CHAPTER THREE: MAROON COLOURED KNEES
1474 WORDS
"THANKS FOR WALKING ME HOME." I said.
Stanley smiled, "No problem! It's just, with this entire situation going on, you never know what could happen."
The night sky seemed to have gotten brighter. The full moon was making the dark blanket above us appear to be silky and smooth. Disregarding the chaos, it was a nice night.
My feet kicked small rocks that had fallen in front of me. I was anxious about my return home, I wasn't sure what I was going to tell my mom.
"–Do you actually believe us?" He asked.
I thought for a moment. Did I?
"There's no reason not to. You guys are my only friends, I guess, and I'm hoping you wouldn't lie to me." I shrugged, letting out a bittersweet chuckle.
"Yeah, of course. It's just," he paused, "If I were you, I would've called me a freak. I guess I'm just not use to people... genuinely liking us."
"I felt the same in my old town. Practically no one wanted to voluntarily be around me." I sighed, "Um, anyways, this clown–Pennywise–what's the deal with him?"
I quickly changed the subject. I didn't want my new acquaintance to think I was some insecure, lonely and self-deprecating outcast.
"Well, what do you want to know?" He looked down at me.
"What did he do to you guys? And what did you guys do to him?"
"You know Bill?" Stanley began, "His younger brother, Georgie, went missing sometime last year. So, Bill being obsessed with solving the mystery of how and where his brother went... he would grab onto any lead he could find. And after a lot of research and careless luck, Pennywise was the biggest lead he could find. We all helped him, of course, and eventually we found his brother."
"Oh... that's good, at least." I replied, but he shook his head.
"Not necessarily. The brother we found wasn't actually him. That's a story for another time, though. Basically, we saw the clown. All of us– with our own eyes. And that's why I worry that for you, it might be hard to not think all of this is voodoo, because you haven't seen anything for yourself."
I hummed, "Ok– say this was all fake, and you guys were a bunch of maniacs with a very over-active imagination, I wouldn't care that much. A story is a story, and this sounds like a local legend to me... so it's nonetheless interesting."
Stanley chuckled, "Like I said before, you're interesting. Maybe you're just overly nice, and I'm not use to that."
I smiled at him, silence lingering between the two of us.
"Did you kill him?" I asked, "The clown?"
Stanley seemed to choke on his breath, "We thought we... "killed" him. The entire situation is complicated. But, we did pretty good the first time... so that's why I'm feeling kind of confident now that it might be coming back. But, of course, it's still kinda unnerving that Bowers of all people is talking about a clown."
"I wouldn't take Bower's word so truthfully." I chuckled.
"I guess." He said, "Have you heard about him?"
"Bowers?"
"Yeah, like... have you heard about what he did?"
"No... what happened?"
Stanley sighed, rubbing his neck, "Henry apparently murdered his own father. And he tried to kill Mike last year. He's absolutely insane. A sociopath."
"Wait," I felt my heart drop, "seriously?"
I was face-to-face with a murderer just a few hours ago. What kind of town did I move to?
"Yeah, and he didn't get more then a year of juvenile time because his rich aunt, who's also a lawyer, got him the minimum sentence with a minimum bail. He didn't even get probation!"
"That's," I felt my knees go numb, "That's terrifying."
"Tell me about it. And he's just walking around– a free man."
There was a harsh breeze that swept our faces, causing silence to fall between us. Our thoughts melted and processed. This was a lot of information to take in.
"Were you scared?" I asked.
"Scared? Like, last year?"
"Yeah, when you saw... It."
He nervously laughed, "I was... I was terrified. I'm not shy to admit that. My face was almost sucked off by this weird woman at one point– absolutely disgusting."
"Geez," I chuckled, "Well at least you're alive."
"At least." he shivered, obviously grossed out.
Eventually, we had arrived at my house. The home was completely dark, aside from one broken light that weakly glowed auburn on the porch.
"Again, thank you for walking me home." I said with a smile.
