✧✧✧

❝ it was her chaos that made her beautiful. ❞
—ATTICUS

BEVERLY MARSH and I had decided to take a small trip to the local ice cream parlor, in which we planned our outing for tomorrow.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward as we began to get to know each other, but comforted once I cracked up a few bitter jokes.

"Who's your favorite singer?" Beverly asked, coats of strawberry ice cream dripping from her ruby lips.

I spun around the red circular chair we were both seated upon, draining the contents of my milkshake as my ankles swayed around a foot above the ground. "Frank Sinatra," I replied.

"Favorite movie?" she continued to question.

"I don't watch movies; it makes your brain mushy."

"I don't think that's true," a high-pitched giggle escaping from her mouth, scooping another portion of ice cream on to her spoon.

We spent an hour in the same position, asking each other more random sets of questions until Beverly realized what time it was.

"I've gotta get home before 5 0'clock," she explained.

"Why?"

"Oh—um," she fumbled with her words, "I've gotta make sure I'm home before my dad comes from work."

I nodded my head in silence instead of commenting on her skeptical answer. With tranquility hovering over us, we finished the remainder of our ice creams and prepared ourselves for the treacherous journey home.

We made a deal that every day we'd compile a list of where we wanted to go or what we wanted to do in order to keep us occupied all summer—and for the sake of staying away from home as much as we could; an area of expertise that we related to bizarrely.

The moment Beverly mentioned her father I noticed a change in her demeanor. I related to her obvious distaste towards her parent for reasons that seemed different than hers.

I selfishly felt content that Beverly and I both had that specific topic in common—both of us enduring trouble in that department, though I suspected Beverly suffered more than I did from the way she pursed her pouted lips and let her beady lagoon glazed eyes fall to the ground.

Since we cut the evening short, I decided to occupy myself for the rest of the day by taking a short trip to the library on my way home instead; that way my mom would find an excuse to go to the local bar instead of growling at me when I arrived home.

I hopped on my bike as Beverly peddled in front of me, our directions diverting in different turns once the library came into view.

"See you tomorrow, Marsh," I shouted towards the red-head engulfed in patches mesmerizing freckles.

"See you, Smith." She laughed as she rolled home on her bike, the summer air whisking through her vibrant scarlet locks.

As I rode down the street leading to the library, my gaze was met by a familiar pair of bug-eyes that made my blood curdle.

I stopped my bike as Richie Tozier blocked off my path towards the library with his group of strange friends.

"Well look what we've got here, boys," he snickered. "It's Step on me Smith."

"R–R–Richie," Bill spoke up as he stared at me with caution. "Let's go, we have to g-get to the b-b-barrens."

"Oh come on Bill, I'm just talking to the friendly neighborhood fire crotch," he continued to shamelessly mock me. "Now tell me Smith, does the carpet match the drapes?"

"Richie!" Eddie shouted, "knock it off!"

"It's okay Richie, you won't learn about female anatomy unless you take a good look at yourself," I replied to his pathetic excuse of humor. "I mean, at this rate, the only action you'll get is from your dominant hand."

Richie growled under his breath as his own friends Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Bill Denbrough chuckled behind him.

Eddie, the only boy in my science class who refused to dissect toads with us under his mother's orders was a peculiar character to me. The only encounter I ran into with the petite boy was when he lectured me about chewing my dented pencil in class, educating me on the number of infectious diseases that I could acquire. The discussion ended in me threatening to discard his body in the sewage at the barrens.

Stanley on the other hand was extremely quiet. I had only heard his raspy voice once in English when he had to read a book in front of our entire class, nervously exhaling each sentence. He usually stayed glued to his spot next to Bill, who would get harshly taunted for his signature stutter.

"She has a point, I mean—" Eddie was suddenly cut off by an irritated glare from Richie.

"Shut up, Eds," Richie growled aggressively. "And fuck off Copperhead; you're just mad that I was dared to kiss the most repulsive girl at school."

"But Richie, don't you r-r-remember why I dared—" Bill attempted to explain before Richie violently turned his distraught features towards him as though to say don't you fucking dare through seethed teeth. What in the world was Bill about to reveal about Richie?

"Shut up, Tozier, I'm all the action you're gonna get in your pathetic life." I interrupted the two as I rolled my chocolate irises, zooming past them on my bike without further hesitation.

"You've gotta agree with her there," I overheard Stanley pipe up. I was surprised to come into contact with his pleasant voice due to how quiet and kept to himself he was in all my knowledge of attending school with him.

"Have fun at the library, I heard the librarian has saggier tits than your mom!" Richie shouted from behind me with an outburst of anger.

I turned my gaze to behind my shoulder as I shouted back. "Have fun at the barrens, I hope you replace the stick up your ass!"

A grin pierced my features as he flipped me off in anger, causing me to feel the slightest bit of satisfaction.

Richie Tozier made nuns swear; he was the epitome of revolting.

I cringed at the thought of him as I pulled up to the bike rack in front of the library, chuckling to myself as I recognized Ben's bike locked next to mine.

