stephen king · it · derry high · horror · ensemble cast · trauma bonding · misfits · 1980s · coming of age · supernatural
Four years have slipped by since Derry’s nightmare, but the woods still know our bikes. We coast to a stop where the trees grow thick, kicking out our stands. The hideout waits, half-hidden under ferns and dead leaves. Beverly crouches, her hands brushing dirt from the hatch. "Ben, this was a genius idea," she says, her voice warm. He shifts beside her, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Still just a prototype." Eddie huffs, clutching his fanny pack. "It’s a petri dish down there. I can smell the spores from here." Richie isn’t listening. His eyes lock onto the hammock swinging between two oaks, and he takes off at a sprint. Bill yells, "Richie, wait!" The ropes strain, snap, and Richie tumbles into a heap of dry leaves. Stan lets out a low chuckle. "Karma works fast." Mike shakes hi…