thirty two

                                    

                                          
"hello?" her voice echoed in richie's ears, and as he sat on the concrete by the bus stop, he couldn't stop moving his feet. 
"hey, um, perce, i've got a request." richie chewed on his nails, his face as red as he felt. he hated this. he hated having to ask her anything. he hated needing her for anything. jesus, he never had before, why would he now? what was he doing?
"what, you want money?" pj replied, and richie briefly wondered if he said yes, would she give him money? he shook the thought away. 
"no, fuck, look, you remember, um, that fight we had in june?" he said, meekly. he knew she did; he could hardly forget it whenever he thought about her—not that he ever did. she hummed an affirmative, and richie continued, "you said that i-i didn't get it, what it was like, um, for you. i'm, jesus, i'm shit at apologies so, i'm not gonna say sorry, 'cause it wouldn't be real. but..." richie trailed off. 
christ, what on earth did he think he was doing? reaching out to pj? she despised him, and he hated her. what did he think she was going to do, beg for them to get on better?
"but?" pj's voice snapped richie out of his trance. he inhaled sharply. 
"look, i know it wasn't... nice. for you. with mom, and dad, and the... the pressure, or whatever. but-um-y'know stan? uh-stanley uris? we're like, good friends, and his parents are just being fucking awful to him. he's, um, like you, he's in ib, and they want him to get a 45, whatever the fuck that is, and i—could you talk to him?" richie breathed out, his eyes shut. his shoulders were tense. he wasn't sure what he was expecting: pj to hang up, to yell at him, to start crying. 
"since when do you care about ib students?" pj's voice remained calm, more curious than anything. richie rolled his eyes. 
"i don't. just—it's just stan. i think his parents aren't, like, letting him eat, and they won't let him just, like, have friends, and be a normal kid. and-and you're the only person i know who would really get it. and-and he needs someone who gets it, right now." richie started bouncing his leg. jesus, why was she making this so difficult?
"that's awful," she said. she seemed to think a moment, staying quiet. "so you want me to talk to your boyfriend and convince him to get a life?" she finally said, laughing to herself. if richie hadn't been so personally invested, he might have actually found it funny. 
"he's not my boyfriend. just—please, percy. i don't know how to help him." richie's asking became pleading, he realized, how embarrassing. when she didn't reply, he cleared his throat, "wouldn't you have wanted to know life doesn't depend on a fucking number?"
pj stayed quiet for a moment.
"please don't be a dick." richie couldn't help saying it, his hand dragging its way down his face at her silence. 
"okay. fine. i guess you're not coming to me, are you?" pj replied, richie putting his forehead onto his knees with relief. he sighed. 
"uh, yeah. i-i mean like yeah, i'm not coming to you. could-could you come to the school, or something?" richie wiped sweat off of his forehead, unsure quite when he started sweating. his knee kept bouncing, and he was biting his tongue to keep him from talking. to keep him from asking why she'd never come to see him or pick him up. to keep him from asking why she hated him. to keep him from asking what he did to make her hate him. 
he blinked a couple times, waiting for her to speak still. 
why don't you love me? why won't he let himself love me? is it me? is there something just like completely wrong with me?
"yeah, i can do that. um, i'll check with michael and see when i can take the car to come down to see stanley. i might as well catch up with some teachers anyway," she said. richie could tell she was rolling her eyes. yeah, come down to see stanley. not him, never richie. 
richie had accepted that no one really liked him other than stanley. he knew that. mike and beverly were both a little obsessed with bill, bill was cold, ben was obsessed with beverly, eddie was perfectly independent, and richie was lonely. 
still, his own sister. he hated that it hurt. 
"perfect." he deadpanned. he could feel himself returning to the person he normally was in her presence. 
"don't sound so grateful," she murmured, a perfect imitation of margaret tozier. richie tapped his feet for a couple seconds of silence. 
"okay. i'm gonna go, just text me the day or whatever." he coughed. it wasn't like he'd always hated her, it was just so easy when she never liked him anyway. it was easier than hating bill, or beverly. it was almost easier than hating his parents. it was like it was in his genetic code. 
"okay. goodbye, richie." she said. he hung up.