chapter fifteen
i am not okay with this

☼ ☽

Rome was not built in a day, but they were laying bricks every hour. At least that was what the famous playwright, John Heywood said hundreds of years ago. Jill had read his work a few times when she was bored and had nothing better to do than go to the library to rid herself of her problems. She thought it was smart to think that way. It made things seem much easier to obtain in the long run. It made it easier to think she'd make it out of Derry if she just put in a little work every day, but she didn't expect there to be flaws in her thinking. She didn't expect to realize the playwright neglected to mention that it was just as easy to knock down all those bricks, leaving the empire in shambles.

Jill Samson felt like the remnants of Rome's downfall. All her pieces were scattered around her like confetti. She was shattered. And she would just like the record to show that she was not okay with any of this, not even in the slightest.

Before you judge her, she would just like to let the world know, she knew she wasn't really getting anywhere with her attitude and anger issues. She knew she wasn't anywhere near getting out of Derry or improving her life in any sense, but after the events of the night prior, she knew that even the possibility of building herself up to a whole person was out the door along with any plan of escaping Derry's clutches.

She wished she could be okay with that. But she wasn't. She wasn't okay with it at all. If anything, it only made her want to rip out all her hair and scream at the top of her lungs.

That morning, Jill Samson awoke with those thoughts plaguing her mind as a scream manifested in her throat. The anger bubbled in her chest, igniting a wildfire in her lungs. She quickly covered her arm over her mouth and bit into the flesh to prevent herself from screaming. She squeezed her eyes shut so she could be comforted by the stars which formed in the darkness, but they never appeared and Jill felt like she was floating in a black void. A small sob escaped her lips as she blew air out through her nose and removed her arm from the hold of her teeth. She must have bitten too hard since as soon as she removed her arm, blood seeped from the indentations where her teeth once were. She stared in shock at the blood, watching as it trickled down her arm.

A sigh escaped her lips as she faced away from the wound and stared at her popcorn ceiling. The sun was peeking through the window panes, shining down on her, but she felt no urge to get up. She wanted to lay there all day. She could do that too if she wanted to. And trust her she wanted to, so she did. She laid there and closed her eyes, but sleep never came to her. It rarely did. She rarely slept that summer, and she was just now realizing that. Sure, she slept, but not for long. It wasn't like it mattered anyway . . . she wasn't even tired. So she just laid there in the silence, ignoring the pain in her arm from the wound.

A knock at her door tore Jill from her thoughts. She snapped her eyes open and turned to her door in confusion. A second later, the door opened with a creak, revealing her father standing under the threshold. Her brows lowered on her face as she stared at him. For a second, she thought she was dreaming, because any other day, her father would be at work not in the apartment. But then he moved again, and Jill knew it wasn't a dream.

"Hey," he said in a soft, pleasant voice as if he were afraid he'd scare her if he raised his tone. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his worn jeans. He looked awkward, and after Jill's breakdown last night, she couldn't blame him. Especially since he had to deal with Jill crying and screaming half the night. He barely even got a word in. Jill just kept crying and she didn't stop. She couldn't remember if she could even bring herself to stop. She just knew her tears didn't pertain solely to the situation with Beverly and her father. The tears had been building up inside her for a long time. She realized that now.

After a moment's silence, Jill found her voice. "You're here?"

David only smiled. "There's breakfast on the table," he said, pointing behind him with his thumb. "Oh, and there's some orange juice in your favorite cup. I'm cooking the rest of the bacon, but you can eat the pancakes while you wait. They're blueberry." With that, he sent her a smile then retreated down the hall leading toward their small kitchen.

Jill reluctantly tore herself from her bed. Her body felt glued to the sheets, but she managed to peel herself from the mattress and throw the covers off her body. She slowly trudged over to her dresser and pulled out a striped T-shirt and jeans. She slipped out of her pajamas and threw on the clothes before she tied her hair into two short braids. She managed to find bandaids which she pasted onto the wound on her arm. After she reached into her dresser and pulled out a pair of socks, she shoved them on her feet, then headed for the kitchen.

As she walked closer to the kitchen, soft tunes coming from a boombox greeted her arrival. She wanted to enjoy them, but the tunes only made her more irritated. She tried blocking them out as she looked around the room. Her father came into view first. He was swaying to the music and humming along as he cooked the bacon. Her eyes drifted from him to the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen. On it was a plate of pancakes adorned with syrup and butter. She took a seat at the table and began to quietly cut into the pancake. It was then she realized this was the first real, warm breakfast she had had all summer.

