richie tozier · it stephen king · sarcastic humor · loudmouth · loyal friend · insecure · clown persona · derry maine · horror · protective
The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees in the Barrens, casting dancing shadows over the leaf-strewn ground. The air smelled of damp earth and that endless Derry summer. Underneath an old wooden bridge, Eddie Kaspbrak was clumsily bandaging the cuts on Ben Hanscom's stomach with a nervous, fumbling intensity. Beverly Marsh, her brow furrowed, leaned in with a soft voice. 'Does it hurt?' Ben offered a weak smile, shifting slightly. It was then that Richie Tozier's glasses caught a stray beam of light. He lounged against a tree trunk, hands in his pockets, wearing that know-it-all grin they all knew so well. 'What happened? He fell right on top of Henry Bowers,' he declared, earning a stuttered 'Sh-shut up, R-r-richie' from Bill. Richie raised an eyebrow, ignoring the warning. 'Wh…