After eating at the diner, my mom and I spent the rest of the night talking about the last two weeks while munching on cookies and watching our favorite movies. I didn't tell her what happened in the Neibolt house– she'd probably have me committed. No, I just told her that Bill and Richie got into a fight and everyone picked sides. It wasn't a total lie, I just didn't tell her what the fight was about. She tried to ask me about Richie, stuff like: What is your relationship? Do you like him? Does he like you? I couldn't bring myself to answer them, because I honestly didn't know the answer. I mean, yeah...I like Richie. I don't think we have a relationship– especially now. I honestly don't think Richie is capable of liking anyone but himself. But what do I know?

I went to bed that night like there had been a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. The stress of the fight between my friends and my feelings of loneliness was no longer pushing me down, and I had my mom to thank for that. While there wasn't a weight sinking on my shoulders, there was a lingering thought in my brain.

Richie.

❏❏❏❏

Today was Stan's Bar Mitzvah. I had actually woken up a bit earlier than I normally would have just so I could eat breakfast with my mom and have time to take a shower. She made her award-winning cinnamon waffles and I swear I was in heaven. Okay, maybe they're not legit award winning– but they're amazing to me and that means they win the award of my approval. She was a little off this morning, but I didn't say anything. Last night was an emotional roller coaster and today would be no different because today was July 23rd. The one year mark of the day my dad was murdered.

I wanted to say something to comfort her, but I know there's really no right thing to say. Those first few months after his death were extremely hard on our family. Benny didn't want to go to the Academy, my mom was planning our move and I was caught in the middle of constant therapist appointments and nightmares. But when October came around and we moved to Derry, that was our rebuilding period. While we could never forget my dad– we realized that we couldn't be stuck in that rut forever. We've spent the last nine months trying to cope with the loss, and the one year anniversary is the one day where all of that hard work can slip through the cracks.

After my shower, I put on the outfit we had bought for Stan's Bar Mitzvah. It felt weird wearing a dress and stockings– I couldn't remember the last time I had worn a dress...yet alone stockings. I looked at my reflection in my vanity and walked out of my room and across the hall to my mom's. I knocked on the door and peeped my head in to see her sitting on her bed with a beautiful medium-sized wooden box in front of her. "Mom?"

She looked up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, Dani?"

"Would you want to do my hair for me?" I asked, stepping into her room and holding up my hairbrush. "I already brushed it...but it still looks like a mess."

She laughed and moved the box beside her, patting the space in front of her. "Come on."

I walked over to her bed and climbed onto it, sitting down in front of her. For a moment, it felt like I was eight-years-old again, crawling into her bed to have her braid my hair while my dad laid next to her admiring her. I loved the way he looked at her– his eyes taking in every detail there was to her, lingering slowly is if he was trying to memorize every aspect about her. Even then I knew he loved her more than anything in the world. And how every night I'd wish on the stars that I'd find someone to look at me that way too. "So, is it only Stan you'll be seeing today? Or are any of the other kids invited?"

"I don't know," I replied, biting the inside of my cheek. "I haven't really talked to anyone, and Bill and Bev never said anything about being invited."

"Well, just make sure you remind your manners and thank Stan and his family for inviting you," she said, as she began to section off and braid my hair. "and you're sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"Yeah, I can go by myself," I looked at the box from the corner of my eye. "so what's in that box?"

"Oh, this one?" She asked, nodding her head at the box. "Just some good memories."

"What kind of good memories?"

"How about we go through it when you get home from Stan's party, yeah?" She tied an elastic around the finished product and tucking the braids in to make a crown. "You're all done. How about I let you wear some of my mascara? Maybe a little lipstick too?"

I nodded excitedly. I'd never really worn make-up– at least not extensive. When I was younger we'd play around with it, but never like this. She walked off into her bathroom and I followed behind her, admiring my hair in the mirror as she grabbed her mascara and lipstick. I stood still as she applied the makeup onto me. She blobbed my lip-stick and smiled, walking out of my view so I could look at myself in the mirror. "Wow.."

