Mrs Kaspbrak watched the interaction from her lounge window, stood behind the cream, flowered curtains, peeping through a crack. She'd seen her son pull up in that aids epidemic waiting to happen, and the hug the driver pulled him into.
She missed the grin her only child gave him, and the way his eyes solemnly followed the car. But, she didn't miss the feminine figure in the backseat of the car, reaching their long legs to take the front seat, obviously in a heated discussion with the driver already. This was a fact she made sure to note.
Sonia waited at the door for Eddie to dawdle in, patting him softly on the back as she whispered, "I was wrong about Richie, hunny, seems he's been cured. "
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SATURDAY 6th OCTOBER, 1993 10:15 AM — Eddie Kaspbrak's bedroom
FRIGID SWEAT POOLED on Eddie's spine, the hairs stuck up like stalks, with an uneasy feeling of clamminess surrounding them. It was as if his body could sense a shift in balance of his world. His emotions were irregular, spiking at times when unnecessary, such as every time he saw Heather. Eddie seemed to go into fight or flight mode when she was around. Him, or her, Richie couldn't just have two best friends— not when he already had Eddie.
Eddie rolled over to his left side, sheets underneath him covered in a thin layer of perspiration. The movement allowed a breath of fresh air for his spine. Sunlight crawled into his bedroom through the slither between his curtains, an imminent reminder of the late morning, indicating Eddie had slept in. Alas, a Saturday morning — no school, no early start. Just the arcade with Richie at ten.
At ten.
"Shit!" Eddie cursed whilst falling off the bed, legs entwined in the blankets still atop of the mattress, his upper half upside down facing the window. "Agh— shit, shit, shit!" He squirmed, trying to escape the deathly grips of his covers, the digitalised red blinking numbers of 10:15 teasing him. Late, late— Eddie was late!
The covers, as if sensing his anxiety, released their grip and Eddie went tumbling to the hardwood floor face first. Eddie groaned in pain at the contact, muttering a "stupid bed, stupid sheets."
"Ma! Has Richie been 'round?" Eddie screeched through his ajar door, bustling throughout the room to find suitable clothing, well, clothing in general. Currently, Eddie was shirtless, with only a pair of forest green boxers to adorn his thin legs. Growing frustrated, Eddie half–hazardously chucked on an off white pair of track pants, green henley and what he was sure was Richie's oversized jean jacket.
