Sunday, November 12, 2017
He barely got three hours of sleep, probably falling asleep around six and waking up a little after nine. He'd been thinking all night, about the way he acted. He was loud, he was awkward, he wore weird looking and colorful clothes that his friends and family didn't like, he looked like a frog and a beaver had a baby (not his words, Bowers), and he cussed way too much. He wanted to change, so he did. He didn't utter a single cuss word in front of his parents today, and he went to the mall and bought some more… normal, looking clothes. Solid color shirts, jeans without holes in them, a dark red hoodie and a new pair of black converse. One thing he'd told himself, that was if he was gonna change his appearance and the way he acted in real life, he wouldn't on social media. As in his main Instagram, at least. Before he went to bed, he posted a random meme he found that he thought was funny, and gave a few song suggestions on his story.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Again, he barely got any sleep, but the next morning, he forced himself to get up early so he wouldn't be late to school (like usual) and attempted to tame his curls using hair gel, and he did to an extent. He put on a grey, long sleeved shirt he got and black jeans with his hoodie. Grabbing his book bag, wallet and phone, he made his way downstairs, ready to go.
"Whoa, you're up early and ready to go." Maggie said, raising an eyebrow at him. He shrugged.
"Yeah, figured I should stop being late everyday. Not good for my reputation." She chuckled.
"Do you want some coffee or anything?" She asked. He shook his head and grabbed his keys off the counter.
"Nah, I'm good."
"You look nice, by the way. Trying to impress someone?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. He gave her a forced smile and shook his head.
"No, just felt like looking good today I guess."
"You always do, baby." She said, standing on her toes and pecking him on the cheek. He smiled at her again.
"I'm gonna head on out, see if I'm picking anyone up today." He told her. She nodded.
"Have a good day! Love you!" She called as he walked out the door.
"Love you too!" He called back. He got in his truck and started it, then took his phone out and messaged the group chat (which he'd been added back to by Ben).
The Losers Club!3
(7:31) Dickard- Am I picking up anyone for school?
(7:32) Billy Boy- holy shit, richie's awake before 8!
(7:32) Dickard- does anyone need a ride to school or no?
(7:33) Stan the Man- I do. Mom's car won't start for some reason.
(7:35) Dickard- Be there in ten.
Ten minutes later, Stan was opening the passenger door of Richie's truck and throwing his book bag on the floor.
"Hey, Rich." He said, shutting the door.
"Hey, Staniel- uh, Stan." He corrected himself. That was another thing, he wasn't gonna use those dumb nicknames anymore. He didn't see the look Stan gave him and drove off.
"Why are you up and ready to go to school so early?" Richie shrugged. "You're always the last one up. And your hair, what did you do to it? It's not wild as all hell today. And you smell good, did you shower?"
"Decided to start going in earlier." He shrugged again. "There's a thing called hair gel, Stan, you should look into it. And I showered last night, but I wear cologne."
"Smart ass." Stan muttered and Richie bit his lip. "Are you trying to impress a certain someone?" He asked, nudging his arm.
"Who would I be trying to impress?" Richie scoffed.
"A certain five foot four hypochondriac." Richie tensed up at his words. He swallowed and said,
"Why would I try and impress him?"
"You say that like it'd be a bad thing." Stan said.
"I'm not gay."
"I didn't say you were." Richie clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
"I don't like Eddie. He hates me."
"Why would you say that? No he doesn't." Richie scoffed.
"Sure seems like it." He shrugged. "Can we just drop it? I got up early, you know, I'm still tired." Stan sighed.
"Fine."
Stan was worried about him. He usually worried about Richie in general, because he was a bit of an idiot who didn't think before he did or said something, but this wasn't the case. He was acting weird, a lot weirder than he usually does, which is saying a lot. He'd never been around Richie while he's this quiet. He didn't say another word about the subject, but he did ask him if he'd studied over the weekend, to which Richie replied,
"I read like, thirty pages of notes twice. I was ready to burn it or something." Or something. What the hell?
The two met the rest of the Losers in their usual spot in front of the school, by one of the bigger trees. Eddie looked happier today, and when he saw the two walking towards them, he waved.
"Morning Chee! Stan!" Richie smiled a little and waved back, opting to wait until they were closer to reply instead of yelling like he normally would.
"Good morning Eddie. Guys." He nodded to the others with a smile. Bev raised an eyebrow at Stan but didn't say anything. Stan had texted them in a separate chat and told them not to say anything and that Richie was acting weird. "I've gotta pee, so I'm gonna head in." Richie told them. "And I have to grab something out of the office." He gave them a small salute and made his way into the school. Immediately, Stan turned to Eddie.
"Can you explain to me why Richie thinks you hate him?"
"What?" Eddie deadpanned, furrowing his eyebrows. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"He told me that you hated him."
"But I don't?" It came out like a question. "Why…?"
"I don't know, did you say something to him yesterday while you were in a bad mood?" Stan asked, crossing his arms. Eddie looped his fingers in the straps of his book bag and made a face.
"I mean, I don't think so? He was pinching my cheeks and I pushed him off the couch on accident and I told him to leave me alone."
"He never got back up on the couch." Bill pointed out. "He stayed on the floor until he got up and left."
"Do you think I hurt his feelings? Any other time, it wouldn't have. He usually laughs it off and keeps annoying me."