"When did you get so old," she sighed, putting the mascara and lipstick now. "I still remember when you used to sit on the bathroom floor and say 'me mommy! my lipstick! make me pretty too!' and now look at you."

I knew this wasn't about how old I was getting or the memory. It was about dad. I knew what she was talking about– I remembered it clearly. They were getting ready for a date night and my dad scooped me up off of the bathroom floor and said 'your mommy is so pretty, she's the prettiest mommy in the world...even without the make-up.' 

"Mom...I don't have to go today. I can stay home."

"No," she said, shaking her head and smiling. "you go see your friend and spend time with him, I'll be here when you get back."

We walked back to her bedroom and she sat back down onto her bed as I walked to the door. "I'll be home soon."

"Have fun sweetie, don't forget his present on the kitchen counter."

I nodded and walked out of her room, closing the door behind me and walking down the stairs. I picked up Stan's Bar Mitzvah gift, which was really just a check for $54 in an envelope with a bow attached to it. According to Rosa, money in multiples of $18 is considered a good gift given at a Bar Mitzvah. Apparently, the number 18 is symbolic for giving 'chai' or life. I remember Stan talking about it at some point when Richie asked how much money he'd get at his party once or twice when we were all hanging out. But Rosa explained its relevance to my mom, who explained it to me. Honestly, all in all, it was pretty interesting to learn about.

I walked out of the house and down the porch, picking my bike up off of the grass. I held on tight to Stan's gift as I rode down the street, silently hoping that I wasn't the only losers club member who was going to be at this party.

❏❏❏❏

Richie was here.

The only other member of the losers club here and it had to be Richie– just my luck. We made eye contact when I walked into the synagogue, searching for a place to sit, but I quickly adverted him and ducked amongst the other guests, placing myself in between some old ladies and some kids. I didn't try to look at Richie as the ceremony went on, I kept my eyes up front and watched Stan. I remember him saying just how nervous he was to stand in front of everyone and reading from what I think he said was called a Torah. Stan was a guy of few words, but most of the ones that came out of his mouth were nerves about what he was doing exactly right now. These past few weeks of the losers group being disbanded and him spending every moment in the synagogue paid off though– he was doing great.

After his speech, the ceremony faded from a formal setting to one where everyone began to mingle amongst one another and wander around the room. Music was playing and everyone was either heading towards the food and drinks, dropping off their gifts or giving their kind words to the man of the hour. I sat in my seat as the crowds dispersed and when I could see that Richie was nowhere in sight, I got up and walked over to where Stan was standing with his parents. I pushed myself through the crowd and before I knew it, I was standing in front of Stan. 

"Looking good Stan." I smiled, getting his attention.

He initially looked shocked when he saw me standing in front of him, but then he smiled. "Hi Dani, thank you for coming."

I handed him my gift and he put it on the gift table nearby. I hugged him and was actually shocked that he hugged me back– he didn't really seem like a hugger. "You did great Stan, I couldn't even tell you were nervous."

"Thanks," he replied, pulling away. "I felt a little nauseous."

"Eh, public speaking isn't for everyone," I turned around to see a few people standing behind me and turned back to Stan. "I just wanted to say Happy Birthday and congratulate you, I guess I'll let others come and talk to you."

He just smiled and nodded his head, taking my hand and squeezing it. He let go and I walked back into the crowd, making my way over to the drinks. The entire time I kept looking over at the punch and kept thinking about getting a glass of it. I waited my turn for the people in front of me to grab their serving. When I got to the table there were no cups left. "Oh, this is so messed up.," I mumbled, looking around towards the food table to see if there were maybe some cups over there.

"Here." I turned to see Richie holding a full glass of punch out to me.

I looked at the glass and then back at him to see him holding another one in his other hand. "Why do you have two glasses of punch?"

"Because I was going to give it to my date." He said, shrugging his shoulders. I looked at him with raised eyebrows. I can't believe he came here with a date. He started laughing and shook his head. "I'm kidding. I was actually going to find you and give it to you...but I guess you kind of found me, so here."