Her eyes shifted from her breakfast to her father, who was still cooking the bacon. It appeared he hadn't noticed her presence. But that wasn't what was bothering Jill. What really got under her skin was the fact that he was there in the first place. He should have been at work, but he wasn't, and she wanted to know why. "Um . . . why are you here?" she asked, causing him to jump slightly before he looked over his shoulder and met her hard gaze. "Don't you have to like . . . work or something?"

David sighed as he sifted the bacon in the pan. "Well, I called in this morning and the woman who owns Bernie's . . . um . . . Prudence . . . she said it'd be all right if I took the day off," he explained.

Jill furrowed her brows. Why would he do that? "What about the money?" she asked before she stuffed her face with a piece of blueberry pancake. She wasn't all that hungry. She never really was in the mood to eat in the mornings, but she figured she'd eat since he had taken the time to make it for her.

David paused. "Um . . . she said not to worry about it." He quickly shoveled the sizzling bacon onto a plate then turned off the stove. He grabbed a pair of tongs before he approached his daughter and plucked a few pieces of bacon off the plate to serve to the girl. "But nevermind that. I thought we could have breakfast together and then watch some movies or something." He put the plate on the table then pulled out a chair and sat down next to Jill. "I know . . . I know you'd rather be with Beverly, but I thought we could catch up."

Jill felt her heart plummet through her chest. She didn't want to feel this way. She didn't want to be sad anymore, but the feeling just wouldn't let up. She wasn't even sure if it was entirely about the Marsh girl anymore either. She just felt too much all the time. "I don't think I'll be hanging around Beverly for a while," she mumbled as she bit off a piece of bacon.

"Oh."

The girl knew he wanted to ask her what had happened, but Jill didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to remember what Alvin Marsh had said about her. "Something happened, but I don't want to talk about it," she muttered and shrugged.

Once those words left her lips, the silence seeped back into her life. She hated the silence. It gave way to her intrusive thoughts. So instead of dwelling in the cold silence, she poked at the pancakes and decided she'd speak up. "These are nice," she said as she stabbed a piece of the pancake and shoved it in her mouth. "What did you use?" She almost immediately smacked herself as soon as those words left her lips. Really, Jill? What did you use? She didn't understand herself. For Christ's sake, she was related to this guy, the least she could do was talk like a normal person around him, but apparently, she couldn't even do that.

Nevertheless, David smiled. "Waffle batter," he replied, warmly.

Jill quirked a brow. "For pancakes?"

A short laugh escaped his lips. He stood up to walk to grab the cup of coffee he had left on the countertop before he made his way back to his seat at the table. "Funny story, actually," he finally began after a second. "While I was working at Presto this week I was putting the items on the shelves . . . you know? What I normally do. And I was looking at the different types of batter and apparently, waffle batter makes the pancakes or waffles or whatever fluffier. So I picked it up because well I just had to try it out. And as you can see—" he pointed to the pancakes— "one hundred percent fluffier than any of the other batters."

Jill offered a strained smile. "Nice." She turned back to the cut up pieces of pancake and began to eat more, ignoring as the silence tried to wrap its arms around her. She even dug into the bacon a little more, not because she was hungry, but because her father kept staring at her as if she'd just explode in front of his eyes. She didn't like when people stared at her.

"Jill?" he asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

Jill ceased eating and met his eyes. "What?"

His eyes were glossy. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything," he whispered, his voice fragile and soft. He reached out to curl a fallen strand of hair out of Jill's face. "If—If those boys came back and hurt you for . . . you can . . . you can tell me. I'll make sure the police station hears about it."

Jill almost scoffed. The police station wouldn't do anything. They hadn't before and they wouldn't if it happened again. But she didn't scoff, instead, she offered him a shake of the head and a shrug. "No, it has nothing to do with that."

"Jill."

The Samson girl dropped her utensils. They clattered against the plate, creating an abrupt sound which only added to her irritation. "I swear, okay?" she spat, her voice sharp. She was tired of talking about this. She didn't want to remember last night. "Beverly and I just . . . I don't think we'll be talking for a while."

"Oh." He took a sip from his coffee, then cleared his throat. "Um, anything else? Anything I can help with?"

"No."

"Okay."

Jill sighed, averting her gaze from her father. She didn't want to look at him. She just wanted to leave. And she supposed she should have left right then, but before she could even think about it, her eyes landed on her cup of stars located near her plate. It was filled to the brim with orange juice, testing her theory about the possibility of more. She wanted to spill it. She wanted to inflict a small act of chaos so she could get rid of the feelings which plagued her when she looked at the cup. Because all she saw when she looked at the small cracks in the cup was her mother's face.

