gonna talk or stare outside all day?"
Richie lifted his gaze to Beverly, who had a small smile on her face. "Impatient, are we?" Richie asked as he shifted so his back was leaning against the brick wall. He started to recount from the start when he stole an Office Pass from some kid in his study hall. Beverly didn't interrupt once and let Richie tell his story, small smiles and little laughs coming out when Richie put on his best Eddie impressions.
He breathed in deeply and Beverly's laugher fizzled out. "What happened next?" She asked and Richie glanced over at her. He debated skipping this part, but Beverly deserved to know. It wasn't much to tell in the first place, so it all came out in a breath or two.
"You didn't tell him?"
"Of course I didn't. It was four years ago, sure, but Bowers is fucking terrifying when he's punching you and bending your fucking fingers back just because you decided to-" He breathed in sharply and dropped his gaze.
Beverly didn't push it. She knew the story... and so did anyone who believed the rumors. But unlike those people, she knew how much it hurt Richie. He put himself out there, but to the wrong person with the wrong ties. And because of it, he got a broken thumb and more fears.
He finished up the story and Beverly only nodded at the end. "Sounds like you boys had fun," she said and Richie smiled.
"I think he is really starting to warm up to me. I mean, he said he never skipped before and he just went out to lunch with me!" Beverly snorted softly and looked out at the cafeteria.
Halfway through Richie's story, a group of sports kids came into the cafeteria and claimed a table across the room. With sports season over, the group probably had nothing to keep them busy after school.
"We should get going," Beverly said and pressed her hands into the floor to sit up straight. "They lock the doors at 4:30." Richie nodded, even if it was an hour until then, and got up. The two slipped their backpack over their shoulders and stretched out their muscles.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Beverly asked, her eyes meeting Richie's.
He looked back at her, eyes studying her face. It took a second for Richie to respond, too long of a second for Beverly. "Yeah," he said at last.
Her shoulders dropped with relief. "Yeah," she repeated softly, as if to confirm it with herself.
The two had stood there for a second longer, Beverly's hand gripping her backpack strap nervously. "I'll talk to you later," she said and Richie nodded, saying, "You better, you're the only person in this town who listens to me."
She laughed out and shook her head. "People listen to you, Rich. Eddie did." Richie just looked away and shrugged.
He watched as she headed to the hallway leading to the gym, turning around at the last second to face Richie again. She saluted him, standing tall on her toes and Richie saluted her right back, an amused smile on his face.
Now, as Richie helps his mother set the table for dinner, he debates if he should FaceTime Beverly or not. He's in a happy mood, happier than he was at school because he's at home and it's Thursday.
It's probably one of Richie's favorite days besides Fridays because of one thing and one thing only: his parents. They both get off an hour early from work and are home for dinner. Besides the occasional Saturday and Sunday, it's the only time the whole Tozier household is home for a dinner.
"Oh, sweetie, could you get your father some water?" She asks and Richie nods.
"With the greatest pleasure," he says. Maggie raises an eyebrow at Richie's strange response but doesn't comment on it.
As water splashes down into the cup, hums from the garage door opening vibrates the thin walls. Maggie also hums, a wordless he's home! as she puts the mashed potatoes on the table. It seats four people, but the empty space at one end is used for extra bowls and plates for seconds if anyone wishes.
Maggie wishes it would've sat a daughter instead, but she would never say that aloud.
The door leading to the garage opens and Wentworth comes walking in a second later. "Hello family," he says and lets go of a tired sigh.
"How was work?" Maggie asks, not looking up as she messes with the silverware sitting next to the plates. Richie glances between the two and hopes that money would stay out of this conversation.
"It was.." he pauses and throws his jacket onto the coat hanger nailed into the wall next to the garage door. Maggie finally raises her gaze, nervousness painted all over her face. "It was alright." He turns to Richie and offers a small smile. It seems forced, and Richie thinks it may be. "How's school son? Getting good grades as always?"
Richie's mind flashes to lunch and he suspects that his parents won't be too happy to hear about that story. "It's school, daddy-o, how much better can it get?"
Wentworth only shrugs and toes off his shoes, a hand plastered to the wall for support. "I'll give you that, Rich. I'll give you that."
