Bright Chapter 2, an it fanfic

This took some time. The semester is getting crazy, seeing as I'll be graduating in December. I hardly have any time or motivation to write for fun, which is absolutely superb. On a more positive note, the news that's being released about Chapter Two is super exciting. I cannot wait for fall of 2019! It's going to be an emotional rollercoaster, that's for sure.

Unrelated, but the new Into the Spider-Verse trailer is so good. Spider-Ham is my favorite. It's truly a blessing that John Mulaney provides his voice. Not to mention that we get to see an older version of Peter Parker. God, I could talk about this film for hours.

In this chapter, we see Stan. It was both a bit challenging and fun to write from his perspective. I hope you like reading his POV as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: Once again, I am not the author of IT.

Enjoy :)

True to her word, Kimmy woke bright and early - long before those who didn't dare to think that things happened before eight o'clock. Though it seemed like her aunt would be the 'up before the sun' kind of person, this seemed to only pertain to Sundays. Which, for the most part, worked out well for the teen.

She made sure she was quiet as she readied herself for the day, careful not to wake a snoring Ben. Kimmy slipped on a sweater that was two sizes too big and jeans that would have fallen to her feet had she not put on a belt. After filling her backpack with comics and a sketchbook, she made her way to the kitchen. She stuffed a slice of bread into her mouth and placed plenty of fruit and a PB&J sandwich into her bag's front pocket. After making sure that everything was cleaned and put back in its place, she made her way towards freedom.

Her Walkman, which was gently held within her grasp, was ready to play her favorite mix tapes.

Birds began to chirp as a cool morning breeze brushed her cheeks, greeting her with a welcoming glee.

Come join us, they seemed to whisper. We'll keep you safe.

No arguing there.

Kimmy noticed as she strolled down the street that the clouds were tinted a light pink and soft yellow, like a pastel painting. She wouldn't be surprised if a few My Little Pony characters showed up to greet the sun with an annoyingly cheerful dance.

She slipped her headphones atop her reddened ears and pressed the play button. "Space Oddity" softly played as she thought of places that she could hide herself in. With a determined look burning in her eyes, she began her long-awaited walk towards a fairly calm day.

Here's hoping no one makes me come back.

Stan Uris considered himself to be a responsible person. He listened to his mom when she asked him to do his chores, which he usually was on top of before she had the chance to do so. He remained silent during his father's sermons unless instructed otherwise. He studied for tests, turned his homework in on time, and ate all the food placed upon his plate at dinner time.

Those in Derry who took notice of how mature the rabbi's son was would comment on how respectful he was.

"He'd never talk back to his authority figures," they'd say with delight, as if planning a scheme that would test him.

A true Boy Scout.

His Scout leader would be proud, which he was.

Admittedly, it was rather lonely. It was a great honor to be trusted by his peers and elders, he wasn't against that. It was the fact that people seemed to forget that he was a twelve-year-old boy, not a grown man. Which was a burden at times. Especially with a father who expected so much from his son. He'd say things that made Stan feel ten years older than he was, and then seconds later he'd give him that look - one that was filled with disappointment.

"I expected more from you, Stanley," he would say if Stan couldn't remember what was discussed at service. "The rabbi's son should know these things."

There were other less positive things his temperament and lifestyle brought him. If people didn't appreciate his personality, they made fun of it. The town bullies, which included an older boy named Henry Bowers and his gang of assholes, would make fun of the fact that he was Jewish. They'd treat him like dirt, lower than dirt. They found his religion, his life, to be stupid. Because of this, it wasn't uncommon to cross paths with them at least a few times a week. Saturdays were usually bully free (keyword: usually). Stan would spend most of his day with his family and the rest of the members of Derry's only synagogue.

Though those rare Saturday leaned more towards brief than lengthy, Henry managed to put in his quota for the week by popping up when Stan least expected him to.

Aside from that, and the time he spent with his parents, Saturdays were, for the most part, uneventful.

But today. . . today was different.

On his way to the synagogue, he noticed that the tree nearby had someone sitting beneath it for the first time in years. And not just any person. A girl who looked to be around the same age as Stan. She had her knees bent to serve as a table for what looked like a Spider-Man comic book. Her eyes shifted back and forth, the tips of her fingers pinching the corner of the page. He'd never seen her before, here or anywhere else.

