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eight

"FREAK!"

Richie Tozier glanced up and saw a guy who looked like a junior smirking at him.

Richie's forehead creased, and his mouth retaliated with a, "But still looking better than your mom when I left her last night!"

The guy snorted, and turned away from Richie, who's forehead had creased.

Freak was a new one. Usually it was loudmouth, four eyes, kid-that-never-shuts-up- but freak?

Richie shook the encounter from his mind, pushing his glasses up on his nose, and continued towards his first period class.

As he went, he heard whispers swirling around him, and his anxiety increased a bit more, catching snippets like: "Oh man, no way." and "Are you serious!?"

He finally managed to breathe again as he stepped into the biology room, trying to clear his head.

What the hell?

No one talked about him. Richie had made sure of that.

No one said a word.

And if they did, it was legends. Rumors.

"Did you hear Richie Toizer smokes behind the dumpsters in the back of the school?"

"Did you hear that Richie Tozier broke the law and his gay best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, had to bail him out of jail?"

"And did you hear about the time his cousin came to town and he humilated him by getting him drunk at a party and filming him having sex with a random girl?"

"Did you hear that Richie Toizer got suspended for a week for slamming Tristan Morris against the lockers, breaking his nose, and then throwing him onto the ground for calling Richie's ex girlfriend a hoe?"

"Did you hear that Richie Tozier tried to kill himself?"

Richie's blood went freezing cold, and he felt his throat close up, cutting off his airway.

Another voice answered back: "No fucking way, man. What'd he do?"

The first person snorted. "Apparently he sliced up his wrists, almost bled to death. That's why he always wears long sleeves- the freak."

"Why'd he do it?"

There was a moment of silence, and then the first person said in a loud whisper that could be carried across the room, "Cause he was in love with a whore, I guess. She left, and the Trashmouth couldn't take it. Pussy."

The second voice laughed, and then the bell sounded faintly in Richie's head and he moved like a zombie towards his seat, his head ringing with the statements, swirling around and around as he tried to get a grip on himself.

How the fuck did they know about that? Could the Losers have-

He shook his head hard. No, they wouldn't. They may be angry, but there was no way in hell they would out him like that.

So who-

And then it came to him, and he knew just like that who had let his secret "slip".

As he sat in a stony silence, hating himself and hating how fucked up he was, a piece of paper hit him in the back of the head.

"Hey. Freak." A voice hissed, and Richie turned, shooting daggers with his eyes at the offender.

A boy with shaggy blonde hair and green eyes raised his eyebrows at him, leaning forward onto his desk, and Richie snapped, "What do you want?"