Splendor//Bill Denbrough

T w o

Atticus isn't exactly a heartthrob, but all of the decent people in his school admire him. While he's attractive for an athletic twelve year old on the brink of puberty, he also volunteers in the special needs classroom every day- and not just so he can put it on his college applications one day, either. Since his brother Jeremy is autistic, he knows how to treat disabled students with respect. Atticus will not stand for anyone making offensive jokes or using derogatory terms for them, be it subtle or obvious. 

Although he doesn't have the most common sense (a gene inherited from both his parents), Atticus is a respectable middle schooler, with a handful of girls and boys alike crushing on him.

Jeremy, on the other hand,  is quiet and observant. He doesn't outwardly show many emotions, but he does love his family more than anything in the world. And he's smart as hell- not "I can do calculus in seventh grade" kind of smart, but that logical intelligence that always favors reason. He's thoughtful, kind, and a total mama's boy.

Identical twins, they are known for sharing their strawberry blonde hair, freckles, and father and sister's blue eyes. However, it is pretty easy to differentiate Jeremy because of his slumped posture, quiet voice, and classy style (mainly button downs or polos and khakis, jeans if he's in a good mood).

The twins are well liked, and not just because of their husky who passed away a few years ago, or even their attractive parents and penthouse- but because they're good people.

They're also very close.

"Something's wrong with mom and dad," Jeremy puts his pencil neatly on top of his drawing. "They're lying to us about seeing their friends."

"Really?" Atticus asks, scrolling through his blatantly middle school Instagram feed.

"Yes. They never visit friends far away or for a long time. And mom left after dad."

Interested, Atticus clicks off his phone. "That's true... they do everything together."

Jeremy nods, picking up his pencil and returning to his drawing.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Atticus watches him incredulously.

His twin shrugs, sketching a picture of Emma, a girl he's been crushing on for a few months.

"They lied to us!"

"I know."

"There's something wrong, and they need help, I know it."

Jeremy shrugs again, but Atticus steps on his soapbox.

"Do you realize that Claire is the favorite child?"

"Yes."

"Mom and Dad always going on about how Claire is their miracle baby. And how she kept them stable through college. And how smart and successful she is."

With every word, Jeremy begins to nod. "Yeah!"

"But, Jer,  imagine if we fix whatever's going on. Imagine being the favorites. Only twelve and so heroic," then he adds, as an afterthought, "we also love Mom and Dad very much and should always want to help them like they help us."

"Okay," Jeremy agrees.

"Bitching," Atticus mutters a term that he read in one of Carn's old books. "First order of business: finding out where they are."

"Check her credit card history."

Atticus drops his jaw. "That's completely psychotic, but completely brilliant!"

"I know," he responds, unenthused. However, Atticus is running to grab their shared laptop and opens a private tab.

"Are we First National Bank?"

"Yes."

"Damn, what's our account number?"

"5179537194."

"How do you remember- never mind. What would Mom's password be?"

"writingislife1994."

"That's so cringey," he gags, typing it in, only to get an error message. "Hey, it didn't work. I'm proud of you, Carnation, for not picking such a terrible password."

"Capital W."

"Oh," he fixes his mistake, shaking his head lovingly at Carn. "Last transaction.... Maine Airlines? She's taking a plane to Maine!! But where the hell in Maine?"

"Mom and Dad used to live in Derry, Maine," Jeremy says casually, still sketching.

"Seriously?" Atticus throws up his hands, unbelieving of how easy this is. "How do you know that?"

"Found a postcard she sent to him from Texas," he replies as if he was saying the weather.

"Well, let's go to Derry!!"

"Okay. Claire can drive us."

"What? No, Jer. Claire can't know. Because then she'll take us back and be the favorite again. We're going to have to get a train."

He fidgets. "Trains are loud..." 

"It's okay, Jer. You can bring your headphones, and it'll be a lot quieter than the subway. Plus I promise we can sit in a corner together, away from a bunch of people."

"Promise?"

"Pinky swear."

An hour later, Claire pulls up to their apartment complex, calling and texting the boys, who had conveniently turned their phones off completely.

Heads on each other's shoulders, they nap as the train zooms to Derry, five hours and many light years away.