Oh No! [IT 2017 Reader Insert]

03 | Emotional Drainage

June 5th, 1989

Boredom would be an understatement, you thought idly.

Your limbs splayed out against your comforter in starfish-esque formation, hanging off each corner. 

Your ceiling fan had never been this interesting.

Suddenly, your mom called for you from the kitchen. At that, you finally stretched your sore body out, lifting your self up by your forearms. Looking at your bedside table, you realized you'd been laying down for a while— mulling over everything that had happened in just the past two days— new friends, new enemies, missing kids, and worst of all:

Clowns.

Groaning at the popping of your joints as you stretched, you trudged into the living room, yawning lightly. "What's is it, ma?

"One of your friends called." She said coldly; you pondered how any of them could've gotten your number before you remembered you had given Bill the home phone. He must've called, then. You flinched at your mother's cold tone breaking through your thoughts like ice. "Something about the Sewers?" She looked at you with a cool glint in her eyes. You gulped.

"Why the Hell are you going to the Sewers?"

You flinched at her tone again. "I thought we were going to the barrens. Guess Bill changed his mind." You inhaled shakily. "We're supposed to stop at Ed's house, if that's okay?" 

Your mother simply nodded. "I'm glad you're getting along with the other kids." A soft smile broke through her sneer. Her fluctuating mood was off-putting, but you stayed silent. "Sure, sweetie. You can go."

You smiled, uneasily. "Thanks." You paused, turning around. "Bye, ma. Love you."

She returned your declaration as you left the house, getting on your bike to ride over to Eddie's— thank God he gave you the address, or else you'd be out past the curfew. 

And God knows you didn't wanna face your mother's wrath on that.

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You ran your hands through your hair, which was thrashed from stray gusts of wind and sweat. Bill and Richie had already arrived. "Sorry I'm late— my mom, uh... she held me up," you explained, dismounting your bike. You took the canteen from your backpack, downing the water to soothe your dry throat.

"'S f-f-fine," Bill responded. 

You all stepped inside. Eddie suggested you go in last since his mom didn't know you, so you followed his direction. As you expected, his mom stopped you. 

Excellent. Not awkward at all. Why would it be?

Eddie's mother finally spoke after a bout of tense silence, in which your teeth ground against each other.

"Excuse me, dear, but... who might you be?" Her way of phrasing the question sounded polite, but her manner of speaking made you know she was suspicious of you. You stayed frozen in your spot, trying to find the words to respond. It was easy to introduce yourself to kids your age, but one of their moms was a whole different story. You sucked in a breath, signaling your friends to stop for a moment on their way to Eddie's kitchen. They halted their steps.

"[Y/N] [L/N], ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you." You stuck out your hand, which his mother took with some reluctance. You smiled as earnestly as you could, trying to make a good first impression— your expression quickly soured into a frown when Eddie's mom began to lather her hands in sanitizer after you'd made contact. A hypochondriac, then.