Chapter 61:

"This is garbage!" Richie shouts, slamming his hands on Frogger's controller. "It's f*cking rigged!"

His voice can barely be heard over the beeps, generic music, and the various other sounds of Palace Arcade. While his mother insisted that he be outside to enjoy the warm air, he grabbed his allowance early and ran to the only place he actually liked in this crappy town.

Life since the disbanding of the Loser's Club had been pretty boring, despite Richie's refusal to admit it. School was nothing but misery, as there were no clubs he liked enough to join, and some of the older basketball jerks had taken to teasing and bullying him whenever they encountered him in the hallway…

His mind flashed back to the most recent event.

…

"Give it back you motherf…" Richie shouted as several of the much taller basketball players managed to rip the glasses from his face. He reached forward trying to throttle these brainless morons but could barely see anything and all they did was shove him around. He'd resorted to trying to kick them in the crotch but all he managed to do was kick the lockers. It was like Henry Bowers and his idiots all over again, except these guys were going to get "scholarships" and not end up convicted and in prison. At least… not yet.

It was the end of the school day and desperate to escape this prison system, Richie rushed to his locker to get ready. Unfortunately, his locker was close to where all the jocks got their "special lockers" which was just an extra shelf for sports equipment. It didn't make anything special, but these assholes felt entitled enough to go over and grab Richie's glasses from his face for no reason.

"Got the mouth of a sailor, don't you?" the meathead he'd come to know as Andy taunted him, keeping the glasses out of the freshman's reach. Despite being half blind, Richie knew that this blur was Andy because he always wore a stupid baseball hat. "Maybe you should go to church to cleanse yourself of these sins."

"Cleanse this," Richie said, flipping them both off and he continued to string as many insults as he could manage into one sentence.

"You know," the other moron named Chance chimed in. "We could give you your glasses back if you asked nicely."

"No, f*cking way," Richie hissed. "I'll take that hat and shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

Another basketball player came up to the scene.

"Come on guys, cut it out," the player Patrick said. He was the only one who didn't take time out of his day to torment the trash mouth.

"Want to get in on this Patrick?" Andy said, shoving Richie away as he grabbed the glasses.

"No way dude, just leave the kid alone," Patrick said. "He's half your size."

"Instead of pointing out the obvious, a little help would be nice," Richie hissed to the least asshole of one of the group.

And yet another loser jock blur joined the fray.

"Come on, Andy knock it off," the blur said before managing to grab the glasses from his teammate. "He's just a freshman."

The blue then hands it to Richie who snatches them back and puts them on his face. He realizes the fourth meathead was the Captain of the said group of morons, Jason Carver. The one who had the shred of human decency to give him the implements he needed to see. Standing next to him was the guy's girlfriend, a cheerleader named Chrissy.

"Whatever man," Andy said and turned to walk away with Chase.

"You okay dude?" Jason asked.

"Where were you five minutes ago?" Richie snarled. "Watching the show? You, prim pretty boy didn't want to mess up his nails."

The mocking tone set something off in Jason.

"You know, maybe people pick on you because you're a twerp who runs his mouth all the time!" Jason snapped, his anger flaring up. His hands had curled into fists and he was ready to let the little runt have it.

"Jason stop it!" Chrissy said, grabbing his shoulder to prevent him from collaring the kid. "He's just angry. Leave him alone."

Jason looked at the puny kid and then at his girlfriend, her eyes begging him not to make things worse.

He inhaled sharply and calmed himself.

"Let's go, Chrissy," he said sternly. As the two turned to walk away, Jason turned back to Richie who was trying to get his books from his locker into his backpack. "You know may not get sh*t from other people if you showed a little gratitude…"

"Enough Jason!" Chrissy said.

The couple distanced themselves from the smart-mouthed kid but were still within earshot because their own lockers were nearby.

"Why do you pick on him like that?" Jason asked. "Don't you remember what coach said, we're supposed to be representing the school, or did that not get into your fat head?"

"Screw off Jason, you would do the same and you almost did. I didn't see you stopping it."

Richie zipped up his bag, and he briefly saw the cheerleader looking at him sympathetically. She was checking to make sure he was okay. He locked eyes with her and while he wanted to flip off the other guys, he just frowned at the girl.

