✧✧✧

❝ she wore a smile like a loaded gun. ❞
—ATTICUS

RICHIE TOZIER was abnormally fast. I hadn't even exhaled an ounce of oxygen before he peddled away on his rustic metallic bike.

The losers all starred at each other, confused expressions cascaded upon their faces.

Bill glanced at Stanley and it appeared that they were speaking with eye contact as Bill pursed his lips and Stanley's palm met the nape of his neck.

"What's going on?" Beverly was the first to speak up about the situation.

"I–I–It's nothing, B–Beverly," Bill croaked, appearing as though he was nervously swallowing his thoughts.

"Okay, obviously Richie is just having his classic melt dow—" Eddie began as he was cut off by piercing glares from both Bill and Stanley.

"Okay, it doesn't matter, we will see Richie tomorrow," Stanley concluded, "let's all just get home before curfew."

"It's the middle of noon, Stanley," I countered.

"I know, I—I have to study for my bar mitzvah." Lie.

I didn't argue due to my lack of energy, so I simply nodded while denting my chapped bottom lips, suppressing the habit of voicing my thoughts out loud.

The losers all got on their bikes as I declared that I'd follow my route home by foot. No one pondered me for a ride, they simply took off awkwardly with a tense atmosphere escaping from their presence.

Sauntering along the sidewalk, déjà vu crept up on me as I recalled a similar event partaking back in elementary school; the day Richie had been dared to kiss me.

I gripped my jaw assertively as I gazed over the playground, children rambunctiously scattered over the sets of equipment.

I decided to take a seat upon one of the pairs of swings that were unoccupied, though I could've still accessed it at any time when I had people repelled merely by my presence and loud mouth.

I studied my surroundings attentively, skimming the groups of children entranced by laughter and happiness.

Though I didn't have any friends, it was convincing enough for me to tell myself that the kids in Derry were all superficial and mundane. I didn't care to sprout friendships with the sheepish little girls that only cared about the number of Barbies you had or how delicious your mother's cookies were.

Suddenly, my thoughts were torn once the curious eyes of Richie Tozier stayed glued to me.

He glanced at me, slightly scanning me from behind a pair of large coke bottle lenses, his fringe of ebony hair messily misplaced upon his scalp.

I didn't know Richie well, but he was nice to me throughout the small encounters we ran into, even managing to get a giggle out of me every so often from his outspoken thoughts. He and I were both picked on, yet he still somehow had a nice group of friends, in which I somewhat envied.

Bill Denbrough noticed our direct eye contact and motioned Richie and the rest of their small group to saunter behind one of the large slides.

Before I could decipher what was unfolding behind the mustard yellow object, the shrill sound of Richie screaming the words "NO, I CAN'T", came into contact with my eardrums from a fair distance away.

Richie stormed from behind the slide, an electric blue Hawaiian button-up and beige shorts fluttering from his petite figure. His nostrils flared and his forehead was dented in worry.

Slowly, he sauntered toward me, nervously reciting a set of words to himself under his breath.

He approached me as I wobbled on my swing, my fingers clasping the metal handles. "Hey Richie," I greeted.

"Stephanie, I—I" he nervously babbled, my eyes quirking upwards at his peculiar state of fear.

"You okay, Richie?"

Before I had the chance to comment upon his forehead drenched in beads of sweat, he outstretched his neck, pecking his pouted lips upon mine.

I bewilderedly stood back as I screamed at him in horror, cheeks burning crimson.

"Richie Tozier, you're disgusting!" I bellowed, causing him to flinch and have the eyes of the kids meet in our direction.

He looked down at his feet before formulating a sentence. "I–It was a dare, Stephanie."

"You're gross."

"You know what," anger suddenly replacing his previous anxiousness. "Bill dared me to kiss you because you're the ugliest girl in Derry, no one likes a girl with red hair and a loud annoying voice."

My heart clenched as the entire student body became drenched in fits of laughter. Richie Tozier managing to have the kids hate me even more than they had before.

"Also, brush your teeth, Stephanie," he clamped his fingers around the bridge of his nose. "Your mom can't even afford a tooth-brush?"

I couldn't spill out a single word, dragging my feet away from the scene as I ran to the bathroom, locking myself in an unoccupied stall to cry.

The incident brought back the memory of how much hatred I once had towards Richie, but strangely, it didn't change the way I thought of him now.

Of course, I still disliked him, but he was becoming much easier to withstand, especially now that I had finally grown a pair of balls to torment him equally.

I still never understood his hatred towards me from that day; it was as though I had painfully hurt him enough to crack into a rage of evil.

Richie Tozier was a confusing boy, even from a pubescent child with goals of diminishing every shed of self-esteem I had left.

I asserted through my thoughts as I came across my deranged rustic house, feet skimming the overgrown patches of grass that were slowly wilting away to an ugly beige color by the day.

I strode into my house—unaware of the blood-curdling gaze of my mother who stood in front of the scratched up door.

She stood up straight with her wisps of red hair sprawled messily on her head – a trait that belonged to someone who had just had animalistic sex – and her black t-shirt hanging from her shoulder blades with holes grazing the seams.

I hesitantly got closer as I shut the door behind me, too afraid to lock it. My mother took the palms of her hands and rubbed it across her flannelette pajamas, slowly curling the lock backward as her tall torso stood over me.

She inhaled a sharp intake of breath before speaking. "So Stephanie, where were you last night?"

I gulped harshly. "I–I fell asleep in the park."

"You weren't with your little friend Beverly Marsh by any chance?"

"N–No mom, of course not."

She yanked my wrist, twisting it as blotches of red stained my pale flesh. I grunted at the contact. "I don't believe you."

"Mom, I wasn't!"

Alcohol wafted from her as I registered the fact that she was, undoubtedly, stone cold drunk. Her dilated sea foam irises raked me with an evil gaze, gripping her jaw with the clench of her muscles.

Unexpectedly, her palm raised to swat my face harshly, causing tears to spill from my eyelids. She continued her rough assault on my arm as she moved her palm from my wrist to my shoulder blade, yanking me further into the living-room.

"Oh, Stephanie," she snickered darkly. "What a brat you are."

I didn't have time to reply once the impact of her calloused palm met the side of my face, causing my torso to fly to the ground in a halting force.

She set her body on all fours, gripping the wooden floor as she turned her head to vomit.

My head slightly vibrated from the impact of the fall but worn off as I readjusted myself to my feet—my mother plopping down on the wood to pass out.

A croak of sniffling spewed from me as I jogged to my room, slamming the door.

I paced around the small bedroom, rummaging through my nightstand for a change of clothing. I hastily threw on a red and white striped shirt with a collar poking out the neck, and a pair of denim jeans.  As the perpetual pain of the blisters on my feet became less tolerable, I discarded my decomposed sneakers to lace up my black Doc Martens, gripping the strings harshly.

Before my mother would awaken to continue her assault upon my feeble figure, I cracked the door open and pounded my feet aggressively against the grassy coated patches of dirt on my front lawn.

There was only one place I thought of going at a time like this, despite the circumstances.

With a hollow exoskeleton and a burning cheek, I stomped in the direction of Richie's, discarding the protesting of my thoughts convincing me otherwise.