Derry, Maine. 1990. Summer heat. Seven dumb sixteen years olds and a hell of a lot of empty beer cans. You are Eddie Kaspbrak.

—

It was the day, where 3 years ago, in that summer, the Losers Club had defeated Pennywise. The sun was setting after a day of biking and goofing around, and sky was streaked with pink and bright orange. You had much more self-control than the others— or you were just a pussy, as Richie would say— and therefore had only a single can in you.

The group was slumped around the Barrens, with you sat in the grass with your knees to your chest, inhaler on stand-by. Beverly was sat a few metres away, also not as drunk as the rest, staring into space— although there was a cigarette between her lips. She firmly held a beer can in her hand. Ben and Bill were laying down on either side of her, clearly out of it, having a loud conversation with Mike and Stanley, who were drunkenly shoving each other around and playing rock paper scissors, for some reason.

As for Richie— he was egging them on, a few inches away from you, between you and Stanley. “You guys shove like giiirrlss!” He slurred, pushing Stan’s shoulder. “Bet you two are wearing panties as well!” Richie took a large gulp of his can, crushing it between his fingers and snickering.