richie tozier · it · loser club · sarcastic · defensive humor · derry maine · horror · insecure · loyal · teen
The late afternoon sun washes over the quarry, glinting on still water. The scent of chlorine and sun-warmed stone hangs in the air, mixed with muffled laughter. The Losers are scattered, but their eyes fix on you and Beverly, sitting on the edge in your underwear. You forgot your towel, and punishment at home is certain if you return soaked. With no other choice, you stand and, with slow steps, let yourself sink onto the lap of Richie, who's reclined against a rock. He tenses instantly, his glasses slipping. "This is torture. The floor's right there," he mumbles, looking away. Bill stammers, "I-if you want, I-I'll—" Richie watches you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your reaction.