One of a Kind - Stanley Uris

7: Downtown

DERRY - July 6th, 1990

I had talked to Beverly on the phone about Stanley the night he confessed. She wasn't surprised. She told me that she had seen us mooning over each other when the other one wasn't looking. I blushed, and wondered if any of the boys had had suspicions like Beverly. After that, it was getting pretty late. I had been planning to call Latte and Tay, but I decided I would do it when I had time.

On July 6th, the Losers Club was meeting up to go around downtown and browse the corner stores. Stanley and I rode our bikes together to get downtown, talking animatedly about something I can't quite remember. We met up with the remainder of the Club in the alley next to Mike's grandfather's meat store. Richie confronted me as soon as I dismounted my bike, his stick arms crossed, trying to look intimidating (and failing; I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling, or God forbid laughing).

"You have some explaining to do, Uris," Richie said. He pointed to me.

"My last name's not Uris," I said, confused. And then it hit me. Richie knew.

"Nobody said anything about us being married," Stanley said defensively, dismounting his bike and putting the kickstand up. He turned to Bill, who was staring at the ground. "And I thought you said you weren't going to tell anyone!"

Bill shrugged and met Stan's gaze. "S-s-sorry Stan," He said. "I only m-meant to t-t-tell Eddie, but..." He gestured to the rest of the Losers Club. Beverly, who was right next to him, tried to hold back a smirk.

Stan then turned his gaze to Eddie, who looked apologetic. "I was so excited, I couldn't hold it in. Richie overheard," the small boy told him. Stanley rolled his eyes.

"Have you guys held hands?" Richie drilled me.

"Well, yes," I replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable at being put on the spot.

"Kissed?"

"No."

"Made out?"

"Gross -- no offense, Stanley!"

"Fucked?"

"What the hell, Richie?" Stan snapped at him. "It's been two days!"

Richie ignored him and faced me, his eyes contemplating beneath his thick glasses. After a minute, he said, "Even after two days, I can see that your girlfriend's lame, Stan the Man."

"And where's your girlfriend?" I retorted. "I'd just love to grade her on her compatibility." Richie  shut up for once.

Mike broke the awkward silence. "Should we go to the candy store first?" he asked us. Everyone nodded. We mounted our bikes and rode down the street, and when we entered the store, a little bell on the door rung with a hollow sound.

We looked around at the dozens of colorful sweets perched on several shelves. Beverly and Bill were looking at some chocolates, while the rest of us were either looking at the sour candies or the less melty candies. I picked out some Lemonheads, but Stan picked out some M&M's.

I turned to him and said, "You better eat those fast."

He looked back at me with a mischievous grin and asked, "Why?"

"Because they'll melt in the summer heat," I replied. "You don't want warm, melted candy, do you?"

"You know, sometimes warm M&M's explode in your mouth," he told me.

"And you want that?" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"Don't tell me how to eat," he said with mock seriousness. We both burst out laughing. It was so nice to be with Stanley, but even nicer to be closer than we ever were before.

"Hey, lovebirds," Ben said. "Are you gonna pay?"

~

The next store we hit was a toy store. Nobody bought anything, but it's always fun to look around. Stan ate his warm M&M's as I looked at some stuffed animals. As I was, that was when I noticed the dolls. The ones that were as tall as a five-year-old, with their glassy, lifeless eyes. Fear clawed at my heart, something I have not experienced since I joined the Losers Club. I grabbed Beverly and whispered, "Can we please get out of here now? Please?"

Beverly heard the note of fear in my voice and said, "Okay. Come with me." We walked out of the store briskly. I was desperately trying not to run out of the store. I could feel the dolls' eyes on me as I walked out, their gaze as hot and as sharp as knife wounds in my back. When we got out of the store, Beverly asked, "You okay, Y/n?"

I nodded, but my eyes were unseeing as I remembered the many run-ins I've had with dolls. I have been afraid of dolls since I was five. I never played with them, and when a friend had dolls in her room during a play-date or sleepover, I would politely ask her to move them to another room. Both Mike and Stan had seemed to notice us walking out, and they were next to us in seconds. Stan was looking very concerned as he asked me, "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, still staring at nothing.

A flashback had appeared to me just then. Of a little me, around five, happily prancing around on the sidewalks of our nice suburban neighborhood in Detroit. I was looking at the sidewalk most of the time as I walked, but one time when I looked up, I saw some teenagers in the yard of a vacant house. Curious, I wandered over to see what they were doing. That, however, was a big mistake.

They noticed me and came over to me, all happy and bubbly. "Hey, little girl!" one boy said. "Do you want to play with some toys we found?"

Being the young and careless child I was, I nodded vigorously and skipped over to the yard, where two girls were holding an object. They noticed me, and they talked to me in the same voice the boy had. "Hi, sweetheart!" a girl with long blonde hair chirped. "Did Dylan send you over here to check something out?"

I nodded earnestly. "He said he had some toys," I said. The girls exchanged a look I didn't understand at the time, but I recognize it now as smuggled laughter and malevolence. They cooed and said they'd give the toys right over. And that was when they handed me a doll head. No body at all, just a head. I saw the lifeless blue eyes in my lap and screamed. I ran back to my house, fast as I could for a small girl on stubby legs and with flip flops. I heard screeching laughter behind me, and I turned and saw the boy named Dylan running after me, the remainder of the doll's body in his hand. The headless doll had a neat plaid dress on, and I couldn't help wondering if they handed me an actual body. But I knew that wasn't true.

When I got to my house, I fell into my father's arms, crying and sobbing. He had held me and asked what was wrong, and I explained what the teens had done. He went after them and chastised them, but never yelled at them. The whole time, the teens looked like they were going to cry. That was why my dad was my hero when I was a kid. He died of brain cancer when I was ten.

I guess I hadn't realized I had said my flashback aloud, and this time with the whole Losers Club was around me. Everyone seemed a bit dazed, until at last, Stan muttered "God," dryly.

"No wonder you're scared of dolls," Bev said, and put an arm around my shoulder. "That would be scarring for anyone. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Y/n."

There was a hidden look in her eyes as she said that. Everyone had that look. I didn't like that whatsoever, but I shrugged it off when Ben broke the spell and said, "Let's try the jewelry store next."

The jewelry store was a place of wonder for us, even for me after my run-in with the dolls. The place sparkled with a million jewels and shiny metals. Stan and the rest of the boys were looking at the watches on sale; Bev and I were looking at the beautiful necklaces that were all over the store. I came across a silver necklace with a small locket, and I immediately loved it.

"Do you think it would look good on me?" I asked Beverly.

"Absolutely," she said, gazing at the jewelry. "But where are you going to find enough money to get it?" She pointed at the price tag. It was seventy-five bucks!

"You know, sometimes we can't always get what we want," I said with reluctance. I put the necklace back on the rack. I noticed Stanley staring at me, and I smiled at him. He blushed and smiled back. It was getting dark outside, so we all went home after the jewelry store, and it turned out to be a nice day after all.