She had to be a new kid. There was no way that she was a born and raised Derry, Maine kid. He could tell, seeing as he was one himself.

There was something about her that stuck out to him, something that lingered in the back of his mind. Seeing her for the first time, he hadn't been able to figure out what it was about her that drew him in like a moth to flame. It was long after that he figured it out, after he'd gotten the chance to know her. (It was her kindness, protective nature, and ability to understand who you were that made his very being soar whenever he looked her way.)

Throughout service, his mind kept drifting back to the girl. Who was she? Why was she so close to the synagogue? Stan noticed that the adults glanced at her in confusion and annoyance as they made their way past her. It wasn't like she was on the property, but it was close enough to make it look as if she were. Few non-Jews bothered to be so close, unless they were invited by one of the members to attend. Thinking that she'd be long gone by the time service had finished, Stan was surprised to see she hadn't moved an inch.

The only difference now was that she was chewing an apple and had taken out a sketchbook. Stan watched as she lazily moved her hand across the more-than-likely blank pages. She would peer across the street every now and again. He'd been curious enough to look for what she'd been looking at. Stan didn't see anything at first, but then he saw a small cluster of robins pecking at the ground in search for food.

His heart beat against his chest in excitement.

Did she like birds, too?

Not only was he the only Jewish student at Derry Middle School, he was the only pre-teen who liked bird watching. It was his favorite pass time, for it gave him peace of mind when everything felt too crazy. Even if he wasn't having a bad day, he still enjoyed watching the winged animals of the small-minded town. Birds didn't bother you. As long as you kept your distance, they didn't expect anything from you. And they were beautiful, with the ability to fly wherever they want whenever ever they want – creatures who held freedom between their glistening feathers.

Stan wished he could have what they had.

He wanted to see if she was still there, drawing birds. But it was Sabbath, which meant he was the rest with his family. It was their time to reflect on god together, be it lounging in the living room or sitting at the dining room table. Though his parents were devoted to their faith, they were a little more lenient than some. Sometimes they'd let him leave the house for an hour or two if he agreed to return in time for dinner.

"Mom, can I go out for a little bit?" he asked his mother around five.

Without looking up from the book she was reading, she asked, "What for?"

"I want to do some bird watching."

His parents liked that he enjoyed bird watching. It was something they knew helped make sure that he was well behaved and not spending time with the wrong crowd.

"Don't go too far," she replied.

"I won't."

As promised, he didn't stray farther than the synagogue.

On my honor I will do my best

To do my duty to god and my country and to obey the Scout Law;

To help other people at all times;

To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.

Sitting beneath the tree, the edges of a tattered quilt splayed out around her, was the girl. Still there. Still drawing, a look of deep thought etched across her slightly scrunched face.

Stan's palms felt clammy as he clutched his binoculars between them, heart racing. He didn't have much experience talking to girls, especially ones who may or may not like birds as much as him. The idea of having someone who got him, even if it was only one part of what made Stan. . . well, Stan made him both feel sick to his stomach and eager to meet her all at once.

It also didn't hurt that she was pretty. Then again, that didn't necessarily make things easier, either. What if all he could manage to do was stare at her like an idiot?

He could imagine her asking him if he had always been a staring creep or if it was his first time acting like one.

Who, me? A creep? I'm more of a loser, but I guess I could add that to my list of reasons why I shouldn't talk to people who are not my loser-y friends.

He shook his head, curls bouncing against his blotchy forehead.

Focus, Stan. She's a girl, not an archangel.

With a determined, shaky breath, Stan stepped forward.

Here goes nothing.

At first, all Kimmy could hear was A-Ha's "Take On Me." She didn't hear someone saying "Hello." Nor did she hear him repeat, "Hell. . . o?"

However, she did feel someone tap her shoulder, causing her to look in said boy's direction.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, shoving the headphones off of her ears and onto her shoulders. "Sorry. I didn't hear you."

The boy before her had curly blonde hair and a rather tentative look plastered upon his face. He looked like he was the same age as Ben, though she couldn't tell for certain. If he was, perhaps he could befriend Benny! But. . . asking him to do that didn't sound like the best idea. She didn't want her brother's only "friend" to have been bugged into becoming such. It would crush Ben, though he'd be smart enough to figure out that Kimmy had something to do with it.

