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❝ it's a lonely thing protecting a breakable heart. ❞

—ATTICUS

RICHIE AND I sped through the streets of Derry rapidly to reach Beverly's apartment. Silence exchanging between us as I became engulfed in my thoughts.

We pulled up to the already gathered group of losers, Stanley holding Eddie's fanny pack up too high for him to reach as the rest awaited us on their bikes.

"Stan, I swear to god," Eddie groaned. "I'll take your Kippah and throw it from the quarry."

"Eddie, if you can't even reach high enough to get your fanny pack, what makes you think you'll be able to get my Kippah, being placed on top of my head and all," Stanley pointed out to the smaller boy whilst attempting to hold back a fit of laughter.

Eddie stomped his right foot on the ground, pulling his small shorts a bit higher on his waist aggressively. "Fuck you, Stan."

"No thanks, Eddie bear."

"Man, fuck you, Richie, you're the reason he knows about that!" Eddie yelled as both Richie and I pulled in closer to the group on our bikes.

Stanley and Eddie finally joined us as we rode all the way to the back of the building, attempting to locate Beverly.

As we discarded our bikes on the grass, we walked toward the stairway leading to Beverly's apartment; Bill containing himself—as usual, Eddie and Stanley arguing while Richie contributed with vulgar remarks, and my thoughts for once only being spoken in my head.

As Beverly spotted us from the top of the stairs – budding out a cigarette – she raced down the metal steps that lead to her front door, a fearful expression planted upon her features.

"Guys," she croaked. "I–I need to show you something."

"Bev, what happened?" I piped up anxiously.

"What is it?" Ben asked curiously.

"More than we saw at the quarry?" Richie added cheekily, causing my anger toward him resurface.

"Shut the fuck up, Richie," I hissed, "this isn't the time to be a fucking prick, just shut up and keep your trashmouth sealed."

"Yeah, shut up, just shut up Richie!" Eddie barked towards him as well.

"My uh. . . dad will kill me if he finds out I had. . . boys in the apartment," Beverly stated warily.

"Then w–w–we'll leave a lookout," Bill announced. "R–Richie and Stef, s–s–stay here."

Richie and I turned to each other and groaned in agony as we realized they were leaving us alone. I had spent enough time with the towns trashmouth alone that I pleaded for solitude.

"Come on, Bill!" I exclaimed. "You can't leave me with that."

"You were just with him for who knows how long," Stanley asserted, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but—"

"Woah, Woah, Woah!" Richie interrupted. "What if her dad comes back?"

Stanley glared at the raven-haired boy with an unamused expression. "Do what you always do, start talking." He said, planting his feet upon the metallic staircase that led to Beverly's apartment as he followed behind the rest of the group.

"It is a gift," Richie stammered pathetically.

"Correction," I insisted. "It's actually a curse."

"Oh, shut up, Copperhead, your life's a curse."

"You're a curse."

"You're a fucking—" Richie began but was cut off by me blocking my ears with the palms of my clammy hands.

"Real mature," I heard him mutter, causing a wave of chuckling to engulf me.

I took a seat on a patch of grass as I let my hands fall from my ears. Richie just leaned on his bike studying my movements in silence.

"Can you stop staring, freak," I growled.

"Sorry, I've just never seen something so ugly up close before."

"Oh, so you're telling me you've never looked in a mirror, Rich?"

"Ugh!" he cried in agony as I snickered toward his attempt at mustering a comeback.

Richie scanned the area—mocha irises entranced by the small brisk waves of wind dancing through the patches of grass surrounding us.

I studied him carefully with curiosity; eyes a shade of brown that hid small pigments of gold, a fringe flop of charcoal hair messily towering upon his scalp, and plump lips that he ran his tongue over too many times creating small creases along it.

I had no idea what my spark of interest towards him was, but I was always curious about him beneath the entire asshole facade because as a person with multiple hidden expressions and feelings, it was quite easy to tell that Richie amplified his features to protect himself as well.

I continued gazing at him shamelessly until his neck snapped towards my bulged eyes, a small shade of magenta staining his cheeks.

"So, you scream at me for just looking at you for a second, but you can just gaze at my sexy body without my input?" He piped up.

I rolled my eyes towards him. "I wasn't staring at you and your repulsive body, Tozier."

"Sure you weren't, Stephanie."

I cringed. "Can you not call me that?"

"Why not?"

"I hate it when people call me Stephanie, it's way too girly and it makes me sound gross and prissy," I explained, causing him to burst into a fit of laughter.

"I think you forget about the fact that you are a girl, step on me," Richie spoke through catching his breath.

"It's not like that, stupid," I hissed defensively. "Never mind Richie, you wouldn't get it."

"Okay fine, enlighten me."

"No, just stop calling me that and drop it," I barked.

Richie quirked an eyebrow at me skeptically. "Did I touch a nerve, step on me?"

"Since when do you care, fuckface."

"Oh, you thought I was serious?" His lips pursed, containing his amusement.

I sighed at him once again, feeling silence spill into the atmosphere.

"You know," Richie interjected between my thoughts. "You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"When I was at your house, you never answered if you have a shitty mom or not," he elaborated.

"Why would I answer a question like that to someone like you."

Richie shrugged his shoulders. "Good point, but that just provides the power of my assumptions."

"I don't really care what anyone thinks, but good try using that tactic on me, Tozier."

"Sure you do," he observed. "You're self-conscious."

"What the fuck are you muttering about?" I rolled my eyes to downcast the horror drenching my mind.

