In which Stanley Uris finds himself infatuated with the ill-mannered and beautiful younger sister of the infamous Henry Bowers.
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"I hope you find the strength to stop hurting those who love you. Because right now, loving you hurts more than losing...
As Mia Bowers and Stanley Uris pedalled down the streets of the Derry town centre, every kid on the street couldn't help but stare. They all thought he was crazy to be near her, but he didn't care what they thought. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like he didn't need to be afraid.
"Where is your house?" Stan asked his passenger.
"Head up this street and turn left on Neibolt!" Mia smiled, holding tightly to her driver. The two of them continued up Turner street.
Stan did as she'd instructed and made a left turn onto the eeriest street in the entire town. For at the end of this street stood a house, a house that terrified children to even look at. What none of them knew was that there were true horrors living inside.
As the two new friends rode down the street, Mia noticed a wet patch of concrete sidewalk in front of one of the houses.
"Wait, wait stop." Mia asked, and Stan did at he was asked. The Bowers girl climbed off of the bike and finally took her hands off of Stanley's waist, much to his dismay. He felt a certain sadness when she let go. Perhaps it was because her arms were keeping his torso warm in the wind, or maybe it was the fact that she was holding onto him at all.
The younger boy followed the girl to the wet patch of concrete, with a guard wrapped around it saying "do not touch". As Mia reach her hand out towards the concrete, Stanley found himself pouncing at her, pulling her back.
"What are you doing?" Stan began to raise his voice. Something about disturbing the perfectly flat concrete made him anxious to say the least.
"Give me your hand."
"Why?" Stan began to back up, away from the concrete.
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Mia slowly reached for Stan's hand, and held it in hers for a moment. The two laced their fingers together and smiled. Stan's face flushed immediately.
Together, the two of them placed their hands on the wet concrete and left a permanent mark on Neibolt Street. Forever there would be a memory etched into the very concrete of this place, a memory of the Bowers girl and the Uris boy, together.
As they removed their hands, Stanley examined the scene in front of him and began to breathe heavily. He didn't like the disproportioned mark they'd left, he didn't like it one bit. He'd ruined something so perfectly pure. He wanted to run away. His hand was still dirty from the concrete, too.
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