𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 ; 𝘙𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 ✗

𝟔.

Derry High | Tue 11:09 AM
Beverly Marsh

"You all are not supposed to be drinking until your 21! And if you do drink, can you at least do it responsibly? And by responsibly I mean don't drive when under the influence and don't get so drunk that you can't function at school the next day! Do you here me!?" Ms. Sinclair fussed into the microphone, her stern tone echoing throughout the gym. She stood in the middle of the basketball court wearing a navy skirt and matching button-up, administrators sitting in chairs on either side of her.

All of the students in the school were smushed together on the uncomfortable, metal bleachers while listening to the woman speak. Her voice sounded noticeably raspy, as she was always yelling at people in the hallways during passing period. Her forehead had gotten wrinkly from lifting her eyebrows in disappointment at almost everything her students did, from forgetting to tie their shoes to being late to class. She obviously favored the "tough love" approach.

Bev was so used to tuning her out that she almost fell asleep from the background noise. The fans next to the sports plaques blew heavily, working extra hard too cool all the warm bodies huddled in the gym today. The big overhead lights were dim, and the shiny floor glistened in them. The only thing keeping her from going completely into her dreamy state was the loud whispers of people in the crowd and the boy sitting next to her.

Richie was undoubtedly her type. On top of his breathtaking appearance, he was intelligent, hilarious, and overall something different then what she was used to. The question was, what would she do about Bill and Ben? It was common knowledge at this point that they both liked her, but choosing one of them could mean breaking up the club, and it was already broken up enough. Richie could be her way out.

Slam! went the tall gym doors when they busted open. The sudden noise caught the attention of everyone, their eyes all going towards the man of the hour: Eddie Kaspbrak.

Most people knew he was alive, but based on the expression of paraprofessionals and this entire assembly, they had no idea. He walked up to the microphone and grabbed it off the stand.

"So um...I'm still alive. Can one of you take all the shit off my locker? Thanks." He said before walking away. He was referring to the countless of notes and cards people made to mourn his death, and the ugly yellow daffodils on a table beneath his picture.

Bev noticed how intently Richie inspected his appearance. Her guess was that he hadn't gotten a good look at him before, and was trying to put a name to the face. In reality, he was taken back by the boys beautiful features. He looked much better now: his dark circles had cleared up, and he wore false lashes and eyeliner that made his Bambi eyes pop. He continued to lean forward while his heart was beating in his throat. In terms of attractive people, Derry was beating Hawkins by a lot.

Once people started piling out of the wooden entrance, Bev swam through the waves of bodies to get to Eddie. Once she emerged from in between two people and could see him better, she ran next to him and asked the only thing she could say in the moment: "What the hell happened?"

"Oh now you care? Spare me Marsh." He says, brushing her off and walking back into the crowd. Bev felt like she deserved his words, all of the losers did. Everything that happened could've been prevented if they had been the bigger person. At least their mistakes didn't have severe repercussions.

• • •

Bev groaned at the overwhelming line of people at the counter that always formed during lunch time. Students were just getting out of school, parents off of work, and their regulars would come around every single day to add to her continuous migraine, since she already hated almost everyone she worked with.

"Beverly!" One of the cashiers called.

The red head ran over there with two unfinished coffees in her hands. "What?"

"Go to Patrick and tell him to get his ass out of that bathroom! We all know he just wants to skip the busy hour!"

Bev nods and puts the coffees down on the counter, jumping at the opportunity for a break. She goes to the corridor in the back that held doors on either side. At the end of the hallway was where the bathroom was, so she jogged to it and knocked on the door rapidly.

"Patrick! You in there!? Rielle says to get your ass out and help us!"

After a couple of knocks she turns around in defeat and begins walking back down the hallway until she hears a loud ugh~! coming from the storage closet. Her eyes enlarge and she walks to the door, hesitantly twisting the doorknob and peeking inside. When she does, the grunts continue and various things could be heard falling over.

"Oh shit." Bev slams! the door shut nervously and quickly walked back to the front.

"Where is he?" Rielle asked, her patience wearing thin.

"He's um...b-busy."

• • •

Minutes go by until someone emerges from the room, and it isn't Patrick. It happened to be Henry Bowers: someone who Bev had seen a couple of times around school but someone she didn't know too well. When he wobbled pass her he used the excuse of getting lost on the way to the bathroom to justify why he was back there, which Bev didn't buy even by for a second. She could barely even nod in his direction as disgust sat in the pit of her stomach.

The next to come out was Patrick. He was still very red in the face and wearing a satisfied grin, his apron a bit wrinkled. Now Bev knows him really well. How could you not know someone who bullied you for years on end? After he took his spot back at the empty register—opening up another line for the customers—realization hit Bev like a truck.

Her natural best friend instincts told her to call Eddie and expose Patrick for the rat he was, but she doesn't right away, she had to think it through. He didn't seem like he wanted to talk to her earlier, so why would he want to talk to her now?

Bev put herself in his shoes: if she were getting cheating on and he knew, she would 100% want to know—friends or otherwise.

She stepped to the side for a second after the line died down and surfed through her contacts for his number. Early in their friendship, they all made a pact to never delete each other's numbers, no matter how mad they got. Bev prayed that he hadn't forgotten about it, since he was the one who made it up in the first place.

She texted him a short iMessage, getting straight to the point. Bev was surprised when he answered back almost instantly, and read the text aloud to herself. "Who the fuck are you to tell me that my man is cheating? Stop trying to start shit with me. I'm blocking this fucking number."

She sighed, placed her phone back in her pocket, and got back to work.

To be continued...
[9/25/20 | 1249 words]