Chapter Text
Eddie was pretty sure that his mom scheduled this to maximize the amount of carnage she wrecked on his life.
He could get plenty of babysitting gigs without her help, given his earned reputation as the most responsible and conscientious high schooler in a ten mile radius. Though, if you asked his mom, that could be credited to her instead. He was long past the days of only getting work because his mom offered his services out to her church friends. Which made it all the more frustrating when she told him earlier that day that she already promised some random woman that Eddie would be available that night to babysit her random kid.
So the only reason he was here tonight, mindlessly watching Scooby-Do reruns with a twelve year old on Halloween night, when he should be having a scary movie marathon with the Losers, was Sonia’s plotting.
She knew his plans. She also knew he needed the money enough that he couldn’t turn her down. He was saving for a car, which Sonia had dramatically refused to help with. So, even as he fumed at her smugness springing this all on him, he agreed.
What a shitty Halloween.
At least he got pizza out of the deal.
“We should have gotten the Extra Meat Monster Extravaganza like I said,” Emily, the twelve- year-old in question, groused. She was picking the cheese off her slice with a concerning level of violence, greasy globs almost flying off the plate and onto the sofa where she was slouched.
“Well, Em, that was a whole two dollars extra. Your mom didn’t leave enough money for that,” he droned, not looking away from the cartoon ghost on the TV in front of them, trying to become one with the sofa himself.
“Whatever. Plain pepperoni is boring.”
“Sometimes life is boring.”
“Ugh, you’re so lame!” she burst out, flopping angrily down on the sofa.
He rolled his eyes. He didn’t really blame her for being bored and angry. This entire night sucked for both of them. Her mom didn’t “believe” in Halloween and lectured him for about five whole minutes before she left about the dangers of candy, razors in said candy, Satanic teens, and Dungeons and Dragons. Emily had sulked in the living room every time other kids came up to the door trick-or-treating. Not that Eddie had anything to give them. Not even apple slices or other bogus “treats.” Eddie felt for her, shitty mother to shitty mother. He let her be unabashedly mad.
He thought for another second, and offered, “Wanna watch a scary movie?”
She looked at him suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “A real scary movie?”
His plan was to find out what was playing on TV, but now he was inspired. “Yeah, a real scary movie. Finishing eating your pizza. I’ve got to make a call,” he grinned conspiratorially. He hoisted himself out of the comfortable embrace of the sofa and went to the phone in the kitchen. He dialled the number from memory.
“Tozzzzzzier residence,” a very stoned Bill greeted him.
Swallowing a stab of jealousy (hearing the evidence of his friends having fun without him was never fun), Eddie scoffed, “Good job, Bill. You don’t sound fucked up at all. Any adult would be completely fooled.”
“Eddie!” Bill’s smile was audible. “Thanks, man. I was a little worried about that.”
Before Eddie could make his request, a not-so-faint “Spaghetti!” drifted down the line. A long series of clatters and clunks followed, then a smug voice asked him, “How’s my favorite stick in the mud doing on this fine Hallows Eve?”
“I’m not a fucking stick in the mud! I fucking told you my mom made me do this!” Eddie hissed back, mindful of Emily not paying attention to the Scooby gang behind him.
“Oh yeah, like you’d be sooo chill with us smoking. You’d be shitting your brains out.”
“I so would not! You guys can do whatever the fuck you want to do, I couldn’t give a shit,” sniffed Eddie. "Plus I totally ate that brownie last time, alright? It's the fucking smoke that gets you."
“Sure, sure,” Richie sneered. “So what can we do for you? You put the kid to bed and are now free for a bootycall? Is that it?”
“Gross, Richie,” Eddie sneered right back. “I just wanted to ask if one of you guys could bring a movie over for Emily and I to watch.”
“The fuck kind of movie do you think I have, dude?” Richie laughed. “What, Emily’s mom doesn’t have pay-per-view?”
“Ha ha. I promised her a really scary movie, is all. Not the kind of stuff they show on TV. I know yours and Bill’s collection. I know you have a car. Ergo, I know that you can bring one over.”
“Hm.” There was a pause. Then, Richie clearly yelled away from the receiver, “Bill, do you think Evil Dead is appropriate for a twelve year old girl?”
That fucking tree scene started playing in Eddie’s head like an intrusive thought. “Ugh, get real, Richie.”
After guffawing like a grandpa telling a shitty joke for a while, Richie relented. “Yeah, yeah, we got you, Eds. Your order of one ‘really scary movie’ is coming right up, don’t worry your perfectly-coifed little head, Miss America.”
“You’re an asshole, Richie,” Eddie said primly. “The address is 217 Dean Street.”
Without another word, Richie hung up. Rolling his eyes, Eddie was about to follow suit when he heard something crackle like a sigh along the supposedly dead line. “Richie?” he asked. “You still there?”
Nothing. Maybe a bit more noise than he was used to, but he supposed the phone might be a different or older brand than he was used to. He put it back down on the hook and walked back to the living room.
“Okay, Emily, our movie’s on the way. Why don’t we try to finish the pizza before it gets here?”
“Is 'Asshole Richie' the one bringing it over?”
“Shit.”
***
Scooby Doo turned into Labyrinth, which Emily was mildly interested in even as the weird dreamlike tension and fucking Bowie rubbed Eddie the wrong way. That could have been the rising frustration which each glance at his watch without Richie’s arrival. He ended up taking over the remote over some token resistance. One channel made him pause, remote still poised at the ready. A garish white face stared out of the screen. An old house. Broad daylight, which shouldn’t have been scary but somehow Eddie found his breath trapped in his throat…a red balloon…
A rattling BANG came from behind them. Eddie screamed before he could help it, Emily’s yell beneath his. Leaping up from the sofa, he twisted around to see a leering pale face in the window.
