Chapter Text
“Um… hi,” a very nervous Eddie plays with his fingers as he mumbles to the dark-haired boy sitting on the swing in front of him. The boy looks up from the colorful comic book laying open on his lap.
“Oh! Hi,” the boy smiles warmly at Eddie. “I’m Richie. Wanna read my comic with me?” He gestures to the book in his lap.
Eddie looks down at it for a minute, thinking. “Well, um… I was actually gonna ask you if you need a band-aid or something for your knee.”
Richie looks down at his scraped knee that Eddie was pointing to like he didn’t realize it was even there. “Oh, that! No, I’m fine.” He smiles again. “Hey what’s your name?”
“Mama says that if you don’t take care of a boo-boo, it could get infected, which could lead to you getting a disease, which will probably lead to you being dead soon,” Eddie rambled off at the now stunned boy. After a minute of Eddie looking off in the distance, lost in his head, undoubtedly thinking about diseases or infections, and Richie just staring at him confused, Richie speaks, pulling Eddie back into reality.
“Well I feel fine, but thanks doctor,” he tips an invisible hat at Eddie.
“My name is Eddie.”
“And I’m Richie. Nice to meet ya, Doctor Eds.”
“One, you already told me your name, and two, my name is Eddie. Not Doctor Eds - or even Eds at all. That doesn’t even sound like a very good name.” Eddie thinks for another minute, staring off into space. “Anyway, can I please just fix your knee. It’s too gross and if you fall again or bump into something, that won’t do any good to it healing.”
“Uh, sure? I guess,” Richie holds out his knee a bit for Eddie and goes back to reading his comic.
Eddie gets on his knees, mindful of the patches of dirt on the ground that will hurt his knees if he’s not too careful, and starts on Richie’s scrapped, raw knee, pulling out supplies from his dark blue fanny pack.
“Are you excited for kindergarten to start tomorrow?” Richie asks over his book, now being held up in front of his face.
“Not really. The other kids will be mean and make weird faces at me or something,” Eddie hums while looking at his selection of band-aids in his fanny pack.
“Why would they bully you?” Richie asks curiously, putting down his book.
“I don’t know. I wear this fanny pack which I guess not a lot of people like, but it’s actually very handy and Mama says I need it for all my important stuff,” he says, taking the white paper off the back of a small superman band-aid.
“That’s dumb. I like your fanny pack. It’s cute and does look handy,” he smiles happily at Eddie then looks down at the band-aid now taped to his knee. “Oh my gosh! I love superman! I’m looking at that comic right now. See?” He shoves the book into Eddie’s face.
Eddie giggles, pushing the book away. “I know. I saw it when I came over here. You’re lucky. It was my last superman band-aid. Anyway, I gotta go. Mama’s probably wondering where I am. She only let me look around the play area for five minutes. It’s been,” he looks down at the watch on his wrist, “six minutes! Oh no, I really gotta go. Bye Richie!”
Richie doesn’t get a chance to say anything back because Eddie is already running away towards the office building located behind the sandbox. Richie gives a small wave to Eddie’s retreating figure, then bends over the book in his lap again, looking at the band-aid.
He touches it softly, then immediately winces from the pain. He smiles.
“Okay, everyone! Listen up.”
Richie looks up from the tan band-aid taped onto his knee, to see his English teacher, Mr. Slater, waving his hands around trying to get the attention of all the loud students.
“We are starting on our new essay assignment tomorrow. You will all have a partner to work with - stop looking at each other, I’m picking them. Yes, I know, I’m the worst teacher ever, ugh your lives are so hard,” Mr. Slater says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Many students snicker. Some grumble.
Richie is not excited about this assignment. He’s never excited about any assignment ever, but especially when it includes having to work with other people. Richie does have friends, not much, but two is enough for him, but he doesn’t have any friends in most of his classes, including English. He actually prefers for his teachers to pick their partners so he doesn’t have to be the only one left just standing there, making a fool of himself by not having a partner. He wouldn’t actually mind if he got paired up with most of the kids in his classes. Unless they were Henry Bowers of course. Or Eddie Kaspbrak.
Eddie Kaspbrak he could possibly handle, at least better than being with Henry Bowers. Henry was the bully of the school- no. He was the bully of the town. He was basically all things terrible in the world and someone you definitely didn’t want to be around. Ever. Henry has weekly Beat-Up-Richie sessions with his gang and Richie, obviously. Richie is actually glad it’s only once a week and not every day so he has some time to heal. Most times they don’t get him too bad, but it’s rare if Richie gets out of one of his beat-up-sessions with no bruises or scars.
Bowers and his gang have started to leave him alone more the more he grew up. He was now in his Junior year of high school and the “sessions” have been getting much shorter and not so consistent. Richie worries it’s because they’re beating up more innocent kids. But, who’s Richie kidding, they definitely are. That’s why Henry Bowers is one of the worst people to exist.
Mr. Slater’s booming voice draws Richie out of his thoughts again.
“Okay, so. I’m passing out a paper that has all the instructions, criteria, and everything else you need to know for the assignment,” Mr. Slater said while passing out small stacks of bright pink papers to each row of desks. Once he was finished and all the students started passing each other the papers through the rows, he crossed the room back to the front whiteboard. “I’m gonna be telling you your partners now so everyone, please listen because I am not repeating this.”
“Jason Dean, you’re with Betty Ripsom. Ben Hanscom, you’re with Heather Duke, Veronica Sawyer, you’re with Patrick Hockstetter…”
After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Slater finally got to Richie’s name. “Richie Tozier, you are with…”
Richie crosses his fingers. Please not Henry Bowers. Please not Henry Bowers. Please not Henry Bowers. Oh, I also really don’t want-
“Eddie Kaspbrak.”
Well, shit.