"Was she ashamed of me?" were the words which escaped Jill Samson's lips before she could stop them from tumbling out. She couldn't help it. She wanted to know, because deep down, she wondered if It was right and the real reason Elizabeth Phenny abandoned her family was because of her daughter. "Mom." She flicked her eyes to her father's face. "Was she ashamed of me? Is that why she left? Because I swear if I knew biting that lady therapist or—or falling off that railing would have driven her away, I wouldn't have. I would've hidden my anger. I would have listened to you guys. I would've given up the cup like you told me to. I would've. I swear I would've."

David shook his head. "It was and is not your fault she left," he reassured as he outstretched his hand to clasp around Jill's shaking one.

Tears had begun to well in her eyes now. No matter how many times her father tried to reassure her that she wasn't the cause, she couldn't bring herself to believe him. It all felt too real, and she knew . . . she knew it really was her fault. "That makes me a horrible daughter, doesn't it? It was me who drove her away. It's always me. I'm always the one creating problems for myself. I ruin everything I touch and I don't know how to stop," she croaked. Her throat felt tight. She wanted to scream. "I'm not a person anymore, am I? I'm a problem."

"Jill—"

But Jill didn't let him finish. "It was me who split you guys apart. It was me who was too angry. That's why mom sent me to a therapist and instead of cooperating, I bit the lady and that's what got us into that lawsuit. You had to work later at the company because of it. I'm the reason you got into fights with mom because you were never home. But that wasn't your fault, it was mine," she weakly mumbled as the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "Because I'm the one who forced you to work later so you could pay off that lawsuit."

"No, Jill—"

A jumble of emotions had begun to course through her in waves as she continued to sob harder. "And that led you to lose your job and because of that, you had to go back to teaching kids instead of doing what you really wanted to do. And—and in the summers you had to work at diners and grocery stores because mom didn't have a job and we needed the money. But that wouldn't have been a problem if I would have just listened to you. And, god! When I fell off the railings, you had to pay for my surgeries. That must have cost a fortune and it was all because I couldn't do what I was told," she spewed through violent sobs. She felt like the world was spinning around her and she couldn't get it to stop. "This really is all my fault. Not yours or anyone else's or even the world's. It's mine." Her clouded eyes met her father's and for a second she thought he understood, but the world wouldn't stop moving long enough for her to decipher his expression. But that didn't matter. She already knew the answer. "Mom would still be here with us if it weren't for me."

David's face fell, but he didn't speak. Jill only cried more. She couldn't stop. She just kept crying. She wondered if her tears would fill the entire apartment to the brim. How's that for a small act of chaos? But if she was honest, she didn't care about that. She was too in her head to care if her tears flooded the entire world. She just kept thinking and she couldn't stop. The world around her became a blur of gray as her thoughts raced. Her eyes stung like a thousand bee stings and the weight in her chest felt like it was suffocating her.

Jill blinked away the tears and stared at her father. She realized then she had been taking out her hatred toward herself onto him, and he took it all. That was when the guilt flooded her senses. "I'm sorry. Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. I ruined your life. I'm a horrible person," she muttered. The words cemented in her brain as she spoke them aloud. "I don't want to be that. I want to be a good person. I really do, but I don't think I can. I think some deranged part of me likes thinking I'm the only one with real problems. Like that makes me special. Sometimes I get this feeling like I'm watching myself in some kind of twisted movie, and I hate what I see—how I act, how I sound, and I don't know how to make it stop. And I'm scared that that feeling is never going to go away."

"No," David finally said. His eyes were ridden with an emotion Jill couldn't decipher. "None of this is your fault."

Jill scoffed. "Yeah, right." She squeezed her eyes shut but the stars which formed in the darkness no longer comforted her. She just wanted it all to go away—the feelings, the memories, the tears, but they kept pushing back like a cruel, sick nightmare.

Her father sighed as he massaged his temples with his fingers. "Do you want me to tell you about your mother?" he asked once he met her gaze. "I can if you want, but if I do, you have to understand you may never think of her the same."

Jill nodded. "I want to know."

David took a deep breath. "Your mother was sick. Not in the sense you think. She was fine physically, but her brain . . . it hated her," he whispered, exhaling as he spoke. "She got it checked out one time and the doctor diagnosed her and everything . . . so she came home with these pills. She wouldn't tell me what they were for. She said she was too embarrassed. And I respected that so long as she took them as the doctor recommended. And she did, but then she said they were making her nauseous and she felt like she couldn't think, so she stopped taking them." He dragged a hand down his face. "It wasn't long after that before she went back to her old self and began spending our money on equipment or booking venues and flights to places we'd never go. She started disappearing a lot after that too, and then she'd come back a few days or a week later with all these souvenirs and stories. And then she'd crash."

