chapter eight
girls who bite back

☼ ☽

Jill Samson lived in her own world. Population: one. It had been that way since she was a child and discovered she could only ever really rely on herself. Sure, there was Beverly always by her side with a smile, but when the girl left and Jill was forced to confront her thoughts, all she had was herself. There were parts of herself that she would never share with Beverly, and so she kept herself locked inside her head and dealt with the world on her own. Except things were different now. Now she had been thrown into this group and she was forced to live in the real world; to live in a world with them.

She became acutely aware of this notion as the preteens walked down the road with their bikes next to them. Most of them were too drained to hop on their bikes, so they settled for walking beside them. Except for Richie, who wouldn't shut up about being left outside for hours. Jill kept rolling her eyes at him, wishing some supernatural force would sew his lips together so he wouldn't be able to open his mouth ever again.

"No, I love being your personal doorman, really!" Richie blabbered as he circled the rest of the group on his bike, the wind blowing his hair out of his face. "Really could you idiots have taken any longer?"

"Richie for once in your life," Jill gripped the handles of her bike tightly, "shut the fuck up!"

"Yeah, shut up, Richie," Stan repeated, glancing over to give Jill a smile. Jill only smirked and gave him a two-finger salute.

"Oh, okay, trash the Trashmouth," Richie spat as if he was actually offended, but a smile was tugging at his lips. He snapped his attention to the brunette girl. "I get it, but I'll only shut up for you, pretty thing." He clicked his tongue and winked at her.

Jill rolled her eyes. "You're relentless, Tozier."

A laugh bubbled from his lips, but he quickly composed himself. "Hey, at least I wasn't the one scrubbing the bathroom floor imagining that her sink went all Eddie's mom's vagina on Halloween," Richie said crudely.

His words brought an unsettling image into her mind, and she grimaced. Not only did the boy have a knack for describing the most disgusting things but he was also sorely wrong. Beverly had seen something, and so had Jill. "She didn't imagine it, you dickweed," Jill spat gruffly, but her voice lacked malice. Her hand drifted to her neck as she remembered how it felt to be deprived of oxygen—how it felt to have the life strangled out of her. "I saw something."

Bill stopped walking, halting all his actions as he stared at the sky. The rest of the group followed his lead, even Richie had skidded his bike to a halt. "I saw something, too," Bill finally breathed out, his voice unsteady.

Jill turned around, briefly making eye-contact with Beverly who seemed to be focused on the girl's neck. She must have been staring at the bruise. Jill swallowed, uneasily. The bruise.

"You saw blood?" Stan asked. His fragile voice caught Jill's attention and she glanced from the Uris boy to Bill's face. She glared at him, waiting for him to explain.

Bill shook his head. "Not blood, I saw George—G—Georgie. It seemed so ruh—real, I mean it seemed like—like him but there was this . . ."

"Clown," Eddie finished his thoughts for him. "Yeah, I saw him too."

A chorus of agreement encircled the group as they all recalled their encounters. Jill didn't remember a clown haunting her, but she couldn't say she hadn't not seen it. She remembered earlier that same day of the hand, she had noticed a clown in one of Ben's documents. At the time, she didn't know why it looked so familiar, but maybe this clown was behind all the disappearances in Derry. Maybe this clown had been hiding behind a facade to terrorize her. She only questioned why it was terrorizing the kids of Derry. What could it possibly gain from that?

"I don't know if it was a clown, but something choked me last night," Jill spoke up as her hand found its way to her neck again. "I think it wanted to kill me."

No one dared to speak, they only stared at Jill and tried to swallow their fear. The silence was almost deafening. It gnawed at her insides. Its nothingness ringing through her ears as a cool breeze blew past the group. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still hear the sound of her screams from last night. The fear was still there, pulsing through her veins. She clenched her fists to stop the circulation, but it worsened. Soon, all she could hear was the pounding of her heart. She couldn't tell for sure, but she could have sworn she heard the other kids' hearts beat as well.

"Wait, can only virgins see this stuff? Is that why I'm not seeing this shit?" Richie blurted out, bringing everyone out of their trances. Their watchful eyes narrowed in on him, all of them glaring daggers at his head.