"No problem." he said, swinging his leg side to side, eyes flickering everywhere else but at me.
"Hey, you sure you're okay walking home alone? I don't want anything to happen to you." I sighed, feeling guilty.
"No, I'll be fine. I mean, unless my dad kills me." He joked, "How about I come get you tomorrow morning? We can both go bike and meet the others, just so you know where to go."
"Oh! Yeah, sure. Sounds fun." I said, a tired grin on my face.
"Until then."
"Until then." I said before we walked our opposite ways.
✧༺♥༻∞ ∞༺♥༻✧
I raced downstairs to greet my mom, who was in the midst of making breakfast. Luckily she had been passed out on the couch when I returned home the night before– she hadn't even realized I had been out past curfew.
She gave me a warm smile as I sat down. The bright morning sun glistened throughout the entire house. Something told me that today was going to be a good day.
"How'd you sleep?" My mom asked, placing a plate of eggs in front of me.
"Good. You?" I replied.
"Fine."
I ate fast and ran out the door, grabbing my boots and rain jacket on the way out. Most importantly, I was wearing my spare glasses, meaning I can return Richie's.
I pushed open the screen door and shuffled down the stairs. In front of me stood Stanley, grabbing onto his bike with a small grin on his face.
"Good morning." I shined, throwing my hair up in a ponytail.
"Good morning." He replied, his eyes squinting in the sun.
I picked up my bike and jumped on,
"Where're we going?" I asked.
"Bill wants us to meet them at the old house on Neibolt." Stanley mumbled, obviously not happy with the arrangement.
"Okay, sounds good– well, not good, but good." I chuckled, and we headed off.
The sky was bright and the lemon sun was gorgeously circular. It was warm, possibly the warmest day I'd experienced since I've moved here.
Stanley and I rode our bikes up and down town. We eventually made it down one street where the road was jagged, thin and bumpy; It made it practically impossible to bike down without the front wheel juggling the opposite way from you.
While biking, I heard a small child voice from behind me. I stopped my bike almost immediately, in which Stanley followed. There were no kids around, which made me feel dumb.
"Did you hear that?" I asked Stanley, about to just shrug it off as nothing.
"Hear what?" He asked.
I shook, "Whatever. I'm sure it was nothing."
I glared over my shoulder once more before we continued. However, only a few seconds later, a small child ran into the middle of the street– right where my bike was headed.
A yellow raincoat was flipped over the child's head, so his face was unrecognizable. I gasped and quickly turned my bike to avoid hitting the kid, but instead I hit a large rock that went under my bike, ultimately knocking me right off.
"Are you okay?" Stanley quickly asked, swinging himself off his bike and attempting to bring me to my feet. My knees, along with my recently closed wounds, were bleeding.
My eyes raced around the street. Behind me, beside me, on the ground. I looked everywhere I could–and there wasn't a kid anywhere.
"Amy?" Stanley asked, turning my head towards his, "What happened?"
"Did you see a–a kid anywhere?" I rubbed my head, furrowing my eyebrows.
"A kid? No, no I haven't. Amy–"
"You're sure you didn't hear him?"
"I'm positive, I would've said that I did."
"So, you didn't see a boy...anywhere?"
"I would've told you." He said, folding his lips together, "A boy?"
"Yeah, a little boy." I closed my eyes.
"T-That isn't good." Stanley stuttered, "Here, let me help you."
He helped me up to my feet, in which my knees were buckled and sore. I could feel a line of blood slipping down my leg and down the side of my forehead.
There was something happening behind Stanley, however, that made me lose focus. I tried my hardest to pay attention to what he was trying to say, but I couldn't. My eyes focused on the thing behind him. They squinted, dilated and finally, I saw what was glaring at the two of us.
The feeling I got within that moment is still indescribable. I haven't been the golden child, but I don't believe any of my choices could have made me deserving of such emotion– such trauma.
I understood what the other kids feared. I saw the pain and I knew the triggered. I was afraid of the clown.