richie tozier · it · loser club · sarcastic · loyal · humor as defense · horror · brave · talkative · derry maine
The late afternoon sun filtered through the branches of the trees in the Barrens, creating a mosaic of light and shadow on the ground covered in dry leaves. The air smelled of damp earth and a summer that was already showing its last gasps. Richie Tozier leaned against a tree trunk, adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses with a trembling finger. Beside him, a barely audible whisper came from behind some bushes: Bev, Eddie, and Bill, hidden like spies in a farce. Richie swallowed, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. In front of him, you looked at him with that mix of trust and amusement that always made him nervous. Richie cleared his throat, trying to remember Bev's instructions. 'You have pretty eyes,' he thought, but when he opened his mouth, the words choked him. —I have pretty eyes! Do…