golden boy : stozier

twenty one

when richie entered the library, it was clear he didn't want to work. his backpack was hanging off of only one shoulder, and he kept having to push his glasses back up. he was still pissed off at carson, and the teacher, and everything. he found the table quickly, wrinkling his nose at eddie being there, next to stanley.

mike looked over and waved, which caught stanley's attention. stanley glanced at richie, then away, and shuffled in his chair. he mumbled something to eddie and soon enough, eddie moved to make room for richie.

richie stood still, a table or two away as he watched stanley grab a chair for richie next to him. god, he was confused. beverly motioned for him to come over, and he did, sitting down between eddie and stanley.

"thanks," richie mumbled, stanley giving him a nod without looking at him. richie unzipped his backpack begrudgingly, pulling out his binder. god, detention for a week? that was being excessive, in richie's opinion. as he grabbed his papers from spanish, he let his knee bob up and down restlessly under the table.

"how was hutch?" beverly asked, referring to the time he'd just spent with their english teacher. richie rolled his eyes, looking past stanley to beverly. stanley's eyes were glued intently on his screen.

"awful. i've gotta stay an hour for the next seven days, and if i hit another person they're going to suspend me," richie groaned, beverly shaking her head as she laughed a little. he wasn't sure when the two of them had started getting along, but he didn't mind it.

"then you've gotta make sure it's someone good," she replied, twirling her pencil. richie laughed.

"i like the way you think, marsh," richie pointed at her, stanley still staying silent between them.

"i think it should be connolly," mike piped up, richie putting his hand on his chin like a statue to think about it.

"i volunteer allen, actually," bill added, and mike poked him ("that's a good answer!")

"i think it should be henry bowers." eddie spoke, richie turning his head to eddie for the first time. he narrowed his eyes at eddie.

"i think eds here has the rightest answer," richie said, mike, beverly, and bill agreeing. stanley continued to stay silent, typing.

"don't you get weed fruh-from him, though?" bill asked, and richie shrugged.

"his cousin, but yeah. eh, i don't know. i'll time my suspension for a big test." richie yawned as he stretched his arms up, and as he brought them down he let one sit on the back of stanley's chair.

he didn't feel as angry as he had entering. maybe it was easier to have friends now that he at least had stanley. maybe that applied even when stanley wasn't talking to him.

"whatcha workin' on, staniel?" richie asked, leaning in, letting his arm slide further across the chair. his hand bumped stanley's shoulder and he let it rest there, putting his head on stanley's other shoulder.

"my extended essay." stanley said curtly, as though he was trying to say as little as possible. when richie said nothing more, he continued, like he couldn't help himself, "it's gotta be four thousand words, and i'm at four thousand, two hundred and twenty three, and that is too much. i'm trying to shorten it, i just can't figure out what to cut out." he bit his tongue.

richie pat him on the side of the arm, lifting his head up. stanley was a little pink, like he was blushing.

"you can do it. just do somethin' else and circle back around to it when your eyes feel fresh," richie said, not wanting to retract his arm.

stanley looked at him, and as his eyes met richie's it looked like they struggled to keep the eye contact. "you're probably right," stanley said, grabbing richie's arm from around him and lifting it over his head, "but you have spanish to do. tú tienes español," he put richie's arm back on the table, and shoved his pencil in his hand. stanley had done grade eight to ten spanish, so he had the equivalent of a four year old's spanish, but it was enough.