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A week had passed, just as Mike had said, until the seven of them all met again.
Not much had happened in that span of time (besides Chris beating Richie in a round of Street Fighter, which he was adamant on not talking about). She didn't mind, though. But if you had told her she would've embraced doing nothing but deliver papers and read comics alone in her room for a week she would've punched you in the arm.
Now, she found herself standing in downtown Derry, in the middle of its 4th of July festival. The sun was beating down on them without mercy, and blaring down the street was the high school's marching band. Crowds of people cheered, waving their flags and walking past the measly parade of cars and school buses decorated in red, white and blue. Chris leaned against a narrow alley, shielding herself from the searing sunlight.
Out in the street, Richie had stolen some poor teen's mellophone, though he wasn't so much as playing it than he was simply blowing air into it. As the taller boy feebly tugged at the instrument, Chris couldn't stop staring at the stack of missing posters tacked to the wall. The latest was Edward Corcoran, only ten.
"They say they found part of his hand all chewed up near the Standpipe." Stan said with a shaky voice.
Beverly couldn't look anymore, staring out into the street again while tucking her hands into her back pockets.
"He asked to borrow a pencil once." Ben commented.
Bill flipped up the poster, revealing Betty Ripsom's, already gone in the minds of Derry's residents.
"I-It's like she's been f-ff-for-forgotten because Corcoran's missing." he mused.
"Is it ever gonna end?" Stan asked.
"What are you guys talking about?" Eddie popped around the corner of the alley, holding two ice cream cones.
"What they always talk about." Richie, having been successfully wrestled out of a mellophone, walked over to Eddie, taking one of the cones.
"I actually think it will end." Ben said. "For a little while, at least."
"What do you mean?" Beverly asked.
"Mike and I did some research over the past week, and we charted out all the big events."
"The Ironworks explosion in 1908, the Bradley Gang in '35, and the Black Spot in '62. And now kids being..." Mike's voice trailed off.
Ben took over. "We realized this stuff seems to happen every -"
"27 years." Bill finished, a horrible realization dawning on all of their faces.
"Can we get out of here?" Chris folded her arms. "This place is giving me bad vibes."
No one seemed to have a problem moving out of the alley, all dark and cramped and smelling like a sewer. They managed to find an empty bench not too far away, in Bassey park, right under Derry's famously garish Paul Bunyan statue.
