cliché || reddie ✔️

one

The howling winds from outside pick up, clashing against the brick walls of Derry High. Students inside are oblivious, instead directing their attention on Mr. Martinez as he shuts off a video they were watching. "Lights, please," he says as he shifts the jar around in his hands. It's full to the brim with little slips of paper, gaining the interest of the juniors sitting inside the uncomfortably warm classroom. A chair scapes across the tiled floor and blinding brightness floods the room a second later.

Dramatic groans escape the teenagers' mouths as they all shield their sensitive eyes from the lights. "Ready to talk about finals?" Mr. Martinez asks, seemingly unbothered by the light. A few more agressive groans sound out from the louder kids and muffled snickers follow right behind. From the back of the classroom someone loudly says, "But finals aren't until next month!"

Eddie casts a glance over his shoulder to pinpoint the voice to the face, but with the sentence being so short, he's unable to. He turns his attention back to the shrugging World History teacher. "Yes," he agrees. "I've separated your final into two parts. One, the written portion you'll be taking during finals week and the other, a partnered project." He raises the jar and shakes it, hinting to the curious students what it could be. Eddie's hopes of being able to chose his own partner falter, but there's still some hope. He can only breath out the little disappointment that flooded into his ribcage and listen as Mr. Martinez goes on to explain what he wants for the project.

He moves around the room as he talks, a habit of the middle aged teacher. He pauses near a group of desks and asks, "any questions?" Silence fills the room as he waits for hands to shoot up. None do and he just shrugs his shoulders as a way to say 'your grades, not mine'

"Pick one." He nudges a student in the shoulder with the glass jar. He lifts his gaze to Mr. Martinez's for a second before letting out a deep sigh. He grabs one, unfolds the paper, and reads, "Greta Keene." Disappointment easily laces his tone and the curly haired girl looks up at the sound of her name. Eddie watches as she leans back into her chair, eyeing her partner with a satisfied smirk. Eddie feels bad that his classmate got stuck with her, yet can't help but be glad that she won't end up being his partner.

The jar got passed around, names called out and papers disappearing. It finally slides onto Eddie's desk and he looks around the room, silently counting up the people left.

As he sticks his fingers into the jar, he wishes for a good partner. Someone he doesn't absolutely hate and will do their part. A simple wish, really. He plucks out a slip of paper and catches sight of an ink scrawl of a name.

Richie Tozier

Eddie has to press his lips together to keep back the scoff that waits in his throat. "Richie," he calls out after a second and drops the paper down onto the desk. Physically feeling your mood drop is a dreadful thing, and that's exactly what Eddie's experiencing as he sinks father back into the hard chair.

Richie's eyes curiously dart up at his name. He meets the eyes of a boy across the room, and his hopes sky rocket. He flashes a small, welcoming smile Eddie's way but the boy looks away before he can catch it.

Class ends soon after, the bell ringing to dismiss the upperclassmen to lunch. Eddie makes sure to pack extra slow, letting the gaggle of students flood into the hallway before he dare follows. He shifts his backpack on his shoulders and heads towards the larger desk situated in the back of the classroom.

"Um.. Mr. Martinez?" Eddie asks, a hand still plastered to his backpack strap. He glances up but doesn't pause his own packing up.