Bloody Noses & Crack'd Crowns

Chapter 16

I DO NOT OWN THIS STORY. All credit goes to TheWeaverofWorlds on ao3

On Saturday morning, Ben came down to Aunt Jean's kitchen to find his mother already up sitting at the table. A cup of coffee steamed by her left hand, her right was busy circling something in the newspaper.

"What are you doing?" Ben asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Just looking at listings. I think it's about time we try and find a place of our own, don't you Benny?"

Ben was alarmed. "These are all in Portland."

"I know, sweetie."

"I don't want to be the new kid again. I like it here." Beverly's here. His friends were here. But he didn't need to tell his mother that, she could infer it from his tone.

She looked up at him. "Derry isn't what I thought it would be. Don't you want a fresh start, away from – well you know."

Ben shook his head. Derry had become his home, the Losers were his family. He couldn't run now. "I want to stay. To fight."

Arlene's expression dropped to one more troubled. "You sound like your father."

Her tone was a mix of pride and sorrow. Ben knew she hadn't meant it as a compliment, but he couldn't help but be blush at the comparison. He knew now more than ever that staying was the right thing to do.

"Mom, do we even have the money to move out of Aunt Jean's?"

Arlene took his hand. "Don't you worry about the money, don't you worry about a thing."

Instead of being comforted, Ben couldn't help but feel a vague sense of foreboding about what his mother was planning. He could only hope that she would decide to stay.

That afternoon, Arlene Hanscom would telephone several people she knew in DC, setting in motion the biggest scandal Derry had yet to see since the sensational death of the Bradley Gang in '29. Harry Meadows' hatred of technology and trouble updating the online archives of the News would secede to bigger papers which would carry the story nationwide. Derry was finally going to be put on the map, all thanks to little Arlene Hanscom who never wanted to cause anyone any bit of trouble.

–

Across town at the House on Neibolt Street, Robert was conducting a meeting with Sheriff Bowers, Ronnie Hockstetter, and Richard Macklin. He insisted the boys play out front, and told them if he caught them eavesdropping the shiners from last night would be the least of their worries.

Eddie was currently sitting on the stoop, miserably considering the new medication Norbert Keene had given to him this morning. The side effects didn't seem too bad, but was he really wasting away? He always knew he was small, but was it a risk? He rolled the cheerful yellow bottle between his hands, listening to the pills clink about the container. And as he considered his own mortality, Richie would have called him the world's tiniest Hamlet had he been here, he watched Bill and Mike play fucking catch in the dead grass. If anyone should be considering their mortality it should be the two of them, Eddie thought glumly. They were in no state to play ball, but still had ignored Eddie's whining.

Every arcing throw was met with winces, and between the laughter their were still groans. It felt like a small act of rebellion to Mike and Bill. A demonstration to Robert that although he controlled so much of their lives, he couldn't completely steal their youth.

The ball made a soft whump each time it was caught in the worn gloves.

"You ever think about playing? Baseball I mean?" Mike asked after a particularly good fastball.