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#2: ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱʜᴜᴛ ᴜᴘ?

"Tell me one thing, Dr. K," I said with a gravel in my throat, which I instinctively cleared. The breeze of the afternoon Derry air drifted through Eddie's gentle, brown hair. It lifted one stray strand from his forehead and that's where I focused my attention, where it danced and swirled. "Do you think we could get away with murder? Be honest."

We had gotten away with it once, that's for sure. This summer. Before school started. Down by the barrens, in the deepest, darkest part of Derry. The defeat of a murderous demon that lived beneath Maine. My biggest accomplishment, in my opinion. The best summer. And also the worst. Not another kid had gone missing since then, and no one even knew that this was because of me and my friends. Silent heroes. A Batman situation, as Stan liked to call it.

Now that the school day was over, the rest of the evening felt free. I watched as some pinkish color began to reflect against the sky, and Eddie seemed to subconsiously avoid every crack in the pavement. He always did this when we walked home, but he did it even more now, after hearing my random, superstitious question.

Eddie's hand drifted uncomfortably to his elbow. He always seemed to feel itchy and claustrophobic when I mentioned something he didn't particularly like. It was the chain effect of his mother, I assumed. That woman was a walking disease. The irony went on and on from there. Eddie was the most hypochondriac person you could meet, and he still loved her all the same. He inhaled through his nose. "Murder?"

I put my hands in my pockets, before switching my grasp. I let one hand settle on the strap of my backpack over my shoulder, and the other resting soundly at my side, lightly brushing Eddie's arm, where I could feel the sharp pain of his mechanical watch against my skin. I felt a jolt of butterflies over my stomach that I couldn't quite identify. 

I felt excited and blissful, and then it was gone within seconds. Things like this always seemed to happen when Eddie would smile a certain way, or touch me on my arm in a certain place. Let's be real, though; that was only supposed to happen when girls did stuff like that.

"Yes, Eds. Murder. It isn't a fucking trig equation." 

"You're crazy," Eddie started, but after a distinct pause, he went on. "Not in a million years would we get away with it. You'd be mouthing the cops, that's what you'd do. You'd be too much of a pussy to clean the body, and then we'd be left there, like a deer in fucking headlights. Sent straight to jail. And I'd make it even more miserable for you because of it."

I chuckled softly through one hand that stretched over my lips, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to walk forward, weary of the small crevices that grew plants and weeds from the sidewalk. "Ouch, okay. Point taken."

"Why do you ask?" he was deliberately careful to step over a particularly deep crack. These roads haven't been fixed in decades, and ever since the battle underground, in the sewers, the surface concrete hasn't been the same. Nevertheless, Eddie tenderly placed his foot down over one side of the gutter. 

It was safe to say that we only had normal reasons to be afraid of walking home alone now; like kidnappers and molesters and stuff. We didn't have to be scared of clowns approaching us at night, or our biggest fears, or dead children that spoke to us from the storm drains. Even so, Eddie was weary of everything anyway. The horrid world was back to being horridly normal.

"What do you mean, sweetheart, I always start conversations this way," I sniffed and wiped my nose, rubbing my hands together. It was a particularly cold evening now. "But I guess it would be helpful to have a witness on my side in case I plan on murdering our teacher. How can I win you over? A kiss?"

"Keep dreaming, trashmouth," Eddie squinted his eyes and aimed, kicking a rock directly into one of the gutters as if he was bowling. "You know I'd turn you in to the police right away."