"Chrissy reminded me to stop you from being stupid," Jason had said before Richie moved out of earshot.

…

His day had been crappy since then, but now it was about to get much worse. He swore again at the Frogger machine and for good reason.

"It's not you Dweebus Humanoid," Keith says from the adjacent Frogger game. His hands move quickly to continue playing.

"It is especially since you get to play for free," Richie snarls.

"You didn't crack the 3000 points. Pay up," Keith says, pausing his own game.

"Hell no! F*ck off."

"You agreed. We shook on it. 2 bucks in quarters. Pay up."

Richie is prepared to clock this dweeb in the nose and get out while he still can, but Keith was twice his height and could also very easily get him banned from the arcade… even though he didn't work there anymore. According to a lot of the regulars, he was stealing quarters from the machines. The problem was that he still knew what switches to flip to play the games for free.

"That's the rest of my allowance," Richie protests.

"Too damn bad. Maybe next time don't agree to wager and face-off against the Master."

"A Master who can't get a date," Richie taunts him. "And spends his night kissing his pillow."

He began to steal the insults from his apparent loser duplicate Mike, despite how much they stung, he was sure it would bug others as well.

"At least I actually contribute to society you Frog-Faced Freak," Keith fires back. "Now are you going to pack up or am I going to have to shake it out of you?"

Richie glares angrily at the older teen and never breaking eye contact, pulls out the last of his quarters from his pocket and hands them to Keith.

"Pleasure doing business with you," the loser says with a sh*t-eating grin.

The trash mouth storms towards the door but does his best to hide his smirk.

"Hey, there's only $1.50 here!" Keith calls out from across the arcade. "You owe me fifty cents you little worm."

Richie acts like he didn't hear the loser as he goes out the door and runs to his bike. He quickly unlocks it and pedals away before Keith has the chance to catch up.

…

Once he's sufficiently away from the Palace Arcade, his direction becomes less focused and more aimless. He pedals through Downtown and even through some of the neighbourhoods. He peeks in some of the shops, but nothing This town was worse than Derry sometimes, literally nothing happened here. Why couldn't his family have picked a better place to move to? He could go up to Starcourt, but he was too lazy to even try. The one place he would never go again is that freaky abandoned place outside of town. The energy lab or whatever. There was some freaky shit going on.

He still couldn't explain the thing he'd seen. It was like something out of a science-fiction movie. Richie still could not forget the thing had no face and spoke like the clown.

Shaking it from his mind, the teen continues to look around, not paying attention to what's in front of him.

Stan comes out of the post office with a letter from Mike.

"Watch out!" a familiar voice calls out.

Stan looks up to see Richie on his bike coming towards him. Richie applies the breaks, and they squeal sharply in desperate protest. He manages to stop and barely avoids going over his handlebars. Fortunately, he doesn't run Stanley over.

The two boys look at each other, unsure of what to say considering they haven't done so for months now. Left with very little to say, mostly shocked having encountered each other so suddenly even though all members of the fighting Loser's Club actively avoided each other in such a small town.

Finally, one of them speaks.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stan asks. "Don't you watch where you're going?!"

"Don't start Stan," Richie grimaces. "I honestly didn't see you."

"What are you blind now?" is the response.

The trash mouth inhales. "It was an accident. What do you want from me?"

"An apology would be nice," the curly-haired teen grunts. He goes towards his own bike parked near the post office.

Unsure of what else to do, Richie follows his former friend, walking his bike the whole way.

Stan avoids eye contact as he unlocks his bike. He struggles to do so with the letter in his hand. Eventually, he puts it between his lips and finishes getting the lock off. He does his best to continue ignoring his former friend, but Richie still stands there and will not shut up.

"Who's that from? Your Nana?" Richie asks. "Doesn't she send you a birthday card every year with cash in it?"

Stanley is surprised that the trash mouth remembered that, let alone his birthday which was two weeks ago. He bites his lip, wanting to explode at Richie, but really can't.

"I got her card last week. That money is supposed to go towards my college fund, so I don't actually get to enjoy any of it."

"That sucks," is the response.

