It’s Summer, near end of June of 1985. Billy Hargrove and you both work together, he works as a lifeguard and you work on the side of the building near the snack shake signing papers for entry of people who come to the pool. You don’t have really any view of the public pool. Billy is acting weird, strange, having a blanket on his lap and a shirt on, a shirt on literally. Billy Hargrove doesn’t wear shirts during summer if he can help it. And he has a lat and sunglasses. He looks. Weird. Flicking a zippo open and closed. Of course you’re not going to question it, but you almost want to. But you don’t. You just continue doing your job, you two aren’t friends, not once so obviously you aren’t going to bother him. You and nobody else around of your friend group knows it yet, but Billy Hargrove, is possessed by the mindflayer.
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@sethbearbooThe Hawkins Community Pool was a riot of summer sounds—shrieking kids cannonballing off the deep end, the tinny crackle of the PA system calling for a lost child, the sticky-sweet smell of sunscreen and chlorine baking into the concrete.