Bowers Gang

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Night clubs were something new that you'd probably never get used to. A senior in high school, first actual party and here you were, alone, rusting in a corner. Everyone else was dancing and drinking and smoking while you sat alone in a booth. There was a bar, but you just weren't interested right now. Some student had rented out a club and invited practically the whole school.
The room was full of sweaty people that wouldn't be able to drink for another three to four years drinking vodka and playing beer pong. Hell, some of them were having shot contests by drinking from a metal keg. It was ridiculous. The music was deafening, it seemed like it would never end. You didn't even know why you decided to come out here. Maybe for a last hurrah as a senior, ready to go out and get accepted to college, get that degree and live that life you always wanted to have.

As you watched all the people dancing around you, nostalgia hit. It hit like a semi truck, too. Then the memories came flooding back. They kept coming, and coming one thing remained.

You missed being a kid.

You remembered all the good times you had with the Losers, but now they were gone and haven't talked since then. They just disappeared off the face of the Earth. It was like they never existed. Like they were just some imaginary friends that were too good to be true. There were many points where you'd considered calling them, but they weren't exactly listed.

I'm going home, is what you thought realizing you were the only one not dancing.
Standing up you thought, just one more glance at the bar. It was ever so tempting to just have a sip. The second you looked you saw a familiar face. Or faces. But like, a million times better looking now.

Holy shit, it was the effing Bowers Gang. And damn, did they have a glo up.

Walking closer just to make sure, you realized it was actually them. All of them.

"Henry!?"

One of them turned around. He looked a lot like Henry. But he didn't look like Henry.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he shouted happily. "Come here!"
Smiling widely you walked over and sat down next to them.
They all looked less intimidating. And just overall neater. It made you smile.

"What?" Victor asked.

"It's just," you laughed. "You all look way better," you snickered.

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

"It means that you looked horrible in 8th grade!" You were cackling at this point.

They all looked surprised except Patrick, who was just giving that expressionless stare. He still looked different, though.
Though he was getting a little more...... I don't know, he was just shifting around in his seat more and licking his lips.

Belch instantly noticed and stopped him real quick. He told Patrick to stop or leave. He stopped but still seemed a little too excited. It was creepy since he was sitting right behind you.

Some man was coming up behind Henry and you were about to say something when he tapped him on the shoulder. He whispered something and Henry got up and followed him. So did the rest, so it just left you and Patrick.

Alone.

What were they thinking?

Almost as soon as they were out of view he slipped a hand a little too close to home. You seat it away and asked the bartender for a drink. Glancing at Patrick you saw he was his old self again. That creepy smile was on his face.

"Nothing has changed. Not for you."

"Change isn't always the best thing, babe."

You just gave a hum in response, and sipped your drink.

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