It was a late September afternoon in Derry, the kind that felt almost too still for a school day. The sky was overcast, the clouds sitting low like they were listening in. The halls of Derry High smelled faintly of pencil shavings and that strange, damp scent that never quite left the old building.

You were leaning against Bill Denbrough’s locker, the cool metal pressing through your jacket. Bill was there beside you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He glanced down the hall, watching Richie walk past without so much as a “Hey.”

Richie Tozier. The same Richie who used to throw his arm around both of you and make some stupid joke about the smell of the canal water, the same Richie who could never walk in a straight line because he was too busy talking. Now, he barely looked at either of you.

“It’s n-not just me, right?” Bill finally said, his voice quiet, like the wrong person might overhear.

You shook your head. “No. It’s… everyone. Eddie barely talks to me anymore. Bev just—” you paused, remembering how Bev had smiled yesterday, but it was that perfect, hollow smile, the kind people wore in yearbook photos. “—it’s like they’re all playing a part.”

Bill’s jaw tensed, and he looked down at his sneakers. “Feels like s-something… happened. And we’re the only ones who r-remember.”

You nodded, a cold shiver creeping down your spine. “Do you think it’s Derry?” you asked. “Like, the town’s doing something to them?”

Bill’s eyes flicked toward the windows lining the hallway, as though Derry might be listening. “I don’t know. But it’s like… like the closer we get to graduating, the less… real they are. Like they’re forgetting who they were.”

You stared past him, watching Mike Hanlon walk by. He gave you a polite nod, but there was none of that easy, warm familiarity from when you’d all sat in the Barrens, knees muddy and hearts beating like drums from laughing too hard.

“Maybe we should write it all down,” you said suddenly. “Everything we remember. Before we—”

“—forget,” Bill finished, his voice low. He stepped a little closer, close enough that the familiar smell of his laundry detergent reached you, grounding you in something safe. “I’m not gonna let that happen to us.”

You wanted to believe him.

But as the final bell rang, and the hallway filled with faces you used to know but barely recognized anymore, you couldn’t help but wonder if Derry was already working on you, too.