Jill opened her mouth to curse him out, but the sound of booming laughter interrupted her as the entire group turned to stare in the direction of the noise. She searched for any indicators of who might be making the noise, and for a split second she wondered if it was the supposed clown taunting them, but then she saw the car. Belch Huggins's car to be exact.

"Oh shit, that's Belch Huggins's car," Eddie informed. "We—we should probably get outta here." He was practically bouncing in his shoes as he looked around for the quickest route away from the danger up ahead.

Bill put up his hand to stop the boy in his actions. "Wuh—Wait, isn't that the homeschooled keh—kid's bike?" he asked, pointing to the bike hidden in the long grass.

"Yeah, it's Mike's," Eddie confirmed.

An image of Mike Hanlon popped into Jill's head as she tried to put the name to a face. She didn't know him. Actually, she wasn't even sure she had spoken any more than a few words to him, but she did remember the boy helping her hide from Henry Bowers when she kicked him in the dick for calling Beverly a slut last year. Mike was a good person, and if Henry had decided to wreak havoc on him, Jill would be sure to make it right.

"Who's Mike?" Ben questioned. Jill looked at him in confusion before it dawned on her that he was new to Derry and probably had never met Mike before. Still, no one answered him.

"We have to help him," Beverly declared, throwing her bike on the ground and walking toward the noise with her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The rest of the group followed suit, throwing their bikes to the ground, except for Stanley Uris who propped his bike up on its stand.

"We should?" Richie questioned.

"Yes, you idiot!" Jill shouted.

Richie opened his mouth to retort, but Jill had already turned around and ran after Stanley, who had already disappeared behind a tree. The muscles in her legs were like melting butter from weaving through the clusters of trees and jumping over rocks in the path. Sweat beads had begun to sprout around her hairline, dripping down her face and into her eyes. She stopped running for a second to wipe her eyes, but someone knocked into her, causing her to poke the corner of her eye.

"Ow!" Jill hissed, whipping around to see Richie Tozier sprawled out on the ground. She would have laughed in his face if her eyes weren't burning. "Get up. You'll slow us down."

Richie shoved a finger at her. "Hey, now, you're the one who stopped."

Jill scrunched her face up. "Um, your point? You ran into me."

"You know I think I cut my knee," Richie stated, ignoring her and inspecting the small cut on his knee.

Jill rolled her eyes. "You probably got that from the grass, dumbass."

"But it hurts like a bitch!" he whined, tilting his head back. "Maybe if you kiss it, I can walk again."

Jill raised a brow and pursed her lips, but she didn't reply. Instead, the girl turned on her heels and ran after the group, who were probably miles ahead of them by now. She managed to catch up with the rest of the group in a matter of a few seconds, with Richie trailing behind her. The two of them were out of breath from the obstacles they had to face. Richie clasped a hand on Jill's shoulder, leaning on her so he could catch his breath. Jill groaned and shoved him off her.

Richie managed to stabilize himself before he smacked the ground. "Hey!" he protested, his arms stretched out at his sides. Jill only flipped him off and turned her attention to the scene that had caught the rest of the group's eyes.

On the other side of the river split between two patches of land, Henry Bowers and his insolent friends, Belch Huggins and Victor Criss, were huddled around Mike Hanlon. Mike's face was pressed into a rock as Henry held him in place with his foot. Victor grabbed a slab of meat and shoved it in Mike's face, forcing it inside his mouth. Mike groaned and tried wriggling out from underneath his captor, but Henry pressed down harder, digging the heel of his boot into Mike's chest. Henry laughed as Belch tossed him a rock. He held it above the boy, preparing to bash it into Mike's skull. Jill shook with anger, searching for a rock to throw before Henry could injure Mike, but Beverly beat her to it, throwing a sharp rock at Henry's head. The rock collided with Henry's forehead, forcing him to stumble backward as he brought his fingers up to touch the warm liquid that had spilled from the gash.

"Nice throw," Stan remarked.

"Thanks." Beverly smiled and nodded.

While Henry and the rest of his goons comprehended the situation, Mike scurried across the river and collapsed on a bed of rocks to calm his rapid breathing. Jill snapped her eyes to the boy and reached to help him, but he was already scrambling up the bed of rocks and into the group of Losers. Bill gently placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, quietly asking him if he was all right. Mike didn't say a word, instead, he went to the back of the group, creating a barrier between the Bowers Gang and himself. Jill didn't blame him.