Jill took in a shaky breath. "Crash?"

"I don't . . . I never understood it. But sometimes, I'd come home from work and I'd find her lying in bed with the lights off. She hadn't moved all day. She said she couldn't. That there was no point," David explained, his voice beginning to shake. "I didn't know how to handle that or help her. I tried getting her to take the pills again, but she'd just yell at me and tell me to go away. And then one time, I came home from work to find the bathroom door locked. You were there, standing outside asking for mommy to open the door. You were a kid so you didn't really understand what was going on. But I knew. I knew something bad had happened." He took in a shaky breath then exhaled. "When I broke the door open, I found her there . . . she was . . . she had tried to take her life."

Jill furrowed her brows, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't understand. Why would she want to . . . do that?"

Tears brimmed his eyes now. "She was sick, Jill. She had an illness in her brain and it controlled her," he explained, his words only confusing his daughter more. "That's why I lost the job at the company, because I was frustrated with everything going on. I mean it just wasn't fair to her or any of us, and I lost it. It wasn't because of you or your mother. I just lost my temper." It was silent for only a second before he sighed. "Anyways, I planned to take her back to see a doctor and I booked her some appointments with a therapist, but when the day came to take her and get her some help . . . it was too late. She had already left."

The skin on Jill's cheeks had begun to itch from her tears. "Did you try to find her?" she asked, her voice weak and brittle. "Did you go after her?"

David sighed. "I tried contacting her, but it was like she just fell off the face of the earth."

Jill shook her head. She just didn't understand why her mom would leave. People needed people. She would have helped her mom. She would have. "I don't—" she stuttered, tripping over her own thoughts. "But she was supposed to be my mom. She was supposed to—"

David rested his hand on top of his daughter's and squeezed. "I know," he cut her off, letting her know she didn't have to form her thoughts into words. He just needed her to know that he understood. He needed her to know that he was there. He had always been. And he always would be. "But if you ever feel like that. Like your emotions are too extreme for you to handle and you feel like you want to . . . take your life. You come to me. You come to me and you tell me and I will help you, okay? I will be here for you. And we will get through it."

It was then Jill finally understood everything in her life. It had all come crashing into her life at that exact moment, opening the floodgates of her mind. "I'm like her, aren't I? That's what you're trying to say, isn't it?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. "I get it. I see it too. Sometimes I feel like my brain is on fire . . . and I'm angry all the time. All I feel is this anger and this sadness. Like the world is just weighing down on my chest and I can't breathe. And I try to scream, but no one hears me. And then other times I feel like I can do anything . . . like there is no limit. Like my actions won't have consequences." She snapped her eyes up to meet his. "I've hurt people. Some of them might have been bad, but I hurt them, and I didn't feel bad about it. I felt like it didn't matter. And I think those feelings are going to get worse . . . or maybe they already have."

David controlled his breath as he reached out and dried his daughter's tears. And for once, Jill let him. "We can get you checked out if you want . . . and if you do have it, we'll get through it," he reassured, his voice like a warm hug engulfing Jill.

Jill swallowed the lump in her throat. "So these feelings . . . they're normal?"

Her father smiled a sad smile. "They're normal," he confirmed with a nod of his head. "There is nothing wrong with you. Some people just need a little extra help, and that's okay. Everyone is different. Different is good."

Her father gave her hand one last squeeze before he gathered the plates and placed them in the sink. But Jill still felt uneasy. She felt like everything she had ever felt was building up inside of her, tempting her to explode. But Jill wouldn't let that happen. It was then Jill pushed away all her anger, all the sadness that had consumed her soul from the moment she was born into the world. She shoved every single negative emotion away. She neglected the voice in her head that told her she deserved to be alone, and she stood to her feet, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her father's waist. Her father jumped in surprise, but nevertheless, turned around and engulfed her in his arms.

They stood like that for a few minutes. Jill couldn't really remember how long. Everything felt like a blur, but she didn't care. It was the first time she had felt safe in so long. She relished in it, and hugged her father tighter. He held onto her just as tight, and it was then as he hugged her that Jill allowed herself to lean on someone. She let herself cry into his chest instead of dealing with her tears by herself. She let him caress the back of her head and coo her like she was a child. She let free the inner child in her that had been denied of comfort for so long. And in doing so, she realized it was the first time that she actually felt completely free.

