Librarians | Stozier

03

On Tuesday, October 13th, Stan Uris packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple for lunch, taking 16 bites of each. He gave Eddie the rest of his milk carton when half was gone. During that period, Eddie asked him and Bill if they wanted to hang out together after school.

Often times when Eddie had lots of homework to do, he tagged along with Stanley and they walked to the library together. Stan didn't really like walking with him, though. It wasn't about Eddie, as he loved him more than anyone, but counting steps (to the library from school being around 800, and back home around 1500) was a lot harder when Eddie asked him about his day. When he told him it was hectic to walk and talk at the same time, Eddie understood, remaining quiet for the rest of that walk. The day after, he sat next to Stan at lunch, presenting him a small, white box that held a pedometer inside. Eddie explained how he saw it at the pharmacy and thought of Stan, telling him they could then talk about whatever they wanted. Stanley never used it once, but considered it to be one of the most thoughtful gifts he'd ever received.

"Can't," Bill said to Eddie's proposal. "I'm going to R-Richie's house." Stan's eyes broke from his book to land on Bill. Hearing that name made him perk up.

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah, have fun with that." His voice was tinged with jealousy, it was obvious. You could always tell with him, tell what his intentions were. It was something Stan liked about him.

"Have I told you guys he got a job at the library?" Stanley queried casually, as Richie Tozier wasn't yet a sensitive subject. Eddie laughed, regarding it as a joke. "No, really, I saw him in the building yesterday. I asked Ford about it, and apparently he just got hired."

"Oh m-my God," Bill laughed giddier than usual. "There's no way!"

"Richie Tozier working at a library? Who the fuck let that happen?"

"I don't know. Mr. Ford is an idiot."

Stan didn't know much about Richie, only having experience through a couple of his classes, which Richie was loud in, and stories Bill had told here and there. In the two days passing, he didn't think about it too much, mostly just extinguishing any worry by assuming Richie would get fired after a while. That wasn't the case, though, as he'd soon find.

After Derry High School let out on Thursday, the 15th, Stanley Uris took 788 steps to reach the library's low concrete staircase. He sighed, looked at his feet, and proceeded to walk in circles to make it an even 800.

In his head, he visualized the numbers flipping higher like the digital clock on his bedside table. He counted much faster that way, rather than sputtering a quick "seven hundred eighty-eight" under his breath. The numbers flipped up pleasantly as he felt his weight shifting up and down on the asphalt. 789, 790, 791, 792, 793. He breathed in and out as his shoes made contact with the parking lot. 794, 795, 796 (his favorite of the ten), 797-

"What are you doing?" a voice asked. It was a familiar one. Stanley stopped and turned to face a boy who was putting his bike into the rack. He examined the thick glasses and messy hair on him, concluding that he was, in fact, Richie.

"None of your business." He walked in place for 3 quick steps before going up the stairs, the large 800 in his head evaporating. Richie followed him and let out a small laugh.

"Okay." He walked behind Stan, entering the front door on the right side. They trotted together in silence, Richie being a bit too close for Stan's comfort. Stanley sped up his pace, walking to the coat rack and taking off his jacket. "First day," Richie remarked. He took his coat off as well, only copying what Stan did as he had no clue.

"I know," Stanley said flatly as he hung his brown coat on the far right of the rack, the hanger making an irritating metal-to-metal cling. Richie's eyes followed him as he walked out into the main section hastily, trying to end the conversation.

"So, what's on the agenda today, big boy?"

Stan still avoided eye contact as he clocked in, swiping his employee card through the slit in the machine. "I don't know, ask Mr. Ford."

"He said you'd show me around," he started, getting easily distracted. "Woah, cool. Do I get a card, too?"

Stanley sighed, shut his eyes, and pressed the space between his brows with his thumb and index finger. "I suppose so. Follow me."