I took the glass from him and took a sip. It was as delicious as I imagined it to be. I took another sip before looking at Richie who was already looking at me. "So, it's just the two of us here..."

"Yeah, I guess..." He replied, taking a sip of his drink and looking away.

God, this was so awkward. Like– extremely awkward, more awkward than I thought it would be. I should honestly just drink my punch and leave. I said my words to Stan and I dropped my gift off– there wasn't really anything else for me to do. "I'll see you-"

"Do you want to go somewhere?" He asked, interrupting me.

"Why?"

"To talk I guess..." he said, biting the inside of his cheek. "or make-out."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Nice."

"No but seriously. Can we talk?"

I took a deep breath and exhaled. I guess I didn't really have anything else to do besides go home. Sparing a few minutes with Richie to talk wouldn't be too harmful. I finished the rest of my punch and placed my glass down. "Alright, let's talk."

He didn't bother to finish off his punch and just placed his glass down onto the table. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded his head towards the door. "Follow me."

Richie and I rode our bikes all the way out to the quarry, it was really the only place we could think of where we wouldn't be interrupted– where we could talk...just the two of us. If we're being honest, Richie led the way and I just followed. He was the one who wanted to go off and talk somewhere, so I let him pick the place. When we got the quarry, we dropped our bikes onto the ground almost in the exact place we did the last time we were here with the losers club. I watched him walk over to the edge and for a moment I felt like I was back at that day Bev and I hung out with them for the first time. Instead of in his tighty whities- he was in a suit that was just a little big on him. He seemed like a completely different person now than the one all those weeks ago– more mature and wise. Though that's impossible, Richie Tozier would never be capable of knowing the word mature. 

"I didn't bring a bathing suit," I called out to him. "did you just bring me here so you could see me in my underwear again?"

"No, I didn't," he said, turning to me. "though I wouldn't mind if you took off your dress."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Alright Richie, I'm going home."

"Wait! Please...don't leave, at least not yet."

"What is it then Richie? Why did you bring us all the way out here?" I asked, walking towards him. "You said you wanted to talk, so talk. I'm listening."

"I came here because...I don't know– I kind of feel like this is our spot." he turned away from me and stared at the place where we all sat around that day we came here as a group.

"Why? Cause it was the first place you were checking me out at?" I asked, causing him to turn around with a shocked look on his face. "Yeah, I heard you and Eddie that day...you two aren't really quiet when you argue."

"Well, you're wrong. It's not because this was the first place I was checking you out at. I'd actually check you out at school too." I raised my eyebrows and he shrugged his shoulders. "You were the new girl and it's a small town, plus...you were kind of cute."

I looked away from him and cleared my throat. "So why is this our spot exactly?"

"I don't know...there's just– it's a feeling I have. Like this is the place it all began, you know? Right here at the quarry." He walked to the edge and sat down, seemingly not caring if his suit was to get dirty or ripped. "Plus sometimes I feel like I can just come here and think and clear my mind here."

I walked over to him, sitting down next to me and dangling my legs over the edge. Our legs bumped against one another as we swung them and looked out at the woods. "Yeah...it's a pretty peaceful place."

"I'm sorry...for pushing you. I didn't mean to, I just got caught up in everything. I wanted to say sorry but I was–"

"Upset that I didn't side with the rest of you?"

"Yeah, I guess that's it. I just think the idea of going back in there is fucking crazy. We watched that clown almost murder Eddie and eat his germaphobe ass for brunch– and you guys wanted to go back and give him seconds."

"Funny," I softly laughed at his humor and shook my head. "but that's not the reason why Bill wanted to go back."

"Then please explain to me the reason behind the insanity? Cause I'd love to know."

I could feel the edges of the rock make their impression in against the palms of my hand. "I don't know if I can Richie, it's kind of hard to understand unless you've been in his shoes."

"I mean...I accidentally put his shoes on instead of mine one time after gym class."

