A short one-shot. Henry/Beverly. Friendship... A hint of romance. Some OOCness. T in case. Depends on how you see it, read it.

I own nothing. IT and the characters belong to Stephen King. English isn't my first language.

"Oh no!"

Beverly Marsh cried as she watched in horror as her books fell and landed into a puddle of mud. Some mud splashed on her shirt, and she held back a cry. Father would kill her for sure. She groaned and glared at the two girls responsible for the mess.

The girls who "accidentally" bumped into her, making her drop her books. Sarah Brown and Angela Anne Peterson, two of the meanest girls in her class. They were in the upper class, so that meant they loved to bully the lower classes, like her. Sarah smiled sweetly and flipped her long blonde hair.

"Oops, sorry Bevvy, I guess I lost my balance when I caught sight of your unruly hair and your... soiled clothes..." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Angela nodded in agreement, and giggled. "Clothes like yours tend to make us dizzy... Due to their smell, thus making us lose balance... And really, your clothes aren't a pretty sight, where'd you buy those? Or did the neighborhood boys give you their clothes?"

Sarah smirked. "What did you expect from a girl from the lower classes?" Angela laughed. Beverly tightened her lips into a thin line, and her nostrils flared, green eyes burning in anger. Her red hair seemed to match the angry red flush on her neck. "Well, we really must be going..." They began to walk away. Sarah suddenly stopped walking, turned around and smiled at Beverly.

"Oh, and Bev, hope you get the mud out of those books." She said, then she and Angela walked away, giggling. Beverly gritted her teeth. Why did people love to bully her? Why did they like to point out her class? Why did they love to drag her father into everything?

'Being a janitor isn't bad... At least he has a job and at least he can support me...' No matter how much her father beat her, she still loved him and didn't want anyone picking on him. She sighed, trying to calm herself. She hated those two wenches.

She sighed again and kneeled down next to the puddle to pick up her books. From the looks of it, they were ruined. The only history books she had. The books her mother left her before she died. Father would kill her for sure. It wasn't enough that they were poor, she had to go on and ruin her books. And it would cost a lot to get new ones.

She hoped they weren't completely ruined. She held a book and watched as mud dripped off it. 'Why, God?' She was about to collect the other books when a dark figure loomed over her. She looked up and her eyes instantly widened in fear.

Henry Bowers stood before her, his face expressionless, his dark eyes staring right into hers, his hair was a bit unruly, unlike usual, perfectly gelled. She gulped. Just what she needed. Another person to bully her. She held her breath as he continued to stare at her. Strange... Where were his followers? They were always with him.

What was even weirder was that he wasn't wearing his usual cruel smirk, his face was blank, expressionless, emotionless. 'What's his problem?' She bit her lip. 'He's probably waiting for his little followers to arrive, then they'll all torture me... Together... As usual... What a horrible, horrible day...'

Beverly closed her eyes, waiting for him to take out his switchblade and threaten her with it, threaten to crave his name on her fragile, pale skin. She waited after a few seconds, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes, widened them in surprise and amazement. Was she dreaming? Henry Bowers was picking up her books, and getting mud on the sleeves of his leather jacket while he did.

He picked them up, one by one, stacking them neatly. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the cover of one of the books. "Your books will be fine. Only the covers and the fore edge got mud on them. You'll be able to wipe the mud off the covers but the fore edge... There's nothing you can do about them..." He said in a gruff voice.

He handed her the books and she accepted them cautiously. She stood up, tucking a braid of hair behind her ear. Henry had just helped her. Henry Bowers had helped her. "This never happened, understand?" She nodded, dumbstruck. Henry nodded, then walked away.

'Maybe this day isn't such a bad day...' Before, she thought Henry had no kindness in his heart, that he couldn't perform a single act of kindness. She was wrong.

Beverly Marsh had a smile on her face as she walked home. She wasn't worried about her father anymore. With the right explanation, she could be saved. Right now, all she could think of was how Henry helped her.

Maybe Henry Bowers wasn't such a bad guy after all.

The lack of Henry/Beverly stories made me write this, and I absolutely adore this couple, even though Henry's a monster. English isn't my first language, folks, so don't complain about the grammar.