Chapter Text
Richie first knew something was wrong when his parents told him that they were getting dinner at the Italian restaurant down the street from their apartment.
This was out of the ordinary because the Toziers never ate out.
It was too expensive in Boston, and Wentworth enjoyed cooking, so they mostly ate at home. Sometimes they ate fast food when everyone was too tired to cook, but it was rare. Genuine restaurants were reserved for three occassions:
- Birthdays.
- Anniversaries.
- Bad news.
Unfortunately, the first two were off the table, which left only the third.
Fantastic.
And as if that wasn't enough, Wentworth told him to leave room for dessert. Which meant they'd be getting dessert. Which he was never allowed to do.
Not only was it bad news, but it must be really bad news.
As such, Richie spent the entire day overthinking what the inevitable bad news could be.
His first thought was divorce, and that seemed feasible, but his parents were happier than just about any couples he knew and he doubted that would change. His second thought was death, but the only person whose news would require a restaurant would be Grandpa Truman, who was very much alive and kicking, so unless he fell down the stairs or something that probably wasn't the case.
That is to say that Richie was dreading whatever came next.
The Toziers spent the first half of dinner making very awkward small talk over their pasta and garlic knots. Everyone was stiff, and Richie was trying hard not to act like he knew something was coming.
And then Maggie set down her fork with a sigh. She shared a look with Wentworth.
Richie looked up from the spaghetti he was twirling on his fork and stared at them, his entire body frozen in place.
"Richie, we have news," said Wentworth slowly.
No shit, Richie thought.
His brain worked quickly, desperately trying to find a buffer for the tense situation. He sighed dramatically and went back to playing with his food. "I know. I overheard you. I'm really upset."
Maggie's breath caught. Her eyes widened. She looked back to Wentworth.
"Oh, honey-"
"Dad's getting a vasectomy," Richie continued, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair. "Big news, I know. But-"
Before he could finish, Maggie leaned across the table to angrily smack him with her napkin. "Richard Wentworth Tozier. I love you with all of my heart but can you be serious just once?"
"Did I not sound serious?" Richie asked with mock concern.
"Richie," Wentworth said abruptly, snapping him back to attention. "We're moving."
For a moment, Richie was taken aback. He simply froze.
His jaw dropped. He didn't have a joke or a rude comment. He didn't have an emotion. He was just in shock.
They were moving?
"Like... we're moving apartments?" he said after a moment, trying to make sense of the news.
"No," said Maggie. "We're moving to Maine."
Richie's blood pressure spiked.
"Maine?" he said incredulously. "In my senior year?"
Maggie ignored him, clearly trying to continue a preplanned speech. "Your father got an excellent job there. It pays a lot more and is more flexible on his hours."
"I've heard that one before," Richie muttered.
Wentworth was a dentist and had struggled for years to stay at one firm. He had severe ADHD, like Richie, and needed constant change in order to not go insane. He'd worked at four or five firms that Richie could remember and while switching jobs was confusing for a little bit, it usually didn't require them to move states.
"Plus, we'll be in the same town as Grandpa Truman, so we'll have his support when we get there."
"You mean we're moving to Derry?" Richie said in disbelief. "That hellhole in the middle of nowhere?"
"Yes," Maggie said. "It's the town where I grew up."
"Isn't it, like, racist and homophobic and shit?"
"Hey, language," Wentworth muttered unenthusiastically.
Maggie sighed. "Derry is a bit behind on the times, yes."
Richie slouched down in his chair, his arms crossed and his eyebrows set angrily. "How delightful," he muttered. "You know, it's all fun and games until I get fucking hate-crimed."
"Richie, don't say things like that," Maggie said with a warning tone.
"But it's true!"
"Richie," Wentworth interrupted. "Derry is a fresh start. Away from your current classmates and away from... him."
Although Richie loved Boston, he had to admit that he hadn't had an amazing high school experience. In the past year he'd managed to alienate every single one of his friends and tank all of his grades. He had made it to eleventh grade with all A's, and all of the sudden he scraped by with two B's and a C on his transcript. His anxiety attacks had only gotten worse, and before school had gotten out for the summer he'd been at an all time low.
And then there was the whole thing with Connor.
Richie's spirits fell. He had to admit that he was miserable. And he was just counting down the days until he walked across the stage at graduation and never had to look back at that dumpster fire ever again.
But moving meant he wouldn't even have to suffer through this year. He'd be over it.
Richie slid further into his seat, hoping that his face wasn't showing how enticing that was to him.
"It's only a year," said Maggie. "And then you'll be off to college who knows where."
Richie took a minute to answer. He was too busy pondering his thoughts.
"Does the school have a theater program?" he asked.
"Yes," Wentworth said with a small smile. "I checked. They put on a musical in the winter and a play in the spring."
