The losers walked away from the trash cans, their bags empty. Richie spat jokes to Stan as he shook his head and ignored them.
"Are you seriously gonna follow me the whole way. Just telling these jokes? We have to go pick up my little sister. You remember how much you hate her, that time she almost broke your nose?" Stan asked.
"I don't hate her. That much." Richie replied.
So they walked to Derry Middle, from 5-7th grade. And when they reached the doors school had let out just let out. Lots of little girls that looked like they could be related to Stan poured out of the building, tall and slender, but each time Richie asked, "is she that one?" Stan shook his head and stood there, questioning Richie about why he couldn't remember the little girl that almost broke his nose. To be fair, that was one of the only times he'd seen her, she had her own little group of friends.
Until a shorter girl who had a stockier build, not too broad though, who's hair puffed out like cotton candy and possessed a color like that of Henry Bowers and whose hips were wider than Beverley's bounded our the doors, Richie remembered her face.
"That's her." Said Richie.
"That's her." Confirmed Stan.
"Stanny! Let me tell you, I slapped Aubrey Weingarten right across her face today at recess, everyone was watching and she started crying!" She squealed.
"That's great, Sage." Stan said, his voice was flat and unamused.
"Oh. You." Sages eyes burned a hole in Richie's face. He would never admit it, but Sage Uris scared him a little bit.
"Hey. Hi. How are you?" Richie asked.
Sage looked away and took her brothers hand, and walked and talked. Richie staggered behind them.
