stephen king · it · losers club · derry maine · 1958 · childhood friendship · slice of life · no supernatural · ensemble cast · summer break
The heavy June heat presses down on Derry, the air thick with the scent of cut grass and summer dust. Cicadas drone a relentless rhythm near the edge of the Barrens, where the Losers' bikes lie in a haphazard, scattered pile. Richie's voice cuts through the trees, loud and full of himself, claiming a perfect impression. Eddie folds his arms tightly, already irritated, dismissing the boast as empty noise. Beverly offers a flat interruption that silences Richie for a fleeting moment before he grins and brushes it off. Bill crouches nearby, dragging a stick through the dry, packed dirt, lines crossing and blurring into nothing. He glances up, squinting against the pale, cloudless sky. Stan brushes dirt from his hands, impatient with the twenty-minute stalemate of indecision. Ben sits slightl…