[9.29]
Dear Richie,
Trashmouth.
The name sounded like venom on her tongue.
The name was laced with hatred and disgust, thinking she had the right to spit out that name like it was a slur.
Though, after you made one of your out of line jokes and she gave you that look and uttered that name...I saw you shrink.
I saw your eyes gloss over and I saw your smile falter, but she didn't. Or maybe she did, because she's evil. She's a fucking bitch for thinking she can call you that, nonetheless use it as degradation.
Because you are a trashmouth, Richie. Always have been, always will be. It's your name around the school. It was never an insult when the losers called you it, because it's who you are. You can't change that about yourself.
But the way she spat it at you made it seem like she wants you to change.
I wish you would come to me if she's making you feel bad. I hope to god she isn't hurting you.
It's your reputation, what you're known as, being a smart-ass who never knows how to shut his mouth. Trashmouth Tozier. The star junior of Derry High.
Sometimes I forget I was the first to ever call you by that name.
"Eddie?"
Beverly's whisper seemed to echo in the near empty library.
Eddie was suddenly ripped out of his headspace when he heard his name, whipping his head up from his writing and closing his journal a little forcefully.
"W-What?" He sputtered out.
Her concerned eyes scanned his face. "I asked you what you got for number seven," she said slowly. "You're supposed to be helping me with math, remember?"
"Right," he laughed nervously, taking out his Calculus homework from beneath his journal and extending his arm to hand it to Beverly across the small library table. "Just take my papers."
She scanned over his face one more time, before reluctantly taking the homework. "Alright. Thanks. Is everything okay?"
"Just sunshine and flowers, Bev," He sighed, resting his chin on his palm as he picked at the leather on the cover of his journal. "Perfect."
"Eddie," Bev said again. "I know how hard this has been on you. Talk to me, please. Talk to any of us. Ever since Bill and Ben gave you that journal all you're doing is writing in it or reading it."
I know how hard this has been on you.
No, you don't. You have no idea.
I don't mean to be bitter to everyone but they're all talking to me like I'm a child. I'm not a kid, I'm heartbroken.
Eddie didn't reply at first. "They told me to write out my feelings, so I am. Is that a problem?"
"Of course it's not. We just hoped that if you could write out your feelings first then you would come talk to us. But now you're more closed off then ever."
"Well you know what, Bev?" he spat with a little more bite then he intended, causing Bev to make an expression like she had just been slapped. "You guys don't fucking understand."
