Oh No! [IT 2017 Reader Insert]

02 | School's Out

June 4th, 1989

You were woken up by your mother softly nudging your sleeping figure.

Your attempt to get away from her with a small wiggle was met with your warm blanket being yanked from your form. You groaned, muttered a groggy 'five more minutes', (which would most definitely turn into an hour), and glanced at your alarm clock. Your vision was a bit blurred from lingering sleepiness, but you could still make out the fact the clock read '8:00 A.M.' in blinking, LED numbers. You shot up, frenzied, with a profane phrase slipping from your lips:

"Oh, shit," 

It came out with a shout, and you expected the answering shout of 'language!' 

You could only hope your mother wouldn't hear you curse in frustration a few more times as you searched for clothes and more school essentials. 

She was still in the doorway, waiting for you to fully prepare before she left for the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Once your mother had left, you quickly changed out of your pajamas into one of your everyday outfits, grabbing the old backpack you'd used in your hometown. It wasn't particularly pretty,  with a few bent zippers and patches of color torn off the base fabric— but it was still useable, and that was all that really mattered in the long-run. You were only going to be there for a day, after all.

You waved half-heartedly to your mother as you left your house, having finished a classic breakfast of toast and eggs, some of the former currently clutched between your lips as you walked through the alley, eyes glancing around cautiously. You were still a bit apprehensive about the whole incident with the clown that happened yesterday— but the thought of that grotesque thing wasn't all that scared you the most about the encounter. 

Your mother seemed like she was under a trance, or a spell, maybe. It scared you, but you were confident in thinking it was a one-off thing.

You took care to look at your surroundings as you exited the alley into the barren Derry streets, not wanting a repeat of what you dubbed 'The Bower's Incident'. 

Once you had safely reached the gates of Derry Middle School, you heard a voice calling out your name from a few feet away— you were right to assume it was Richie, based on the irritating and mocking tone the voice held. You momentarily scowled, but walked up to him nonetheless. You would've much preferred it was Bill who showed up first, but you'd deal. 

You didn't notice the two new faces in his wake, though, too busy listening to the boy's rant.

"Fuck, finally you're here! I thought you weren't coming. Thought you died or something, maybe you were hungover—" Richie raved. You silenced him by quirking a brow at his eccentric ideas of why you were late and were surprised when he noticed the minor change in or expression. Not as dumb as you thought, then. You shifted your stance into something a little less slouchy.

"No and no, dude." Upon ending the brief conversation, you finally noticed the two new people at Richie's side— they looked curious to see you talking to Richie, but you could see why. There was a boy with brown hair, who was short and skinny with a fanny pack wrapped around his waist. The other boy was taller than his perceived acquaintance, with curled brown-blonde hair. He was slim, his figure paralleling Bill's. "So, uh— who are these two?" When silence rang out, you sighed in frustration and gestured for someone to continue. It was the taller boy who did. 

"I'm Stanley Uris, and this is Eddie Kaspbrak," Stan said, pointing to himself then the other boy, respectively. "Who are you?"

"[Y/N]. [Y/N] [L/N]. Nice meeting you." You held out your hand, which the curly-haired boy shook in kind. You pointed to Richie, whispering in Stan's ear. "You willingly hang out with him?"