"It's easy to tell when one's self-conscious," he explained. "You use humor as a defense mechanism, you bite your nails when you're nervous or when you're anticipating one of my many brilliant insults, and you don't like when people stare at you, meaning you hate attention."

My eyes bulged as he voiced his distinct observations. "I uh—"

"You can't deny it, I read people easily."

"So do I," I replied. "And, the only way you can tell that I'm self-conscious is if you lack confidence yourself."

"No, I'm just observant."

"You can't be observant, Richie," I chuckled. "You're always too busy talking to pay attention and listen."

He raised his hands in defense. "Okay, when did this turn to a psychological analysis."

I rolled my eyes towards him before muttering, "the moment you tried to pry into my life."

"Pry? Pfft, I don't care enough to do that," he said sternly.

"Oh, whatever Richie, would it satisfy you if I had a shitty mom or if I were self-conscious? Would that make you feel better about yourself?" I cried.

"Sure it would," he shrugged his shoulders, "that is if you were admitting it, of course."

"Oh my god, just fuck off, go pick on someone else for once," I hissed toward the bug-eyed boy, narrowing my eyes in his direction.

Just as I angrily yanked my torso away from being close to Richie – retrieving my bike – the losers all exited the house with garbage bags, mustard yellow gloves, and their features scrunched in distaste.

I leaped on to my bike with Richie following behind, waiting for them to explain the situation that took place at Beverly's house.

They all stocked over to retrieve their bikes as we set our paths back towards the street, the entire group strolling together while carrying their bikes—apart from me and Richie.

I got off my bike as I trudged next to Beverly, her features contoured in a distraught expression.

Richie rode in circles around us, his irritating voice piercing the atmosphere.

"You know, I love being your personal doorman, really," Richie stated sarcastically. "Could you idiots have taken any longer?"

"Shut up, Richie," Eddie hissed.

"Yeah, shut up, Richie," added Stanley.

"Oh okay, trash the trashmouth, I get it," he fumed, "hey, I wasn't the one scrubbing the bathroom floor imagining that Beverly's sink went all Eddie's mom's vagina on Halloween."

I stared at them in confusion. "bathroom floor?"

Bill suddenly spoke up, "she didn't imagine it. . . I–I s–saw something too."

Bill's statement caused a nauseating feeling to course through me as we all paused our movements in the middle of the street, my hand clutching the handle of my bike hard enough to coat my knuckles white.

"You saw blood too?" Stanley pondered curiously.

Bill shook his head in reply. "Not blood. . . I saw G–G–Georgie."

"You saw what?" I deadpanned.

"It seemed so real," Bill elaborated. "I mean, it seemed like it was him, but there was t–t–this—"

"The clown," Eddie interjected nervously. "Yeah, I saw em' too."

My body went rigid at the statement of the clown, translating the fact that I hadn't been imagining it and that I had in fact seen the treacherous clown in Henry's car and at the quarry.

I felt sweat drench my palms – a habit that I had developed when I became nervous – and my voice caught in my throat.

Ben nodded silently towards Eddie as we all glanced at each other in horror. Each of our features punctured in petrifying fear.

Richie turned around from being perched upon his bike. "Can only virgins see this stuff? Is that why I'm not seeing this shit?"

Richie's words completely drained me of any self-control, causing me to start smacking him on the back in pure rage.

"You insensitive fucking asshole—" I screamed, Stanley and Bill making their way over to yank me off of him.

"What's your fucking problem, Copperhead," Richie cursed, "you're acting like you saw it or something."

My veins blazed with newfound anger as I shouted in his face, "that's because I did fucking see it, I saw it and heard it like three times you stupid prick!"

"When d–did you see it, S–S–Stef?" Bill murmured curiously.

I debated on telling them due to my lack of trust in people, but I argued internally on the fact that they had admitted what they had seen themselves. I also, however, feared Richie's wrath of insults.

I swallowed hard before opening my pursed lips. "I got into a fight with Bowers, he threw me into his car and it felt like the trunk was swallowing me or something, then when Beverly and I were riding the path into the quarry, I saw the clown standing on top of a fucking tree."

Beverly looked up at me in realization. "That's why you seemed so spooked about something?"

"Yeah," I clarified, "I also heard some weird voices both in the car and when I was walking home from Ben's house before Richie and Edward caught up with me."

"Don't call me, Edward," Eddie piped up, turning his gaze into the distance. "Oh shit, that's Belch Huggins' car, w–we should probably get out of here."

"Hey, isn't that the homeschooled kids bike?" Bill pointed out a beaten bike next to Belch's car, both vehicles parked alongside the road.

"Yeah, that's Mike's," Eddie clarified.

"Mike?" I asked, my voice sounding scratchy after my outburst of shouting.

"Yeah, he gets homeschooled by his grandpa because he helps with their farm," Beverly explained.

"I've never heard of him," I shrugged.

Richie rolled his eyes at me, muttering a sentence along the lines of "of course not". I yanked my fist in the air to notify him that my assault was not over.

"We have to help him," Beverly announced.

"We should?" Richie groaned.

Beverly stared at Richie in irritation before thrusting her bike to the ground. "Yes," she stated.

Beverly trudged toward the distant sounds of Mike screaming, as the rest of the losers threw their bikes to the ground – apart from Stanley who just perched it on a kickstand – and trailed behind the angry red-head obediently.

My mind took me back to the words regarding the clown being exchanged between us, the raging fear reverberating through the core of my body as his bright eyes roamed through my thoughts.