"Yeah, it does." It was strange that the two of them were having a civil and almost normal conversation. To be honest, the falling out between the Loser's Club wasn't really between Richie and Stan, they both were mad at Bill. "No, this letter is from Mike."

"Homeschooled Mike from Derry?"

"Who else?"

"There's another nerd around here named Mike."

"Right, the one that looks like you," Stan recalls.

"He does NOT!" Richie snaps.

"Okay Geez," Stan groans.

Richie inhales and calms himself. "Sorry Stan the Man."

"Don't call me that," he says, trying to hide a slight smile. He hasn't heard that nickname in a while.

"Okay Geez," is the response.

Stan puts on his helmet over his lengthening afro of thick curls. His mother and father kept insisting that he get a haircut, but the teenager pushed back. What was the point when it always looked messy?

"Where you going?" the trash mouth teen asks.

"Home, where else?"

"Why? Didn't you join the Geography or Bird Watching Club?"

Stan turns away and begins walking his bike along the sidewalk of Main Street, ignoring the cracks about his interests.

"Hey, come on man…" Richie says. He doesn't know why he's continuing to pursue Stanley. Maybe he wanted someone who wasn't Keith at the arcade to talk to… maybe he wanted ONE of his friends back. "Don't take off yet."

"Come on man?" Stan says, keeping his eyes forward. "I don't why you're following me. In case you weren't there, we're no longer friends or has the shouting match at the arcade left your mind?"

"Did you ever actually say we were no longer friends?" he asks. "Because all you said was that we should go our separate ways."

"You also told me to go play chicken on the highway," Stan recalls.

"But WE as in you and me. I mean Bill can go suck it, but…"

"I meant what I said before and I mean it now," is the response as he is forced to stop at the crosswalk, giving Richie the ability to catch up to him.

"Come on Dude, you really think your life is…"

The light changes and both teenage boys cross the street. However, just as they get to the other side, an all too familiar face steps out of a nearby convenience store. Decked out in the usual denim, dog tags hanging from his neck, weird mullet hair and a newly bought pack of cigarettes in his hand. Billy Hargrove lights up a cigarette and just as he exhales the smoke he turns to see who is coming up the street.

Richie freezes in his tracks as the guy looks up and they lock eyes. The recognition is instantaneous. The teen in glasses glances to his left and sees the blue Camero parked, the back window covered in plastic.

Immediately, Billy's relatively calm demeanour changes from calm to angry. His jaw clenches so tightly that the veins in his neck are visible. He chucks the lit cigarette onto the sidewalk and clenches his hands into fists, crushing the pack of Camels he'd just bought.

"Sh*t!" Richie hisses.

"YOU!" Billy snarls. "YOU LITTLE F*CKING PUNK!"

Richie immediately backs away from the aggressive older teen, knowing he needs to get out of there as soon as he can. While the losers are school were assholes in their own way, he's much more afraid of this freak. He'd break his arm just because he wanted to and no doubt he'd like it.

"GET BACK HERE!" Billy shouts. He breaks into a run.

Stan, who is completely confused watches as Richie gets on his bike and turns the corner. He recognized the guy, the one who tried to mow them down in the arcade parking lot and anywhere else they were unlucky enough to be within the sight of his Camero. While it was clear this guy was angry at Richie, he did not want to be in the middle of this, he also turned and began to pedal away.

"YOU OWE ME MONEY YOU LITTLE…!"

Both members of the former Loser's Club pedal around the corner away from the aggressive and possibly violent individual.

Billy starts to give chase, sprinting as fast as he can to get those two losers on their bikes and make them pay for what they did to his car, but they clearly have a head start. He turns the same corner and sees the two biking down the street and getting further away with each passing second. Snapping back to reality from his anger, he turns and runs for his car. He throws it in reverse, peeling out of his parking space and barely missing another car on the road. He then blows through the red light, turning onto the same street that the two teenagers had disappeared on and began accelerating to catch up with them.

Billy grabs a slightly squashed cigarette, lights it and puts it in his mouth. He also puts on his sunglasses and cranks his music to keep himself motivated to hunt those little sh*its down no matter what.