He looked down at the ground. "It's fine," he said, just above a mumble and a whisper.

When he didn't say anything else, nor looked back up, Kimmy felt as if she wasn't supposed to be where she was at. Her luck this happened to be his spot, his special place.

She gestured her free hand around the area. "Do you need me to leave?" she asked. She hoped that the answer would be along the line of "of course not" rather than "you bet your fucking ass you do." Her luck the first townie, aside from her aunt and cousin, she encountered would be a negative one.

The boy's head snapped up, eyes wide and mouth formed in the small shape of an 'O.'

"No!"

Kimmy raised a brow at this. He sounded a bit worried, more so than she'd expected. In fact, she didn't expect to hear this at all.

Seeming to have realized this, a light blush of embarrassment colored his cheeks. "You. . . you don't have to move. You can stay. I mean, it's not my place, so I can't tell you to go away. Not that I want you to. Leave, that is."

It took a moment for her to figure out how to reply. When she did, she smiled - giving him a good look at the shiny, silver braces she couldn't wait to be rid of. She found his response to be adorable, though she knew he probably wouldn't like to hear this thought. "Thanks."

Instead of moving to sit down, the boy remained where he stood. He kept eyeing her blanket, as if he wanted to join her. But he kept silent, as if he was worried that she'd snap at him that he shouldn't be a baby and sit down on the goddamn grass. But it was still a bit damp, even though it had been hours since the last storm had passed. Slightly or not, she couldn't blame him for not wanting to sit on the ground. Muddy pants, even a little, didn't sound ideal or comfortable.

Moving to make room for the unnamed boy, Kimmy pointed towards the available space with a warm smile. "It's kind of muddy. You can sit on my blanket if you want to."

Now he was looking at her as if he wasn't sure how to respond to her. His eyes were slightly wider and unblinking, and his mouth had form another 'O.'

"I swear I don't bite." He didn't respond. She gave him a side smirk. "Or do I?"

That got a brief laugh, like a huff of wind, from him. Something akin to amusement flashing across his still indecisive gaze.

"I don't mind."

And then, after another moment of silence, he slowly made his way towards the edge of the thick blanket. "Thanks," he said, sight focused on his still adjusting legs.

She held out a hand, causing him to look at her again. "My name's Kimmy."

He slowly stretched out his own, still unsure about whether he should further engage. Little did Kimmy know that the reason for this was because his heart was beating wildly against his chest. Poor Stan felt nervous and worried and curious and unsure all at once.

"Stan," he said.

Kimmy's smile grew. "Nice to meet you, Stan."

"Likewise."

Adorable! And formal, too.

Perhaps it wouldn't be as crappy living here. If she could make a friend or two who made her already messy life feel slightly less painful. . . . Maybe Derry wouldn't be the worst place she lived.

"Do you. . . do you like birds?" asked Stan, indicating towards her open sketchbook.

Kimmy titled her head slightly to the side. "I guess." She looked down at the delicate, tiny bodies of the yet to be finished robins. "I mean, they're cool to look at. You?"

Stan nodded his head.

"Do you have a favorite?"

A spark must have been ignited inside of Stan, for his entire being lit up. Any sense of unease he might have felt melted away as a beaming smile made a blinding appearance. "Yeah! There's so many to choose from, though. I like the king eider and the long-tailed duck. And then there's the common house swallow and the violet-green swallow. But nothing compares to the. . . ." he had been rambling with so much excitement and passion that it felt jarring when he trailed off. What happened? Was he okay? Was he painfully shy that it took some time for him to get out of his shell?

"You okay?" was the only thing she could think to ask.

Stan nodded his head.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It's just. . . ."

"Just?"

His cheeks had a faint tinge of pink on them. "It's just that people usually don't like it when I talk a lot about birds."

"Oh?"

And then it hit her.

Oh.

"I like the tree swallow," she soon added, choosing the first bird that popped into her head. She didn't know a lot, but she knew some of the more commonly known ones, like gold finches and swans. "They're a pretty shade of blue."

That seemed to bring him back out of his retreat.