"That's not what I mean," I laughed, bumping my shoulder against his. "I mean more along the lines of well...losing someone." I bit the inside of my cheek as I looked down at my lap. 

"After you lose someone, it's like your brain is in this constant battle between reality and fantasy. At first, you don't believe it's real– that someone is gone. You can still hear their voice, see their smile, feel their hug. Then as time goes on, reality starts to sneak in and while you don't forget everything, you begin to realize that they're no longer here. That you'll never hear their laugh or take a car ride with them. But you'll never lose that 'maybe' feeling. Like maybe they're still out there somewhere or maybe it was all a bad dream." I looked at Richie and sighed. 

"And that feeling can make reality seem like nothing but a cruel joke. Bill is there– in that maybe feeling. I think deep down, he knows that Georgie isn't coming back. But he's pushed that feeling away so many times that it's no longer lingering in the back of his mind."

Richie looked at me before looking back out at the woods. "Wow...I guess I never really thought of it that way."

"Sometimes I wish I never had to..." I sighed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah...anything."

"Metaphorically speaking, if there was someone who was really important to you, maybe someone you loved and that someone is no longer a part of your life, do you think you'll forget about them as time goes on?"

"What kind of question is that?" He laughed.

"Just...answer it."

He stared at me for a few moments as if he was collecting his thoughts and took a deep breath. "I...I don't know." He replied, looking down at his lap and twiddling his thumbs. "I mean, I'd like to think that when you love someone...like really love someone and they're no longer a part of your life– that you'll never really forget about them or forget how they made you feel."

I stared out at the woods, watching a flock of birds fly over the trees. I could still feel Richie looking at me, but I didn't want him to see me getting emotional. God, that was the last thing I wanted. "Sometimes I get scared that I'll forget about my dad."

"It's been a year...hasn't it?"

I nodded and chewed the inside of my cheek. "I know it hasn't been that long and I'm young so I still remember a lot about him. But what happens when I'm older and my kids ask me what their grandpa was like? Will I still remember how he'd sing 'My Girl' to me every night before bed even after I begged him to stop when I was ten? Or how he'd always make smiley faces on my pancakes with fruits? I'm scared I'll forget all of the little things he did when I get older and I don't want that to happen...I don't want to forget about him."

I looked at Richie who was still looking at me. He'd normally make some type of joke right about now in an attempt to cheer me up. Instead, he just had a sad look on his face. He cleared his throat and stood up, brushing off his suit. He held out his hand and helped me up before bringing me into a tight hug. "You'll never forget about him, Dani..."

When we pulled away we looked at one another and then burst into laughter. I wiped my eyes and smiled at him. "Even when being serious, Richie Tozier can make the ladies laugh."

He smiled and shook his head. "Come on, I'll ride home with you."

Normally, our bike rides would always be quick– pedaling fast as if we had an important place to be, even if we didn't. This time though, Richie and I were taking our time. I don't know if it was because we were tired or if we were just enjoying each other's company– or simply a mix of both. Whatever it was though, I really liked it. When we got to my house, Richie stayed on the sidewalk as I got off of my bike and walked it up to the front porch. I placed it against the ledge and looked at him. 

"Thanks, Richie...for everything."

"Anytime!" He replied as I turned around to go to the door. "Dani, wait!" I turned back around and saw him take a deep breath. "Remember how I told you that I felt like the quarry was our spot?"

"Yeah, and you never gave me a reason why."

"Well, I guess it's because..." He looked down at his handlebars, his lips moving as if he was mumbling something to himself before looking back up at me. "because it was the first time I really looked at you as more than a friend..."

I felt frozen. Did Richie just say that he liked me? Like...liked me liked me? "Richie I-"

He put his feet on the pedals and started to move. "Okay, I have to go home now bye!"

"Richie wait!" I called out, running out to the street. It was too late, he was pedaling so fast that he was already at the end of the block.

"Dani!" I turned around to see my mom standing on the front porch, holding the phone. "Benny's on the phone."

I looked back to see Richie rounding the street corner to head towards town and smiled to myself. I jogged over to the front porch and up the steps, grabbing the phone out of her hands. "Hey, Benny."