…

Meanwhile, Richie is hauling ass down the road, away from downtown and into the neighbourhoods. He's pedalling so hard and fast that his feet slip a few times off the pedals and scrape the pavement, causing him to slow down. He keeps going, focusing on putting as much distance as he can between that speed freak and himself. All that is heard are the tires on the road and his heavy breathing as he does his best to escape.

Stan is also following Richie, hating that he somehow got sucked into this… or maybe he put himself in the middle of it. Either way, the guy would probably go after him because he was seen with Richie. Whatever the trash mouth had done had left this guy with a murderous look in his eye. Why does Richie seem to piss off the worst people?

Stan's legs and lungs burn as he pedals to keep pace and avoid being left behind. He hadn't biked as much as he used to, leaving him unable to pull the kinds of speeds he usually could. He sees Richie finish going up a hill and turning left.

From behind, Stan hears the sound of tires screeching and the sound of an engine revving. Doing his best to avoid the temptation of looking behind him, he turns down the same street as Richie and hurries to catch up. The two boys ride down the hill into this neighbourhood.

The sound of the engine is still there, even though they've changed directions. Like the sound of a mosquito that won't leave them alone. For a brief moment, it sounds like it goes past the street they are riding on, and Stan foolishly slows down to check to see if the vehicle missed them. Relief floods his body. However, the sound of slamming breaks is heard at the top of the hill and Stanley knows he's turning around. Without a second to lose, he speeds up to catch up with Richie again.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!" Stan yells at the trash mouth as they fly by houses and yards, which are at a blur because of their speed.

"NOT THE TIME!" Richie calls. He makes a sharp turn onto a side street and puts the pedal to the medal.

They continue to race down the side street and turn down another road.

The sound of the car is still there, the brakes screeching with every turn of the wheel. Seemingly further away but neither boy is taking any chances to stop and check.

Their journey continues until they end up on Cherry Oak Drive, one of the industrial streets of Hawkins. The two see what looks like the remains of a factory surrounded by a rusty fence. The gate on said fence is ajar along with a No Trespassing sign but for some reason, Richie sees that as the perfect place to hide.

He breaks his bike and pushes the gate open enough for him to get through. Stan, completely baffled by this decision has no choice but to copy what his friend does and now they are biking through the gravel and overgrown weeds. The curly-haired teen catches a glimpse of an old sign that says:

Brimborn Steel Works

Richie finds an old nearby shed and parks his bike behind it. Stan, having no choice but follow his friend's lead does the same. Richie then races through the weeds and possibly poison ivy to the door of the steel mill. He slips inside and waits for Stanley to catch up. He then closes the door just enough that a sliver of light can still make it through and the two can still see what's happening.

They wait and listen, which was difficult with the sounds of the abandoned mill now being heard as well. Creaking of old machinery, birds chirping with their nests likely built somewhere in the mill, the deep groans of old metal and the sound of rats. Stan immediately catches a glimpse of a rat scurrying past them down the stairs into the bowels of the steel mill. He covers his mouth and tries to look away. He hated rats as much as the next person and they were likely going to need tetanus shots after this experience. He lets out a squeak of surprise.

"Keep your mouth shut," Richie hisses.

He peers out and through the overgrown trees and shrubs, he sees a faint bit of blue… the blue of the Camero. The trash mouth prays that they hid their bikes well enough that this asshole doesn't see them or assume they are hiding there.

Both stare out into the light, ignoring the darkness behind them and the sound of rats scurrying… scurrying towards something unseen in the shadows… something that had made its home here.

A/N: Another chapter. Welcome back Richie and Stan. They are in a place they really shouldn't be at the current moment.

Responses to Reviews:

Larry: Thanks for your support for my other stories.

GlaringEyes: Yes, it's time for Mis to get informed about what's happening in Hawkins. While she's got a ton of issues of her own, she has the inkling that something isn't right. I am hoping she will investigate soon and with someone she really wants to get to know better.

Yes, I wanted there to be some more information about who lived in the house before the Denbroughs. While Murray would have been funny, he would never try to live at a normal address where he could be tracked so easily. There are still some secrets of this house that have yet to be uncovered.

Thank you for inspiring me to bring Richie and Stan back into the fold. You are correct that they need to be mentioned. The last few chapters have been really important for the merging of the Loser's Club and the Party, but there are still some who are excluded.