Chapter Text
Posters were tacked up on the walls of Derry High School, littered with glitter and crude paintings of crowns, streamers, and balloons. Eddie Kaspbrak stared at the one just past his locker, with the year’s theme inked in thick, red letters.
A Night At The Circus.
Beneath the words, there was a drawing of a clown, complete with an overdrawn red smile and slits running through its eyes.
Eddie sensed Richie’s presence sidling up beside him before he saw his long shadow cast over the wall.
‘Like a bad joke, isn’t it?’
‘Worse than one of yours.’ Eddie agreed.
Richie snorted. ‘Even I wouldn’t tempt fate like that.’
‘Setting us up for the worst prom ever.’
‘I don’t know.’ Richie shrugged. ‘Carrie?’
Eddie shivered. ‘I hate that movie.’
‘Great movie. Bad prom.’
Usually, Eddie loved horror movies. In fact, despite all the genuine horror he had endured in his life, they were probably his favourites. Especially the science-fiction horrors. Like Alien and Predator. The Thing, The Fly and The Blob. Even the old black and white atomic horrors from the fifties. Richie was good at getting bootleg VHS tapes so that the Losers could gather in his basement and watch them together, crowded with blankets and popcorn.
But Eddie didn’t like Carrie. And it wasn’t the prom scene that he hated. He actually found it quite cathartic to watch Carrie White enact her blood-soaked revenge, though he’d never admit it. No, what made Carrie uncomfortable for Eddie was enduring every scene with Margaret White, Carrie’s mother. He found her more frightening than any monster he’d seen on film. She was just too real, and sometimes, all too familiar.
‘Ugh.’ Bev slid her tray onto the canteen table and swivelled onto the bench. ‘I was actually looking forward to prom as well. Never thought I would have been. Guess I should have known something like this would happen.’
After Bev had seen Pretty in Pink, starring her nick-namesake Molly Ringwald, she’d taken an interest in making her own clothes. Bev’s aunt had been happy for Beverly to scrounge through her wardrobe for outdated and ill-fitting clothes that could be repurposed, and went with her to Goodwill to thrift materials. She’d also sought out buttons and needles from old pinboxes, and dusted off an old sewing machine, patiently teaching her niece how to use it. Now, Beverly had made patterns for a number of different pieces. She’d been working on her prom dress since the spring. It hurt her heart to think she might never get to wear it.
Bill sniffed, squeezing limp french fries between his fingers and not looking at his friends. He wasn’t hungry. Ever since he’d seen the posters, his stomach had been roiling, like he was seasick, and he was angry. He’d wanted to go to his senior prom, to close the chapter on his high school life neatly, with a half-decent ending. But endings never came easily. Not to him.
Ben shuffled. ‘Are we still going?’
Ben was afraid of the answer, and his heart fluttered. He’d been building up his courage for weeks to ask Beverly to the prom, but he’d not yet managed. He’d already picked out a corsage, a daffodil with white petals and orange trumpet that had made him think of winter fire, just in case she said yes. He’d thought that offering his hand to her would be the scariest question he’d have to ask regarding the event. It had never occurred to him that they might end up not going at all.
Stan rocked his head back. ‘I won’t lie, guys. I could go my whole life without seeing another clown. Let alone a half-dozen meatheads decked out in red noses and novelty boutonnieres that spray water because they think they’re funny.’
Though he knew he was supposed to be, Stan hadn’t been all that excited about prom to begin with. The other guys on the baseball team already had dates lined up and ready, and had poked fun at him for not asking anyone yet, claiming that all the good girls would be gone if he didn’t do something about it. He’d set his mind on going only because he didn’t want to miss out on the time with his friends, but if it was up to him, he’d rather spend it like they would any other night, holed up in one of their houses, away from the world.
‘My m-m-mom will p-probably be glad if I t-t-tell her I’m not going.’ Bill sighed.
Eddie grumbled. ‘Mine too.’
‘It’s the m-music.’ Bill forced a laugh. ‘Your m-m-mom gets like that about rock m-music too, right, Rich?’
‘Yeah.’ Richie nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ‘She wants me to go though.’
Maggie Tozier had been saving up for months to gather enough money for her son to rent a suit. There was already a space marked in the family photo album for Richie’s prom picture. And she’d not-so-subtly prodded him to see if there was anyone special that he’d been thinking about asking to be his date. So far, Richie had managed to elude answering. Maggie would be gutted if Richie didn’t go to his prom. She’d probably cry about it.
