"You know what- fuck it," Richie jumped out of his seat and pushed his books across the library table, making Bill look up and raise an eyebrow.
"I'll be a fucking idiot and live in a box." Richie took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and then his temple, digging his nails into the sides of his head.
Ben Hanscom dropped his pen and stared angrily at Richie. "Rich, there's no need to get so worked up," Beverly Marsh smiled and gently laid her hand on Ben's tense shoulder. Bev's smile immediately melted Ben and he was back to his resting jolly-looking face.
"We don't need this revision, we're just making sure we know our shit." Bev tapped her head with her pen and made an amused face at Richie as he placed his hands on the table, supporting his upper body.
The library was quiet, a few old ladies in their 50s were trotting about probably looking for cookbooks or something, and the 6 teenagers all sat around a rectangular table and studied.
Ben had suggested he could help them so they would all get good grades, and Ben's new job as tutor was going quite well- apart from the fact that trying to tutor Richie was like trying to teach a rock how to dance.
The Losers were 16 now, and were finally taking school seriously. Kind of. It had been 3 years since the clown had visited and spread joy everywhere in Derry, and obviously, the Losers had changed.
They were all much more paranoid and scared, and it didn't help that every other day Bill had another story about how he thought he saw the clown disguised as a human in the city centre or in the little cafe around the corner. Richie had gotten sick and tired of the negativity and the bad change.
"We killed the fucker! Of course it's scarred us, it was traumatising and scary, I know I was there, but guys, we can't let that clown ruin the best years of our life, according to the old people. Huh? Come on guys, chin up. He's gone, we're safe and we're free and we're stupid. Let's live our teenage lives and do more stupid shit, 'Kay?"
And I can successfully say whenever any of the kids feel scared or nostalgic, they remember Richie's rare and wise words. They should live their life. Be stupid, have adventure, and all that shit.
But now it was time for school, and exams.
Stan ran his fingers through his neat curly hair and got up as well. "Can we leave now?" he groaned. "I would rather stare at paint dry and hammer a nail into my head then listen to Richie moan about how butt-fuck stupid he is." Stan shot a glare at Richie, as the taller boy smirked.
"You just described being friends with you Stan, you just constantly hammer a nail directly into our foreheads," Richie imitated himself hammering and groaned everytime he did it, making Bev giggle.
"You two sound like two school girls fighting over a celebrity or something, shut up." Eddie said, standing up and pulling his little shorts down so that his butt cheeks weren't exposed.
Richie pretended to look offended.
"You got some bottle, ain't ya, Eds?" Richie put on a fake accent and wrapped his long, skinny arm around Eddie's shoulders.
Eddie practically threw Richie's arm off his shoulders and huffed.
"Fuck off, you idiot," Eddie didn't even make eye contact with anyone as he said, "I need to get going, I'll see you guys later. Bye."
Eddie didn't give anyone a chance to reply, because he was already walking out of the door, throwing his backpack full of books up his shoulder.
"A-anyone know w-wh-why Eddie is acting w-weird?" Bill asked, helping Stan neatly pack away revision cards. Bev shrugged, and looked over at Richie, who was still staring at the door Eddie had just exited.