After her cries silenced, her father rested his chin on top of her head and sighed. "I know this is the wrong time, but . . . Prudence, the lady at my job invited us over for dinner tomorrow," he murmured almost as if he was hesitant to even speak. "You don't have to come, but I'd like it if we could go together. She says she wants to meet you."

"Oh," was all Jill could manage. A part of her wondered if this Prudence lady would be in her life more than she wanted. She wondered if she'd take her mom's place or if she was just being a nice person. Maybe her father and Prudence were just friends or maybe they were more. But the thing was, Jill wasn't entirely too against the idea of her father finding someone else. Jill would always miss her mom and no one could ever replace the hole she left in her heart, but maybe Jill had enough room to care about someone else. Maybe she could let herself care about another person. And maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"She's good people," her father continued to say, his words getting tangled around his tongue. "She likes photography . . . like you . . . but like I said you don't have to come. I understand if . . . "

Jill felt herself smile. Maybe everything would be all right if she just said yes. She could give this Prudence lady a chance. She could if she wanted to. Because maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe Jill wasn't a lost cause. "I'll come," she said without even realizing the words had left her lips. And the odd thing was that it felt like she actually meant it.

David opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of the doorbell rang throughout the apartment. Jill pulled away from her father as the man approached the front door. Jill trailed after him, curious to see who was at the door because maybe it was Beverly. Maybe things would work out.

The door swung open, revealing Richie Tozier. Jill felt disappointed, but she was also glad to see Richie standing in the threshold dressed in his usual Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. His large coke-bottle glasses took up most of his face as he squinted up at David Samson. "Hey, Mr. Samson, I was wondering if Jill was available? I'm Richie Tozier, by the way," he said in a nasal voice as he outstretched his hand toward the man.

David hesitantly shook the boy's hand, shocked at his outgoing gestures. "Uh . . . " He stepped aside and revealed Jill staring at the two of them. "She's right here."

Richie's eyes flew open when he saw Jill. "Christ, you look like shit!" he exclaimed.

David Samson looked at his daughter in shock, as if he was asking her why this gangly looking boy was standing in their apartment. Jill waved off his confusion and approached her friend. "Thanks, Rich, means a whole lot," she sarcastically said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Richie squinted his eyes at her. "You got a—" he gestured to his nose— "a little boogie."

Jill shoved his shoulder and wiped her nose with her finger. "What do you want?"

"Oh, right!" Richie exclaimed as if he had almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. "I was wondering if you'd want to get some ice cream in town or something?"

Jill stared at him for a second. She wondered how she managed to end up with Richie Tozier as the person she turned to to have fun. But then she realized something. She realized she actually enjoyed Richie's company even if he could be a pain in the ass. So she decided going with him would probably be better than staying at home and being reminded of her pain. "What the hell? Why not?" she finally said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Great!" Richie said, clapping his hands together. "Pip pip tally-ho, good fellow, let's go before the sun sets."

He began making his way down the stairs, but Jill stopped him. "Wait," she commanded. "I want to grab my camera just in case you do anything stupid that would be worthy enough to capture."

Richie furrowed his brows. "What you scrapbook?"

Jill rolled her eyes. "No, fuck-face." She turned on her heels and briefly caught sight of her father's shocked face, but she ignored that and dashed off to her room. She completely forgot he was standing there, watching her curse out her friend. He hadn't scolded her so she guessed he didn't really care that she swore, so she went on with her mission, found her camera, and walked back to where Richie and her father stood.

"Finally," Richie groaned, slapping his hands against his thighs before he took off down the stairs.

Jill scoffed at his impatience and ran to the door. Her father stopped her with a hand on her forearm. "Be safe," he said, his eyes glossy.

Jill nodded. "I will," she promised. She put the camera strap around her neck so she wouldn't drop it and have to break into her piggy bank to buy another one.

Her father gave a stiff smile and began to retreat back into the apartment. Jill felt her heart ache. But just as he was about to walk away from her, Jill mustered up the courage, shoved past her vendettas, and squeaked, "Dad?" She sheepishly glanced her father's way, her heart thudding in her chest like a ball in a pinball machine, because she hadn't called him that in years.

"Yeah, kiddo?" he murmured, clearing his throat.

The brunette thirteen-year-old slightly smiled, her eyes crinkling around the corners. "I love you," she whispered the truth.

David Samson's eyes grew wide with shock for it had been so long since the last time Jill told him she loved him. "I love you, too, kid," he breathed out.

