Unfortunately, Beverly ducked into her last period class before either of the boys saw her. She also had a lot on her mind. She was completely out of it when she sat down but startled into reality when she heard a familiar "Hello." She blinked her thoughts out of her blue eyes and faced the usually empty seat next to her. A small, warm smile greeted her.
"Mike?," she asked softly, then smiled back. "Well, well, well, look who decided to show up for class today."
"Yeah," Mike sighed. "My grandfather is... well, making me miss class a lot more than usual. He says I need to be more responsible with all my chores and I can't push them until after school because I "don't do em right" if I wait."
"Ah, I see. So I'm assuming he doesn't care about your college plans."
Mike laughed sarcastically, "He doesn't even know."
"Yikes," she said through gritted teeth.
Mike used to never miss school, had straight A's, and was even on the honor roll throughout freshmen year. He didn't have any friends though. Everyone knew who he was and everyone also knew who Henry Bowers was.
The long lasting feud between them wasn't all that bad. Mike got the harassment down to a minimal and met six other losers, whom all of which became his best friends. He wasn't sure who had best best friend status, but he didn't care. He was the seventh, and was just happy to be there. Especially since his grandfather got tired of all the persuasive essays and poster boards about the benefits of public school and agreed to let him go to Derry High for his sophomore year.
"You'll get there, Mike. You're a smart kid," Beverly assured softly.
Mike smiled. "Thanks, Bev."
Their chemistry teacher was at the board the entire period, not really registering that he was lecturing a high school class made of mostly sophomores. No one paid attention, and the ones who actually tried were lost in his babbling of his "glory" days of working as an actual chemist. The reason he decided to go into teaching would forever be a mystery.
The bell finally signaled the end of the school day and Beverly hastily packed up her stuff. She had her backpack on but waited patiently for Mike to finish up the notes. He looked up. "Um, it's okay, Bev, I gotta get all my makeup work anyway. You get outta here."
"Oh, alright. Have fun. See ya later," she waved then swiftly made her exit. As soon as she stepped out of the doorway, she heard fast footsteps progressively getting louder in the empty corridor.
She looked to the left and was greeted by a louder than necessary "Beverly!" A breathless Eddie almost fell into her but she steadied him easy enough. "I... needa... wooh," he huffed out, unzipping his fanny pack shakily.
"Eddie? Why the hell did you run? Are you trying to kill yourself?," she didn't realize she put her hands on her hips until Stan stood next to his dying friend.
"Dude, breathe," Stan directed, placing his hand on the shorter's shoulder. Eddie brought his inhaler up to his lips and breathed in deeply while pressing the top down.
"Don't tell me what to do," Eddie sighed slowly.
"Mind sharing your inspiration for sprinting at me?," she asked with an eyebrow raised.
"We need to talk to you," Stan told her simply.
"About?," Beverly asked, her bountiful patience wearing thin.
"It's a sensitive topic-"
"Bill and Richie are gay for each other," Eddie blurted. Stan slapped the back of his head, his black hair falling out of place. "STAN!," Eddie screeched, pulling a comb out of his fanny pack and fixing himself.
"Don't go screaming that in the hallway, then." Stan turned back to Beverly, "but yes. That's what we need to talk about. I have an idea but-"
"I wasn't even screaming," Eddie interrupted again.
"SHUT UP," Beverly and Stan shouted. Eddie backed away from the two with a pout.
"Bev, can we-"
"Talk somewhere more private? Sure. I know just the place," and with that Beverly turned swiftly, her skirt twirling with her, and strode towards the exit. Stan began to follow her but stopped when Eddie didn't move after a few feet.
"Ed, c'mon." No response. "Eddie?"
"I'm not going," he mumbled childishly. Stan refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead he walked up to Eddie, holding his smaller shoulders to encourage him to look up.
"Don't you want Richie to stop acting like a weirdo? Don't you want to help your best friend?" Eddie focused on the hazel eyes in front of him.
"What if we're wrong? What if we're just making stuff up and this'll turn out to be one big misunderstanding?," Eddie had pure worry strewn across his countenance.
Stan shook his friend's shoulder slightly, "That's why we need Bev. C'mon, we're just talking; nothing bad."
Despite his mother's nagging voice in the back of his head, Eddie jogged with Stan to catch up with Beverly.
AN: What's this? I'm not dead? Surprise! Still workin on this mother. Maybe one day I'll finish it...