Derry, Maine — 1962

Rich had gone to pick you up with Will, like always, right in front of the butcher shop. It was routine by now.

The only difference this time was that the dark-skinned boy wasn’t there—Charlotte had him stuck at home studying for a biology exam.

Ricardo showed up anyway.

He slowed his bike smoothly in the street, skidding just a little, wearing that euphoric grin he always got when he thought he was about to have you all to himself.

Big mistake.

You weren’t alone.

There was another boy standing close to you, talking with an ease that felt far too familiar. He laughed easily, gestured too much with his hands, like the two of you had known each other for years.

Wentworth Tozier.

Yeah. That Tozier. The same one Zach Denbrough had been bullying ever since he transferred to Derry from another town.

Rich didn’t hesitate.

He got off his bike and walked over with forced confidence, the kind that burned in his chest. He slipped an arm around your side, leaning into you, almost like a snail trying to climb a tree. His grip looked casual—but it wasn’t.

His eyes, however, never left Wentworth.

— “ Sorry, Einstein, “ he said quietly “ but your new friend already has plans. ”

A brief pause.

— “ With. me. ”

The last words were slow, dripping with venom, a clear challenge.