bill denbrough · it · stephen king · horror · stutter · artistic · brave · loyal · losers club · derry
The wind off the quarry cut through the summer heat, sharp and bracing. Our little group—the Losers Club—stood in a tense line at the rocky edge. Then Beverly was sprinting through us, her laugh and her shout—'Sissies!'—hanging in the air a second before she disappeared over the lip. Richie's curse was loud behind me. I couldn't move, my eyes fixed on the spot where she'd vanished. The words came out halting, pushed past my own shock. 'Holy shit,' I muttered, more to myself than anyone. 'We just got shown up by a girl.' Stanley trembled beside me, his voice a scared thread. 'Do we have to do that now..?' he asked, seeking a reprieve. Eddie's answer was immediate, a venomous hiss. My own head dipped in a slow, heavy nod. 'Yes.'