"I have to go,too," I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper. "My mom's waiting for me." It was only half the truth.
I went around the circle, giving each of my friends a tight hug, saving Ben for last. I tried desperately to keep the tears from...
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•°Corinne's POV°•
Waking up to a dead quiet house was more unsettling than the usual chaos. The silence felt heavy, a void where my mother’s presence should have been. After a quick bath, I crept downstairs, half-expecting to find her on the couch. Nothing. The living room was empty, a blank slate stained with the ghost of last night’s neglect.
With Beverly not expecting me for a while, I saw my chance. I got to work, attacking the mess with a fury that was part chore, part prayer. I gathered the empty whiskey bottles, their clinking a sad soundtrack to my morning, and threw them in the trash. I scrubbed the dishes until they shone, dusted every surface, and vacuumed until the carpet showed its true color. I swept and mopped, my movements frantic, as if I could clean away the despair itself.
When I was done, the place almost looked like a home again. I stood in the middle of the living room, breathing in the faint smell of lemon cleaner instead of stale booze. I always hoped that if I could just make it perfect, if I could erase all the evidence, maybe she’d come back to herself. Maybe she’d see this clean, quiet house and remember who she was supposed to be.
A glance at the clock shattered the moment. I was going to be late. I bolted out the door, my lungs burning as I sprinted down the street to Beverly’s. It wasn’t until I skidded to a halt in front of her house, gasping for air, that I remembered my bike.
Bev was already on her porch, laughing. “Why didn’t you just ride?” she asked between giggles. “I...needed the exercise,” I lied, doubling over to catch my breath. She didn’t buy it for a second.
"Okay, so what's the plan for today?" I asked, looking out at our sleepy, suffocating town. "We'll figure it out.But first, I need to make a stop to get some things," Bev said. "Yeah,sure thing. Let's go!" I said, falling into step beside her.
"So," she began, her voice laced with playful curiosity. "What did you write in Ben's yearbook yesterday?" "I have no idea what you're talking about,"I denied instantly. I knew exactly where this was going. "Come on,Cori, please tell me," she begged, looping her arm through mine. "Promise you won't laugh at me,"I said, my cheeks already heating up. "I promise."
I cleared my throat, leaned in close, and whispered the words I’d scribbled in his yearbook, my secret confession meant for his eyes only. I pulled back, staring intently at a crack in the sidewalk. "Aren't you the romantic,"Bev said, but her chuckle was warm, not mocking. After a comfortable silence, we arrived at the drugstore.
I lingered impatiently in the "feminine products" aisle, waiting for Bev to get what she needed. She wasn't browsing; she was just standing there, staring at the shelves with a strange, frozen look. I didn't ask. Pushing her would only make her shut down. Finally, she grabbed a box, her movements quick and furtive.
We avoided the next aisle like the plague when we saw Gretta lurking there. "See you later, Dad!" her shrill voice echoed. How I wish I could just drown her, I thought for the second time in as many days.
The following aisle was a different story. Standing there like deer caught in headlights were Bill, Stanley, and my dear friend, Eddie. He was clutching a mountain of medical supplies like his life depended on it. "You guys okay?"Bill Denbrough asked, his stutter less noticeable in his concern.
"We're fine. What's wrong with you?" Bev shot back a little too quickly, a trace of annoyance in her voice. "None of your business!"Stanley snapped. I fixed him with a glare."No need to be so snappy, Stanny."
"There's a kid outside," Eddie blurted out, honest and terrified. "He looked like someone killed him." I gave him a small, reassuring smile, my heart aching for his fear. "W-we n-need s-s-some supplies,"Bill explained, "but we d-d-don't have enough money."
I turned to look at Beverly and found her already staring back at me. Her eyes held a determined, dangerous glint. She had an idea. And I knew I was going to hate it.
"I like your glasses, Mr. Keene," Bev said, her voice suddenly dripping with a sweetness that made my skin crawl. She was talking to the pervert also known as Gretta's father. "You look just like Clark Kent." "Oh..."he laughed, a low, oily sound. "I don't know about that." I felt like I could stab my own eyes out just watching this performance. "Can I try them?"Bev asked, pointing to the glasses on his face.
He looked around, then took them off. "Mmm, sure." Bev chuckled softly—a perfect,fake little giggle—and put them on. "What do you think?"Mr. Keene leaned forward on the counter with a creepy, patronizing smile. "Well,how about that? You look just like Lois Lane," he said. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. "Really?"Beverly asked, playing her part flawlessly. The creep just nodded.
As she took the glasses off to hand them back, she "accidentally" knocked the entire cigarette stand off the counter. It clattered to the floor in a noisy cascade of boxes. "Shoot,I'm so sorry!" she apologized, her voice the picture of clumsy innocence. "It's okay!"Mr. Keene said, immediately crouching down to gather the mess.
I turned to the boys and frantically signaled them to go, now! They didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled for the door, a whirlwind of panic and stolen supplies. Eddie, in his haste, smacked right into a rack, sending it wobbling. I shook my head at them, a helpless smile touching my lips as they vanished into the safety of the street.
