superstitious, bill denbrough

CHAPTER TEN

"Kid- come on I- would you please, let go."

Richie had proceeded to hold tight, the band member struggling to take a tighter grasp. With a final tug, he had successfully pulled it away, giving Richie a hard glare as he walked away. Richie held his arms out, watching him take faster steps forward. "Hey, what the fuck dude? I gotta girl over her!"

I made my way towards the heated boy, letting out a whistle as I was unable to clap my hands together. "That was some show," I giggled out. "Maybe next time you'll be marching with them," I sarcastically state, earning a smirk.

"Admit it, you found it hot." Richie put each of his hands on his hips, only earning an eye roll from me.

I looked back to where the rest of the group stood, all huddled in a circle with hushed voices. Eddie had found his way to my side, his hand outwards as he held a cone with sparkling vanilla white ice-cream. "I'd rather you have it then him."

I laughed, both Eddie and I watching Richie briskly move his arms up. "I'm right here, you know. Just saying. It's not like I have feelings." He swiftly took the cone out of Eddie's hand, taking a large bite.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Eddie questioned, the three of ours attentions now fixated on the other.

"What they've always been talking about for the past few days."

"Then I guess we should listen," I stated, walking over to the rest.

"To my extent, I actually think it'll end. At least, for a little while." Ben's words was what caught my attention, my feet walking faster as I was now amongst the group.

"What do you mean?" I stated, confused but more intrigued at what was going on.

"Back at my place, I was charting out all the data and research I had on all the big events. The Ironworks Explosion in 1908. The Bradley Gang in 1935, and The Black Spot in 1962. And now with all the kids... I realized that all this stuff seems to happen-"

"Every 27 years." My voice became low as I finished off his sentence, my heart beating faster as more puzzles came to attach in this difficult game. Everything is slowly piecing itself together, and yet I still haven't the fullest clue as to what is going on.

With a tighter hold on to Frankie, a booming voice had seem to cut through the thick air. Even everyone in the group had a made a slight jump when all of our attentions turned to the older man a few feet away. With wide eyes, I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I faced a rather angry father.

"Who the hell is th-"

"Shut up, Ruh-Richie," Bill whispered, Eddie hitting him against his side.

Oh, not now. Why now? Taking a deeper breath, I made my way towards my father. He held his toolbag in one hand, dropping it to the ground as his arms crossed over his chest. You did it this time, Monet. You screwed up. Smiling weakly, I could only hope for the best. But as I stared up to my father, everything was soon drawn down as he didn't smile back. No words were spoken between the two of us, just continuance silence. "Dad, I-"

"Do you mind telling me what the hell you're doing out here? I thought we talked about this back at the house. Get Frankie some food, then head home."