"I don't know, but I don't like it." Stan shook his head.
"This is weird. He got up early," Bev said, holding up a finger, adding a second as she said, "He dressed in non-wacky looking clothes," She added another finger, "his hair looks good like that, and I haven't heard him use one singular nickname. Or cuss for that matter."
"I definitely don't like this." Mike said, shaking his head.
Meanwhile, Richie did go use the bathroom, but he didn't have to go to the office. He'd decided he wanted to go to the choir room and play piano for a few minutes. It's what he did the first ten minutes of lunch, it helped chill him out a little when teachers were being dicks or the Bowers gang were bothering him. He was waiting on the new one to arrive back at home, and it'd probably come in a couple weeks. The door was unlocked, which sort of shocked him because he didn't see the choir director, and sat down at the piano, immediately letting his fingers slide over the keys. He started playing Chasing Cars, and since he was alone, he sang a bit.
We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
"Richie?" A voice asked, shocked. Richie nearly fell off the bench, he spun so fast. It was the choir director. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Uh, hey, Mrs. Gandy." She blinked at him and started clapping.
"That was amazing! Richie! I didn't know you could sing!"
"Uh, not a lot of people do. Only my parents." He muttered, his cheeks a bright red. "Um, thank you." He gave her a smile.
"Oh my God, Richie, would you be up for performing a song at the fundraiser concert we're doing in a few months?" She asked. He'd heard about that, and he thought about signing up, but never really did anything about it.
"I don't know… aren't auditions or whatever over?" She shook her head.
"They were, but we had to postpone the concert so we're doing more. You don't have to, but I would love it if you auditioned." He bit his lip and shrugged.
"I'll think about it?" He said, phrasing it like a question. She nodded, a grin forming on her lips.
"You've made my day, God, I got tears in my eyes from that." He chuckled a little and stood, grabbing his bag.
"I'll let you know… soon. Uh, I'd better get to class." She nodded and gave his shoulder a light squeeze as he passed her. He was one of the first to class, and sat in his usual seat at the back, next to Bill and in front of Eddie. He gave them both a small smile when they looked at him and he pulled his home work out and a sheet of paper and started the bell work.
"Holy sh- Oops. Richie Tozier, it's nice to see you here before eight thirty." Mr. Walker said, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. Richie just gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. Bill and Eddie expected a snarky remark but it never came. They looked at each other when Richie wasn't looking, and Bill gave a small shrug.
He made sure to be on time to all of his classes, and he actually paid attention and answered a couple questions in each. Willingly. Usually, the only time he'd answer them was when he was called on. He could see how glad the teachers were that he wasn't acting like an idiot, so he figured he was doing a good job of being normal.
He decided not to go to the choir room before lunch today, instead being the first to arrive at the table. He got his lunch and sat down, fidgeting with the end of his sleeve. He put his phone on the table and pulled his hoodie off, putting it on the table for now, and stuck his phone in his pocket and started tapping his fingers.
I wonder if they'll think I'm acting weird, because I've been quiet. Been normal. They probably won't notice, they never paid any attention to my annoying ass anyways, they won't notice now. Eddie might, because he's the one who called me an annoying ass so he'll probably ask why I'm not being -
"Richie!" Someone slammed their hand on the table in front of him and he jumped, nearly giving himself whiplash as he turned his head. It was Stan.
"What the hell?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked around and saw the rest of the Losers staring at him.
"We've been sitting here for five minutes waiting on you to say something." Ben said. "But you were just staring at your plate like it murdered your whole family."
"Maybe it did." He muttered. Eddie made a face, and he could've swore he saw his lips quirk into an almost smile. "Uh, sorry, got distracted. Um, hey. Happy lunch time." He didn't notice them look at each other.
"Richie." Bill said. Richie looked at him.
"Hm?"
"Are you okay?" He asked. Richie blinked.
Did he just ask if I was okay? He's never asked if I was okay, is this the real Bill because he didn't even stutter and-
"Richie! Dude, you've gotta quit doing this man." It was Mike this time, but he'd tapped Richie on the shoulder.
"Sorry. I'm okay, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night." It wasn't a complete lie.
"Okay, and?" Eddie asked. Richie tensed just the tiniest bit. "Not sleeping much hasn't ever made you straight up lose focus like that, not while we were having a conversation."
How do you know, you always ignore me.
"Is it your uncle again?" Bev asked.
"Huh? No, he's in jail remember?"
"Yeah, but isn't he getting out in a couple weeks?" She asked.
"What happened with his uncle?" Ben asked.
"I don't wanna talk about that sorry piece of shit. I'm fine, guys, really. It's not about him at all." He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it over his head. "I need a smoke, I'll see you next period." He picked up his lunch tray and left without another word.
"He hardly touched his food." Eddie said. "What's going on with him?" He sighed, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.
Richie leaned against the wall at the back of the cafeteria, earbuds in his ears, listening to a random playlist on Spotify. There were many songs he'd never heard before, and he felt like they summed him up completely, in a way. Most of them were so sad he thought he'd clicked on sad playlist, but he hadn't. He didn't know how long he stayed out there, smoking cigarette after cigarette, not even paying attention to the time.
Human by Christina Perri came on, and he scoffed, putting the rest of the cigarette out and back in the pack. He hated the song, he was never sure why, but any time he'd heard it, up until now, he would change it. But he didn't this time.
And he cried.
