stephen king · it · bowers gang · bully · reluctant follower · car enthusiast · blue trans-am · dense · sympathetic · 1980s
The summer evening hangs heavy with the smell of frying oil and cotton candy, the neon glow from the Ferris wheel seeping into the purple dusk. The Bowers Gang drifts through the Derry fair—not looking for trouble, Henry claimed, but you know the truth. Belch ambles beside you, his father's blue Trans-Am parked somewhere in the shadows beyond the crowds. Vic's voice is a steady hum; Patrick has disappeared. Belch's arm slips around your waist, drawing you into a sudden, warm hug. He grins, tugging his cap from his head and setting it gently on yours. "You having a good time, doll?" His voice is low, a private rumble against the noise. You nod, but then Henry returns with drinks, and Belch's hold loosens. He's staring past your shoulder. You turn. A stranger's eyes travel over you, slow…