THEY'RE GAZEBOS | it one-shots

fifteen | sofia

"Oh boy! Bill, please be careful!" screeched Ms. Uris as she stepped back a bit from the door.

"Suh suh suhrry Ms. Uh Uris," muttered Bill regaining his balance, "Is Stuh Stan home?" he asked trying not to stutter too much since adults often cut him off.

"He is Bill, let me call him," she politely answered and she proceeded to go upstairs, probably to get a Stan that was too busy climbing over his house's roof watching birds.

A few seconds later the boy came down and Bill pulled him out the door.

"Buh Bye Miss Uh uh Uris!" he screamed as he pulled the boy, he brought him over to silver and Stan picked up his bicycle from the curb and ran up to the stuttering boy.

"Bill what is it?" mumbled Stan, "Is It back?" asked Stan frantically moving away from the sidewalk and into the street.

"Nuh No! Look wuh wuh what I guh got" said Bill as he showed to tickets slightly crumpled at the edges,

"Bill are those?" asked Stan grabbing one from the boy' hands and smoothing it over.

"Yeh Yes" responded Bill, he quickly mounted his bike, "Cuh Cuh Come On!" he ushered pedaling away from Stan's house. Bill looked up at the sun it was beginning to set on the

horizon, it was a beautiful rosy shade. Bill kept on walking, wondering where his friends could be.

Beverly sat down on the destroyed balcony, her feet dangling over the ledge. This building had not been near enough the center of Derry to be caught in the catastrophe but it had been abandoned for a long time, in fact, she remembered how she had sat down in here

on a hot August afternoon, she took out a cigarette from her rolled up sleeve and offered it to the boy beside her who shook his head. She shrugged and placed it between her teeth as she took out the lighter she had stolen from Richie.

"That probably has some weird Richie-disease," commented Stan and Beverly let out a small laugh, she looked down at the world below her and her face adopted a serious expression.

Beverly had never wanted to be this way, a girl that was constantly called a slut, a girl who was afraid of her own family and a girl who could never express herself.

"So how was your day?" asked Stan as he straightened his shirt.

"Terrible," responded Beverly with her head still down.

"Why?" asked Stan now worried, Beverly often responded with a 'good' or an 'awesome'.

"Greta," she mumbled, "But who cares?" responded Beverly remembering her though attitude.

"Bev she bothers you every day!" exclaimed Stan trying to lighten the mood.

"So? I don't like being called a slut every day!" answered Beverly taking a long drag of her cigarette, "Maybe she is right... I am a slut, just like my mother," commented Beverly finally looking up.

"No you are not," argued Stan with a bewildered expression.

"I am, I hang out with a bunch of guys," started Beverly.

"Yeah! But actually, we hang out with you so..." counterattacked Stan.

"Look at me smoking! Look at me playing in the barrens! Look at what I did in the sewers!" complained Bev, Stan sighted and came close to his friend.

"First of all, you saved us! And also you are pretty wicked for hanging out with us! Not everybody can be as badass as you, and Greta is just jealous," defended Stan, Bev looked at him and then hugged him the hot August wind blew