"So you can talk, that's nice to know."

"I'm sorry," I said, my mom, walking back into the house. "things here have been pretty rough..."

"Mom told me, but it sounds like things have gotten a little better no?" He sounded like he was eating something. But when was Benny not eating something? It's like his metabolism was never on a break. "So tell me, how are you doing? How's live in Daniville?"

I bit my lip, pondering in my mind if I wanted to ask him the question that was on my mind. I'd probably ask my mom too, seeing as being her age and all she'd know a thing or two...but I also wanted Benny's opinion. However– the thought of Benny knowing is a bit scary. "Howdoyouknowifaboylikesyou?"

Benny's contagious laugh erupted from the other end of the phone. "Slow down Dani, I didn't understand a single thing you said."

I sighed. "I asked, how do you know if a boy likes you?"

As expected, I was greeted with silence. "You're 13-years-old. You don't need to worry about boys liking you, you're too young."

"You went on your first date when you were 13!"

"How would you know? You were like five-years-old and you thought the tooth fairy was real."

"I was eight and it's not my fault I got gold dollars and you got quarters."

"Okay, and?"

"Benny, please just tell me?" I whined.

"Fine, but just so you know– there is no kissing, no touching and don't even think about sitting close together." He took a deep breath and sighed. "I guess you'll be able to tell by the way he acts around you. Do you ever find him sneaking glances at you? When you guys talk is he always trying to make you laugh or does be brag about himself to try and impress you? In a group of friends does he treat you differently? Do his friends' joke around with him about you? Any of this helping?"

"A little...I guess." I replied, trying to think of instances where Richie fit the bill of what Benny was saying. "How do I know if you're not lying?"

"Because I was 13 once and I'm a guy who's had his fair share in crushes and girlfriends."

"Thanks, Benny, I know that was painful."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't date until you're 25–"

"BENNY!"

He laughed again. "Oh calm down Dani, I'm just joking. It'd be more around 30." I could hear voices in the background of wherever Benny was at. "Hey I've gotta go, a few of the guys and I are going for a run."

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon. Be safe out there." I said, walking over to the door.

"You too. Oh and Dani?"

"Yeah?"

"If this Richie kid even lays a finger on you, I'll break it. Remember what I said, no kissing–"

"touching or sitting within a 50-mile radius of each other, I know. He's not that bad Benny."

"Well that's not up to you, it's up to me. And he doesn't have my seal of approval until I meet him, okay?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine."

"I love you, Dani."

"I love you too Benny, talk to you soon." I hung up the phone and pushed the door open, then closing it behind me. "Mom? You downstairs?"

"In here!"

I walked over to the kitchen to see her leaning against the counter, flipping through a magazine. "How was talking to your brother?"

"It was nice...I definitely needed it." I replied, walking by her and hanging up the phone. I turned back around to see her smiling at me. "What?"

"So Richie likes you?"

My eyes widened. "You were listening?!"

"I couldn't help it! Do you like him?" I started to walk towards the stairs, refusing to talk about it. "Have you had your first kiss yet? Was it with Richie?"

"MOM!" I was completely horrified.

"Fine, fine, don't tell me." She said, walking into the living room, "And to think I was going to take you out for milkshakes again."

I stopped walking up the stairs and turned around, looking into the living room. "Milkshakes?"

She smiled and nodded. "But only if we talk about Richie."

I was torn. I couldn't bear to talk about Richie. I mean, I love my mom...I really do. But it's so awkward talking about crushes. I mean– I kissed Richie, he was my first kiss. He's seen me in my underwear– that'd be hard to explain to her the reason why. But I also had a huge weak spot for milkshakes and she knew that. I took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay, let's go get milkshakes.

"Great!" A huge smile appeared on her face as she clapped and practically ran to the kitchen counter, grabbing her keys and her purse. "Do I also need to have the whole birds and the bees and safe sex talk with you too?"

"MOM!" I whined, covering my ears and walking towards the front door.