"Yeah. They are," he said, the tension in his shoulders slightly decreasing.

"What's that one you were talking about, the one that 'nothing compares to?'"

"You don't mind?"

Now it was Kimmy's turn to shake her head. "Not at all. You should hear me when I talk about Freddie Mercury or comic books. I don't shut up."

"The red chested humming bird."

Kimmy smiled. "Yeah?"

Stan nodded his head.

"Guess I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Do you have a bird book?"

"No."

"You should check out the library. They should have a few books about birds available."

"Awesome," said Kimmy, happy that she was still making conversation with someone. "Thanks, Stan."

A light blush graced his cheeks, though Kimmy didn't seem to notice. He shrugged his shoulders as if it were not that big of a deal that he suggested some reading material to her. "You're welcome."

For the rest of their time together, they sat in comfortable silence. They watched the birds and took turns sketching the ones that stuck out to them the most. Was it a bit obsessive, focusing primarily on one single thing? Probably. But neither of them could be happier as they shared what they were passionate about.

As much as she liked being away from half of her family, Kimmy was the first to go.

"I need to get going," she announced, placing her things into her empty backpack. "My aunt will kill me if I'm not back in time for dinner." She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "This was fun. Maybe we could do it again?"

"Sure," Stan said, eagerly nodding his head.

"Cool. Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time tomorrow," he echoed, much to Kimmy's amusement.

"See you tomorrow, then," she confirmed.

After hiking her backpack over her shoulders, she bid him farewell. As she made her way down the street, a goofy grin stretched across Stan's face, stars forming before his eyes. He hadn't had many crushes in the past, so he had yet to figure it out that he liked her. By thinking of her welcoming gaze and her elegant sketches, Stan's crush continued to grow.

The smile didn't leave. It stayed with him as he rode his bike home, when he was greeted by his mother, and when he sat down for his evening meal.

"What's making you so happy?" his mom asked, passing him the mashed potatoes.

Stan, for a moment, was pulled out of his musings. He could lie, say something that could come back to bite him in the butt, or he could tell the truth. "I made a new friend today," he answered, having decided to go with the latter.

"I thought you were bird watching," his mom said, not sure how or why he had the time to do so.

The pre-teen looked at his still steaming meal. "They were under the tree I went to," he replied just above his breath. "They like birds, too."

"What's their name?" asked his dad, not bothering to look up from the piece of lemon chicken he was cutting on his plate.

"Kimmy. She just moved here."

"A new kid?" asked his mom.

"Yes."

"A goy." His father stated this so simply, as if he already knew everything about Kimmy. After all, he was the rabbi. He'd know if they had new members, which they didn't. They hadn't for quite some time.

"I. . . I didn't ask."

That seemed to be enough information for his dad.

"Be careful, Stanly. She could be trouble."

"Yes, sir."

For the rest of the meal, the family sat in silence.

As Stan attempted to fall asleep, he couldn't stop thinking about what his dad had implied at dinner. How she could be bad company based on the possibility that she might not be Jewish. But his dad knew that his small group of friends weren't Jewish, that they had their own beliefs on religion. So why was his dad hinting that it would be wise to be warry of her?

Why?

But then he remembered how her slightly crocked teeth gleamed silver when she smiled. And her voice, calm and laced with humor. She had been nice to him, hadn't made fun of him for liking a hobby that was usually taken up by the elderly.

She may not be religious for all he knew, but he didn't care. Kimmy didn't seem like she could bring him trouble. If anything, good things could happen. For starters, he knew that his friends were going to lose their minds when they find out he had managed to befriend a girl. Besides, it didn't hurt to make more friends.

As Stan drifted off to sleep, his goofy smile returned as his eyes began to droop into a deep slumber. That night, he dreamed of birds and of a girl drawing shapes across a dirt covered ground.

Yeah. Stan's dad is an asshole. I mean, pretty much every dad in the film is a fucking piece of work. But still. Fuck that guy. I also included Stan's Boy Scout background since I think it fits his character. Maybe they'll mention it in the upcoming film? Probably not. But, yeah. He's a Boy Scout in this story.

The next chapter will be the first day of school for the Hanscom siblings. We'll also be introduced to a few more characters, both cannon and original.

Until next time, see you later :)