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SUMMER'S LEGS WERE kicked up on the row of red chairs in front of her. The room was brightly lit, but still dark due to the painted black walls of the theatre. A stray spotlight shone on the heavy red curtains, closing the stage off.
There a copy of Julius Caesar in her hands, and she was reading through it. She was almost done, as she had been there every day, reading, eating popcorn, and trying to forget about Eddie.
She had wanted to talk to him so badly, but she was too afraid. He probably hated her after the entire house incident, and he would never talk to her or want to see her again. He hadn't made contact with any of the Losers.
Instead, she had attended Stan's bar mitzvah, where he had made the rebellious speech that was probably the talk of Derry's Jewish community. She had felt so proud of him for it, and her and Richie had clapped for five minutes until their hands were tingling and they were asked to leave. Summer had made her way home after saying goodbye to Richie, with the two of them being unable to find Stan.
The three of them were now a friendly pairing. Mike was back on his farm, Ben was holed up elsewhere, and Richie and Summer were not on speaking terms with Bill at the moment. Summer saw Bev occasionally, and the short-haired redhead would offer her a friendly smile, before biking off into the distance, leaving Summer with a pit in her stomach.
She refused to even look at Eddie's house whenever she boarded home, for fear of— well, she wasn't sure what exactly. All she knew was there was a deep ache in her ribcage every time she dared picture the boy's brown eyes. She wanted to reach out to him so badly, but as she had already thought, Eddie probably hated her.
She had left him in Neibolt, wandered down the hall with Richie and Bill, leaving Eddie to nearly die. This nagged at her constantly, despite Stan's awkward reassurances of how it wasn't her fault. He hated talking about that house, about the horrors they had seen in there, so she would always gently end the conversation and switch the subject.
"Hey! Sunshine!"
Richie and Stan were walking down the aisle, Richie nearly tripping over his feet, and Stan solemnly plodding along behind him. Summer's inner debate dissipated as she rose to greet them, putting her arm around Stan and grudgingly linking her elbow with Richie's. The three of them headed to the stage, Julius Caesar still clutched in Summer's hand. They settled themselves on the stage, in various lazy positions, and then Richie snatched the play out of her hands.
"What's this fucking book about?"
Summer grabbed it back, prodding Richie in the ribs and causing him to yelp. "It's not a fucking book, it's a play. About the death of Julius Caesar? The guy from Ancient Rome?"