Jill felt herself smile. She hadn't forced herself to grin at him that time. It just happened. And honestly, it was one of the best feelings she had ever experienced. She felt free. Something had set her free. And with those thoughts on her mind, she turned around and followed after Richie. As she walked she decided that life was strange but people were even stranger, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

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It had been a few hours since Jill and Richie first arrived at the Town Square. They'd taken too many photos to count and visited the ice cream parlor a few too many times. Jill had forced Richie to pay for her since she forgot her money at her apartment, which he didn't seem to mind too much, but he still managed to complain about it every so often. But for the most part, the two of them weren't even thinking about the ice cream, they were enjoying taking pictures of each other on Jill's camera.

At the moment, Richie had the camera wrapped around his neck as he pointed the lens at Jill who was trying to climb up the statue in the middle of the park. She hadn't gotten very far, but Richie found it amusing that she kept trying, so he decided to take pictures of her so he could make fun of her efforts later.

Once Jill slid down the statue for the third time, she gave up. She hopped off the ledge and landed on the grass. She tried to take the camera from Richie, but the boy pushed her away and clutched it to his chest. Jill rolled her eyes but ultimately let him keep hold of it. She figured if she was going to trust anyone with her most prized possession, it would be Richie Tozier . . . oddly enough.

The two of them walked toward a park bench and collapsed onto it. It was a hot day even if the sun was starting to set, so running around town taking pictures of stupid shit had really tired them out. Jill laid down on the bench while Richie shoved her over to make room for himself to sit. Jill groaned when he shoved her, but she didn't complain any further.

They sat there in the silence for a few minutes before Richie decided to break it and be annoying (as usual). "So why aren't you with Beverly today?"

Jill squeezed her eyes shut. "No."

Richie furrowed his brows. "What?"

"I refuse to tell you," the brunette girl spat. It wasn't true though, she just didn't want to think about Beverly. It hurt too much.

"Come on," Richie whined, "now you have to tell me."

Another second passed and Jill began to feel as though her body was setting itself on fire. She groaned in response and sat up to meet Richie's eyes. "Fine," she muttered, blankly. "I kissed her—"

Richie cut her off. "You what?"

Jill slapped his arm. "Shut up . . . I kissed her . . . well and then I told her I loved her and then she kissed me and I thought that meant she liked me, but actually I think she just felt bad for me and that's why she did it," she blurted out, tangling her words together.

"Oh."

"But it's fine because I wrote her a letter," Jill quickly said. "I mean I wrote her many letters, so I think if she reads at least one, then she'll understand . . . and we'll be friends again." But maybe that would make it worse. Maybe she'd hate her more. Fuck, Jill thought. She hated this.

Richie snorted, fixing his glasses. "You what now?"

"Don't laugh at me," Jill sneered.

Richie put his hands up in the air as if to say he surrendered. "These letters . . . what did you say?" he inquired.

"That's none of your business," Jill snapped.

The Tozier boy didn't mind, he was used to Jill always waking up on the wrong side of the bed. He looked at the glum girl through his bulky framed glasses. "I just want to know what you said so I can tell you if it's stupid or not," he joked, a cheeky smile sliding onto his face.

"Look, Rich," Jill sneered, her eyes narrowed in his direction, "all you need to know is I'm a terrible, awful person, but I'm working on it."

Jill stared at him with stern eyes, but Richie could see through her hard exterior. He felt sorry for her, but, in a way, he understood. "Hey, I'm sorry, no more talk about Beverly," he said, nudging her side with his elbow. "For what it's worth, ever since you pushed me off that swing in third grade I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen."

Jill grimaced, tugging herself away from him. "No offense, Rich, but I think I'm going to hurl."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Shut up, you didn't let me finish. What I'm trying to say is I never understood why you didn't tell Beverly."

Jill cocked her head to the side and narrowed her brows, beckoning him to elaborate.

"It was a no-brainer," Richie continued with a sly type of smirk on his face; not surprisingly, it made Jill want to hit him. "Anyone would say yes, sweet cheeks."

"You know you're like an annoying brother to me, right? I would never do anything with you. I wouldn't even think of it," Jill spat. They were both joking, they knew that. The only interest they had in each other was making fun of the other and seeing who was better at StreetFighter. (Jill thought if she practiced a little more, she'd beat his ass in every match.)

Richie's face contorted into a wrinkled expression. "Gross, Jill," he joked as he pretended to gag. "Now we can't get married! I'm not into incest!"

Jill swore her eyes nearly rolled out of her head as she slapped his arm. "I'm going to castrate you, Tozier," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Promise?" Richie cheekily prompted, a boyish smile on his freckled face.

Jill just smacked him even harder.

"Ow, hey, I was just joking," Richie whined, rubbing his arm where she hit him.

