mixtape (reddie)

Chapter 1

11:42 p.m.

Richie's dirty, beat up shoes have a committed relationship with windowsills. Every night for the past year, Richie has been propping himself up in the window frame, glancing back at his bedroom door, and jumping the ten foot drop down to the garden residing around his house. The windowsills creak and groan under his weight, but still, their relationship with his old Chucks does not falter. Even when Richie's shoes intimately dig into the soil seconds after he jumps.

Once he's stabilized on the ground, he reaches around to pull his rusty bike from the rose bushes he uses to hide his evidence. The handles tremble and shake as Richie mounts, yet they continue to steer and persist underneath the boy's iron-fist grip.

Tonight has been bad, but it will be okay soon. It's always okay. She makes it better.

The streets are empty around this time of night, as if the world has been put away from the outside and every traffic light has gone to rest. Richie feels it creep up on him, with each kick that his legs make against the ground to gain momentum, he feels the loneliness of night time. It slithers in like the cold, and he knows it's irrational, but the boy can't help but wonder if the world is hiding from him. Sometimes, that's how it feels.

"Tozier, you're late!" He hears her shout from down the block. The cold is instantly diminished, being replaced with the warmth that only comes from the sparks and embers that reside within Beverly Marsh's hair.

"Got a bit caught up fuckin' your mom, Bev," Richie calls back. He pedals into view, the fluorescent street light opening up the world around him. Then, Bev is there, illuminated just like the angel that she is. She laughs at Richie's crude comment, and for a second, he mistakes it as heaven's choir.

"Your watch stop working? I do believe 11:30 is our usual rendezvous time," she tells him.

Richie dumps his bike against the curb, staring down at the girl who he has assigned as his own personal savior. He won't ever admit it, but he would surely be dead had he not met Beverly.

"My watch works perfectly fine, yours is just too early," he shakes his head. Bev smiles at him, a trusting smile, one that ignites something in Richie that he never feels with anyone else. She believes in him. Not many people can say the same.

"Alright, then, come on," she grabs him by the wrist and starts dragging the lanky boy across the street.

It started a little over a year ago, when the temperature was just on the cusp of cool whispers. The leaves had yet to decay and turn brown, but chilly air had nipped at their young cheeks all night. Beverly Marsh had phoned the Tozier house and kindly requested to speak to Richie, who didn't get many callers. She said to meet her across the street from the QwikStar gas station once his parents were
asleep, and the boy had not asked why. He simply agreed, and watched the clock for the rest of the evening, silently urging his parents to succumb to their drunken slumbers as they did every night.

Upon arrival, Beverly had smiled up at Richie, and said "Shall we eat?" Her hair was still long at the time, and Richie will never forget the way she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder to protect her neck from the cold.

Beverly had figured that Richie did not consume the correct amount of food for a growing 15, 14 at the time, year old boy. She was right, in fact, spot on. Beverly had picked up on the vague hints her friend would drop when it came to his parents' behavior, so it was only her first instinct to begin feeding the boy and picking up where his parents slacked off.

Every night, they meet at 11:30 p.m., run to the Quick StarQwikStar gas station and get as much junk food as they can, and then splurge in the 24/7 laundromat next door. Nobody does their laundry at night, and certainly nobody would expect to find two kids there either.