After a moment of moving around the kitchen and Wentworth getting settled into the comfort of home, the three sit around the table. Maggie, a fairly religious lady, makes her husband and son clasp hands for prayer. Richie whispers a quick prayer under his breath, one he memorized in Sunday School back when he was a kid. He lets go of his mothers dry hands and his fathers clammy ones and reaches for the mashed potatoes.
His parents, as always, are relatively quiet. Richie fills the silence with ramblings about school and friends.
"I met these three boys. Beverly's friends with two of them and another I've known of for a while," Richie explains. He doesn't talk with food in his mouth, instead either not eating at all or taking short breaks to eat.
Maggie only nods along but Wentworth asks the occasional short question. "You going to Beverly's tomorrow again?" He asks and Richie nods.
"Yes sir," he says, maybe a bit too louder than needed as Wentworth's eyes crinkle, cringing away from Richie and his loudmouth. Maggie closes her eyes.
a daughter would be quieter, she thinks.
Caught off guard with her own thoughts, her eyes fly open in silent surprise. She looks to her son, watching as he stares blankly at the table, yet liveliness swirls around behind his eyes.
Richie ran out of stories to tell and fell into a thoughtful silence, trying to conjure up something else to talk about. Clinks and scrapes from Wentworth's fork stops and Maggie glances over.
"Rich, be quiet for a moment. I have something big to tell you two about."
"Already was quiet, dad."
"Hush, Richie," Maggie says, her eyes trained on her husband.
"Alright."
Nervousness washes back up onto Maggie's face. Her shoulders go ridged as her thumb runs up and down the side of her fork. Richie lifts his gaze, his fork piled with food. Wentworth breaths in and leans back into his chair.
"You got fired.. haven't you?"
Richie's eyes flew wide. He looks to his mother before snapping to his father, looking for any sort of confirmation. Wentworth looks at his wife, confused before shaking his head. "No, Mag, no." Maggie releases a shuddery sigh, Richie's eyes stays trained on his father.
Wentworth looks between the two, his head shaking. "You two, no. I didn't get fired, I got a gig!" He looks to Maggie and says with a smile, "a gig!"
Relief floods the room and Maggie lets out another breath, a hand pressing up against her heart. "You scared me, Went," she says.
"You're staying in Derry, right?" Richie asks. Wentworth breaths in deeply and stares at his plate.
"No.. This gig is in Indiana." He raises his gaze to his wife, who's face settled into something between excitement and worry. "But, it pays really well. It's money we really need, Mag." She only nods and tears her eyes down.
"How long are you gonna be gone?" Richie continues his interrogation.
Wentworth looks away as he thinks, his lips thinning. "My contractor says it'll be for a few weeks. But it could be longer."
Maggie rotates the fork in her hand and shakes her head. "I hate that you're always leaving," she says quietly.
"I hate that you're both always gone," Richie blurts.
..fuck
His parents eyes snap over to him. Maggie's grip around her fork tightens and she defensively says, "We're not always gone."
"Yes you are!" Richie says, then drops his fork to his plate. "You're never home because of the fucking hospital," he says to Maggie before looking to his dad, "And you're always gone on business trips! I have Bev, sure, but I want my fucking parents, too."
"Watch your language," Wentworth warns.
"Watch your son!"
Richie stands so suddenly his chair almost tips backwards. Frustration swirls in angry storms inside Richie and he knows it'll only bubble up more if he stays downstairs.
Maggie watches as her son storms out of the kitchen, listening to his footsteps thunder up the stairs. Her eyes slide closed when his bedroom door shuts. A sigh comes from Wentworth and his fork scrapes pick back up.
"I don't understand him," Maggie says. Wentworth takes a bite and she opens her eyes again. As she stares at her food, she finds herself not wanting to eat anymore.
"You've never understood him, Mag."
She breaths out and looks to the kitchen doorway. Sunlight streams from the front entry way windows and spills onto the floors, lighting it up with soft wintry light.
She imagines Richie walking around in his room, hands running through his hair before balling so hard his knuckles go white. She's seen him like that before, but it's been a while.
"I know," she finally says. "I know."