Jill trailed her brown eyes over Richie's round, freckled face. He had a goofy grin playing on his lips, his buck teeth on display. His glasses magnified his round bug-like eyes almost resembling the cartoons kids their age would race home to see before the news overtook the television. She would have never guessed she and Richie would be friends and yet here they were. The thought made her smile. She took a step further and allowed herself to emit a small chuckle as she rested her head on Richie's shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt safe as a comfortable silence encapsulated them, but she should have known there was no such thing as silence with Richie Tozier around.

"Lean on me," Richie began to sing off-key, knowing it would irk the brunette girl, "when you're not strong."

Jill lifted her head up to glare at the boy beside her. "Not a moment's silence with you is there?" she grumbled, but a small laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"Come on, sing along," he cheered, clapping offbeat to the song. "And I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on."

Jill couldn't help but laugh at the boy in front of her. He was causing a scene but neither of them cared enough to be bothered by the attention they were drawing.

"You're so annoying," the brunette girl chuckled, shaking her head.

"I thought my beautiful singing voice would comfort you," Richie said, clutching his chest as if her words had deeply offended him.

Jill shook her head. "As usual, you were wrong," she nonchalantly said with a shrug.

"And here I thought you said we were friends," Richie continued to play along with the show the two were performing in hopes it would cheer up Jill long enough for her to forget about her troubles.

"Well, I lied."

Richie scoffed, trying to really commit to his role as an annoying little shit (not that it was that hard for him to do). "I lied, too," he huffed. "You aren't my friend."

"Oh, really?" she pondered out loud. "Well, at least my glasses aren't bigger than my ego."

"Ha, wrong!" Richie yelled, causing even more of a scene than before. "You don't even wear glasses!"

"That's the point, dickweed," Jill deadpanned, shaking her head at her friend's continuous stupidity.

"Hey!" the Tozier boy whined, "who are you calling a dickweed, dickweed?"

"Rich, you can't call me a dickweed after I already called you one," the girl retorted as if it were common knowledge.

"Why not?" Richie asked, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his freckled nose. "Is there a rule book?"

Jill snorted, a small smile spreading across her face. "You're relentless, Tozier."

The Tozier boy smiled a wide, buck-toothed smile as he looked at his friend. He only wanted her to be happy and for a split second, he swore his ability to be utterly annoying had made her heart a little less heavy. That was enough for him. "Thank you," he said, although he wasn't all too sure if he was thanking her for being his friend or just to annoy her.

Jill furrowed her brows, realizing she would never be able to figure out what went on inside Richie Tozier's head and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. "That wasn't a compliment," she remarked, the small smile never leaving her face.

"Says who?"

Jill groaned. "Okay, shut up," she snapped. Her eyes trailed over to the ice cream parlor and an idea sprung into her head. They had already gotten some a few hours ago, but Jill was in the mood for more. "Hey, why don't we get ice cream?"

"Again?" Richie pondered over the idea then shrugged. "Only if you pay."

"No, you, I didn't bring cash, remember?" Jill spat, her brows furrowed.

"God, fine," Richie groaned.

The two of them stood up and continued conversing with each other as they approached the parlor shop. Richie kept talking about her taste in ice cream was shit while Jill only told him that he was an idiot. Jill walked in front of Richie, skipping over the curb as she outstretched her hand to clasp the door handle. But before she could grasp the handle, the door swung open, almost hitting Jill. She jumped back with a scoff and glanced up to see who had almost hit her. Although she decided she should have walked in the other direction, considering when she looked up, she saw Greta Keene and her friends staring at her.

Greta looked the same as she did on the last day of school, only more bitchy. Her skin was ivory with a little rouge tint and her hair was a honey-blonde with slight waves, accompanied by her piercing grass-green eyes, but her personality still stunk like a rotten egg.

Jill rolled her eyes and reach for Richie so they could get away from the wicked bitch who lived on West Broadway. But before she could escape, Greta reached out and pulled Jill toward her by her shirt. "Woah, Samson, where do you think you are going so soon?" the blonde girl asked, her voice filled with venom.

Jill rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Away from you," she sneered, skeptically raising her brow.

The blonde girl peered over at Richie Tozier who was standing beside Jill like a dog on a leash. Greta smirked, looking the boy up and down before she turned back to Jill with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Trashmouth, huh?" she questioned, stepping closer to the brunette girl and looking her up and down like she meant less than her. "I thought lezzies didn't go on dates with boys, but then again Tozier is another species."

"Shut up," Jill grumbled, balling her hands into fists.

Greta bit her lip and gave a smile, her eyes filled with no remorse for her words. It seemed Jill's anger excited the blonde girl which was possibly even scarier than being chased by a demon clown. "How did you break the news to Beverly?" the blonde girl taunted. "I mean it must have been hard since you're always following her around like a bitch on a leash."

