Wait For It || Reddie ✔️

eleven

The Loser's deposited their bikes in a jungle of metal outside of Bill's house. As the seven walked up the driveway, they tried not to stare at the long, un-mowed grass. As Bill fished out his house key, Beverly didn't stoop down to the garden bed to inspect Sharon's flowers. Because this year, there weren't any. As they all slid past Bill's outstretched arm as he held open the door, they tried to ignore the stillness in the air, the quiet of the house.

"You--you guh--g--guys know wh--where the puh..puh..puh--"

"Yeah," Beverly said softly. "We've got it. Thank you, Bill."

With pursed lips, Bill nodded, then dipped his chin as he wandered up the staircase. With Beverly at the head, she led the five boys to the living room where the landline sat.

"I should call last," Eddie whispered with a sure nod of his head. "It'll take some convincing to get my mom's permission for another sleepover."

"Yeah, and I don't need to call," Richie followed up, his voice not at a whisper, but still low. "I'll stop by my place and grab some clothes and ask them then." Ben said he'd do the same.

Mike motioned for the phone. "Here, let me ring my grandma so she can have time to clean the house before you guys come over."

"Oh," Beverly said with a sympathetic tilt of her head, "she doesn't need to do all that. We'll just hang in the basement, right?"

Mike laughed a low chuckle. "She'd clean the house for the chickens, alright? It's for her, not for you." Then, with a stern look: "Don't let her know I said that."

So, Mike went first. Stanley followed him right after, speaking obediently back to his father with his eyes trained on the wall opposite of them as he did. Beverly rolled the cord around her finger as she talked to her aunt, a distant smile on her face when she politely laughed. While Eddie whispered into the transmitter, Bill came back downstairs with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He absentmindedly glimpsed into the living room, then rounded the banister to wander into the kitchen.

Beverly curiously drifted after him. Richie, being the nosy boy he is, followed. Ben was on Richie's heels until it was only Eddie in the living room, watching hopelessly as his friends slowly filtered out one by one.

"Ma," he whined, throwing his head back childishly.

In the hallway before the entrance of the kitchen, the five teenagers stood carefully still. Richie peeked around the corner, trying to snag a visual of the situation unfolding.

"Fine," Sharon said sharply, her hand fluttering in the air. "Fine by me."

Bill swayed on his feet, his fingernails digging into the pads of his fingers. "Are yuh--you s..sure?"

"Yes," she replied tersely.

"Sharon," Zack sighed. "It's not like he's home anymore, anyway."

"Exactly my point," she muttered, her tone full of bitterness. "Exactly my f--..." she let the noise flail on her lips. Dropping her reading glasses onto the newspaper laid flat on the table, she rubbed her eyes, her forehead.

"I can stay," Bill feebly offered.

Zack shook his head. "No, son. It's fine. Truly. You go have fun with your friends." He raised a hand and rested it on Bill's shoulder, giving it a loving, lingering squeeze before dropping it. "Your mother and I have some things to go over, anyway."

Bill raised his chin to peer closer at the contents littering the table. "Like wuh--what?"

"Nothing," Sharon replied, grabbing the calculator, the pen. "Nothing."

When Bill retreated back into the hallway, a flash of surprise lit his face when he ran into his friends huddled into the wall. His gaze fell to the floor, a look of shame embarrassing his expression as he strode past them. Eddie was still on the phone with his mother when they walked back into the living room, his voice very quickly losing the baby-ish tone inflicted in it. If Richie, or anyone, noticed, they didn't comment on it.

Back outside under the warm sun, they yanked up the handle bars of their bikes in awkward silence. As they mounted the seats, though, Bill apologized. "I--I'm s--suh--sorry you all h..huh--had to overhear th..th--at."

A wave of no, no's rippled through the group, light and soft and just as apologetic.

The words died fairly quickly, however, and the group was plunged into another tense silence. Feet were scrapped against the cement, fists were tightened around handles, gazes were diverted.

Then, Richie pushed off. "My house?"

A chorus of yeah, yeah, sure's washed over them, giving them relief to the awkwardness.

/

Due to each of the teenagers living so spread out---Beverly in an apartment far downtown, Ben living deep in the suburbs, Richie and Eddie and Stanley each in a different neighborhood---it took nearly two hours of peddling and huffing and walking to finally make it to the pizzeria near Beverly's aunt's apartment.

When Bill and Richie pushed open the glass doors, an arctic chill rushed into the group. They all let out their own sighs or groans or cheers of relief, then piled into a nearby booth. It was uncomfortable; sweaty skin pressed up against sweaty skin pressed into sticky, red vinyl. But they ignored it, instead putting their attention to scoping out the menu or laughing at one another's jokes or watching the birds peck at crumbs outside the window.

"Will you stop breathing down my neck?" Eddie asked and cringed away from Stanley, who was stretched out of his seat to peer out the window, and into Richie.

Mike, who had the window seat opposite of Richie, offered his spot to Stanley.

"No, no, no," Richie argued. "Then Stan's gonna have to get past Ben to even leave this side, then's he's gonna have to crawl over Bev and Bill---"

"This doesn't even concern you," Eddie shot back. "You need to stop including---"

"You need to stop interrupting---"

"You wanna talk about interrupting? I'll show you interr---"

"Oh, you're gonna show me? Alright Eds, bring it---"

"I will!"

"---I've got summers worth Dig Dug and Street Fighter under my belt."

Stanley's head went limp against the seat. "Can't we just get a booth without them?" he asked the others over the two's bickering.

"Better yet," Beverly said, amusement sparking her eyes as she watched Eddie and Richie squabble, "we uninvite them from the sleepover."

"Yo," Richie then said, his attention diverting from Eddie. "Not cool."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, a childish whine to his voice. "So not cool. Richie," he turned to the boy, "can you believe them? Kicking us out of the sleepover you planned?"

"No, I know! Like, what the dick?"

"What the dick!" Eddie mimicked, and the two boys fizzled into a fit of giggles, falling into one another's shoulders.

"Oh, what the dick," Stanley sighed into the air above his head.