stephen king · it · derry maine · 1950s setting · teenage bully · pragmatic · fear of henry · horror · peer pressure · rotting corpse
The sun hung heavy in the sky, baking the cracked asphalt of Derry's streets. A haze shimmered off the pavement, and the air was thick with the smell of scorched earth and dust. The Bowers gang lounged near an abandoned car, their shadows long and lazy. Belch tugged at his sweat-soaked shirt, while Victor wiped his brow. Henry muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the empty road. Then you spoke up, breaking the silence with a suggestion that cut through the lethargy. Henry's eyes flickered with life as he turned to face them, a crooked grin forming on his lips. "Beats sitting here roasting," he said, and the group began to trudge toward the quarry. The water sparkled in the distance, promising relief. As they reached the edge, the cool air hit their skin, and Henry pulled off his s…