Math Tutor 🥀 Reddie

Part 2

The tutoring session went okay, when Richie wasn't talking, of course. How the guy apparently maintained straight A's, Eddie didn't have the slightest clue. He'd learned that Richie, like Eddie, had been forced into the program by his parents.

It was mostly an effort to get him out of the house. When Richie didn't have anything to do, he talked their ears off. During the lesson, Eddie had snidely asked him if he did anything but talk, to which Richie had answered "Yeah, I spend the rest of my time with your mother."

Now though, math tutoring was the last thing on his mind. The brown haired boy stood among the overgrown grass, leaning up against weather-beaten wood. He felt scared to breathe.

"Come out, half pint," the grating voice called, "Come out and maybe I won't kill you!"

Eddie quickly reached into his fanny pack and took a puff of his inhaler. The footsteps grew louder as Henry Bowers, the town nutcase, rounded the corner of the old house on Neibolt street. Eddie knew enough to stay wary of Bowers.

He'd seen how kids looked after Henry was done with them, and maybe he was a wuss for being a teenager and hiding from a bully, but he wasn't going to take his chances. Bowers wasn't a normal bully, and that was easy to see. He was plain sick in the head! So fine, Eddie thought, I'm a wuss.

He held his breath. The menacing footsteps drew near. Soon, Henry was in Eddie's line of vision. He prayed silently that he wouldn't be seen. However, he knew that hope was, well, rather hopeless.

A rush of pure fear hit him and soon Eddie's feet were racing across the field before he could even process what he was doing. Sharp blades of grass brushed his legs as he made a beeline towards the fence.

I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed.

"I'll get you, bastard!" the voice called.

Tell them I want closed casket.

He reached the street. His breath was shortening; his throat started to pinch, feeling like a bent up plastic straw.

Please don't have an asthma attack.

Bowers was gaining on him, he knew it. The sound of his dumbass cowboy boots hitting the ground grew louder and faster. The black pavement seemed to be moving, twisting and turning in all different ways. Eddie didn't know if this was due to asthma or fear.

Reaching the end of the street, Eddie made a sharp right and saw what was almost certainly his saving grace that day. The rest of The Losers sat around a tree, talking about God knows what.

Six heads turned towards the scrawny brunette and the angsty mullet kid. Each of them immediately looked alarmed.

"Get the hell out of here!" yelled Bowers, but he didn't go any further than that. Eddie figured that Henry had decided that a terrified asthmatic wearing a fanny pack and his astounded friends weren't worth his time at the moment.

Eddie took a long puff of his inhaler and sat down on the grass.

"God, Eds. What the hell happened? Did you not get our text? We were all gonna meet up here but you didn't reply so-" Richie inquired in a worried tone.

"Don't call me that. And yeah I guess I missed it."

Mike Hanlon, a boy with deep brown eyes and a serious demeanor, stood up.

"We should probably go," he suggested, "You guys know Bowers'll eat us alive,"

Beverly Marsh nodded her head in agreement, her curly red hair bouncing around her face. "Yeah, I really don't feel like messing around with any crazies today."

One by one, each of the friends rose. Even Richie, who would've loved to give Bowers a piece of his mind knew that they'd be better off somewhere else.

"We should go get ice cream," he said.

"Y-Yeah let's g-go get ice c-c-cream," said William Denbrough, more commonly known as Stuttering Bill.

(A/N.  To be continued.  Please vote !)