Librarians | Stozier

05

On Friday, Richie biked to the Getty gas station in town after school let out for the weekend. He had about half an hour before his shift started, visiting Beverly at her workplace. That day, she skipped school to work, meaning to Richie that money must've been sparse, as most of the time she stuck to night shifts.

"Hey, Rich," she greeted, the familiar bell on the door ringing.

"Hey yourself, Marsh." He walked straight towards the snack aisle on instinct, grabbing a small bag of cheese puffs.

"You heading to the library?"

"Yup," he said, his vocal cords straining as he reached to the highest shelf of the store fridge to take a can of cola. "Shakin' with excitement."

"How was your first day? Did Stan give you lots of trouble?" she joked.

Richie walked up to the cash register and set down his items. "Nah, he doesn't talk much. Figures, right?" Bev laughed and turned around, as if routine, and grabbed a pack of Winston cigarettes, setting it on the counter for him.

"That'll be 3.24."

He nodded and patted down his pockets, reaching into one and pulling out a single crumpled dollar bill. Opening his mouth to speak, Beverly took the bill from between his fingers and put it in the register, fishing out money from her tip jar. "Bev, I can put them back-"

"It's no problem." She gave him a wink. "Boys gotta eat." This wasn't a usual interaction, as he generally had enough to pay for snacks himself. She understood, though, all too well.

"I'm a grown man now, Bevvy. I'll pay you back when I get my first check, aye? We're gonna be living like kings!"

"Sure." She put his items in a bag and waved as he left, the door's repetitive bell jingling once again.

He slung the flimsy plastic "thank you" bag on his shoulder, stretching its handles to fit around his coat-covered bicep. Hopping onto his bike, the soda can hit his right set of ribs rhythmically as he pedaled.

When he arrived at the library, he saw Stanley outside again, walking strangely. This time, he wasn't going around in circles, but taking tremendously large steps. His hands were still in his pants pockets, the material around his thighs wrinkling or tightening around his stretching legs. Richie couldn't see him that well from the distance, but when he biked to the rack, it was still as off-putting.

"What the hell are you doing, seriously?" He leaned on his bike. Stan didn't turn around to face him, nor did he answer. "Are you doing lunges?"

He stepped twice more, almost to the staircase, assuming the task of only three more. 798, 799, 800. Relieved once again, he walked up the steps, shooting a look back at Richie before pulling open the door on the right. Richie followed him, weirded out, but almost fascinated.

They took their coats off, following the same routine as the day before. "Second day." Richie whooped.

"Don't say that." Stan cut him off monotonously. It made him uncomfortable to think that Richie's second day was a Friday, rather than his first. Day 2 being on day 6 of the week didn't sit right, but he pushed the thought from his mind, knowing if he kept thinking he'd count every one of Richie's days right along with his own.

"You sound like my mom," he scoffed, hanging his red, puffy coat on the rack. He trailed Stan to clock in, feeling like quite the professional when he got it right on the first try. Stanley didn't wait for him, evacuating towards the lower level. Richie quickly picked up the plastic bag that sagged on the floor, speedwalking after his coworker, who in turn went faster. "Hey, wait up!"

Stan ignored him, just trying to get away. They both walked down the hall and past the restrooms before Mr. Ford's office door opened.

"Well if it isn't my little librarians." They stopped.

"Hi, Mr. Ford," they spoke in unison.

"Richie, I've been meanin' to talk to ya. Gotta show you how to work the check-out counter."

"What? I... I thought that was my job," Stan said, frightened. He knew other workers occupied his desk when he was out, but Glenda and Dorothy never touched his things.

"Well, I figured," he scratched his whiskery beard as he talked, "since the two of you are workin' the same hours and all that, you could be like a dynamic duo." Richie smirked. "You could take turns enterin' data and shelvin', maybe work up front together. Might give you a well-deserved break, Stan."

Stanley clenched his fists so hard he was sure his knuckles were fully white. This was bad, very, very bad.

"Come along now, Richie." He placed his hand firmly on the boy's shoulder, walking with him to the front. "You wanna learn about scannin' books?"

"Do I ever!" Richie turned around and gave Stan a cocky thumbs up before returning to converse with his new boss. Stanley's cheeks burned scarlet.