mixtape (reddie)

Chapter 19

2:02 am.

Who would be calling so late? Sure, it's a Friday night, and it's not as if Richie was sleeping anyway, but still. If it's someone calling the Tozier residence to make an emergency appointment with Went like they so often would; why would they call at this hour? Richie answers the phone anyway, his father would kill him if he were to cost the man a client.

"Richie?" Stanley Uris' voice greets Richie on the other line.

Normally, Richie would be more than happy to hear from his new friend, but the clock hanging above the wall phone reminds Richie that this is a time of night that people like Stan Uris should not be awake. Something must be wrong.

"Yeah?" Richie asks, his voice quiet and lacking any of the humor or teasing it usually carries for Stan.

Halfway across town, standing in the middle of the kitchen and only wearing a pair of pajamas pants and his Christmas robe, Stan Uris begins to cry. He doesn't know why he's calling Richie Trashmouth Tozier of all people, but he needs to say it. He needs to say it. He feels like he's lying, worse, he feels like he himself is a lie. A sham. He can't take it anymore.

Stan Uris breathes rapidly, his fingers tightening around the phone cord as the kitchen tiles beneath his bare feet freeze his tiny toes. Even in his frantic state of mind, he still finds the time to reach out and straighten the pen clipped to the notepad on the wall. Written in his mother's handwriting is a grocery list, and then his father's note about meeting with Mr. Jenkins. Stan doesn't know what it's about, but he does know his dad comes home angry each time that he goes out with Mr. Jenkins.

"Stan?" Richie's voice brings the boy back to reality, and it almost feels as if he is over at the Tozier house in the kitchen with Richie beside him. Richie's kitchen is smaller, but it's more organized. Stan especially likes the spice rack. Richie presses on, feeling more and more concerned by the sobs breaking through the telephone line. "Stan? Stan?"

"Today with Henry Bowers," Stan cries out, keeping his voice low so that he doesn't get caught. Richie feels bad, but there's nothing he can do about it. Stan wouldn't let Richie come sneak in the way that Eddie does, the two boys are just too different. Maybe Stan still respects his parents, or maybe he just respects the authority. Either way, he's no rule breaker. Richie's knows this. "W-What did he... what did he mean? About you?"

Richie pauses, his body growing cold as he stares out the kitchen window at the hanging paper moon. Silk light lays down on every kitchen surface, going to sleep over countertops and cutting boards. The room feels cold, but maybe that's just Richie's fear taking shape in his mind.

Stanley and Richie had been walking to class together, Richie having biology in room 304 while Stan's history lecture takes place in 305. When they realized their paths crossed, the two began walking to class together daily and usually telling each other about their uneventful mornings and unfair loads of coursework. Today, however, the two were plucked straight from the hall without a single head turning to see where they went.

Patrick Hockstetter and Victor Criss shoved the two into the boy's bathroom, Richie hitting the side of a urinal and falling to the floor while Stan was held against the sinks. He looked terrified, that much was obvious, and seeing such a look cross his friends face (even if just for a moment) made Richie shift gears into defense mode.

"What the fuck, Hen?" Richie scoffed, standing to his feet just to be shoved back down by Belch's fat boot colliding with his chest.

Henry emerged from a stall, twiddling his beloved knife between his fingers with a unicorn delicacy to his fluid motions. He walked by Stan with a dirty look, but paid the kid no attention. He had crouched in front of Richie, placed his knee very carefully between Richie's thighs, and then pressed the blade right to the spectacled kid's cheek. Stan cried out, but Richie felt nothing. No fear. He knew Henry wouldn't do it, he doesn't have the balls. He never will. Maybe he'd find the nerve to cut some other kid like Ben Hanscom, but Richie knows that he will never fall victim to any pain exceeding a punch or two when it comes to Henry Bowers.