The Losers Club (IT)

You had been William Denbrough’s neighbour since you were eight years old, when you and your mother first moved into Derry. The two of you were, in every possible sense, a mess trying to settle into a town that already felt like it had rules nobody explained out loud—but everyone somehow understood anyway.

At first, Bill was just the quiet boy down the street. You didn’t know much about him, only what other kids said when they thought you weren’t listening.

Bill the stutterer.

They said it like it was funny. Like it meant something worth mocking.

You never understood that kind of cruelty. A stutter wasn’t a joke—it was just the way he spoke. Simple as that. But in Derry, even simple things seemed to get twisted into something uglier.

For a while, you just observed him from a distance. Watched how he kept to himself. Watched how he hesitated before speaking, like he expected people to interrupt him before he even started. There was something careful about him, like every word had to be carried across broken glass.

Eventually, boredom outweighed hesitation.

So one day, you talked to him.

It started small—nothing dramatic. A question. A comment. A pause that didn’t feel awkward. Bill looked surprised at first, like he was waiting for the joke to land. But it never did. And slowly, conversation started to happen in fragments, then in pieces that actually made sense.

Through him, you met Georgie—his younger brother, bright and energetic in a way that made the whole world feel less heavy when he was around. You met Bill’s parents too, worn down in that quiet, tired way adults in Derry seemed to carry, like the town itself was slowly pressing on them.

And without planning it, you became part of their orbit.

It stopped feeling like visiting.

It started feeling like belonging.

Before long, you were spending more time with Bill, wandering through Derry like it wasn’t as strange as it really was. Somewhere along the way, you became the fifth member of what would later be called the Losers Club—though at the time, it didn’t feel like a name. It just felt like survival disguised as friendship.

You were always there.

The only girl.

But never the fragile one.

You weren’t soft or quiet or waiting to be protected. You were sharp-edged, loud when you wanted to be, funny in a way that could turn cruel if someone deserved it. You had a mouth on you that got you into trouble and out of it just as fast. You could charm adults in seconds—tilting your head, softening your eyes, acting sweet enough to make them forget what they were about to say no to. And with kids your age, you were unpredictable enough that nobody ever quite knew whether you were joking or about to start a fight.

But the one thing nobody could question was your loyalty.

So when October 1988 came—and Georgie disappeared—the shape of everything changed.

Derry felt different after that. Quieter, but not peaceful. Like something underneath it had shifted and was now breathing a little too close to the surface.

Bill changed too.

You watched it happen in pieces. The silence. The staring. The way he stopped being able to sit still for long without his mind drifting somewhere else entirely.

And when the first reports of missing children started spreading, something in him locked into place.

Georgie wasn’t gone.

Not to Bill.

He was just… missing.

And that belief pulled all of you into it.

Richie, Stan, Eddie, Mike, Ben—you all got dragged into Bill’s search in different ways, but once you were in, there wasn’t really an “out” anymore.

Spring of 1989 came in too warm, too fast, like the town itself was trying to rush past what had happened. The air was thick with humidity and something unspoken, something that made the streets feel narrower than they should’ve been.

And still, Bill kept going.

And still, you followed.

That day, you stood with them at the edge of another one of Derry’s forgotten places—an entrance that looked like it had been ignored by time itself.

Richie was the first to speak, of course, bouncing on his heels as he peered toward the dark opening.

“Who doesn’t like splashing around in disgusting water?!” he joked, pushing his thick glasses up his nose like this was all some kind of adventure instead of a bad idea they were all agreeing to.

Stan, immediately unimpressed, crossed his arms and stared into the darkness. “It’s very dark,” he said flatly, like that alone should qualify as a legal reason to leave.

Eddie hovered close behind, already spiralling. “This is unhygienic,” he announced sharply, pointing like the entire environment had personally offended him. “This is, like, multiple diseases waiting to happen. Probably new ones.”

Bill didn’t stop. He never really did anymore.

He just stepped forward, eyes locked ahead, jaw tight like he was holding something in that none of you could see.

“B-B-Back here?” he called out, voice strained but determined. “G-George…?”

That alone was enough to make the air feel heavier.

Then came Ben, walking a little more carefully than the others, glancing around like he was trying to understand the structure of the place before committing to it.

“Statistically speaking,” Ben started hesitantly, adjusting his posture, “places like this are usually structurally unstable. If there are underground tunnels, they might connect to older drainage systems built in the early development of Derry.”

Richie groaned immediately. “Oh great, we’ve got Professor Basement over here now.”

Ben ignored him, though his cheeks turned slightly pink anyway.

Then Mike Hanlon stepped closer, quieter than the rest of you. He didn’t joke. He didn’t panic. He just looked at the entrance for a long moment like he already knew something none of you wanted to hear.

“I’ve seen places like this before,” Mike said slowly. “Back on the farm. Not like this exactly… but close enough.”

That made everyone glance at him.

Mike’s eyes stayed on the dark opening. “Derry has a lot of places people don’t talk about. Stuff gets… buried here. Not just physically.”

Silence followed that. Even Richie didn’t interrupt right away.

Bill finally turned his head slightly, just enough to look at all of you.

And still, he didn’t stop.

So Eddie sighed like he was accepting his fate, Stan looked like he was already regretting existing, Richie cracked another joke under his breath, Ben looked uncertain but willing, Mike stayed watchful and serious—

And you stayed right there with them.

Because whatever was waiting below Derry, whatever Bill was chasing, whatever the town was hiding…

you were already too far in to pretend it wasn’t real.