Henry scoffed loudly as he wiped the blood from his wound and stared at the residue. "You losers are trying too hard," Henry spat with a smirk on his face as he rubbed the blood between his fingers. "She'll do you. You just gotta ask nicely like I did." He nodded his head at Beverly and laughed as he reached down to grab his crotch and smirked even wider. Belch and Victor laughed, clapping their friend on the back.

A bomb detonated inside of Jill and she clenched her hands into fists. Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hand, drawing blood from the pressure. She tried to hold it in. She tried to bottle it up, but Jill was a nuclear bomb and only knew how to explode. "What the fuck did you just say, Bowers?" she yelled, angrily shoving past the rest of the group until she was standing in front of them, smoke practically fuming from her ears.

Henry rolled his eyes but his smirk stayed present on his condescending face. "Of course, it's you," he groaned, taking a step forward. "You never leave the slut's side."

Jill's hands balled into fists and she squeezed so hard her knuckles began to turn white. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twisted into a scowl as her veins pumped with poison. She glanced at the river below her before she jumped into the water. The water soaked her jeans, but she didn't care. Her rage consumed her very being, plaguing her with darkness even she never knew she could channel. "Call her a slut one more time and I'll rip that muskrat hanging from the back of your head right off," she seethed, venom dripping from her lips.

Henry shook his head, waving his finger at her. "She's never gonna go for you," he said, a mocking laugh erupting from his lips. "Nobody likes lezzies, not even sluts."

Something snapped in Jill. Something bad. Dark. "Henry Bowers, you are a piece of shit plaguing the earth," she spat, her voice gaining volume as she spoke. "People take one look at you and decide you aren't worth it. You have no value, not even a soul. You are a bag of skin . . . a pile of bones. Every part of you . . . every cell in your body is a waste." A fire ignited in her obsidian eyes as she blankly stared at the boy, a sly grin sliding onto her face. "You mean nothing. You are nothing. You should cease to exist."

The world seemed to stop as Jill crossed the small stream, stopping in the middle of the rushing water. Her eyes were dead set on the three teenagers in front of her as she held their gazes. Henry tore his eyes from the preteen and glanced at his two friends with his mouth slightly open as he tried to formulate a response. The world was quiet, almost too quiet. The sound of the water flowing around Jill's ankles could be heard from across the river. She heard a heartbeat pounding in her ears, but it wasn't her own. She could have sworn it was Henry's or maybe one of his friends' . . . it didn't matter. Her words had shocked them, possibly even scared them.

Victor swallowed his fear first. "Do you have fuckin' mental issues? What's wrong with you?"

What's wrong with you?

Jill pondered over that question for a moment. What was wrong with her? She was pretty sure she'd never find the answer. But it didn't matter because no matter what Jill did, she did it to prove a point. Boys should not have been allowed to beat up innocent people or call girls derogatory names. Boys should learn, and if they refused to, Jill Samson would teach them how to with her words, maybe even her actions. Because there was one thing she knew for certain: boys didn't like it when girls bit back. And Jill was going to show just how lethal a girl's teeth were when they became unhinged. Then they'd learn.

Jill took a step forward until her feet were out of the water and she was standing right before Henry Bowers. She squinted her eyes, studying his face as he tried to figure out her next move. "Ever wonder what's going to happen to you when . . . no . . . if you graduate? Do you think you're going to become the next sheriff like daddy? Huh?" she questioned, maliciously.

"Fuck you, bitch," Henry sputtered.

"People like you . . . pieces of shit like you never amount to anything. You'll probably get some girl pregnant and have to drop out of school, but you won't have a degree to get a good job, so you'll end up flipping burgers at a diner or selling drugs to deadbeats," Jill elaborated as she stared into Henry's blue eyes, burning holes into his irises. "You'll become exactly what you hate; what you fear. Then your life will go on, painfully slow until you end up looking like a corpse, and you'll find yourself wondering where you went wrong. You'll eventually realize you have no worth and you never did." She flashed him a devilish grin. "And you'll hate yourself so much you'll wish you had died right here right now."

