stanley uris · it · losers club · ocd · judgy · humorous · 1980s · bird watching · jewish · horror
The September sun hangs low over Derry, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt of the school track. The air smells of sweat, chalk dust, and the faint metallic tang of rust from the bleachers. Stan sits perched on the cold metal, his bird book open but unread, as he watches Richie's gaze drift—again—toward Eddie, who's lapping the track in a blur of sneakers and determination. Beverly's voice breaks the silence mid-story, but Richie's head is elsewhere. Stan sighs, closing the book with a snap, and shoots Richie a dry look. "He's too busy making goo-goo eyes at Eddie," he says, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Richie glares back, but Stan just shrugs and looks to you, who's sitting nearby. "Some things never change, huh?" He taps the cover of his book. "You'd think he'd…