Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
{ CHAPTER ELEVEN , WHAT I WOULD DO WITHOUT YOUR FIREWORKS }
BLAKE STARED DOWN at her notebook, tapping her pen against the thin paper. She moved her list of reasons to love Bev to the side, and made a new list.
'WHAT I'LL DO WITHOUT OUR FRIENDSHIP '
Grabbing a sweet tart, she chewed on it slowly. Oh so badly Blake wanted to leave her house and give Beverly her supply of sweet tarts, to just forget all about the stupid clown and Bill's obvious feelings fo the redhead.
' ONE; SPEND MORE TIME WITH RICHIE '
Blake spent the last few days watching Richie win at Street Fighter and looking after the twins and her mother. If anything, Blake felt like she should be getting paid for the babysitting she was doing. But she didn't mind looking after Richie; it wasn't just a one sided friendship, he looked out for as well.
' TWO; TAKE SOME TIME FOR MYSELF. I NEED TO START TAKING CARE OF TEETH & ACNE '
Blake recently broke out in anxiety zits. After the incidents at Neibolt, she found her anxiety at an all time high. Beverly usually helped her with her anxiety, but now Richie had to take that place. And so far he was doing great. He always helped her calm down when bad thoughts rushed in and when her mind was making up the most bizarre situations she could be in.
' THREE; I'LL SPEND MORE OF MY TIME SCARED OF MY OWN SHADOW '
After all the supernatural events she experienced, Blake wanted nothing more than to keep her lights on at night. And when she was scared, she would think of Beverly go help comfort herself. She wanted nothing more than to clasp her soft hand into her own. Beverly helped her feel fearless, and now, with her anchor gone, fear is what controlled her.
Angrily, Blake groaned and closed her book. Closing her eyes, she calmed her temper. Anger wasn't a common feeling for her — but her emotions were everywhere. Blake felt stuck. Stuck in her skin. Stuck in her bedroom. Stuck in the constant feeling of 'what's next?' She also felt a sting of weakness. She felt as if she was depending on Beverly too much. But isn't that what young love is?
Picking up her sweet tart box, she started to suck on one as she walked down stairs. Carolyn stood in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for something. It's been awkward silence since Blake found her drunk and passed out. Blake didn't want to ask what she was looking for, she had no desire to involve herself with her mothers mental drama. She thought it out; making a plan to help with her anxieties.
Step one; wait until Carolyn is away from the cup cabinet. Step two; grab a cup. Step three; go to the fridge and get out the jug of water. Step four; pour the water in the cup. Step five; run!
But the odds were never in the young McCoy's favors.
"Sweetie, do you need something?" "Uh, yeah, yeah. Just a cup, Momma." It seemed as if eye contact was thrown out the window. Blake liked it that way — her mother wasn't able to see the aching apprehension in her daughter's eyes.
Carolyn got out a cup and set it on the counter, not wasting a second to resume her search for her missing items. Blake grabbed the cup and followed the rest of her plan. Open the fridge, get out the water, pour the water, put the jug back into the fridge. Taking a sip of the cool water, Blake calmed down immediately. The frosty feeling in her throat cleared her mind, and whisked her intrusive thoughts away.
It was silent as Blake drank her water, keeping an eye on her mother even though her feet wanted to move away. Then, the doorbell rang. Blake jumped a bit, spilling a few drops of water on her sweater. "Crap," she muttered. Setting her water down, she walked to the front door and looked through the peep hole. There stood Richie Tozier, pushing up his glasses and looking around her front porch as if he was standing on pins and needles.
Blake opened the front door without hesitation, expecting to talk to him first, but he immediately engulfed her in a hug. Hugging him back, Blake rubbed his back, soothing the boy. "Rich, you okay?"
Richie pulled away from the hug, looking at her, just shaking his head. She could see the fog covering the lenses of his glasses, the tears that tickled his cheeks and the dirt that was stamped on his Hawaiian shirt. "Come in, we can talk in my room." Richie nodded and followed Blake up to her bedroom.
Blake hurriedly shut her notebook and set down her box of sweet tarts, listening to Richie closing the door and sitting on her bed.
"Tell me what happened," Blake said as she sat down next to him. "I was just at the arcade, playing with this guy when Bowers comes in —" Richie sniffled, "— and he called me a faggot."
Blake's eyes were filled with empathy as she hugged her best friend. She couldn't imagine what it was like. She made sure no one could use her sexuality in a reviled manner, that's why she was only out to Richie.
"Bowers is an idiot. I want to say to just ignore him, but we know how he acts. The taunting is only going to get worse. But, Richie, I'm here for you. I'm always here, and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon." "I think I am one, though." "Okay then, but just know that I love you. I will always love you, who you really are isn't going to change that."
Richie lifted his head, a smile on his face as he wiped away his tears. "I love you too," he spoke softly.
So, Beverly, the question still stands. What would Blake McCoy do without your fireworks of a presence? They both expected themselves to sulk for days, stuffing carbs down their throats to eat away the sadness. But stress eating was crossed off the list.
And getting over each other was scribbled out in red ink.
——————————————————————
aleeya speaks! [ unedited chapter ! ] i'm back! though idk when i'll be posting the next chapter,,, as i haven't even started it lmAo but i hope you enjoyed this one! also,,,,, i noticed how my style of writing for this book is so messy 😭 idk why i write like this when it comes to sweet tarts,,, it just sorta happens—