‘Are you going to go then?’ Eddie looked at him incredulously.
Richie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.’
‘Really?’ Stan narrowed his eyes. ‘You want to go?’
‘Even n-n-now?’
Richie didn’t know what to say. The truth was, he’d been looking forward to the prom far more than his friends knew. He knew it would be just a big, cheesy party with bad music, spiked punch and awkward dancing, but it was a rite of passage, and one that he felt that he and his friends had more than earned.
Soon their final year of school would be over, and they’d be going their separate ways, heading off to different colleges scattered across the country. It was one of the last wild nights they might have together, and Richie wanted to live it, experience it, make it a night to remember, even if the memories were doomed to fade once he left the town’s borders.
‘Won’t be any fun if you guys don’t come.’ Richie managed, but his friends continued to stare at him. He took a swig of water, and rested his elbows on the table. ‘Look, I know the theme fucking sucks. It’s comically, stupidly bad. But that clown, the clown, has ruined one of my summers already, and that’s one too many. And It still gets to fuck with us. I don’t want to let It fuck with this too. It’s like letting It win something off us. Something that’s supposed to just be fun. Normal teenager shit.’ He rested his chin in his hands. ‘But whatever, man. If we’re not going, we’re not going.’
Eddie twisted his lips. He sort of thought Richie had a point, but he didn’t think he could say so. Not right now. Not in front of Bill.
Plus, he was conflicted when it came to the prom. Part of him was desperate to go. He liked the idea of the Losers dressing up to the nines, cramming into his rustbucket truck like it was the finest limousine, sneaking sips of alcohol which still gave him a thrill, and spending the whole night dancing. God, he really loved to dance.
But he also had a lot of anxiety about the whole event. He didn’t have anyone that he wanted to ask to the prom. Not a girl, anyway. He didn’t want to cast ballots and watch a Prom Queen and Prom King get crowned. He didn’t want to see couples kissing each other in the school hallways and slow-dancing on the gym floor. He knew none of his friends had secured a date yet, but selfishly, he sort of hoped they wouldn’t, so he wouldn’t have to either. Especially Richie, who’d been constantly joking lately about how prom night might be his last chance to lose his virginity, if he didn’t count Eddie’s mom. The thought of seeing Richie with someone else made him ache.
Ben chewed on his lip for a moment, then let it snap back into place. ‘Maybe it’s for the best. Mike doesn’t go to school with us anyway. So, we can hang out with him that night, if we don’t go.’
Bev tugged at the hem of the skirt she was wearing. A skirt that she’d made. ‘Yeah. I mean,’ she flushed, ‘I was going to ask him to be my date. So that we could all be there, you know? But I guess that doesn’t matter now.’
Ben’s heart snapped in his chest. He felt guilty immediately afterwards.
‘Man,’ Richie huffed. ‘That’s a great idea. Would have been. Would have been a great idea.’
Beverly smiled at him half-heartedly.
‘Come on,’ Stan huffed. ‘Prom was never going to be a night for us. It’s for cheerleaders and football players and valedictorians and rich kids and all the people who actually fucking like high school. They can have it. We don’t need it.’
For the first time since the meal’s beginning, Bill raised his head. ‘M-m-maybe we do. M-maybe Richie’s right.’
Surprised, Stan snagged his gaze.
‘M-m-maybe, in a weird, t-twisted sort of way, it’s kind of f-fitting. One last f-f-fucked up bit of irony. B-b-but if we go, we can also give one last b-big “f-fuck you” to the clown. A “f-f-fuck you” to this school. A “f-fuck you” to the f-faces we hope we d-d-don’t ever have to s-see again once we’re out of h-here. We go out with a b-bang. We have a good t-t-time. And we sh-show that It didn’t f-fucking b-b-break us. None of it.’
Richie grinned. ‘Now there’s the fucking spirit.’
‘I’m in,’ Bev said. ‘If you guys are.’
‘I am.’ Ben agreed.
Eddie was looking at Richie, at the great smile plastered across his face. ‘Okay.’
Stan frowned, but with his eyes still locked on Bill’s, he nodded. ‘Fine. Let’s do it.’