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#𝟣𝟩: ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ

"Stop pushing, Richie, I'll go over there and hit you myself-" Stan hissed in my direction and glanced behind as he led the entire club through the maintenance room. It was the one place we knew of, secretly, because it was where the janitor went to smoke on his breaks. Beverly found out and smokes in here, too, when he's away. She's discreet enough, because the entire place smells like tobacco anyways, and there's no smoke detectors. She loves this musty, leaking, crowded room more than she loves her own house.

"I'm literally not anywhere near you."

Stan gently opened the large metal door and held it open while everyone excitedly rushed inside. Stan looked both ways before slamming the door behind us with a large bang that couldn't be heard over the sound of student conversation in the hallway outside. "You're pushing against Ben, dipshit, and he's behind me. Stand on your tiptoes or something."

"Bend over first."

"Shhhh."

Bill turned around and took a step forward, as everyone poured into the tiny corner with hushed voices. "He w-won't find us h-h-here."

Eddie took a gasp at his inhaler, probably because of the thick, smokey scent. I didn't blame him; even with my proper lungs, every time I breathed in too hard, I'd pause to cough. "And if he did, he'd have no fucking room for punches."

I sat myself down on a wooden crate that was flipped on its side, trying to avoid the slick gasoline that covered the brick wall behind me. Because of how cramped the space was, my knees pressed up against Beverly's shins as she sat across from me. "Well then, we've got to do something to pass the time. Did anyone bring any snacks? Board games? Tequila?" I folded my arms and glanced at Mike. "Come on, Homeschool, you've got to have Monopoly in that bigass backpack of yours. It's like you've got Mrs. Kaspbrak in there or something."

"Would it kill you to shut your mouth every once in a while?" Eddie huffed, his voice small and raspy, as if he was afraid of breathing in the unsanitary fumes.

"Yes."

"Beep beep, Richard," Beverly said blatantly and blew a smoke ring through her pursed lips, making direct, squinted eye contact with me. "Beep fucking beep."

"Beep beep yourself," I replied, placing an offended hand over my chest. "You're being pretty rebel here, too. What would your daddy do if he saw you in a maintenance room full of boys, Bevvy? What would he do?"

"He'd kill you, Richie," Stan said for Beverly, folding his arms in a deadpan manner and picking at some dried paint that settled on the ground. "And I'd help him."

"Did you get that on record, Big Bill?" I asked in astonishment as Eddie rolled his eyes over to Ben, who returned the peeved expression. "Somebody better write that down. If ever I die of unknown circumstances, you will all know exactly who did it."

"M-Me." Bill said.

"Me." Mike added.

"Probably me," Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"Me." Bev smirked.

"Me." Stan replied.

I scoffed and there was silence. "Glad to know I'm appreciated. Glad to know I won't be abandoned by you assholes in thirty years from now."

"So what now, are we just gonna sit here the entire school day?" Stan asked, practically ignoring my statement.

I bounced my feet absentmindedly. "Doesn't bother me." 

"We might as well entertain ourselves, who wants to play a game?" Stan met the eyes of every loser, as if trying to get individual input from every stare.