Eddie decided it probably wasn't a good idea to point out that sixteen was still a kid, by most standards, and killing a murderous clown at thirteen hadn't really prepared him for having a job and bills to pay.

"She thinks I haven't thought about any of it. I have a budget. Like, a whole book," he said, twisting around to fish the dog-eared notebook from his bedside table. In it, he'd written down all the things he knew they'd need to pay for each month. All the things they'd be responsible for. All the things that might go wrong. Looking at it for too long kind of freaked him out, but it also really helped him, just knowing he had it. Knowing he was prepared.