I mapped out my interactions with him by planning out what approaches I would take in order for him to grow a pair of balls and ask Beverly out.

Just as I placed a foot upon the steps leading inside, I heard my name being called. "Hey, Stephanie!"

I turned to be met with the repulsive features of Henry Bowers, Victor Criss, and Belch Huggins. The group of rowdy boys seated in an electric blue convertible.

Henry Bowers consisted of three things; his repulsive excuse of a mullet, arrogant attitude, and destructive violence. Just like Beverly, he too had rumors scouting the halls of Derry, those being that his father wasn't the kindest police officer in town.

As for his group of minions, they just mirrored everything he decided to or did to avoid his wrath.

"Stephanie, why not show us what your new friend Bevy has been teaching you," Henry shouted from the driver's seat. "Come on, we want to see what you and Marsh have been up to!"

First Richie Tozier, now Henry Bowers? My day couldn't lack any more luck.

"Choke on the devil, Bowers," I screamed toward them as I continued my journey up the small flight of stairs.

"Oh, but Stef you don't remember what happened yesterday?" Henry urged.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Bowers?"

"Because of you, I got my ass in detention for throwing the Derry hothead into lockers," he explained through gritted teeth. "You little snitch bitch."

"It's not my fault you thought it'd be funny to shut me up by slamming me into a fucking locker, angry bastard," I snickered, turning my back towards them shamelessly.

"You better shut that bitch up, Bowers" I heard Belch growl.

"She deserved to be stuffed into those lockers after being a little cunt," Patrick Hockstetter added as he peered from the passenger seat of the car. I hadn't noticed that he was with them.

"Yeah, kill the fucking red-head, it's not like her dads gonna be able to come stop you," Victor snickered, causing anger to resurface as I kept my eyes glued to the door of the library.

Just as I was about to grasp the handle of the door, someone managed to tug me from my previous spot and place a hand over my mouth to muffle my screaming. Before I could muster any kind of assault, Henry Bowers strangled my torso as he carried me to his vehicle.

My body went rigid as he placed me in the trunk—all of the boys gathering around to laugh at me just as they were about to close it.

"You'll regret not shutting up that stupid mouth of yours, Smith." Henry said as he slammed the door of the trunk closed.

My palms were now drenched with sweat as the panic of being closed in engulfed me. I felt the corners of the car gradually swallowing me within each second I spent in the tiny secluded space—Henry's comment of locker incident conceiving déjà vu for me.

I cried as a strange light pierced the darkness of the small space; topaz irises lighting the dark.

To my utter discomfort, I felt a pool of breaths dance upon my neck as I realized now that the walls were, in fact, closing in.

"Steffi, why don't ya come float with us," the petrifying chime of the voice spoke. "We all float, yes, we all do."

I felt the trunk of the car divulge me in one causing me to scream for my life and attempting to use my limbs to kick away the closing spaces.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I felt my arms scrunch into my hips, the helpless feeling ripping my body bare as I recalled the events of the locker being much easier than now.

I somehow managed to get Henry to free me, his annoyed grunts finally being audible as he lifted the door up.

"What's the fucking matter with you, Smith?" He screamed. "Shut the fuck up."

He lifted me up from the trunk – thankfully – and threw my torso into the back passenger's seat.

"We're going to the gas station, stay in the fucking car or I'll come and find you, got it?" He commanded.

I nodded my head in silence as a reply as the ability to speak became foreign to me due to the traumatic events that I had suffered through just a moment ago.

Henry grabbed his keys as his friends strode behind him into the gas station, the thought of locking the door not even occurring to him.

With an ounce of hope, I opened the car's passenger door and began to pound my feet into the gravel—running as fast as my limbs could muster.

I didn't turn back, I just kept running until I eventually lost the ability to control my feet, stumbling as Beverly's apartment came into view.

I climbed up the back steps, dragging my motionless torso up to the top of where her apartment was located.

I slowly lifted my knuckle to tap on the rough exterior of the door, not waiting long to be met with her familiar sea-foam irises.

"Stef?" She murmured with confusion lacing her voice. "Why do you look like hell?"

"Bowers," I murmured as she led me inside.

"Are you okay, you have a cut on your eyebrow," she said, checking my face for any more traces of bruises or marks.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not," she observed. "I have to go to the pharmacy anyway; you're coming with me to get something that'll clean you up."

I complied as she dragged me by my wrist to the local pharmacy, her face punctured in distress as she continued to gaze at my feeble state.

✧✧✧

We made our way inside the drugstore, Beverly alerting me on the way of her little problem.

We strode into the aisle that contained female hygiene products first, trying to decide on what she needed to get.

I hadn't spoken for a majority of the trip due to my mind racing back to the images of the piecing irises that sent electrifying chills down my spine. I only answered Beverly with small replies and nods.

"This won't be long, I promise, Stef," she reassured me as she glanced at the rows of pads.

Without hesitating, she grabbed the first package she saw and yanked me to the next destined aisle.

Just as we were about to grab our items for my cut, we were interrupted by Eddie, Stanley, and Bill. Before they noticed, Beverly hid the pack of Pads behind her as Eddie dropped a cotton ball in bewilderment to our presence.

