IT 2017 - Blonde Hair, Black Lungs.

I

Derry Maine, Summer Of 1989—

I flip through my math booklet, my notes beside me, "Baye!" A distant voice yelled for me downstairs. Choosing to ignore it, I pick up my pencil and start my homework. "Baeley!"

I huff annoyed and continued ignoring Henry; he always wanted something when he did shit like this. I drop my pencil in fear as five loud bangs vibrate my door.

"Baye, are you fucking deaf? Jesus Christ, we're out of beer go get some more." Henry barges in through the now roughly opened door, I glare at him as he leans against the doorframe.

"Go get it yourself." I grumble before looking away from him and back down at the paper in front of me.

He glares at me and slaps my door loudly, to get my attention again. "Just go get the goddamn beer, Baye. I'll fucking give you money for it."

I groan and toss my notepad away getting up, "Fine." I step in front of him and hold my hand out expectantly.

He sighs and reaches into his jeans pocket pulling out a tenner, "Here." he tosses it at me, missing my hand it falls to the floor.

"Bitch." I mumble and lean down picking it up as he walks away, couldn't even hand it to me like a normal person.

"And hurry the fuck up." He shouts from down the hall; I roll my eyes and mock him as I grab my shoes.

I skip down the stairs and bump into someone, "Watch it." I huff and glare at Patrick as he stares me down. That weird look in his eyes, he needs to be like... taken to the looney bin or something. I swear.

"Whatever." I grumble and shuffle past the psycho, "I'll be back in a few." I shove Henry's head forward as he glares at me from the cushion on the couch he was sitting on.

"Bitch." He grunts out, fixing his hair. Not that there was much to fix.

"Calm down, mullet, no one's looking at you." I roll my eyes as I go to grab the keys to dad's car.

"Hey! No, take your bike or something." Henry smacks a hand over the old truck keys, I sigh and leave without the keys. Making sure to slam the door behind me just because.

꒷꒦

I bike downtown, basically Henry's slave at this point, fetching beer for him and his ugly goons. He's just like dad—as much as I hate to say it, he is. He's just as broken, drunk, abusive, and manipulative as the prick.

If mom hadn't died, I would've still been with her in Chicago. But then she got sick, and now I'm here for the remainder of my teens, probably. Honestly probably might end up pregnant or addicted to drugs at some point.

Whoopie.

I toss my bike to the side, not caring enough to put my peg up, the beaute was already scuffed up. I push open the drug store's door and walk in, dragging my fingers over some of the items put up on display on the shelves.

The creep who owns the store, Gretta's dad, watches my every move with his square tortoiseshell glasses. I walk into an aisle and pause—there stands, with surprised faces, three boys. I knew them from my brother's countless rants to me at school and at home.

The smallest one being the asthmatic kid, Eddie. The tallest one being Stanley Uris, the Jew that Henry is always calling a pansy, among other names. The last one being Bill Denbrough, the boy who lost his kid brother just last year.

I feel someone approach behind me, so I turn slightly, and a gasp escapes me as I jump a little, Beverly standing there looking just as confused—quiet, that one. "Holy shit—" I choke slightly and turn back to the boys.