It was fucking Richie.
“I’m gonna kill you!!” he yelled. He, for some reason, glanced back at the TV screen, but it was now playing a commercial for cereal.
Richie just laughed and mimed not hearing, even though Eddie was sure that he could yell louder than those window panes were thick. Then his friend was gone, disappeared into the rustling bushes. Three obnoxious doorbell chimes rang through the house just a second later.
Eddie stormed over to the front door and swung it open with enough violence he only avoided denting the wall through a quick save. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he said with deadly calm.
“Trick or treat!” Richie crowed and reached out to give Eddie a lazy noogie. It took nothing to dodge, and Eddie made sure to kick at Richie’s shins for good measure. “I scared you pretty good there, Spagheds, did you start the movie without me? Was Gremlins on TV?”
“The only reason you scared me was how scary your face is.”
“As if,” Richie said in his Valley Girl. With only a small crack, he slid back to his normal register. “But don’t worry, Daddy’s got the goods. And all you owe me is a blowjob and your left kidney.”
“Um, hello?” Emily, forgotten, drawled.
Richie glowed. “Why hello, young padawan. Nothing here, did you see. Back to Scooby Doo, must you go.” He loved kids, as shitty of a babysitter as he would be.
Not that kids loved him back. “I’m not five. I know what blowjobs are.”
Before Richie could explode with glee, Eddie stepped in. “Real nice, Emily. Anyway, I’m sure Mr. Richie here was just about to give us the movie I asked for and be on his way. So he stops bothering us.”
“Edderoni and cheese is right on the money, Emster. I’m just here for a quickie.” Richie turned back to Eddie and pulled a beat-up VHS out of his big coat pocket. It had a fucking Christmas tree on it.
“The fuck kind of joke is this, dude? Where’s the real movie?”
“No, really! Black Christmas is great! I wouldn’t steer you wrong, it’s totally a scary movie. I pissed myself the first time I saw it, honest.”
“God, whatever. But if Emily makes fun of me for how lame the movie is, I’m telling her it was your fault. And all the middle schoolers will know you’re just a loser who has bad taste,” Eddie grumbled.
“Ah yes, my greatest fear,” Richie solemnly nodded. He tugged Eddie just a bit closer, and started whispering. "I've, uh, also brought a little present just for you.” He pulled a greasy napkin out of his other pocket and shoved it quickly into Eddie’s hand.
“Ew, fucking gross, man!” Eddie tried to shove it right back.
“No, no, no siree, you’ll want to keep this one,” Richie smirked. Holding Eddie’s hand closed around the wad, he delicately opened the napkin to reveal a misshapen lump of brownie. A faint funk wafted from it. “We saved you a little something.”
The disgust drained out of Eddie, replaced by tepid interest. “I don’t know, dude. I’m working!”
“Yeah, like babysitting is so hard. Watch the stupid movie, eat it, send her to bed, and spend the rest of the night not bored out of your mind.” He paused, and went even quieter. “I could always come back over when the kid’s asleep. Give you some company.”
Eddie blushed. “Is everyone gonna be at yours the whole night?”
“Yeah, but you know them. No questions asked.”
That was a little too true. Like the Losers didn’t think that Richie ditching them to hang out with Eddie would be at all surprising. Eddie hoped that they assumed it was just normal Richie-and-Eddie shit.
“I don’t know,” he eventually said. “I’ll call you.” He dared a look at Richie’s face, which was in kissing distance yet unreachable. Richie stared back at him for a moment.
“Yeah, you do that.” He shook himself off like a dog. “Well,” he continued at full volume, “I best be off. Pip pip cheerio and all that jazz.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie grinned as he shut the door in his friend’s face. He waited while he heard Richie clatter down the porch stairs, then turned to Emily, movie in hand. “Why don’t we see if this movie’s any good?”
***
The movie was whatever. Eddie was bored for most of it, but at least Emily was clearly freaked out by the creepy phone calls and the deaths, especially the plastic wrap one. He only found himself tensing up when the voice of the police officer yelled through the phone for the girls to leave the house immediately. “The calls are coming from inside the house!”
When the credits rolled, Emily was pretty quiet. “That wasn’t too scary, was it?” He asked.
She scoffed. “Yeah right. That was baby stuff.” He could see that she was jumpy anyway.
“I’ll tell my friend that his choice was too lame for a kid your age,” he allowed, smiling. “Why don’t you get to bed? I let you stay up a bit later than your mom would like.”
There was only minimal grousing as Emily slouched up the stairs. Eddie heard the sink running for a long time, almost covering the soft singing to herself. He busied himself with extracting the weed brownie from where he stashed it in his jacket pocket, hanging in the entryway. He grimaced to feel the greasy napkin again. He took a large bite, hungry again somehow after the pizza. On second thought, he took some more, already feeling the boredom of sitting on the couch for the rest of the night creep over him. With about half of the brownie left, he tucked the napkin away again.
That was about enough time, to his counting, for Emily to have gotten into bed. He took his time going upstairs just to be on the safe side. He took them one at a time, and turned slowly at the half landing. He reached the top, and almost made it to Emily’s door completely on autopilot. It was only chance that led his eyes to land further down the hallway, where the rest of the doors were shrouded in shadow. Emily’s lamp was bright enough, and the night was light enough, that Eddie could still see most of the way.
It wasn’t dark enough to hide the clown, crouched at the very end of the hall.