Henry scoffed, gaining back his arrogance. "What? You think you're better than me? You're not."

Jill almost laughed. "I know I'm not, but at least I don't go around acting like I'm fuckin' Jesus Christ."

A vein in Henry's forehead popped as he clenched his jaw. "You fuckin'—" he seethed through gritted teeth, stepping closer to the girl in front of him, but he didn't advance in any brutal actions.

That time Jill did laugh. What a coward. "Go on, Bowers!" She shoved his chest, trying to rile him up. "Hit me, motherfucker!"

Henry shoved her back, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and pulling her closer to him. Due to his proximity, his breath wafted into her face, and Jill nearly puked. She wished she had, then it would have gone directly into Henry Bowers's face. It was what he deserved. But she didn't, instead, she kept eye contact with him, analyzing how his eyes were beady and empty. He was already a dead man. He was just wasting time.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Henry muttered after a moment's silence. His eyes sparked with realization as it dawned on him what Jill was playing at. "You want me to hit you? I get it. Anything to prove your existence is a mistake, right?"

Jill scoffed and her face fell. She shook her head once before her hand flashed out, colliding with the side of Henry's face. There was a ripping sound like the sizzling of embers flying from a burning fire, except there was no fire, and the only thing ripping was Henry's flesh as Jill swiped his earring off, bringing a chunk of his earlobe with it. Jill held it in her hand as Henry threw her to the ground and fell backward, clutching his ear while trying not to scream.

Belch and Victor stepped forward, their hands reaching for Jill, but Henry beat them to it. "I'm gonna' fucking kill you," he shrieked, still holding a hand over his ear as blood trickled down his fingers. "I'll kill all of you!"

Something snapped in Jill for the second time. "I'd like to see you try," she spat, clenching her hand into a fist. She bellowed out a yell and pulled her hand back to gain momentum then launched it forward, connecting her knuckles with Henry's nose.

That was all it took before the rest of the Losers began to chuck rocks at the Bowers' Gang. Their screams erupted into the air, and she could have sworn she heard Richie yell something, but Jill paid them no mind. Her eyes were set on Henry Bowers and destroying his face. He was already wounded and winded, but she didn't care, he needed to learn just how sharp girls' teeth were. She crawled over Henry, who was still trying to catch his breath and battled him until her knees were digging into his wrists. Jill brought a fist to his face, snapping his nose into a grotesque curve. A cut opened from the impact and blood trickled down his face, staining his pale skin.

"You fucking bitch!"

Jill spit in his face. "Fuck you!" she growled, baring her teeth at him. She brought her hand back to punch him again, but Henry hooked his leg around hers and slammed her into the ground. She yelled, desperately trying to escape his hold, but his grip was too strong. Her eyes squeezed shut and she tensed, preparing herself for the blow Henry was about to land on her. Only it never came.

One second Henry's knee was digging into her stomach, then the next she could breathe again. Her eyes snapped open and she found Henry groaning on the ground next to her while he cradled his head. She glanced at the Losers, searching for the person who had hit Henry. She expected Beverly to be grinning back at her, but instead, Richie stood in the middle of the river, his chest heaving up and down as he regained his breath.

"Come on," he yelled, waving for Jill to follow him back to the Losers' side of the river.

Jill felt herself smile. If Richie hadn't thrown that rock, her nose would have probably been broken. He had saved her, and she had no idea why. She had been a total bitch to him, and yet he saved her from being pulverized by a bully. It confused her, but still, she wasted no time and sprung to her feet, chasing after Richie. She climbed over the bed of rocks and joined the Losers as rocks continued flying through the air. She briefly glanced at her clothes; the blood from cleaning the bathroom and Henry's wounds had mixed with the colors of the splatter paint on her shirt. She swallowed hard and tore her gaze from the blood, averting her eyes to the three boys across the stream. She bent down to pick up a rock, chucking it at Henry, who had risen to his feet.

She took one look at him and her anger ignited. She threw rock after rock alongside the Losers who did the same. And it went on and on until Belch and Victor scrambled away from the scene and left Henry groveling on the ground. Wounds covered his body and blood painted his face from Jill's wrath and stained his clothes. He collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily but not making any advances to move. The Losers' Club had won, and Jill had never felt more victorious.

