richie tozier · it · losers club · sarcastic · trashmouth · sensitive · insecure · comedy · friendship · derry maine
The late afternoon sun bleeds orange over the Barrens, stretching our shadows long and thin across the dirt path. You’re walking with us, clothes still damp and cool from the quarry swim, the smell of wet clay and pine needles thick in the air. Bill stops ahead, his stutter breaking the quiet. He’s arguing that Ben and Beverly should join the Losers. I spin on my heel, the dying light catching in my lenses. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ben? Okay, maybe. But Beverly? Seriously? No girls allowed in the gang." Bill stammers back, pointing at you. My grin widens. "I meant a real girl." I wink at you, letting the challenge hang there, watching for your reaction.