adjectives | reddie

twenty&five - tired

beverly flopped onto mike's bed carelessly next to stanley, who gave a look of surprise but brushed it off. stanley's head rested on bill's shoulder softly as we all watched bill play with his hair. "you're all weirdos for staring," stanley muttered, "i hope you know."

"whatever," mike responded, "you're displaying it." beverly and i nodded in agreement. stanley only scoffed in response as bill chuckled, cracking a smile. his eyes looked down at stanley's hand that laid comfortably on his lap.

stanley and i never talked about what happened on new year's eve. we pretended like nothing had happened, but we both knew that it happened. it was fine; it was like it evaporated into the sky.

beverly started to hum an unfamiliar tune slowly. she stared blankly out the bedroom window with a baby chick on her lap. the chicks had just came out of their eggs on the second of january, since a chicken had laid her eggs early september. she decided to name it effy. she said that it was her mom's nickname in high school. "hi, eff," she whispered to the small animal.

"you can keep it," mike reassured, "though you might need a few things, and your parents might get angry."

"my dad is too drunk on the chair to care about a small animal living in the house," she shook her head.

when we headed out of the house, beverly tucked the small chick in our pocket as we headed down the road. as our feet trekked down the path, we decided to talk about various different things. bill, for example, had finally started to feel a change in his family life. ever since his brother went missing, the house was quiet. the times where piano music from his mother filled the air were now moments of strain and solitude. his father always insisted on being alone and working on something, anything in the garage. apparently, they had changed their minds and started to sort through georgie's old things.

stanley, on the other hand, wanted to escape his house constantly. his father had a high expectations for stanley but low confidence in him. he felt pressured into everything; his faith, his grades, even his own identity.

"so you haven't told him yet?" beverly asked.

"no," stanley shook his head, "i'll tell him on his death bed."

mike had recently been watching out for more eggs to hatch. he explained that chickens normally lay their eggs in the summer and hatch in the winter. he insisted that his family kept three different nests; effy had come from the first one. beverly lifted her hand up to her chest and pet the chick that was in her coat pocket. a small smile was displayed across her face.

i didn't have anything to say. nothing really interesting had happened without richie being involved, and i don't necessarily anyone needs to know everything yet. it was obvious beverly knew; she was smart and richie's closest friend. they both knew each other like the back of each other's hands, but richie was just clueless. he can't read social queues as well as beverly can (although barely anybody can).

the group went quiet. there was no awkward silence; we all just instead did something besides talk for a small moment. stanley and bill had looked at each other for a moment, both smiling like idiots. mike had started to readjust his jacket. he had always hated that jacket; you could tell. however, he didn't have the heart to ask for things. he was content with just making everyone happy like the people pleaser he was.

"does anyone want to go to my house and watch a movie?" stanley suggested, finally breaking to silence. we all looked at him and back to each other before looking back and nodding. we each let out a noise of agreement.

stanely's street still had plenty of their christmas decorations out. all of the floral pieces in the yards were dead, so they displayed lights and decorated their evergreen trees. stanley's house wasn't as decorated, however. his parents instead planted lily of the valleys that survive through winter. they were slightly exposed over the snow on the lawn. "oh so you live on this street," beverly laughed lightly with her comment. stanley gave a small unimpressed look, but he wasn't angry; his smile was still there. we all turned into his driveways carefully to not slip on ice and made it to the door.

stanley twisted it open, revealing the scent of eucalyptus incense. andrea uris gave a small smile to all of us. her long, blonde hair flipped behind her as she turned her whole head. "hello," she greeted, continuing to stir the bowl in her hands. her hair was pinned back in a sixties style, revealing her features. some wrinkles started to appear on her tired face that weren't there when stanley and i were younger. her brown eyes were tired, bored. her whole demeanor screamed sixties styled housewife; she was quite the opposite of maggie tozier in plenty of ways. regardless, she was still a nice woman and a good mother.

tired

"hello, mrs. uris," i greeted with a smile. she only muttered something in response. however, she took a double take as soon as her eyes landed on beverly.

"hello darling!" she smiled, "are you stanley's friend?"

"yeah mom," stanley nodded dramatically, "my friend." his mom gave him a quick look that told him that he was having a slight attitude. she turned back and started to put whatever was in the bowl into the pan.

"anyways," she sighed, "please be quiet. your father is sleeping, and we don't need to stress him out."

we all nodded and headed into stanley's room. he slowly twisted the door, revealing the room, but he slowly closed it again. "that didn't feel right, sorry," he explained before opening the door again. the room was neatly organized, and the lighting was dim. his room smelled different than the rest of the house; it smelled of lavender.

"well," stanley sighed, "i'm sorry we weren't able to watch a movie." he laid on the bed, resting his head on top of bill's lap. none of us seemed to mind that we weren't watching a movie. instead, we just continued talking and laughing. it felt like were normal teenagers instead of the group of rejects. it was the perfect coming of age moving.