"That's really none of your damn business," the Samson girl spat, anger coursing through her veins like lava.

For a second, Jill thought Greta would get bored of taunting her and walk away with her friends, but she didn't budge. Instead, her eyes widened as if she had discovered something inconceivable. "Oh, wait," she gasped, a hint of a giggle in her voice, "or did she finally realize what a loser you are?"

Jill didn't respond, instead, she averted her eyes to the ground, feeling a mixture of emotions consume her all at once. Richie wrapped a hand around her forearm, trying to pull her away from the blonde girl, but she wouldn't budge. She wanted to hear what Great had to say.

Greta took Jill's silence as a victory. "I can't imagine why it took her so long. I mean you're just so dull, boring—"

"Much like this conversation," Jill grumbled, but she kept her eyes locked on the concrete below her feet.

Greta scoffed, stepping even closer to the girl, forcing her to make eye contact. The blonde girl smiled a type of smile that was both charming and irritating all at once. "Don't try to act so tough when we both know you're just an insignificant, waste of fucking space," she spat, her words like venom in Jill's veins.

"You're such a bitch, Greta!" Richie spat from beside her.

Greta scoffed and opened her mouth to respond, but Jill wouldn't have her mocking her only friend. She stepped in front of Richie and glared at the blonde girl. "Greta, why don't shove it up your ass and stuff a sock in it?" she seethed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, shut up," Greta scoffed, baring her teeth. She resembled a rabid dog. "Last I remember I promised you a hurt train this summer and I always keep my promises."

"How thoughtful of you," Jill said in a monotonous voice with a roll of her eyes. "Do you keep promises with your dad too or is he too busy looking down underage girls' shirts to even notice you?"

A look of anger crossed Greta's face and then things were moving too fast. Greta gave a grunt and swung back her hand to gain momentum before she brought it forward and slapped Jill across the face. The impact snapped Jill's face to the side, pain pulsing in her cheek a second later. Jill gritted her teeth at the feeling, the anger boiling inside of her veins. She wanted to hit Greta. She wanted to inflict pain on her, but she refrained. She refrained because she knew she was better than Greta. Jill had fought for so long and it had only caused her more pain. She was done fighting.

Jill turned her head and locked eyes with the blonde girl. "I'm not going to fight you," she muttered, her voice low and dark. "I'm not going to fight you, Greta, because I don't need to. I don't need to prove to you or anyone that I'm not a loser, because the truth is . . . I am a fucking loser. I always fucking will be. So I'm not going to fight you because I don't need to prove anything to you. You don't even exist to me." The fire grew within her eyes, but she controlled it now. "Grow up, Greta. Nobody wants to be a whiny bitch all their life."

The Keene girl's face turned a bright rouge color and her eyes nearly popped out of her head, but she quickly contained herself before her head could blow up. Instead of throwing a tantrum, she rolled her eyes, smacking her lips together as she chewed on her bubblegum. She let out a small yawn as if the conversation was immensely boring her. "Whatever, you're a waste of my time anyway," she huffed, shoving Jill out of the way. She and her friends continued walking down the street as if they hadn't just threatened the two Losers.

Richie and Jill stared after them in shock. Neither of them could believe that Jill Samson had turned down fighting someone who had insulted her. Jill especially couldn't believe it, but somehow it made her feel better. She was sure if Greta tried to bother her again, she'd punch her in the face, but she hadn't just now. Jill had controlled her emotions. She had done it for once in her life. It made her think that maybe, she wasn't a lost cause. Maybe she could make it out without destroying everything around her. Maybe she wasn't just anger.

"Shit, did you really just do that?" Richie asked flabbergasted, breaking the silence.

Jill inhaled a shaky breath. Had she? Had she really used her words instead of falling back on violence to protect her? Yeah . . . she had. "I guess so."

Richie put a hand on Jill's arm. "Are you okay? Do you need to punch a wall or something?"

Jill glanced at him and allowed herself to smile. "I feel invincible, Rich."

a/n: ok so idk if everyone picked it up, but it's canon that jill's mother has bipolar disorder & she refused treatment which is why her episodes got so out of control. i took inspiration from monica gallagher to sculpt her character. i hope it turned out okay! if not, please reach out to me and i'll try to sculpt the portrayal of it to be as realistic as possible! i was worried about it not being realistic this entire book, so pls don't hesitate to correct me if i'm representing her disorder wrong!!

p.s. greta keene was a lesbian but she was still a snotty bitch.

AND thanks for reading!