as the sudden sunlit glint of beverly marsh 's ankle-bracelet had shot an arrow of something more primitive than simple love or affection through his heart on the last day of school in 1958 , so had the sight of the high-school girl 's panties affected him ; he could remember sitting at a table in the children 's library and thinking of that unexpected view for perhaps as long as twenty minutes , his cheeks and forehead hot , a book about the history of trains open and unread before him , his penis a hard little branch in his pants , a branch that had sunk its roots all the way up into his belly .