richie wasn't going to pre-calc today. he simply didn't want to! besides, he had bigger things to worry about. he had a goal today.
beverly, ben and mike could survive. they all assumed he was going to find stanley to hang out for a block, but that couldn't be farther from his goal. ideally, stanley wouldn't see him at all this block. that was the goal.
richie opened his locker, shoving what was basically his entire bag except for a few things here and there into the small space. as he shut the door, a teacher down the hall glanced at him. her look said, "go to class". richie did not give a shit.
swinging his now-very-light backpack onto his shoulder, he made his way towards the door leading outside. he cleared his throat, running a script through his head.
he headed towards the smoke pit, near the bus stop. it was on the other end of the field. the kids weren't exactly allowed to smoke on school grounds, but it wasn't called the smoke pit for no reason. richie suddenly became well aware of the cigarette pack in the side corner of his backpack.
richie took one solid breath and approached a group of boys sitting on top of a concrete bench.
"pa--hockstetter, can i talk to you?" richie asked, deciding that they probably weren't on a first name basis. patrick took the cigarette in his mouth out and blew a cloud of smoke in richie's direction. richie rolled his eyes, using his hand to wave the smoke away. henry, who was sitting next to patrick, was staring down richie with a hunger, but richie was very decidedly not going to look at him.
"whaddya want? first uris, now you?" patrick replied, leaning back and blowing more smoke out of his mouth. richie resisted the urge to say something stupid. he could imagine, in his head, stanley kicking his ankle with the back of his shoe, a reminder to keep his mouth shut.
"i don't want you to sell stan cigs anymore. when he asks you, next time, just say no." richie said. victor, a boy sitting on the other side of patrick, outright laughed. by this time, most of the kids in the smoke pit were watching the two of them talk.
"and why the fuck would i do that? he's paying me. you're just asking." patrick scoffed, richie scratching at his hands.
"sure don't have to pay your mother to get the kinda shit she gives me," the words were falling out of richie's mouth before he could take them back, and he felt the spiritual kick of stanley's sneaker harder than ever.
patrick let his teeth hold the cigarette in his mouth as he stood up. he took ahold of richie's shirt in his hand, and richie looked up to him, trying not to show his fear. "what gives you such fucking confidence, tozier? do you want to die?" he asked, richie unable to help the grin growing on his face.
"don't sell him any more cigs." richie enunciated every word specifically. right before patrick had time to respond, richie used his left hand to grab the cigarette out of patrick's mouth and smush it between his fingers. it burned the tips of his fingers, but he didn't really give a shit. he felt brave.
"you must be suicidal," patrick uttered, almost in shock, and immediately threw him to the ground. richie was glad he'd taken the things out of his backpack, as anything that was in there got crushed beneath him.
richie gave up on coming up with a snappy comeback, and just took the hit. after a couple moments, henry joined in, and the noise in the smoke pit got louder and louder. for richie, it got fuzzier and fuzzier.
it hurt, no one could tell him it didn't hurt, but he sorta just coughed up every now and then, and phased back out of existence. he wasn't really there.
finally, what felt like a hour later, but was probably only a couple minutes, patrick kicked him over onto his side. richie threw up a little blood, and put his hands out onto the concrete. he stood up shakily, and ignored all the people jeering at him in the smoke pit.
richie got up, slowly, and patrick spit at him.
"i'll do whatever the fuck i want, thanks," patrick said, richie breathing shakily. patrick grabbed richie's collar, and all of richie's instinctual shit-talking mannerisms disappeared. he gulped. he could feel his nose bleeding onto his top lip.
"don't be a dick, patrick. i'll tell them what you and henry get up to." okay, maybe not all of his shit-talking mannerisms. richie was aware that patrick very clearly had already been a dick, but he just wanted to threaten patrick.
patrick froze, his hand still gripping the edge of richie's shirt. "you won't."
"i will. stop talking to him." richie could taste the blood on his teeth. he pushed patrick off of him and walked away, while patrick glared him down.
"you're fucking dead, tozier."
