It Comes To Hawkins

Hello? This is the Kaspbrak residence.

Richie was woken up by a loud bang.
"Fuck! Shit! I'm up! Stop!" Richie yelled to his empty room, not remembering where he was. Shit. At least his nightmare was cut off. He knew he was about to be woken up by his cries soon anyway. A vague and disinterested voice mumbled "Language!" before Karen's voice sounded throughout the house, "Boys! Dinner! And Mike! Stop making such a racket down there!"
A muffled, "Sorry, mom" was just barely heard by Richie, followed several other kids shouting, "Sorry, Mrs. Wheeler!". Who the fuck was that?
Richie mumbled, "Coming." Why didn't they wake him up sooner to at least help with dinner? He didn't need to be made dinner, he could have made some for himself and the others. Fuck. Richie sat up groaning, his muscles popping like a fireplace with pine needles thrown into the mix. Making his way down to the dinner table with slight hesitation as he forgot where to go for a second. It wasn't that it was a big house it was just that he was out of his element. Too far out, for his comfort level, if he was being honest. Shit! He forgot to call the losers! Slightly jogging down the rest of the hall, he asked Karen if he could use the phone. After hearing he could, he quickly found the phone and dialed Eddie's number as it was the first one he knew by heart. While Richie waited for Eddie to pick up the phone, he twisted the cord nervously. After what felt like forever he heard the voice he forgot he had been dying to hear.
"Hello? This is the Kaspbrak residence."
"Eddie Spaghetti! How I've missed your angelic voice!"
"Richie?!? You asshole I've been waiting all day to hear from you!!"
"Aww you've been waiting alllll day just to talk to little old me? Gee Ed's, if you wanted to get into my pants THAT badly you shoulda just-"
"Ugh! Shut the fuck up Richie! And don't call me Ed's!" Richie could hear his smile through the phone and it took his breath away for a moment before remembering how to speak.
"How could I when I know your mom loves it when I talk- or, you know, move my mouth a lot pressing up agai-"
"I swear to fuck if you make one more dirty joke about my mother I-"
"What Ed's?"
"Don't call me Ed's."
"Fine Eddie spaghetti."
"Richie-"
"Geez!! Fine! Ed's spagheds"
"What the fuck even is that?!"
"Come on Ed's you know you love it."
"No I don't."
"Mmhmmm just keep telling yourself that."
"God you're such an asshole."
"All for you baby."
"Richie!"
"Okay okay fine! Shit-"
Karen looked at him and reminded him dinner was ready. Richie modded and mouthed 'one second'. "As much as I know you would love to hear my voice allll day long, I have to go but I'll talk to you soon."
"Ugh shut up about that Trashmouth!! Shit yeah me too- bye!"
With that, Richie hung up the phone and walked over to the dinner table, grabbing the only empty seat.
"Was that your girlfriend?" Mike, ever the obnoxious one, asked.
"No, and you would be able to tell if you even listened to one word of our conversation instead of just assuming it's my girlfriend so you could possibly make fun of me for it."
"Richie." Karen said as a warning. Richie heeded it with a lowered head while he picked up his napkin and actually looked at what was before him. It was a fucking feast. It was five times what the Toziers would have on Thanksgiving. Which was basically a pack of cigarettes and a store bought crappy mashed potatoes with a small piece of overcooked turkey.
"T-thank you Mrs. Wheeler." Fuck. He took a medium sized piece of pork and a smaller piece of asparagus with the same amount of salad. He definitely wouldn't be able to fill his plate. He's never had that much food in one sitting without throwing up before. Looking over, everyone's plates showed no white on the bottom. Feeling more like a freak than ever he decided to finally tune back into the conversation, just in time however, to catch what Mrs. Wheeler was saying.
"Tomorrow, Richie, Mike will show you around"
A moan of protest sounded from Mike and Karen continued on as if he wasn't there.
"- and you'll explore Hawkins. The next day, you'll start your first school day in Hawkins High. Okay, Richie?"
"Sounds great Mrs. Wheeler." He replied.
"Good, that's all settled then!" She smiled brightly. Richie forced a smile on his face. He hoped it didn't turn out to be a grimace, but judging from Nancy's look, it was. Richie sighed and turned back to the delicious meal at hand. He could tell Mrs. Wheeler noticed how little was on his plate but didn't push it. For that he was grateful.
When the meal was over, he stood up and took his plate and Holly's plate who was next to him to the kitchen. It was purely by reflex that he did these things as he had to do all the chores in his house back in... in... Derry. Fuck! Was he forgetting already?! Richie put the dishes in the sink and came back to the dinner table to get more, lost in thought.
"Oh, Richie, you don't need to do that, I've got it." Mrs. Wheeler said with surprise and amusement.
"What? Oh. Umm okay." Richie said in confusion. He didn't realize he didn't need to clear the table in this house. Awkwardly, he thanked Mrs. Wheeler and left for his room. Finding the door, he remembered he forgot to unpack the night before. Quickly grabbing his bag and unpacking his clothes into the bare wooden dresser, he realized how much space he had for his clothes and snorted. As if anyone had that many clothes. Well, no. As if HE had that many clothes. Looking at what was left, he unpacked his records, Walkman and five Polaroid pictures of the losers that Ben took with his camera he got a couple Christmas's ago. He realized he couldn't play any of his records and cursed. He couldn't take his record player with him- his mom would kill him. Though, she didn't use it. He guessed he could take it to a record store and get the guy at the counter to play his records. Maybe he could even save up for one if he was really lucky. Richie pinned up the pictures on his wall above the dresser and looked at the losers, missing them so much that it hurt. Swearing, he picked up the cigarettes he got from Bev and lighter that he carried around always because she always needed a light. With these, he opened his window to find there was no screen. Even better, he thought, to escape from. Lighting his cigarette, he enjoyed the feeling of warmth and the taste of the cigarettes. Blowing out fo his nose, he grimaced. He was going to have to sleep sometime. After some consideration, he decided he would stumble to bed when he was tired. When 3 am rolled around, he could barely keep his eyes open. Grumbling, he put out his cigarette mournfully and moved to his bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.