"And what about Steve?" Richie said after a minute.
Steve was Richie's only friend and had been there since ninth grade. They weren't ride-or-die, but they were all each other had at the moment and it worried Richie to leave him all alone.
Maggie sat up straighter, clearly feeling slightly more confident about the conversation at hand. "I know it's not the best situation, but you'll still be able to talk to him. It's not like we're becoming Amish."
"What are you thinking about, Dickie?" Wentworth asked when Richie didn't answer.
Richie wasn't sure what he was thinking. It was a lot at once and he was conflicted about whether or not it was worth it to feel angry about. He was emotionally exhausted and he just needed some time to think.
So he said, "Can we get ice cream?"
*****
On July 17th, the Toziers had successfully made it to Derry and were unpacking their things.
Richie found it incredibly annoying and dull.
Their new house was a two story Victorian-style home with big windows and lots of yard space. It was drastically different than their old, dark townhouse with three floors and very little room.
He had to admit, it was a nice change of pace.
(Plus, he had roof access from his window and an en suite bathroom, both of which were insanely cool.)
"Richie!" his mom called from the kitchen as their afternoon in their new home crawled by.
Richie walked down the stairs, his small white mutt named Falkor trailing behind him. He had been unpacking his clothes and bed sheets. "What's up?" he asked her.
Maggie was putting dishes away in a cabinet and turned as he entered the room. "Hey, sweetie. I need you to run to the store for us. I think there's a Hannaford. You can look it up on Google Maps and there's a grocery list on the counter."
"Okay," he said, grabbing the piece of paper. "Where's your debit card?"
"In my center console."
Richie nodded and turned on his heel.
He made sure not to let Falkor out of the house before getting his mom's card and climbing into his new car.
All things considered, "new" was relative. It was a 2013 Toyota Camry that he had inherited from his father as consolation for the move. It connected to Bluetooth but Richie chose to use CDs "for the vibes." It was his most prized possession.
He popped a Mellon Collie CD into the player, pulled up Hannaford on Google Maps, and headed to the store.
His mom had given him an extremely long list, and as soon as he walked inside, he felt lost. He spent about ten minutes just walking around and trying to figure out how things were organized. Then he spent another thirty minutes collecting all of the items before heading to check out. He grabbed things like milk and eggs and bread - simple kitchen essentials that they would add to later.
When he got to the front, he sighed. There was no self-checkout.
Irritatedly, he pushed the cart into a checkout line where a girl about Richie's age with vibrant red curls was working the register.
She was shorter than Richie, and he had to admit that she was gorgeous. She stood out from everyone else in a small town, with experimental colorful makeup and a colorful shirt under her red vest.
"Well, well," said Richie. "Who knew Molly Ringwald worked at Hannaford in Derry?"
The girl grinned but looked confused. "Molly Ringwald?" she asked as she started scanning.
"Never seen The Breakfast Club?"
The girl - Beverly, her nametag read - just shrugged. "I watched it with my aunt once but, gun to my head, I couldn't tell you anything about it."
"What a shame," said Richie simply.
Beverly glanced up at him momentarily. "Are you new here? Or just visiting?"
"Uh, we just moved up here."
"Ew. Sorry. Where are you from?"
"Boston."
Beverly raised her eyebrows. "You moved here? From Boston?"
Richie nodded unenthusiastically.
"But... Why?"
"Believe me, that's what I asked," said Richie. "It's much less exciting here."
She hummed in agreement as she bagged the last of his items.
"Well, are you a high schooler?" said Beverly. "Maybe I'll see you at school?"
He grinned. "Yeah. For sure."
When Richie got home ten minutes later he discovered that his parents had ordered pizza and had already hooked up the TV to rewatch Arrested Development. Richie excused himself to his bedroom to get some rest.
Later that night, as he laid on his recently unpacked mattress on the floor, rewatching Wayne's World on his laptop for the billionth time, he got a notification from Instagram, something that was relatively uncommon to him. He clicked on it.
It was a follow request from @bevvie_marsh.
Richie grinned remembering the worker at Hannaford.
He accepted the request and followed her back.
Then he went to his DMs. She was still online. So he typed out a quick message.
Richie: stalking me, ringwald?
The reply came almost immediately.
Beverly: lol you wish
Richie grinned as Beverly continued.
Beverly: you popped up as a follow suggestion
Beverly: must be a proximity thing
After a second of pondering, Richie typed out a response.
Richie: well i'm glad i've met someone in this fuckass town
Beverly: yeah, you really need it
Beverly: also youre my friend now btw
Beverly: youre legally required to text me if you need anything
Richie: why thank you madam
Richie: i appreciate it as a damsel in distress
Beverly: 🫡
Richie smiled and went back to the movie.