One by one, the Losers retreated back to their bikes, leaving Richie and Jill to feast their eyes on the collapsed boy. Richie glanced at Jill then back at Henry. He smirked, trying to catch his breath, but he wouldn't let Henry Bowers get away without letting his trashmouth come in handy. "Go blow your dad you mullet-wearing asshole!" Richie yelled, adding two middle fingers with his message. Jill laughed—a real one.

The two preteens abandoned the battlefield and walked in silence as they headed back to the road where the rest of the group resided. Jill lazily stepped over a rock, peeking at Richie out of the corner of her eye. He had saved her. If it weren't for him, she'd be roadkill. And that counted for something in Jill Samson's books.

"Thank you," Jill muttered under her breath.

Richie stared at her. "What was that?"

Jill glared at him. "You know what I said."

"No . . . no, I don't think I do."

The brunette girl subconsciously rolled her eyes. "I said thank you, because if you hadn't done what you did then . . . well . . . let's just say, a piece of my brain would probably be on Henry Bowers's knuckles." She brought a hand to her forehead and wiped her sweat. She didn't know if it was the heat getting to her or the fact she was nervous about thanking the boy.

Richie shrugged and kicked a rock. "No problemo, Jilly."

"Don't—"

"I know. I know. Don't call you that," he finished for her, a dopey smile finding its way onto his face. "You're welcome by the way, but you shouldn't be surprised."

Jill furrowed her brows and stared blankly at the boy. "Uh . . . why?"

Richie walked ahead, glancing over his shoulder to look at her. "Because that's what Prince Charming does." He lazily grinned, pretending to straighten a tie around his neck.

Jill snorted. "Oh, shut up," she said, lightly shoving his back. She shook her head, but a smile still played on her lips. Don't get her wrong, she hated Richie Tozier with every bone in her body ever since he asked her to the Snow Ball in sixth grade, but maybe . . . maybe he wasn't so bad.

The two of them exited the forest and approached the rest of the group, who had already claimed their bikes. Eddie and Ben were helping Mike pick up the slabs of meat that had fallen out of his bike due to the Bowers Gang attacking him. Mike gratefully took the slabs from the boys and smiled.

"Thank you guys, but you really shouldn't have done that. He'll be after you next," Mike softly stated, putting the meat in the basket of his bike. Something tugged at Jill's heart. She felt bad for him.

"What's new?" Richie rhetorically asked with a snort. "Bowers is after anyone and everyone."

Mike nodded. "I guess that's one thing we have in common."

Richie wrapped an arm around Mike's shoulders, gesturing for the rest of the group to huddle in close to them. Stan approached the other side of Richie and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, then Jill walked up to Stan and did the same until the entire group had enclosed themselves in a small circle. Jill felt a smile lift onto her face as she stared at the group. She looked at every one of them until her eyes connected with Beverly's. Beverly gave her a smile, and Jill felt warm again. This was how she wanted to spend her summer—feeling like this. Although, she wouldn't mind seeing less of the boys. Maybe they could all hang out on the weekends and be separate during the week. That seemed more ideal. Or maybe—

Richie interrupted her thoughts. "Well, Mike, welcome to the Losers' Club. You're one of us now." Richie glanced at Jill, adjusting his glasses. "One of all of us," he declared, nodding his head in Jill's direction.

Jill smiled. She didn't mean to, but the smile had snuck past her senses and slid onto her face. Now, don't get her wrong, she totally hated these boys and was extremely annoyed that she was probably going to have to spend all summer with them, but if they had more days like today, then maybe it wouldn't feel like such a chore. No matter the details, she had realized something that day that could never be torn apart by the waves of the sea or anything like that. No, this was something she was sure would stick with her until time carried her to the weeds.

Jill Samson no longer lived in a world of her own. She lived in one with these boys and Beverly. She thought of it as their own little remote island labeled the Losers' Club. Population: eight.

a/n: this is the shortest & least descriptive chapter in this book and it's still long as hell. jesus. i do apologize for the lack of detail, but i was tired.

i would let jill rip out my earring 😳✌️also yes this fight is inspired by alex craft and the female of the species because i'm obsessed. no one call me out on it.

anyways, thanks for reading!