"Y–Y–You guys okay?" Bill chimed towards us

"We're fine, what's wrong with you?" She spoke in attempts of grasping her composure.

Eddie stood in between Bill and Stanley with a bunch of medical aid products spilling from his arms.

Stanley spoke up nervously toward Beverly, "none of your business."

"There's a kid outside that looks like someone killed him," Eddie interjected as he balanced the supplies in his grasp.

"We need s–supplies, but we don't have enough money," Bill clarified.

"Hmm. . ." Beverly said as she sorted through her thoughts aloud. "I think I have an idea."

She grasped me by my elbow once again as we stalked over to where the pharmacy counter was.

"Stay here." She commanded as she made her way over to talk to Mister Keene.

I couldn't hear the conversation diverting between the two, but I finally caught up to her plan when she shoved the stack of brochures off the counter, giving her time to retrieve a pack of cigarettes and allow the boys to escape without paying a single penny.

I was overly impressed with her choice of plan as she made her way back over to me with a satisfied grin.

We stood in front of the store as she pulled out the bandages to patch up my small cut. "So, what happened, Stef?"

"Bowers just uh . . . he was bugging me, nothing special really," I muttered.

"Are you okay?" She asked, grabbing a cotton ball to swab with an alcohol wipe as she dotted it upon the top of my right eyebrow.

"Yeah, I just uh—I saw something weird."

"Like what?"

"Uh. . ." I fumbled over my words. "You know what; I think I was just freaking out because his car trunk was too dark and small."

"He put you in his trunk?" she questioned with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, I messed with him a couple of days ago, its fine, and I'll live."

"Okay, tough cookie," Beverly smiled lightly as she opened the packets of Band-Aids and stuck one on to my cut.

We packed up the remainder of our belongings and made our way to the back of the drug-store – the alley – with peaceful silence diverting between us.

Just as we strolled through, Bill's features became as distraught as a deer caught in headlights once his gaze locked on Beverly—his features mirroring the same expression I saw on Ben today.

Bill pulled out the remains of his money with a quivering shake and offered it to Beverly. "Um . . . t–thanks—"

"Even Steven." Beverly grinned at Bill as she flashed her pack of Marlboro's.

"God damn it, is that Tozier again," I huffed in irritation as Richie Tozier and the rest of the gang came into view all situated in the alley.

"Ben from soc?" Beverly spoke with confusion as we trudged toward a weakened Ben Hanscom.

"You have to suck the wound before you apply the bandage, that's just aid 101," Richie's repellent voice alerted Eddie.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Eddie dismissed Richie as he continued to attend to Ben's wounds.

"Are you okay? That looks like it hurts," Beverly said as a worried expression plastered itself upon her features.

"Uh yeah, did Tozier get lonely and fuck your brains out?" I muttered quietly.

"Step on me, stop talking, women don't have rights." Richie snickered as he adjusted his large spectacles.

"Just the way men don't have a functioning brain."

"I'll give you functioning bra—" he growled.

"Guys, shut up," Beverly interrupted. "Are you alright, Ben?"

Ben appeared timid towards Beverly's concern for him as he shoved his shirt down back over his wound. "I'm good, I just—uh fell."

"Yeah, right into Henry Bowers," Richie interjected.

"Shut it, R–Richie," Bill hissed.

"Why? It's the truth," the bug-eyed boy claimed as he rolled his eyes harshly at Bill.

Beverly disregarded Richie and Bill as she came closer to Ben. "You sure they've got the right stuff to fix you up?" Beverly winked at him, enjoying their inside joke.

"Well if I'm correct, we've got a group consisting of the living inhaler, the noodle haired Jew, the broken record, and the embodiment of hell," I observed the group of boys. "I don't know if they are capable of even fixing themselves."

"That's mister noodle haired Jew to you, miss angry pants," Stanley jokingly lectured, causing my lips to twitch upward.

Stanley's newfound humor surprised me due to how quiet he usually seemed during my small encounters with him, but nonetheless, I still didn't mind him.

"Oh, to hell with you, Copperhead," Richie said, flipping me off as always.

"You know w–we'll take care of him," Bill reassured us. "Uh . . . thanks again, Beverly and Stephanie."

"Stef," I corrected.

"Sure," Beverly replied with a small smile teetering on her lips. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, w–we were thinking about going to the q–quarry tomorrow i–if you guys want to come," Bill suggested.

"Good to know, thanks." Beverly said as we began to exit the alley.

"Hey Tozier, I can't wait to see your little tighty whiteys, you better get your vagina shaved or it'll look like a bear claw," I yelled toward him as giggling erupted from the alley.

I heard Eddie's eruption of laughter to ring through the alley as he cried the words 'bear claw.'

"You better wear a push-up bra to get some tits, Copperhead!" Richie cried from behind.

Beverly and I both yelped in laughter at the pathetic attempts of Richie trying to search for his last shredded ounces of pride—our shoulders brushing as we strolled home with the brisk summer breeze dancing upon our exposed skin.