Ｓｔｕｔｔｅｒ [ｂｉｌｌ ｄｅｎｂｒｏｕｇｈ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ]

ꜱᴡɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ

I pushed myself back up, tucking strands of wet hair behind my ears. Bev had won the match. Good for her.

♤

Bill was wading by himself, examining something under the water. I swam over to him, careful not to startle him.

"H-hey," he said, glancing up at me. I smiled, peering over his shoulder. A turtle rested on his palm, just under the surface.

"Turtle," I whispered, watching it poke its head out from beneath its shell. Bill moved his palm, and it swam away.

We glanced at one another. He had a sort of half smile on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he said, I didn't hear. I was yanked beneath the surface.

Cold, clammy fingers wrapped around my ankle. What the actual fuck? I tried to scream, but obviously, nothing came out but bubbles.

I desperately reached out for something to grab onto, someone's hand, anything, but I was growing dizzy. The water was getting darker. Or maybe it was my vision?

I could feel my arms straining as I tried to get myself free. I felt the movement of the others around me, but I couldn't find anyone's hands to grab onto.

Finally, just as I was about to pass out from lack of air, a hand grasped mine. I'm not quite sure who it was; my eyes were shut, and I couldn't catch my breath.

"Y/n! Holy shit! What the fuck just happened!?"

It was Richie. He was the one who pulled me out of the water. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, pulling it away from my eyes. The others all had horrified looks on their faces.

For a minute, I didn't answer any of their questions. I couldn't speak, only cough. My legs had grown tired of keeping my head above the water. Eddie grabbed my arm and slung it around his shoulder to keep me upright.

"I..." I mustered out, letting out a final cough. Bill's brows wrinkled, but he didn't say anything.

"I have no idea," I said, swallowing. I wanted so badly to get the quarry water taste out of my mouth. I needed to get to my bag.

"Let's just go back up," Stan said, pointing to the edge of the water. The only way up was to climb up the steep side of the hill. I braced myself for the long trek up.

We carefully waded over to the shore, watching out for sharp rocks. Eddie held both my hands, balancing me as I stepped onto the dirt. I looked up the hill. We had a bit of a long way to go.

Now that our faces were red and we were hot and sweating, we came to the top of the hill. I sat down on the rock, both my legs out. On my ankle, there was a red mark left by whatever had grabbed me. I touched it. It felt like a bruise.

"Here," Eddie said, handing me a bottle of water. I took it and sipped slowly. He knelt beside me, unzipping his fanny pack. He grabbed a few things, like painkillers and his inhaler, which I took a few puffs from.

♤

Beverly was lying on her towel, bathing in the sun. I would have joined her if not for the fact that A), I still wasn't sure if I liked her all that much and B), I wasn't in the mood to lay in the gaze of the other boys. Instead, I sat on my towel next to the log that the others were seated on.

She turned her head, slowly pulling her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, and peered over the rim. The group of boys quickly looked away, pretending to be occupied with something else. Stan even started whistling quietly to himself and stared out over the water.

Ben rummaged through his backpack. I peeked over into the pocket to see what he was grabbing. A folder? It was messily filled with crumpled papers. That was odd. What did he need to do with important papers during the summer?

"Ooh, I wanna see," Bev said, jumping up from her towel. She squeezed herself between Bill and Stan. I reached over and grabbed a loose paper from the stack and looked over it. It was something about the population movement of the township back in the day.

"What was the black spot?" Stan asked, leaning over to read the article better. I sat up a little straighter to read whatever was in Eddie's hand. He turned it so we could both read.

"The Black Spot was an old nightclub that got burned down by a racist cult," he shrugged next to me. He handed me a piece of paper to read. It had black and white photos of important-looking people and little excerpts about them. I skimmed over the text, looking at the people each note was about.

Bill turned to look at the folder that was splayed open in Ben's lap, which had loose newspaper clippings. Instead, his eyes fell on Beverly. She was studying a photo that Richie handed over.

"Y-your hair..." he said, his eyes meeting hers. Ben leaned forward and finished his sentence.

"Your hair looks beautiful," he said.

"Oh, right... Thanks." She shrugged, slipping her newly-shortened locks behind her ear. Ben's face flushed. Bill looked down at his knees. He bit his tongue. I looked away dismally. I wish I knew what he really thought.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned back to face the others. Eddie's hand was hanging in the air, and he was looking slightly downward at me.

"You okay?" he whispered. I nodded.

"Yeah, Eds. Just a bit tired," I replied quietly. He reached by his feet and grabbed the water bottle, passing it to me.

"Why is it all murders and missing kids?" Richie asked, reaching over for the folder. He pulled it from Ben's lap, looking it over. He flipped up an article, reading what lay beneath it.

"Derry isn't like any town I've been in before. They did a study, and people here disappear six times more than the national average."

Did Ben travel a lot? I wondered how many times he'd been deemed "the new kid." He reached over and grabbed a paper from Beverly.

I shuddered at the thought. Poor Georgie. Poor anyone. And to think I thought I grew up safely. It could have been me. Or Eddie. Or one of these guys.

"And that's just adults. Kids are worse. Way worse."

♧♧♧